Stranded with Her Greek Tycoon Page 4

  He followed her gaze and frowned. ‘We checked all the weather forecasts for this day when we were planning the celebration, but they didn’t predict this. Hopefully it will blow over. Most of the guests need to leave after lunch. I’ll check the reports again.’

  From the time she had met him until the time she had left him, Hayley had leaned on Cristos. It was something she was determined never to do again. But checking weather forecasts in Greek was something she was happy to leave to him.

  She knew she was gawking as she looked around her. The place really was extraordinary and she wasn’t used to such high-end luxury. She earned a reasonable salary as a mechanical engineer, but a resort like this would be way out of her reach, the stuff of dream vacations. Cristos had coerced her into staying for lunch—she was determined to lap up the luxury and enjoy it.

  True to her word, Dell had seated her at the round table where she was already waiting with Alex. Hayley returned Dell’s big smile. Dell was one of those people she had liked on sight. Under different circumstances she felt they would be friends.

  ‘Kalos eerthes,’ Dell said to her and Cristos. ‘Welcome.’ She introduced Hayley to the other guests at the table: cousins from Athens and two sets of parents, Dell’s and Alex’s, who had flown from Australia. The family connections were all too much for Hayley to take in, though she recognised some of the names from long-ago conversations with Cristos.

  She was seated next to Cristos as was her due as his legally wed wife. It was surreal to be treated again as a couple, to be swept back into something that was once so everyday. Hayley and Cristos. They’d once been an entity. How much did his cousin and his wife know of their history? Hayley certainly didn’t intend to mention anything of their future. The divorce was hers and Cristos’s business alone.

  However, she suspected Dell and Alex might have guessed not all was what it seemed between her and Cristos, the way they steered the conversation strictly to neutral territory. Alex explained the history of the island, how it had long ago been owned by Cristos’s and Alex’s family, more recently by a Greek magnate, then the Russian billionaire who had sold it back to Alex. He and Dell had developed the resort, building around an existing unfinished building.

  Then there was chit-chat about the food. The meal was certainly conversation worthy. Mezze platters with a selection of Greek appetisers to start, followed by lamb and chicken cooked with lemon and Greek herbs, accompanied by seasonal vegetable dishes made with artichokes, beets and spinach.

  ‘Most of what we’re eating is grown on the island,’ Cristos explained. ‘Even the olive oil and the honey. The cheeses come from the milk from their herd of goats, and eggs from the chickens kept here.’

  Hayley was surprised at his depth of knowledge about the resort and the island. Perhaps he had been working here for his cousin. As far as she knew he had stopped the lucrative modelling. She wondered what he had been doing since to earn a living. Her lawyer wanted to find out but Hayley had instructed him that there was no need to investigate Cristos’s finances. She didn’t want to make any financial claim on him. A complete severing of ties was all that was required.

  ‘It’s fantastic to be practically self-sufficient for food,’ she said. ‘I saw water tanks and solar panels too.’

  ‘The island is self-sufficient for power,’ he said. ‘I’m not surprised you noticed. You were always interested in alternative energy sources.’

  ‘I’m working for a solar-panel development company in Sydney,’ she said, then immediately regretted letting slip the information. Her life in Sydney was hers; her independence had been hard won. She didn’t want to share the details of her new life with Cristos. When she went back she wanted to forget she had ever been married.

  ‘Lots of sunshine in Australia, I guess,’ was all he said. His eyes narrowed. She was grateful for the semi-public forum they found themselves in so he didn’t press for details. Or perhaps he simply didn’t care what she’d been doing with her life since she’d left him.

  The placement of the chairs around the table was close—perhaps because they’d had to accommodate her as an extra guest. But it meant she was sitting very close to Cristos. Too close. Whatever she did—reach for condiments, lean aside to give access to the waiters—meant her shoulder brushed against his arm, his thigh nudged hers. She was as aware of the slightest contact as if there were a jolt of current connecting them. But it would appear too obvious to jump back from the contact.

  She found the proximity disconcerting. Cristos seemed to take it in his stride. In front of a table of people he knew well, he played the role of husband with aplomb, always taking pains to include her in the conversation. Perhaps more so because he must be aware the other guests were dying to know the truth about the sudden reappearance of his English wife.

  But this whole fake reunion thing was messing with her head. Particularly disconcerting had been her reaction to his kiss back at the chapel. She couldn’t stop thinking about it. How could she have reacted like that when she was so determined to put him in her past?

  The physical attraction between them when they’d met had been instant and magnetic. In the first blissful months of their marriage they had not been able to get enough of each other. Even when things had started to sour as he’d gone from business student to the hot man of the moment, any argument had ended up in bed. But physical attraction was not enough. Great sex was not enough.

  She’d been so naïve when she’d met him. Maybe she’d been not just old-fashioned but misguided to insist on staying a virgin until marriage. Then she might not have rushed into marriage. That overwhelming hunger for him had blinded her to other issues that had in the end unravelled. Like trust. And honesty.

  Right now she had to be honest with herself—she needed to fight that physical attraction so she could free herself from him and move on. Sitting so close to him at the table for lunch, she was preternaturally aware of him—every nuance in his expression, every shift in his body. He had once been her world.

  It wasn’t just his extraordinary good looks that were so compelling. It was also his effortless personal charisma. Switching between Greek and English, he had the entire table laughing at his story about a fishing expedition gone wrong. Yet when he turned to her, to translate a Greek phrase, his green eyes bright with laughter, it was as if she were the only person in the room who was of any importance to him. Once she had believed that to be true—before she’d had to share him with the rest of the world.

  She forced a smile in response. He would know she was faking it but she hoped the others wouldn’t. This was Dell and Alex’s day and not to be marred by any antagonism between her and Cristos.

  After the main course had been served, the guests on either side of both her and Cristos excused themselves from the table; those opposite were engrossed in conversation. Cristos picked up her left hand. ‘You still wear your wedding and engagement rings,’ he said in a low voice meant only for her.

  ‘Just to transport them safely back to you,’ she said. ‘They’re safer on my finger than in my handbag. I’ll give them back to you when we say goodbye.’

  His face tightened, all traces of his earlier good humour extinguished. He released her hand. ‘There is no need for that. The rings are yours.’

  ‘What use are they to me?’ she said. ‘I’ll never wear them again. And I don’t want to be reminded of our marriage. I want to put all that behind me.’ She had been in the nebulous state of being separated for too long. Not a wife, yet not single either.

  He swore in Greek under his breath. Hurt? Pain? Anger? It certainly didn’t sound like relief. She had agreed with Cristos not to disrupt the wedding renewal celebration. Now that she’d got to know Dell and Alex a little better she was glad she had stayed. But at what cost to her? And perhaps also to Cristos? She should never have come here.

  ‘Did you wear your rings in Australia?’ he asked abrup
tly.

  She glanced down at the simple sapphire and diamond cluster set in white gold, the matching plain band. The stones in the engagement ring were tiny. When they’d got engaged Cristos couldn’t afford anything more than a ring from a chain of high-street jewellers. But she’d thought it was beautiful and Cristos had declared the stone was nowhere nearly as beautiful as the colour of her eyes. Later, when the money from his new career had started to flow, he’d wanted to buy her a more expensive ring but she’d refused. She’d cherished that ring. It had symbolised everything good about their love. If he wouldn’t take it back she would give it away.

  ‘No. I didn’t wear my rings in Sydney. And I didn’t go by my married name either. I used my maiden name, Hayley Clements. It was easier than explaining a Greek surname when I so obviously didn’t look Greek.’

  Cristos slammed his right hand, where he wore his simple gold wedding band in the Greek tradition, on the table. ‘I have never taken mine off,’ he said.

  Hayley swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. ‘You took it off many times for your modelling shoots.’

  ‘I was playing a role when I was working. Most often that role was not of a married man. I could not be seen to be wearing a wedding ring.’

  ‘I understood that. Of course I did. But then you started to leave it off all the time.’

  ‘You know why,’ he said, tight-lipped. He shifted in his seat. This wedding-ring thing had become an issue in their short marriage. One that had festered with her in their time apart.

  ‘Because it was seen as a disadvantage to your career to be married. A wife was a hindrance. “It would be better for your fans—both female and male—if you were seen to be single.” Don’t you remember your agent saying that?’ She hadn’t meant to blurt that out. She’d been determined not to speak of their mutual past. No recriminations. No blame. Just a clean cut.

  He frowned. ‘Of course I remember. We discussed it at the time—over and over. Then we agreed to take my agent’s advice. We needed the money too much to argue with him.’

  She looked down at the table. Smoothed a barely visible crease in the white tablecloth. When she’d got engaged to Cristos her parents had cut off her allowance, stopped the rent on her accommodation. They’d both been students. To get extra money, he’d tutored kids studying Greek, she’d taught dancing. Neither pursuit had been lucrative. They’d struggled.

  ‘The idea was that we would still be together but not acknowledged as husband and wife,’ she said. That still stung—though it had made sense at the time and she’d gone into it with eyes well and truly open. ‘A girlfriend was acceptable. She was dispensable. That gave your fans hope that one day in their fantasies they might win you. The presence of a real-life wife ruined the fantasy.’

  ‘That’s how it was supposed to work,’ he said. ‘We both agreed I would take my wedding band off when I was in public. Then put it back on in private when I came home to you.’

  Hayley couldn’t keep the sadness from her voice as she looked back up at him. ‘Until there were more and more times when you didn’t come home. When you were on shoots all over Europe. Then exotic, far-flung places like Morocco and Africa.’

  ‘Those jobs were the most lucrative,’ he said, his jaw set. ‘And the conditions weren’t as glamorous as they looked. You didn’t complain about the income they generated. I only did it for the money.’

  Perhaps. But she would see the results of those shoots plastered all over billboards and in glossy magazines. More often than not they would feature Cristos, his body toned and buffed to perfection, wearing nothing more than swim-briefs or even underpants, with a gorgeous female model with next to nothing on draped all over him. She doubted even the most secure of wives wouldn’t help but feel threatened. And a wife who had to keep her presence hidden, who didn’t live up to the glamorous standards set by his new world, had found it difficult to deal with.

  ‘You know I asked could you come with me,’ he said. ‘Repeatedly. It just wasn’t done.’

  The conversation was heading into territory Hayley had no wish to revisit. She picked up the little marble dish containing organic salt crystals from her place setting then put it down again. ‘I know you tried to include me. And I appreciated it.’

  On one stomach-churning occasion she had overheard his agent’s reply when Cristos had asked could his beautiful wife perhaps join his agency as a model too. The agent had replied very quickly that it wasn’t a good idea. ‘She’s pretty enough. But she’s too short and too wide in the hips.’

  His words had been so brutally dismissive. Even the word pretty had sounded like an insult. Was it then that she’d begun to believe that her husband’s new world would not have room for her?

  * * *

  Cristos realised there were several ways Hayley looked different from when they’d been husband and wife. The short hair for one. But it was in her eyes he saw a shadow of sadness that wrenched at him.

  ‘You’re thinking about that comment my agent made, aren’t you?’

  Back then he had been furious at the insult to his wife and had wanted to walk out. He had cursed. He had fisted his hands by his sides to stop himself from punching the agent out.

  But Hayley had swallowed the insult, had placated him and talked him into staying—for the sake of the money modelling had brought them. ‘It’s such an opportunity for us. How many people our age get that chance?’ she’d said. Her strategy had been to put everything they saved into the bank to give them a better start than many young couples starting off life together. He’d preferred a riskier, higher-yielding investment option—but he hadn’t told her that. Not then. Not ever.

  Now she waved his comment away with a flick of her wrist. ‘I can laugh at that awful guy now,’ she said. Cristos doubted that was true. ‘I got used to people like him treating others like commodities, where the length of a woman’s legs or the shape of a man’s nose made them marketable or not.’

  ‘Yeah. It could be brutal,’ he said. In Cristos’s eyes, Hayley had been the most beautiful woman in the world. His agent had seen her differently. If a woman wasn’t fit for purpose then she had no use. Or a man. That was an inescapable reality of the business. And one he’d ultimately walked away from. He’d only endured it for her sake. When they’d discovered she was pregnant he had worked even longer hours for financial security for his wife and child.

  It wasn’t a business Cristos had signed up for intentionally. Six months after they’d married, when he had finished his master’s degree in business and Hayley still had a term to go to finish her degree in engineering, they’d taken the train down to London for a mini-break. Cristos’s patience for shopping was limited. While Hayley had looked through every dress on the rack in a boutique in Covent Garden, Cristos had leaned against a wall outside and waited for her. Hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black jacket, he’d been happy to watch the world go by. London and the people from all around the world who flocked to it had fascinated him.

  When the very fashionably dressed middle-aged man had approached him and asked him had he ever considered being a model, he’d brushed him off. Less politely the second time. Cristos had never lacked female attention, and often male attention too. He hadn’t wanted to insult the guy but he’d made it clear in no uncertain terms that whatever pick-up line the older man chose to use it would not work on him. He was a happily married man.

  Cristos had taken the man’s card just to get him off his back. It had indeed been from a talent agency but anyone could print off a business card and make it say whatever they wanted. He’d put it in his pocket and forgotten about it.

  Later at lunch in an Italian restaurant off Leicester Square he’d remembered and pulled the card out of his pocket to show Hayley. Her eyes had widened. ‘If that guy was genuine, this is one of the biggest model agencies in the world. I think you should follow it up.’

  ‘Me
? A model?’ he’d scoffed. He’d thought himself way too macho to even consider it. In his world, modelling wasn’t a serious man’s profession. ‘No way. Never.’

  ‘You’re more than good-looking enough,’ Hayley had said, her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘Ask them what kind of money you could make.’

  The model scout had, in fact, been genuine. And the potential earnings Cristos had been quoted had been enough for him and Hayley to turn to each other and grin. When the agent had moved away to a filing cabinet to get a contract, they’d given each other a high five behind his back. ‘This might be fun,’ she’d said, laughing.

  Turned out Cristos had had just the look big-brand clients wanted. In a sea of underfed, androgynous male models he’d stood out with his muscular build and intense masculinity. He’d been booked solid straight away. Had been hailed almost immediately as the new David Gandy.

  But commuting from Durham in the north of England had become problematic. He’d moved to a small flat in Camberwell in South East London and seen Hayley as often as they had been able to manage between her studies and his modelling commitments. It hadn’t worked. They hadn’t been able to bear to spend so much time apart. He had missed her with an intensity that had made it difficult to concentrate on his work. She’d deferred her final term and moved to London to be with him. Stints in Paris and Milan had followed. And Hayley had never got the chance to go back to university.

  ‘Are you still modelling?’ Hayley asked.

  He shook his head. ‘After you left, I honoured existing contracts then retired.’

  ‘And came home to Greece?’ She paused. ‘You don’t have to answer that question. What you do now is none of my business.’

  He wanted to say that of course his life was her business. Legally she was still his wife. But that would involve coming clean about his taking risks with their savings—even though it had paid off more than handsomely. He hadn’t felt able to tell her then. Nor to mention that one of his collaborators had been female. For such a sweet, petite woman Hayley could be very feisty and he hadn’t wanted to face her justifiable wrath. By the time he’d hit the jackpot with that first online shopping comparison app, she’d been gone from his life.