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So… It appeared Olympia was still the other woman.
The mention of her name touched the deep wound that had caused Dominique to leave Andreas in the first place. She couldn’t help but wonder if Paul had been waiting to reopen it with one thrust of the dagger.
He’d achieved his objective, but nothing he could say would dissuade her from her determination to face her husband and fight for her marriage.
“It doesn’t surprise me. Their mutual love for Andreas’s sister always made them close.” Dominique straightened and walked around her desk. “I presume you came on his private jet?”
Since the answer was obvious, Paul didn’t bother to respond. Or maybe he was still surprised that the mention of Olympia hadn’t done more damage.
Pretending he’d spoken, she said, “I’ll fly back with you.”
“Andreas is expecting me to return today.”
“Naturally. But that’s no problem. My job sends me everywhere, and I always keep my passport with me.” And my medicine, she thought automatically.
She pulled her purse from the bottom drawer. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him reach for his cellphone.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Paul. I’m still Mrs. Stamatakis, as you reminded me moments ago. Since my husband claimed he would love me forever, you wouldn’t want to interfere now, would you?”
Andreas and Paul had grown up in Athens together and were lifetime friends. His allegiance to her husband knew no bounds. But if she wasn’t mistaken, shock had caused him to lose a little of his composure—a phenomenon she’d never expected to see.
“This time I’m the one asking for your help,” she explained. “Would it be too much to expect? I’d like to see Andreas before the sun goes down in the Ionian. Shall we go?”
If he’d picked up on her cryptic remark, he didn’t say anything. They passed by Walter’s desk in Reception.
“Tell Dad I’m leaving for Greece. By tomorrow morning I’ll know my plans and will call him.”
The receptionist eyed both of them curiously. “Very good.”
Three hours later the helicopter waiting for them at the airport in Athens flew them over the island of Kefalonia.
Dominique’s hungry gaze took in its lush green beauty and the golden beaches she’d explored with Andreas. As the helicopter made its descent, the charming little port town of Fiskardo seemed to rise up to greet them. “I don’t see the Cygnus in the harbor.”
“Andreas is sailing from Zakynthos. He wouldn’t have expected me to come aboard before late afternoon.”
She checked her watch. It was two-thirty p.m. Greek time. “That’s good. We can fill a couple of hours shopping with that generous settlement he’s planning to give me.”
In order to show Paul she meant business, she’d purposely left Sarajevo without going by her parents’ house to pack.
Ever the stoic, a quality that meant he had always hidden his disapproval of her as a wife for Andreas, Paul followed her around the stores while she purchased the items she would need for a cruise.
In one of the fitting rooms she removed her tailored suit and donned a sparkling aqua bikini that had caught her eye. On top of the bikini she put on a tantalizing beach wrap. The white lace affair did nothing to hide what lay beneath.
Sliding into rope sandals, she pulled out the tortoiseshell comb which caught her hair back. After running a brush through the silvery-gold strands, she left it to fall loose to her shoulders from a side part.
When she emerged, Paul’s jaw went slack—evidence of his total astonishment. That was twice in one day. It pleased her she could shake Andreas’s unshakeable right hand.
Switching her gaze to the water, she saw that the yacht had sailed into the harbor while she’d been in and out of the shops.
Andreas. Her heart pounded outrageously, just imagining her husband’s reaction when he saw her.
After a rapid purchase, she hurried toward the launch waiting for them at the pier. The few men in the village, young and old, turned to stare at her. But they didn’t call out anything with Paul accompanying her.
It was gratifying to know she could stop traffic, but Andreas was the only male she hoped to rock back on his heels.
One of the crew she recognized from the Cygnus sat at the wheel of the tender. When he saw them coming, his wiry figure bounded up on the pier.
“Mrs. Stamatakis—” he cried out in shock when he realized who she was. His eyes rounded until she thought they would pop. Apparently the change in the shy, waif-like wife Andreas had married was astounding.
