Stranded with Her Greek Tycoon Read online

  As she pulled off the work gloves Stavros had found for her and shrugged out of Dell’s too-big jacket, Hayley looked around for Cristos. She’d lost track of him; last seen he’d been working alongside Alex fixing a loose shutter. She wrapped her arms around herself. It felt odd not to have him by her side. There was no role for her in this place without him.

  What was she doing here?

  The storm hit with its full fury just minutes later, in a frenzy of crashing thunder and lightning that forked through the sky. Violent winds whipped around the building. Rain lashed against the windows with the sound of pebbles being hurled against the glass. The building shuddered and shook with each assault from the skies.

  The guests had all been allocated their rooms, but many now gathered again in the far from quiet meditation room. Hayley joined them; it was more comforting to be among people even though she was still the object of either curious glances or tentative smiles. She suspected, as far as support for Cristos’s errant wife went, they might have divided into Team Penelope and Team Dell.

  Alex reassured everyone in the room that the resort was well built and sturdy and they were all perfectly safe. But children among the guests screamed with each crash of thunder until their parents made a game of it that had the kids competing who could jump the highest when the thunder erupted.

  Dell’s toddler Litza joined in with the bigger kids, attempting to jump but not getting very high and then chortling with sweet baby peals of laughter. She was adorable but Hayley found it unbearable to watch her. Most of the time she didn’t allow herself to wonder what her baby—girl or boy—would be like now if her pregnancy had proceeded. She had forced herself to bury such painful thoughts. But Litza, her baby words alternating between English and Greek as her child would likely have done, was too much of a reminder of what she’d lost, what might have been.

  She turned her back on the kids and stood watching the sky, keeping a safe distance away from the glass doors in the meditation room. She would be out of here tomorrow and this would seem in retrospect like a bad dream.

  Every so often lightning would illuminate the darkness, reflecting in the roiling sea below. She sensed Cristos come up behind her. After all this time, she still recognised his footfall, his scent, his presence, him.

  ‘Here you are,’ he said, as a husband seeking his wife might say. He took his place beside her, close enough that his arm brushed against her, showing—consciously or not—to anyone watching them that they were a couple. He didn’t say anything else, rather joined her watching the pyrotechnics display in the sky for a surprisingly companionable moment.

  ‘They say the negative ions released into the atmosphere by an electrical storm can make you feel wonderful,’ she said, without turning to him. ‘I wish I could go outside and breathe them in but I know it wouldn’t be safe with all that lightning about.’

  ‘Why is that? The ions, I mean.’

  She slanted her shoulder towards him; in profile he looked pensive and heartbreakingly handsome. Was he really interested in ions or just asking so they would appear deep in husband-and-wife conversation?

  ‘Apparently they cause some kind of biochemical reaction that releases feel-good hormones in the body.’ She didn’t mention that she’d read the effect of the negative ions included heightened sensual awareness—back when they were together it would have been the first thing she’d told him. A kiss from Cristos was more powerful than any negative ions.

  He smiled. ‘Maybe I can tell that to the disgruntled people who are complaining about missing transport connections.’

  ‘You mean suggest they step outside and take a deep breath? They might not thank you if they’re struck by lightning.’

  She giggled at the thought of it, and was warmed by Cristos’s quiet laughter in return. In another life she might have asked him which of the guests he would like to shove outside on the balcony during a storm. But not here, not now when the room was full of his family and their friends and she was the outsider.

  At that moment there was an almighty crack and sheet lightning illuminated the sky and the sea below as if a set of stadium lights had been suddenly switched on. Hayley couldn’t help but start in reaction. From behind her came a chorus of squeals from the kids.

  Cristos put his hand on her shoulder. She leaned into him without thinking, then pulled away when she realised what she had done. ‘Are you frightened?’ he asked.

  Hayley shook her head. ‘When I was tiny I was terrified of storms. It would be a race for who would hide under the bed first—me or my dog. But my father reassured me in much the same way the parents here are doing. “It’s just nature’s fireworks,” he’d say.’

  ‘That’s a good way of putting it,’ Cristos said. ‘I hadn’t thought of your banker father as being that lyrical.’

  ‘He has his moments. He was—is—a good father but totally henpecked by my mother. The times when I was out working with him in his shed or building a wall in the garden—things she thought were totally unfeminine—were when we were closest.’

  Lightning flashed again. ‘Nature’s fireworks,’ said Cristos. ‘I like that description.’

  ‘Magnificent in its own way, isn’t it? There are worse things to be frightened of.’

  Like loneliness. Despair. Isolation. The feeling of being in an endless dark tunnel with no light ahead to guide her. Feelings she hadn’t been able to share with him towards the end of the marriage. Why would she now?

  ‘I guess so,’ he said. There was a ragged edge to his voice. Had he suffered when she’d left him? She hadn’t thought he would care. Even before her miscarriage she’d begun to believe he wanted out of the marriage. His unexplained long absences, with the nebulous excuse of ‘business’, on top of the shoots away with the glamorous female models, had had her doubting his commitment. When he hadn’t been there for her the day she’d lost the baby, when he had once again said he’d been in a meeting to earn more money for her and the baby without specifying where he had been, her belief in him had been struck a mortal blow.

  No. She wouldn’t ask how he’d felt when she’d left. She’d always been there to encourage and support him. Until she’d felt so unsupported herself she’d had to go. She’d spent the time since their split building her strength and independence. That independence had been hard won. It had taken her all this time to feel she was ready to face him.

  ‘What was your father like when you were little?’ she asked. ‘You never talked about him.’ She knew he’d been orphaned when he was fourteen but he’d talked more as if Stavros and Penelope had been his parents.

  His hand tensed on her shoulder. ‘He was away a lot. My mother and I always seemed to be waiting for him to come home.’

  His hand slid from her shoulder and for a moment she missed its warmth and strength. ‘What about happy father and son memories from when you were little?’

  He hesitated. Frowned as if it was a real effort to dredge up the memories. As if he wasn’t used to revisiting his childhood. ‘I remember him teaching me to fish. When I was about five, I think. Not in the sea. We moved around a lot. In a river with a hand-held line. He was very patient.’ He fell silent and Hayley was about to move the conversation on when he spoke. His words were slow and thoughtful as if he was lost in his reminiscence. ‘He taught me English. His English was excellent. Heaven knows where he learned it from. I remember him telling me English was the best second language to have. I didn’t appreciate it at the time, of course.’

  ‘And you ended up getting a postgraduate degree from one of the top universities in England. Your dad would have been very proud of you.’

  He nodded slowly, as if it were a new thought. ‘I guess he would.’

  Her watch beeped. Silently she cursed it. She wanted to talk more to Cristos about his childhood. But she had made a promise. ‘I should go. I volunteered to help Dell in the dining room.’r />
  ‘Do you need to? You’ve already done so much work outside,’ he said. ‘You must be exhausted.’

  She remembered how solicitous Cristos had been in the early weeks of her pregnancy. The pregnancy hadn’t been planned. But he wouldn’t let her refer to it as ‘an accident’. Their baby would never feel anything other than wanted and loved, he’d declared. Then he’d used impending fatherhood as an excuse to spend more time away from her. He’d said he had to earn as much as possible for his family, that no child of his would ever lack for anything. Looking back, she wondered why she hadn’t believed him.

  ‘I like Dell. I feel sorry for her that she’s having to run around after everyone when I’m sure she and Alex had more romantic plans for the evening. The catering staff are stuck here like we are and already run off their feet after the celebration lunch. I’m happy to help.’

  ‘Dell will appreciate it. And remember—you’re family.’

  ‘Not really,’ she said, aghast.

  ‘As far as everyone here is concerned you are my wife. That makes you family,’ he said, stepping closer so no one could overhear, taking up the personal space a husband might expect as his right.

  She took a step back, trying not to make it look obvious how shaken she felt by his closeness. ‘Family or not, I did promise to help. You know me, I like to keep busy.’ She knew she was speaking too fast.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I remember.’

  Did he still know her? Was she even the same person? She’d never really known him. Not that it had stopped her loving him unconditionally. Looking back, she realised Cristos was very good at being who he thought people wanted him to be. Had seemed to show different facets of himself at different times. What had he kept from her?

  * * *

  By the time Hayley had helped out in the dining room and got back up to the penthouse suite she was exhausted but wide awake. How could she be anything else when she knew Cristos would soon be joining her?

  She quickly showered and changed into the new silk pyjamas she’d bought from the resort store. They were tailored man-style, beautifully cut, white and piped around the collar, cuffs and hems in ice blue. She topped them with the plush white velour bath robe she’d found in the closet. There was a matching one in a larger size for Cristos. Couple’s robes hanging in a closet for two.

  It was very much a couple’s room. An enormous king-sized bed dominated, topped with so many pillows it would take her ages just to clear the bed for sleeping. She would never be able to remember how to rearrange them when she made the bed. In the bathroom there were his-and-hers basins, a shower designed for two and a huge free-standing tub.

  The spacious suite was all white-veined marble luxury, with pale rugs underfoot and splashes of colour on the walls from the original artworks that seemed to be of the surrounding islands. The balcony doors were closed and shuttered against the storm, but she could imagine it had a spectacular view. The room shrieked ‘honeymoon suite’, which made it even more of a concern to have to share it with Cristos.

  She was so on edge at the thought of him joining her in a honeymoon suite she couldn’t settle. In all her plans for the delivery of their divorce documents, she hadn’t counted on this.

  She paced the marble floor. Fiddled with the television controls with no luck, just a static screen. Examined the contents of the refrigerator—no alcohol, only health drinks. Finally, she lay down on the top of the bed and started to read a novel on her tablet. Useless. She realised she had read the same paragraph three times without absorbing a word. When she heard a bold, loud knock on the door she jumped.

  ‘It’s me,’ came the deep, masculine voice. Him. The door opened. She realised she was clutching the edge of her tablet so tightly she was in danger of cracking it.

  The moment he entered the spacious room it seemed smaller. He was so tall and broad-shouldered he seemed to dominate it, to use up more airspace than one man should. Hayley jumped up. She didn’t want the fact she was lying on a bed to be misconstrued.

  He took a step closer to her, all six feet two inches of him, in black jeans and a dark charcoal shirt rolled up at the sleeves, his hair a touch dishevelled, the shadow of the day’s beard growth darkening his jaw. Without her heeled boots, just the hotel slippers, he towered over her. She felt at a disadvantage in just pyjamas and a robe. She stepped backwards so the edge of the bed pressed against the backs of her legs.

  ‘You’re here,’ he said. It was the first time they’d been truly alone since she’d arrived on the island.

  ‘Yes.’ She looked around her, anywhere but at him. ‘I don’t know why Alex and Dell gave us such a lovey-dovey room.’

  ‘You know why,’ he said shortly. ‘They like you and are hoping we’ll reconcile.’

  ‘Surely we can ditch the charade now?’

  ‘Absolutely. No need to play games with just the two of us here,’ he said. ‘In fact, while we’re forced into each other’s company, it’s time for some truths. Starting with why the hell you ran out on me.’ His eyes bored into her. At once the practised civility displayed for the wedding renewal guests was dropped. She could sense the anger vibrating from him, extinguishing the traces of their earlier shared intimacy. ‘You discharged yourself from hospital without telling me and disappeared. One minute we’re married, the next you’re gone.’

  ‘You left me alone, terrified, in pain. You switched off your phone. You weren’t working that day. I didn’t know where you were.’

  ‘I was in a business meeting. My agent kept calling me and hassling me about some stupid contract detail. I turned the phone off to get him off my back. As soon as I switched it back on I got your messages. I was devastated that I’d missed your calls. You know I got to the hospital as fast as I could. You shouldn’t have been on your own and I’ll never forgive myself for not being there.’

  ‘All the time I was thinking he’ll call me. He’ll check in to see how I am. But you never did. I had to go through it all on my own. I felt abandoned.’

  ‘When I got there it was too late.’

  ‘Yes.’ She still remembered her agony of despair when the doctor had told her. With no husband by her side.

  ‘If I’d got you to the hospital earlier, could they have saved the baby?’

  She couldn’t look at him. ‘I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t think so.’

  ‘What caused the miscarriage? You were thirteen weeks—we thought you were safe. I never got to ask you, never found out.’

  ‘They didn’t know. The doctors said miscarriage is common in first pregnancies. There was no cause they could identify.’ They’d told her to give herself a few months to get over it then try again. But she wasn’t going to share that with him.

  ‘I was distraught that we’d lost the baby. Terrified you were so unwell, that I might lose you too. I wanted to comfort you. We should have comforted each other.’

  ‘I wasn’t just unwell. I was angry with you. Not just about the phone call. Other things. It all built up.’ The days both before and after the miscarriage were a blur; she didn’t clearly remember the details. Only her grief and pain.

  ‘What other things? What could have been so bad we couldn’t have worked through them? In the beginning we had to fight to be together. We were happy. Then at a time when we should have been there for each other, shared our grief, you ran away. Put yourself right back into the power of your parents, who guarded you from me like rabid watchdogs then spirited you away to Australia. I was your husband. Didn’t that mean anything? Help me understand why I lost my wife.’

  She put up her hand. Had to force her voice to be steady. ‘Cristos. Stop right there. I don’t want to talk about it. That was the worst time of my life. I took so long to get over it. Reliving it all is too painful.’

  He paused. ‘I get that. I’m sorry. More sorry than you could know that I wasn’t there for you. We won’t talk
about it if that’s what you wish. But can you please fill me in on what you’ve done in the time we’ve been apart? You’ll be out of here tomorrow. This is our last chance. I know nothing about your life.’

  ‘I guess I owe you that.’ She swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. ‘I need to get a glass of water first.’

  She walked past him, intent on staying a good distance away. So intent she stumbled over the too-big hotel slippers. He caught her arm to steady her.

  ‘No need to be nervous,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to try to seduce you.’ His deep voice, the way his green eyes looked at her as though he could see right through her pyjamas, belied his words. Why not? The thought sprung from some wayward corner of her heart.

  ‘I... I didn’t think you were going to. That isn’t part of the deal,’ she said, unable to control the tremor in her voice.

  Would it be so bad to have one last fling with him?

  It wasn’t as if they hadn’t made love every night they’d been together of their married life—and often in the day as well. No! How did she stop her body from remembering the intense pleasure they had found in each other?

  He indicated the white linen sofa that was arranged, with two matching armchairs, around a coffee table carrying an artfully fanned selection of holistic health magazines. ‘I told you I’d sleep over there.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, not sure why she was thanking him. He’d put her in this position. If he hadn’t insisted she stay for lunch she would be resting comfortably in her hotel room in Nidri right now, probably checking in online for her flight to Sydney via Dubai.

  Or would she?

  How well would she have slept just a short boat ride away from Cristos, wondering what he was doing?

  ‘Nice pyjamas,’ he said. Was it a subtle reminder that they had always slept naked entwined in each other’s arms? On their wedding night, the night she had lost her virginity, she’d worn a slinky silk nightgown. But he’d peeled it off her and told her there was no need for that—he would keep her warm. And he had. She felt herself flush at the memory of how thrilling it had been and headed to the bar area to get a glass of the filtered water in the fridge. She automatically filled two glasses as she always had during their marriage.