Chapter Six
THE SKY WAS thunderously grey but the rain at least stopped that afternoon, allowing them to leave the cabin.
Genevieve’s shoes were still damp, but she pulled them on over a big pair of thick socks Nikos had given her.
She could have been tempted to stay in bed with him all day, but at the same time the knowledge that her time here on the island was limited had her wanting to see more than just the inside of his cabin—as much as she would always remember every single detail of it.
One glance from the top of the cliff towards the ocean showed the waves coming in thick and fast, the ocean too swollen to make boat travel possible yet, regardless of the storm. She ignored the slight bubble of relief at that, and what it signalled.
So, she liked being here.
She liked—surprisingly—spending time with Nikos.
That didn’t mean anything.
It would take more than exceptional skills in bed and an interesting conversation or two to weaken the barriers Genevieve had erected around her heart and soul.
Never again would she let another man permeate either.
She was independent and alone. Even without James’s stipulation that she stay single, this was something she intended to do for herself.
There was no hint of her small sailing boat. It had been devoured by the ocean, and a shiver ran down her spine as she imagined herself having suffered the same fate. Had she not been able to make it to this island, she would have undoubtedly been lost at sea.
She ignored the ice-like feeling wrapping around her.
There was no sense thinking about hypotheticals.
She’d made it here, and she’d made it to Nikos, which seemed strangely fated, now she thought about it.
She dismissed the idea, though, quickly enough.
She didn’t believe in anything like that.
But when his hand reached down and curved around hers, pulling her away from the edge of the cliff face, back towards the cabin and the clearing around it, her whole body began to tingle in a way that definitely seemed other-worldly.
He was silent as they walked, yet a million questions flooded her mind.
She realised that for all they’d spent the day alternating between making love and talking, it had been Genevieve who’d shared the most. Genevieve who’d all but bared her soul.
Then again, was that really a surprise? She’d had no one to talk to about her failing marriage.
No girlfriends she could confide in, and even a psychologist had been out of the question, because of James’s privacy concerns.
No, it was this man, this cabin, this island and the storm that conspired to create a perfect slice away from the rest of the world. Only that bubble enabled her to be so open with him.
It helped that he was so far removed from her normal world.
They would have no acquaintances in common, having obviously moved in very different circles.
She could speak to him without any concerns of it becoming public, and here, well away from humanity and society, there was no risk of their liaison being discovered.
It was safe, safe in a way she hadn’t really understood she’d needed.
Seeing the cabin now, from the outside, without the fear of the storm bearing down upon her, meant she could regard it properly, taking in more details than she’d been capable of the night before.
It was rustic in construction, but obviously very well built.
Stones had been placed close together, mortared, to form the walls, and the roof was made of a sort of plaster and wood.
‘It’s soil and lime plaster,’ he said, when she asked. ‘Reinforced with sand.’
She nodded.
‘I wanted to be able to use it as a second floor. In the summer, I sleep up there, some nights.’
She turned to face him, and the image he created was so incredibly romantic and earthy, so animalistic and pure, that she felt a part of her soul chipping off and coming to rest right here, in this forest, atop a mountain on a Greek volcano.
‘Do you mean you built this?’ Her voice emerged squeaky, but she couldn’t help it. Surprise ran through her veins.
‘Builders are in short supply on the island,’ he quipped, but, despite having known him fewer than twenty-four hours, she had the sense he was obfuscating, intentionally concealing something from her.
‘Still, that must have been quite a challenge.’
‘That was what I needed, at the time.’
Why? The question died on her lips; she knew he wouldn’t answer.
Not yet. She would ask it again, later, when his guard was more fully down.
They walked, hand in hand, to the rear of the cabin, and Genevieve let out a small sound of surprise.
Here was a vegetable garden as fully developed as any she’d seen.
There were fruit trees too, some heavy with citrus.
‘This is better than tinned tuna,’ she pointed out.
His smile made her heart tremble. ‘A little.’
At the back of the house, there was also a large freezer. ‘Meat and fish,’ he explained. ‘Some cheeses that freeze well.’
‘You’re hardly roughing it, then.’
He laughed.
‘Though it’s not what I’d call luxurious, either.’
‘It’s fine for me.’
She nodded, but there was something in his statement that didn’t make sense. What kind of humble mountain man had a helicopter casually parked out the back? She glanced through the forest and saw the flash of metal, and knew that was where he had it stored.
‘Thinking of escape?’ he asked, squeezing her hand.
‘I don’t think I need to escape,’ she replied. ‘I’m not your prisoner.’
‘No,’ he agreed, but his voice was flat.
They didn’t walk far. The sky was inclement and, sure enough, after they’d picked their way through the forest for fifteen minutes or so, until they reached a large, verdant tree covered in spiky little orange and red balls, a few drops of rain began to fall.
‘It’s an Irish Strawberry tree,’ he said, reaching for one and picking it.
‘I’ve never seen that before.’
‘They’re quite common in Greece. There are many on the island.’
‘Where exactly are we, Nikos? I lost my bearings in the storm.’
‘The island is called Therasia Notia. A few nautical miles south of Psara.’
‘I’ve never heard of it.’
‘I’m not surprised.’
‘How can it be empty?’
He looked at her, long and hard, then sighed. ‘Because I want it to be.’
‘That makes no sense.’
Rain began to fall, splishy splashy drops. ‘Come on, koukla. Come back to the cabin.’
She walked quickly beside him, but her mind was still turning over the statement, his certainty that he could keep the island empty, at a single command.
Rain fell heavier though, and lightning began to spark in the sky once more, so she stayed quiet until they’d reached the cabin and moved to stand in front of the fire.
‘Nikos,’ she said, eyes lancing him, holding his gaze. She didn’t need to say anything else; he understood.
‘I own it,’ he said, almost defiantly, as though he was challenging her. ‘The island is mine, and it’s empty because I wish to keep it that way.’
Her jaw dropped. Of course, she knew people who owned things like islands.
Some of James’s donors had been that kind of filthy, stinking rich.
But even in that rarefied upper echelon, it was, in Genevieve’s experience, unusual.
And to keep a beautiful island like this without capitalising on its possible value?
Suddenly, she felt betrayed. It was stupid, because he hadn’t lied to her. But the image she’d had of him as some simple mountain man, existing off the land, was an illusion, disappearing like vapour before her eyes.
‘I see,’ she murmured, unable to keep the hurt from her tone, and hating herself for that. With James, she’d managed to hide how she was feeling. But years of play-acting had exhausted her, so now only her authentic self was on display.
‘I bought it a few years ago, when I was looking to get away.’
She focused all her attention on the fire, ignoring the way he was staring down at her, as if he could read her thoughts if he stared long and hard enough.
‘You just bought an island?’
‘This bothers you?’
She glanced up at him. It was on the tip of her tongue to deny it but, with Nikos, it didn’t feel right to hide herself. ‘A little.’ She sighed heavily. ‘I know I have no right. It’s just, you’re different from what I thought.’
‘Am I? Why?’
She held her hands towards the fire, seeking warmth. ‘You’re obviously very wealthy, for one thing. All of this—’ she gestured around the cabin ‘—is just pretend.’
‘Believe me, it’s not.’
‘But you could jump in your helicopter at any time and fly somewhere else.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Tell me, Nikos, do you have another home somewhere?’
A muscle jerked low in his jaw. ‘This is my home.’
‘You know that’s not what I’m asking.’
‘I have other properties, yes,’ he said, eventually.
‘I see.’
His brows knitted together. ‘I haven’t lied to you.’
He hadn’t. Not really. Yet his every action had been a lie, of sorts, creating an illusion of something that didn’t exist. Beneath the veneer of this rugged, wild beast of a man was someone wealthy and cultivated, civilised, who might be every bit as at home in a suit as her husband had been.
His hands caught her hips then, turning her to face him, and his features held an intensity that took her breath away. ‘Who I am, on this island, is the real me. This, here. I chose this life, because it’s where I belong. What does it matter that I also have business interests?’
‘And money,’ she pointed out.
‘Yes, and money.’
‘I’ve just known people with money. It’s come to be a marker of what I want to avoid.’
‘And if we were anything more than this, I might understand why you were annoyed. But true or false, Genevieve—you are leaving this island as soon as you are safely able to do so. What should it matter to you how much money is in my bank account? It changes nothing.’
She opened her mouth to argue that, to dispute it, but he was right. It shouldn’t matter.