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Angelo shakes his head. “No, Kyria. Kyrios Satyros hired a company from Athens to design the layouts. I maintain what they have done.” He grins, displaying even white teeth against his deeply tanned skin. “It is big, big work, but I keep doing it busy.”
“It keeps you busy?” At his nod, I ask, “Do you have staff?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “When needed, I will give my little brothers help to me.”
Licking my lips, I’m torn between the desire to dig into the deep, rich soil and the definite class distinctions between us. Of course, I was once the servant’s child too, though Dmitri had seen Mitch as a friend, rather than a servant.
It’s been years since I really gardened, and the longing clenches my heart and threatens to take me over. I know to my core that Jayson would disapprove of what I’m going to do, which makes it a little more fun — and more dangerous. I’ll have to keep it secret from him.
With a deep breath, I say, “I’d be happy to help.” At his shocked expression, I prepare myself to convince the young man to let the wife of Jayson Satyros dig in the dirt and follow his commands. I hold back a giggle, feeling lighter than ever since arriving on Trini Island.
Eventually, I wear down Angelo’s resistance and persuade him I can be useful, and spend the next several days immersed in landscaping. Sometimes, I work alongside Angelo in companionable silence, and other times he gives me a task to perform solo. He seems as enchanted with the dirt and plants as I am. He works quietly, though he chats gregariously during breaks, even attempting to teach me some Greek.
The pleasant days don’t get me through the awkward evenings, however. Jayson is much too attentive, and he still seems to be interested in trying to seduce me. And he won’t be deterred by anything I’ve come up with so far. If he tries for more than a few lingering touches, my willpower might fade away.
If that weren’t bad enough, all the nights are spent tossing and turning, my body aching for his, before I finally fall into a restless sleep where he haunts my dreams. But no matter how difficult he makes it, I’m determined to resist the impulse to sleep with… my husband.
Several days after beginning the new routine of gardening during the day and dodging Jayson in the evenings, I enter the master suite after a long day of gardening, dirt under my fingernails and on my nose. Jayson’s sitting at the desk, typing on his laptop. He seems engrossed and I manage to wipe the dirt off my nose before he looks up.
Stuffing my filthy hands into my shorts pockets, I try to look nonchalant. Jayson gazes at me with eyes narrowed. I smile and take a step toward the bathroom. I don’t get far before he speaks my name in the deep, husky way that sends shivers up my spine. Keeping my hands in my pockets, I turn toward him. “Yes?”
“We have plans tonight.”
I make a face, irked that he didn’t bother to consult me. Of course, that has been the pattern for years. I respond to his summonses and follow his orders for managing social affairs just as professionally as any of the staff he employs. Why should that change just because he’s suddenly decided to indulge in a holiday fling with me? “Where?”
“Caesar and Calista Kakos invited us to a small dinner party on their new yacht.”
Ooh, probably Calista hasn’t invited Maia. She didn’t seem to care for Jayson’s ex-fiancée. “Okay. That sounds all right.”
He arches a brow, perhaps surprised by my bland tone. “I’m pleased you think so. I imagine you’ll enjoy it. We’re going to take a little cruise around the Aegean after dinner. You don’t get seasick, do you, Harper?”
I shake my head. “Not that I know of.” I haven’t been on many boats or yachts, but so far so good.
“Excellent.” He glances at the understated gold Rolex on his wrist. “We are due in three hours. Is that enough time to prepare?”
“Of course. I’m not exactly one of those women who take hours to get dressed,” I answer with exasperation.
He makes a sound low in his throat. “And how long does it take to get you undressed, agape mou?”
Teeth clenching, I stride into the bathroom, getting a small bit of satisfaction from slamming the door and blocking out his laugh. The man is insufferable. Stubborn, and selfish. He pursues what he’s convinced he wants with single-minded devotion. The thought makes me tremble, but I’m not sure if it’s fear or anticipation.
* * *
The wind blows through my hair, picking up strands and tossing them about into utter disarray as I lean against the railing of the Kakos’s yacht. The elaborate hairstyle I’d spent twenty minutes pinning up is completely ruined, but the night breeze is refreshing.
I turn my head as Jayson joins me. I don’t speak, and he doesn’t either, to my surprise. He puts his hand on the rail next to mine, our skin barely touching. I wait for him to try more, but he seems content with just reminding me that he’s within arm’s reach.
“Dance with me.”
For the first time, I realize the band that was setting up before dinner is now playing. Several couples dance close together on the deck, in Western style rather than in the Greek tradition. I shake my head, trying to dig in my heels when he takes my hand.
“Come on, Harper. It’s just a dance.”
I think about protesting, mainly because I very much want to dance with him, which is the scariest thought yet. A second thought dismisses the idea, and finally I decide one dance can’t hurt. Sure, it may test my resolve, but I’m in no danger of surrendering to him in a crowd of fellow dancers.
He stops at the edge of the makeshift dance area, drawing me into his strong arms. He maintains a respectable distance between us, and it pisses me off that that angers me.
At first, I hold myself stiffly, but soon it gets uncomfortable. As we sway to the soft music, with its occasional sharp metallic twang from the bouzouki, I find myself relaxing, letting my body move a little closer.
