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I wanted to probe deeper, find out why the once booming Xenakis empire had swan-dived to the brink of bankruptcy three years before his grandfather had died. But I held my tongue because I suspected my own family had had a hand in the Xenakis family’s misfortune. Also, that flash of bleakness resonated inside me, his pain echoing mine.
Not wanting the day ruined by revisiting the animosity between our families, I stared at the stunning horizon, a different urge overtaking me. ‘I wish I could paint this,’ I murmured, almost to myself.
Ax turned to me. ‘When was the last time you painted?’
Unsurprised that he knew of my passion, I answered, ‘All through my pregnancy, and a short while after Andreos was born.’
‘Why didn’t you pursue your painting before?’
I shrugged. ‘There wasn’t much call for it on Nicrete.’
His silence was contemplative. ‘You wanted to do something with it in Athens. Do you still want to?’ he asked, a trace of guilt in his voice.
Not if I don’t have much time left.
‘Perhaps not full-time but...yes.’
‘I would like to see you paint.’
Something melted inside me and I couldn’t help my gasp. ‘You would?’
He gave an abrupt nod. ‘If you would allow it...very much.’
Again something tugged inside me, harder this time—a feeling of my world tilting, making me sway towards him.
To counteract it before I did something supremely unwise, I tugged my dress over my head. ‘I’m going for a swim.’
With every step from sand to sea I felt his gaze burn into my skin, heating me up from the inside out. Thigh-deep, I dived into the cool, exquisite water, hoping it would wash away the discordant emotions zinging through me.
This really shouldn’t be difficult. All we had to do was exist in the same space until I was absolutely certain Andreos would be safe and cared for, before I returned to Dr Trudeau in Switzerland to face my fate.
All I had to do was prevent myself from falling under Ax’s spell. Surely it wasn’t that hard?
Yes, it is. I feel more for him with every passing minute!
The weight of that verdict was so disturbing I didn’t sense his presence until the second before he wrapped a strong arm around my waist.
His hair was slicked back, throwing the sharp, majestic angles of his face into stunning relief. Droplets of water sparkled on his face, a particularly tempting one clinging to his upper lip, evoking in me a wild need to lick it off.
‘Andreos!’ I protested.
‘He’s fine,’ he said with hard gruffness as he pulled me closer, tangled my legs with his.
I looked over and sure enough our son was well-insulated by plump pillows, shaded by a large umbrella, happily playing with his rattle.
‘Calypso...’
My name was a thick demand I couldn’t resist. And when he pulled me into his arms and slanted his sensual lips across mine I gave in, my conflicting thoughts melting away under the heat of mounting passion.
Afterwards we returned and spread out on the blankets. A trace of trepidation returned, tingeing the closeness wrapping itself around us, a closeness I wanted to hang on to despite the uncertainty lurking in the future.
Because this version of Axios, who wanted to see me paint, who had opened up about his grandfather, was a version who could so easily worm his way into my heart.
* * *
On the Monday morning after our first trip to Agistros I arrived downstairs to find six high-spec easels and an assortment of expensive paints and brushes. Stunned, I blinked away tears as Axios presented them to me.
‘You...you shouldn’t have.’
