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“You’re his tutor?” Loucas tried to remember the qualifications this man had boasted in order to be hired.
Mikey, grating cheese in the kitchen, looked over with a knowing expression. “I know he looks like he should be hoeing the fields, but Bobby’s a great teacher.”
There was pride in her pretty face. Loucas was certain he wasn’t imagining it. “I see.” His mouth was a grim line, his eyes giving nothing away.
“Shucks,” Bobby said, playing up his Southern accent. “She’s my biggest fan.” His tone was apologetic. “But my specialty is early childhood, and I’ve had some great success with helping little tikes like Andy recuperate.” He moved into the kitchen and picked up some grated cheese, piling it into his mouth.
Mikey slapped his hand away, a mock-serious pout on her lips. “Hey! Wait until dinner’s ready.”
“You’re cooking dinner?” Loucas queried, drawing a sharp look from Mikey.
“Yeah? What’s wrong with that? Don’t you think I can cook?”
He shook his head. “I haven’t thought about your culinary abilities, Mikey.”
Of course he hadn’t. She dropped her gaze. He probably hadn’t thought about her at all, except to wonder what had possessed him to hire such a harpy.
“The villa has a full time chef.” Loucas pushed away from the wall and came to stand opposite Mikey. Shoulder to shoulder with the American. Mikey couldn’t help but draw comparisons. One was the poster-child for American good looks; Bobby could have been the missing member of a boy band, with his blonde hair, symmetrical face and straight, white teeth. The other was a study in wild, untamed strength. Oh, he’d tried to tame it. He wore conservative clothes, and had his hair cropped short, but with every breath he took, Loucas Aleksandros emanated a completely elemental passion and vitality.
“Yes. And she’s very nice.” Mikey shrugged. “But we don’t like to put her out.”
The ‘we’ bothered him. It was another sign of familiarity. She had unconsciously coupled herself to Bobby. He didn’t like it. “Oh?”
Bobby’s smile was broad. “Natalia prepares meals for Andrew, Nanny Paxton and the physiotherapist, Mandy. Have you met her?” No answer. He sped on, chatting amiably. “They like to eat with him. Mandy, watches how he uses the utensils, because it’s a good way to be sure his arm is fully healed from its break. And Nanny Paxton likes to keep him company whenever she can.”
“Whereas you and Miss Jones prefer to eat separately,” Loucas observed slowly.
Mikey’s eyes were sparking with the fury that was now familiar to him. “What’s wrong with that?”
“You’re the one who puts such an emphasis on Andrew. I would have thought you’d have wanted to dine with him,” Loucas pointed out logically.
“Too many people make him nervous,” Mikey said quietly. There was a warning in her voice. Questioning her devotion to Andrew was a sure-fire way to get on Mikey’s bad-side.
“I see. And you cook every night?”
Bobby reached over for more cheese. This time, Mikey didn’t bat him away. “I like to cook.”
He looked at the bench top for the first time. A mound of dough sat, half covered with a linen cloth. Various vegetables were chopped and resting in little dishes. “You’re making pizza.”
“No. I’m making roast lamb,” she snapped sarcastically.
He ignored her barb. “Good. I love pizza.”
“You’re…staying for dinner?” Mikey grabbed the rolling pin and began to flatten a circle of dough, simply to disguise the way her hands were shaking.
Loucas’s lazy gaze took in the handsome American man, and the blonde woman who had become a strange thorn in his side. His next statement surprised him as much as it did Mikey. He told himself it was the only choice he had. After all, didn’t he have a duty to do what was best for his nephew?
“I’m staying indefinitely, Arnaki. And from now on, I will also be joining you for dinner.”
CHAPTER THREE
There was definitely something going on between Bobby and Mikey, but from what he could tell, it was one-sided. Mikey was not aware of it. Bobby flirted like a master. He also had a penchant for finding Mikey and trying to amuse her. Loucas couldn’t exactly blame the man. When Mikey laughed, her head tipped back in amusement, her eyes crinkled at the corners, her bow-shaped lips wide and curved, it was as if she’d caught the force of the sun and breathed it out through her body. It was… enlivening.
For her part, though, Mikey Jones seemed to treat Bobby with the same open, artless kindness that she showed everybody. Everybody except Loucas. With him, she was a study of reserved suspicion. Loucas feigned interest in his work, but his eyes were trained on the scene below.
The villa was obscenely enormous, as his father had intended it to be. The project was a testament to Aleksandros wealth and success, and where it sat, on a high point of the land, it was visible from every part of the island. Two distinct wings came together in a central corridor, wrapping around a pool. It spanned more than the length of an Olympic swimming pool, and had a waterfall at one end, which led to yet another pool. If Loucas was so inclined, he knew he could turn the villa into a five star resort then and there, with very little modification.
The benefit of the Villa’s design was that his office, which sat like a jewel in the center of the top floor, enjoyed spectacular views. In every direction, he could see the beauty of the island, from the shores that glistened with pristine white sand, to the cliffs that were rugged and sharp with black rocks. And directly beneath him, by the pool, he could see Mikey.
