Chapter Seven #2
It was at this moment that Grace lost patience, because what did a man like Odysseus Diamides know about how ordinary people dealt with all the horrible stuff which life threw at them?
‘Why do you think? Because I was broke. I couldn’t afford care fees and rent.
And there was Mum’s funeral to pay for, too.
You wouldn’t believe how expensive that is in Venice.
But Signor Contarini stepped in. He offered to pay for everything if I just carried on from where Mum had left off and became his housekeeper.
And we…we gave her a lovely send-off,’ she said, trying to stop her voice from wobbling as she remembered the black gondola, decked with flowers and the cold tears which had streamed down her cheeks as she had watched its slow glide.
‘Plus he gives me enough salary so that I can pay for Nana’s care, though not a lot else.
Hence my rather drab wardrobe choices.’ She shrugged.
‘It’s what you call a win-win situation. And I’m indebted to him.’
Or trapped, Odysseus thought to himself. Stuck inside a gilded prison.
But Grace’s explanation about her servile role had surprised him and, though it further fuelled his contempt for his grandfather, it had also stimulated his interest. Pluckiness and stoicism were strangely attractive qualities and it occurred to him that he had never come across a woman so willing to put someone else’s needs ahead of their own.
‘Come on. Isn’t it your turn now?’ she ventured, into the pause which had followed. ‘Isn’t it time I learnt something about you?’
‘I guess so,’ he answered, with practised skill.
Bypassing the kind of intrusive detail he suspected she wanted, he chose instead to recount the rags-to-riches account of his time as a runner on the floor of the Athens stock exchange, to the announcement made just a decade later that he was the richest man in all Greece.
It was a smooth and potted history he’d got down to a fine art, knowing when to skate over detail, when to elaborate and when to pause for laughs.
It left people feeling they understood him.
They never did, of course—that was just an illusion and one which he had carefully cultivated.
‘Now my job takes me all over the world and I live on an island—alone—and very happily so.’ He narrowed his eyes, deliberately keeping his tone dismissive.
‘So. Does that tell you everything you want to know, Grace?’
She began to pluck at the silken throw, inadvertently drawing attention to the outline of her body beneath. ‘Well…’
But he shifted the focus, deliberately peeling away the cover to reveal her breasts, allowing his thumb to trace a lazy circle over the peaking nipple. ‘I think we’ve done enough talking,’ he murmured. ‘Isn’t it about time I made you come again?’
‘Oh, yes please,’ she whispered, with shy eagerness.
Which he did. On every available surface.
Odysseus had never wanted a woman so much as he wanted Grace.
He was hard all the time, vacillating between intense pleasure and intense frustration.
He couldn’t seem to get enough of her and couldn’t seem to work out why.
Was it her innocent willingness to learn how to pleasure him which was making him feel as if he could explode with lust every time he looked at her, or the fact that he’d never met anyone quite like her?
She was humble and polite. She thanked the staff and made a point of chatting to them in French.
In between room-service meals and non-stop sex, he realised that in a little over twenty-four hours they hadn’t even left the hotel and that he hadn’t thought about work. Not once.
‘Let’s go for a walk,’ he said suddenly.
From within the deep cushions of the extra-long sofa where he’d left her dozing, she blinked those extraordinarily long black eyelashes at him and, in the spring sunshine, the amber of her eyes resembled molten gold.
‘A walk?’ she echoed in surprise, and he felt an unexpected touch of guilt that his preoccupation up until now had been so relentlessly carnal.
‘It’s a beautiful day and Paris is a beautiful city, of which you have seen very little. The Tuileries Garden isn’t far from here.’ He raised his brows. ‘Does that appeal?’
‘Well, yes, it does. Very much,’ she answered shyly and once again he felt an unexpected punch to his heart.
‘I’ll leave you to get ready while I catch up on some work next door.’
‘But it’s Saturday,’ she objected.
‘I am well aware of what day it is, Grace,’ he said coolly as he reached for his jeans.
Grace watched him go, feeling like a fool.
What was she like ? Of course he knew what day of the week it was!
He was probably using his work to emphasise the boundaries of their relationship, which he’d been reinforcing whenever he got the opportunity.
And he wasn’t exactly subtle about it. She knew what he was doing.
Warning her off ever daring to dream of any kind of future between them.
He liked living alone, as he’d told her on more than one occasion.
He didn’t like commitment. Definitely didn’t want children of his own, although it seemed he had several adoring godchildren scattered all over the world.
After spritzing herself beneath the shower, she pulled on a dress and trainers and, at the last minute, crammed on the floppy hat with the polka-dot ribbon which Sophia had insisted she borrow. ‘Because men love hats,’ she had informed Grace knowingly. ‘And they hide a multitude of sins.’
It seemed her more worldly friend had been correct because when Grace went to find Odysseus—tapping out something on his computer—he went very still when he saw her, his smoky blue gaze travelling all the way up from her feet, to linger on her head.
‘Mmm. Nice… hat ,’ he murmured, his eyes glinting with provocation.
‘I… Thank you.’ Dreamily, she touched the brim, trying not to think about the sinful curve of his lips, or get too carried away by the careless compliment.
He flipped the lid of his computer shut and rose abruptly to his feet. ‘Let’s go.’
Outside, the warmth of the sun beating down on her only increased Grace’s feeling of contentment as they began to walk towards the famous gardens and she drank in the landmarks she’d only ever seen in books or films. The glint of the River Seine.
The Robocop structure of the Eiffel Tower.
The Palais Royal and the Place Vend?me. And, of course, cars—living in Venice, she wasn’t used to cars.
They sat at a pavement café and drank Kir Royale and she watched elegant women passing by with their handbag-sized dogs.
By the time they reached the Tuileries, Grace was feeling totally relaxed—especially when Odysseus managed to commandeer a vacant bench.
Was it something about his commanding presence which made a young couple spring to their feet, as if compelled to give the powerful billionaire the space he needed?
‘You don’t mind if I make a few calls?’ he said, pulling out his phone.
‘I don’t suppose it would make any difference if I did?’
‘Correct,’ he affirmed.
Punching out a call, he began speaking in Greek and, with a jolt, Grace realised she hadn’t looked at her own phone all day. She hadn’t wanted to. It was as if the outside world no longer existed and this powerful man had become the centre of her universe. And surely that was dangerous.
Was it?
She stared at the way the sunlight sparkled on the water of the central fountain and wondered what advice her darling nana might give if she weren’t lying in a coma.
But deep down, she knew. She’d tell her that life was short and to get out there and enjoy herself, instead of spoiling it by worrying about the future.
And that was what she intended to do. No more entertaining impossible dreams about a man who was totally out of her reach.
She was just going to enjoy what they had now.
She was here to learn about sex…so bring on the next lesson!
A tiny white dog came yapping up to her and she giggled as she bent to ruffle its soft ears and it rose up on its back legs and performed a little dance.
‘That’s better,’ purred Odysseus.
Retracting her fingers from the playful canine, Grace looked up, noticing Odysseus was turning off his phone before sliding it into the back pocket of his jeans, and she felt a blissful clench of anticipation as she met the gleam of his eyes. ‘What is?’
There was a pause. ‘I wonder if you have any idea of how beautiful you look when you smile.’
Don’t react. Do not react. Remember what you’ve just been thinking.
‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ she said lightly, holding onto her hat against a sudden gusty breeze, aware that Odysseus was studying her with a look she now recognised.
A smoky longing. A burst of sensual flame, which flowed between them like lava.
Desire in its purest form which made her go weak at the knees.
‘I think we should go back to the hotel as soon as possible because I want you, Grace. Very badly,’ he stated unevenly.
‘I want you too,’ she whispered.
‘And later I’m going to take you somewhere very special for dinner.’
Grace was on such a high that she didn’t even stress about what she was going to wear, especially as Odysseus took her straight to bed and ravished her so thoroughly that afterwards she was left feeling completely sated.
They slept wrapped in each other’s arms and it was only when she woke up amid the rumpled sheets that her doubts started to emerge.
‘Is this restaurant you’re taking me to very posh?’
‘Reasonably. Why?’
‘I’m wondering what to wear… obviously .’ She threw him a reproving look. ‘Especially after those snide comments you made about my fashion sense.’
‘I take it all back. You look good in anything. Better still in nothing.’ He trailed a slow finger over her hip. ‘But there’s a dress shop next door. We could easily go down and find something for you to wear.’
She couldn’t deny being tempted by his careless suggestion and Grace supposed that purchasing a designer dress would be a drop in the ocean for someone like Odysseus.
And there was no doubt that a sumptuous gown bought in this expensive part of the city would help her blend in and look the part.
But she shook her head, because that was definitely a line and she didn’t want to cross it.
‘I’d rather not,’ she said. ‘I’ll just tart up something I’ve brought with me and do my best not to let you down. ’
She could tell he was surprised—perhaps even a touch irritated—by her refusal to accept his offer, but in the end she pronounced herself pleased with what she accomplished.
Her simple black dress adorned with masses of silver chains which caught the light as she walked, she slid her feet into a pair of barely worn black heels which brought her almost up to his shoulders.
She was just about to add to her supposed look of sophistication by piling up her hair, when he stopped her.
‘No. Leave it down. I like it best like that,’ he commanded huskily, and Grace felt a flutter of delight as he stroked his fingers through the newly washed strands.
His car sped them to a restaurant high on the sixth floor in the fifth arrondissement of the city, overlooking the glitter of the river and Notre-Dame Cathedral.
It was, indeed, very grand, but the light touch of Odysseus’s hand at her back filled Grace with a sense of self-belief and although everyone in the room was looking at him, he seemed only to have eyes for her.
In the candlelight, they ate duck with polenta and drank rich, red wine and she found herself thinking that this was, without doubt, the best night of her life and she wanted to savour every second of it.
He didn’t take her straight to bed when they arrived back at the hotel, just tugged off his tie and kissed her very thoroughly before disappearing into the bathroom, and that felt comfortable and intimate.
It felt real. Hugging herself with anticipation about the night ahead, Grace suddenly heard a vibrating sound coming from the depths of her small rucksack and pulled out her phone, her heart sinking when she glanced at the screen.
Because, intoxicated by sex and enclosed within this bubble of rarefied luxury, it had been ridiculously easy to forget that she had another life. And the reminder of that life came crashing down like a rock when she saw that there were fourteen missed calls from Vincenzo.
Fourteen.
Why the hell had she put her phone on silent? was her first thought.
But her second thought was to wonder why she worked for such an unreasonable man.
Yet she knew the answer to that question. She did it because she had to. Sucking in a nervous breath, she was just about to ring him back when the screen started flashing and, barely registering the fact that Odysseus had returned and was standing in the doorway, she swiped the call to accept.
‘Signor Contarini,’ she trilled nervously. ‘Is everything okay?’