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He frowned as he opened the car door and got out, stretching some of the stiffness from his tall frame.
Despite the uncollected mail he knew she was home. Or she had been thirty hours ago, before he’d left Athens. He refused to consider the possibility that she wasn’t here. There was too much at stake to countenance failure.
Unclenching fingers that had curled into fists, he shrugged, trying to relieve the rigid set of his shoulders. He’d flown in first-class luxury as usual, but he’d been unable to sleep. The tension that had gripped him for so long now had reached crisis point. He hadn’t slept for three days, had barely eaten.
He wouldn’t rest till he got what he needed from this woman.
It took twenty seconds precisely to stride across the quiet street, through the low gateway and up the cement path to the front door.
He jabbed the doorbell and cast an assessing gaze across the tiny, unswept patio to the lacy cobwebs blurring the corners of the front window. she was a lazy housekeeper. His lips curved in a cynical twist. Why didn’t that surprise him?
He pushed the buzzer again, keeping his finger on for a few extra seconds.
He wasn’t in the mood to be ignored. Especially by this woman. Impatience rose in a hot, flooding tide. He’d had enough of her ignorant selfishness. Now she would learn just who she was dealing with.
Stepping off the patio, he surveyed the side of the house. Sure enough, one of the windows was wide open, only the flyscreen separating him from the interior. But he’d be damned if he’d resort to illegal entry.
Unless he had to.
Returning to the front door, he pushed his finger down on the bell and kept it there. The incessant peal echoed through the house.
Good! That would shift her. No one could stand that appalling clamour for long.
Nevertheless it was several minutes before he heard the slam of an internal door. And even longer before someone fumbled at the latch.
Anticipation tightened his body. Once they were face to face, she’d do as he wanted. She’d have no choice. He’d cajole if he had to, though considering her behaviour he was sorely tempted to dispense with the niceties and go straight to threats. He’d use whatever tactics necessary. He took a slow breath and summoned his formidable control. He’d need it for this interview.
The door opened to reveal a woman. Obviously not the one he’d come to see but … sto Diavolo!
He froze, his composure splintering as sunlight illuminated her features.
His heart slammed against his ribs and sweat beaded his brow. His neck prickled as he stared straight at a ghost.
She had the same classically pure bone structure. The same wide eyes, elegant nose and slender neck.
For a heartbeat, for two, he was caught in the illusion. Then with a single, shuddering breath common sense reasserted itself. This woman was flesh and blood, not a spectre from the past come to haunt him.
Now he saw the subtle differences in her face. Her eyes were a lustrous honey-gold, not dark. Her mouth was a perfect bow, fuller than Fotini’s lips had been.
He took in the knotted cloud of her dark hair with its hint of auburn. The creases along her cheek where she’d obviously lain. The crumpled blouse and dark skirt. she must have had an end-of-week celebration last night then crashed out in her work clothes. He took in her pasty colour and the dark rings under her vacant eyes and wondered if it was illicit drugs she favoured or just old-fashioned alcohol.
Did it matter? The sight of her disturbed him, stirring too many memories. But he had no time to concern himself with anyone but the woman he’d raced round the globe to find.
‘I’m looking for Christina Liakos,’ he said.
she stared up at him, blinking owlishly.
He frowned, wondering if she was sober enough to understand. ‘Kyria Liakos?’ he tried in his own language.
Her eyes narrowed and he saw her knuckles whiten on the edge of the door.
‘I’ve come to see Christina Liakos,’ he tried again in deliberately slow, precise English. ‘Please tell her she has a visitor.’
she opened her lips but no words emerged. Her mouth worked as if she was about to say something, then she shut it and swallowed convulsively. Her eyes were impossibly huge in her face.
‘Oh, God!’ Her whisper was hoarse, barely audible even from so close. And then in an instant she was gone, stumbling back down the corridor, leaving Costas to stare after her through the open doorway.
He didn’t hesitate. A second later he was in the narrow hall, reaching out to pull the door shut behind him.
