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But he wasn’t with her. Would never be with her again. They would never stand beside each other seeing the wonders that the world had to offer. Never sweep each other into their arms again.
So she must get used to it. Must accept it. Must simply stop letting thoughts like that into her head. Such uselessly tormenting thoughts...
She must simply go on standing there, staring blindly, vacantly out over this chasm in the earth. While inside her there seemed to be a chasm almost as vast.
CHAPTER NINE
‘SO, HOW WAS BERMUDA?’
It was a casually asked question, and not one that should have made Nikos tense instantly. He made himself return an equitable reply.
‘Not a bad conference,’ he said.
‘Nice venue, too.’ His acquaintance smiled. ‘Did you manage to add on any holiday time?’
Somehow Nikos managed an answer, and then ruthlessly switched the subject. Whatever he talked about, it wasn’t going to be his time in Bermuda. It wasn’t even something he wanted to think about.
That desire was, of course, completely fruitless. He thought about Bermuda all the time.
And Mel. Always Mel.
Mel laughing, head thrown back, glorious blonde hair rippling. Mel gazing at him with that expression of amusement, interest—desire. Mel melting into his arms, her mouth warm and inviting, her body clinging to his, ardent and eager...
Then he would slam down the guillotine and make himself think about something else. Anything else. Anything at all.
Work was what he mainly thought about. Lived and breathed. He’d become a powerhouse of focussed, relentless dedication to the business of the bank. Deal after deal after deal. Tireless and non-stop. Rising early and working late.
He was back to working out a lot, too. Muscle mass glistened...heart and lungs purred like the engine of a high-performance car. Sinews were lean and supple like a honed athlete. It was essential to keep his body occupied.
Because his body had a mind of its own. A mind he could not allow to function—not in the slightest. A mind that made every cell in his honed, taut body crave another body—a body that was soft and satin-smooth and sensuous as silk. Flesh to his flesh...
He still wanted her.
The irony of the situation was not lost on him. He was the one who’d wanted nothing more than a temporary affair. Had wanted only a holiday romance with Mel.
But no one had said how long the holiday had to be, had they? No, they hadn’t. Or where it had to be. It could just as easily have been here in Greece. Mel had never seen Greece, and showing her the glories of the ancient ruins, the beauty of the islands and mountains, would have entranced her.
But she’d turned it down. Turned down spending more time with him. Gone off on her travels just the way she’d always planned to.
That was what was so galling now. That the very thing that had once reassured him that she would accept the temporary nature of her romance with him was now twisting back to bite him!
Bite him hard.
The door of his office swung open and his father strode in from his adjoining office, his expression angry, as it so often was, Nikos thought with a silent sigh.
‘Do you know what your mother has done now?’ his father demanded. ‘She’s taken herself off to Milan. She says it’s because she’s out of clothes—ha! That woman could open a fashion store with her wardrobe. But I know better. She’s in a ridiculously unnecessary sulk—just because she’s taken it into her stupid head that I’m having an affair with another woman.’
Nikos’s mouth tightened. Oh, great, that was all he needed. His father sounding off to him about the latest behaviour of his wife and how it irritated him.
‘And are you?’ he replied bluntly.
His father waved a hand impatiently. ‘Do you blame me?’ he demanded, his voice aggrieved. ‘Your mother’s impossible! Completely impossible! She’s taken off at just the most inconvenient time. We are supposed to be joining Demetrius Astarchis and his wife on their yacht tomorrow! Now what am I supposed to do?’
‘Take your mistress instead?’ his son suggested acidly.
‘Don’t be absurd. They’re expecting your mother and me. She should be there—Demetrius and I do a valuable amount of business with each other. If nothing else, your mother should realise that the only reason she can run riot in couture houses is because of the effort I put in to keep the coffers full. She owes me some loyalty!’
Nikos forbore from pointing out the obvious—that loyalty was a two-way street, and keeping a mistress was not the way for his father to win his wife’s. But he also knew, with weary resignation, that his mother’s poisonous tongue couldn’t have done a better job of driving away her husband than if she’d changed the locks on the house.
