AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘I’m glad you approve, Sophie.’ Even his voice was different: a rich, caressing burr that vibrated through her, drew her skin tight and shivery.
Late-afternoon sunlight slanted through the huge panoramic windows, highlighting what she could have sworn was a trace of grim amusement on his features. Surely not. There was no way he could guess at the unholy mix of trepidation and excitement she felt, knowing she was alone with him.
She spun on her foot and walked towards the enormous curving line of full-length glass that comprised one wall. She guessed it was an expensive, architectural masterpiece. But she barely registered it. Her mind was fully occupied with the man she felt watching her.
‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ she said at last, cursing the way her voice emerged: light and breathless. ‘It’s so modern, so unique, yet somehow it fits its surroundings.’
Brilliant, Sophie. I bet he really wanted that incisive commentary on his home. The place had probably featured in prestigious architectural digests.
>
‘A friend designed it,’ he answered. ‘Someone I went to school with. He knows me and what I wanted so that made the job simpler.’
Below her stretched a silver-green vista: an ancient olive grove surrounded by a dry packed stone wall, sloping down towards the sea. Beyond it glinted the dark water of a cove, enclosed on two sides by headlands. It was peaceful. Enticing.
She guessed the place had looked like this for hundreds of years. Possibly thousands. And there was no other sign of habitation in sight. But then if you had Costas Palamidis’ fortune you wouldn’t want to share this slice of paradise with neighbours.
‘That’s a big sigh.’ His voice came from just behind her and she froze. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’
‘Yes.’ She made herself turn towards him, but didn’t meet his gaze. ‘I’m just tired.’
‘Of course. It’s been a long journey. If you come with me I’ll show you your room.’
There was nothing in his voice now to alarm her. Nothing at all. His tone was bland, as if the searing look he’d sent her before had been the product of her imagination.
Sophie chanced a peep at his face. It was set in the harsh lines of control she recognised from their first encounter. He looked as hard as flint and just as unfeeling.
The speed of his change from feverish intensity to chilly reserve threw her completely off balance. She would never be comfortable with this man.
The silence as they made their way through the luxurious reception rooms was almost oppressive. Taut with the strain of undercurrents that set her nerves on edge. Tinged with the unsettling awareness that they were alone except for the child sleeping upstairs.
‘Why didn’t you tell me I looked like my cousin?’ she blurted out as they ascended a sweeping marble staircase.
It was a relief to break the humming silence.
His wide shoulders shrugged beside her, but he continued up the steps without breaking his stride. ‘It wasn’t important.’
Not important? Sophie stopped, clutching the banister with one hand. Not important that she looked enough like his dead wife to convince the woman’s own daughter?
Ahead of her he halted, turned and looked down at her. His eyes had that awful blank look she remembered from their first meeting. As if he was clamping down on every vestige of emotion.
‘I should have told you. But, as I explained, it didn’t occur to me that Eleni would react as she did. I can only apologise again.’
Sophie read his tightly compressed lips, the rigid tilt of his jaw, and suddenly wondered how he’d reacted when he’d first seen her. Had he immediately thought of his dead wife?
He must have, of course. And perhaps that accounted for some of his searing anger that first day. To be confronted by someone who so closely resembled the woman he’d loved and lost must have been a terrible shock.
‘It’s all right,’ she lied. Eleni’s reaction had rocked her. She released her stiff fingers from the metal railing and started forward again.
She reached the stair where he waited for her with his unreadable eyes, his closed expression.
‘Are we so alike, then? Fotini and I?’
There was no mistaking the flare of emotion in his eyes at her question. The spasm of quickly controlled movement through his big body.
Perhaps she shouldn’t have asked, should have respected his obvious grief for his wife. But she had to know.
His night-dark eyes held hers as he shook his head. ‘No,’ he said brusquely. ‘At first glance there’s a superficial similarity, but the differences are much stronger.’
