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Ridiculously handsome, but in a way that had trailed a chilly finger of unease along her spine. He’d looked both intent and remote, a fierce determination in those blue, blue eyes, a sense of distance about him so even in a crowd he stood out, apart. Now she couldn’t see him at all, and that wasn’t any better.
‘How long have you been working for me, Miss James?’ he asked after another endless moment.
‘Nearly six months.’ Milly shifted where she stood, trying not to fidget. He had no reason to fire her, surely? No cause for complaint. For the last five and a half months she’d kept the villa clean, helped in the garden, and paid all the household bills. As housekeeper for a house that was empty most of the time, she knew she had an easy job, but she loved the villa and the island of Naxos, and she’d been very glad for the work—and the pay.
Although some might have found her life lonely, it suited Milly perfectly. After too many years on the fringes of her parents’ chaotic social scene, bounced from boarding school to boarding school, with an endless round of vapid and dissipated parties in between, she’d been looking forward to some solitude...as well as the extremely generous salary Alexandro had offered. He couldn’t take it away now, not when she was getting closer to saving the kind of money she needed to make Anna safe and happy, for ever.
‘Six months.’ Alexandro turned slightly so she could make out his profile—the close-cut dark hair, the straight nose, the angled cheekbone and full lip. He looked like a statue—a dark, dangerous and beautiful block of marble, perfect and so very cold. Even in the dim room, she sensed a remoteness about him, a certain distance in the way he held his body, angled his head. ‘Are you happy here?’
‘Happy?’ The question, the idea, startled her. Why should he care for her happiness? ‘Yes. Very.’
‘It must be rather lonely, though.’
‘I don’t mind my own company.’ She relaxed a fraction, because it seemed as if he were merely concerned for her welfare. And yet...that didn’t seem like her employer at all, a man who, according to the Internet, at least, was a cold, driven workaholic, with whispers of ruthlessness towards his competitors. A man who was photographed at various social scenes looking hard and unsmiling; sometimes there would be an elegant woman draped on his arm, but he rarely paid them any attention, at least in the photos and videos she’d looked at. It was almost as if they weren’t there at all.
‘Still, you’re quite young.’ He paused, and Milly waited. ‘How old...?’
‘Twenty-four.’ Which he must have known from her rather brief and unremarkable CV.
‘And you went to university...’
‘Yes, in England.’ Four years studying modern languages, and she was fluent in Italian and French as well as her native English, and now she had a smattering of Greek, as well. But Alexandro Santos knew all this.
‘Surely you have more ambition, then?’ he asked. ‘Than cleaning rooms...?’
‘I’m perfectly happy as I am, Kyrie Santos.’
‘Please, call me Alex.’ She remained silent. ‘You haven’t considered moving back to Paris? You were working as a translator, I believe, before you came here?’
‘Yes.’ And being paid peanuts compared to her salary now. She thought of her days in a drab office, translating dreary business letters. Then she thought of Philippe, with his golden hair and gleaming smile, his oh-so-honeyed words, and her insides shuddered. ‘I have no desire to go back to Paris, Kyrie—’
‘Alex.’
She said nothing, uncertain and again on edge, wondering where this unsettling line of inquiry was meant to lead.
‘What about romance?’ he asked abruptly, shocking her. ‘A husband, children...? Do you want those things, eventually?’
Milly he
sitated, unsure how to respond. Surely the question was inappropriate, coming from an employer? And yet how could she not answer?
‘I ask because I prefer continuity,’ Alex resumed, almost as if he’d been able to read her thoughts. ‘If you’re going to leave after a year to follow some man...’
‘I am not going to follow some man,’ Milly retorted with stiff dignity. Once upon a time, she would have followed Philippe. She would have followed him anywhere, until she’d found out the truth. Until he’d told her. Even now she could recall the mocking glint in his eyes, the cruel twist to his mouth. She forced the image away and focused on Alex Santos, even though she could barely see him. ‘The question is offensive.’
‘Is it?’ Alex continued to gaze out through the crack between the curtains. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. She felt like a prop in a play, something he could almost forget was there. And yet he was asking her such personal questions...why? ‘And what of children?’ he asked after another long moment.
Milly tried not to gape. ‘I haven’t thought about that,’ she said at last. ‘I’m not interested in having children now, at any rate.’
‘Not now? Or not ever?’
Milly shrugged helplessly. ‘Certainly not now. And perhaps not ever. Not any time soon.’ She knew how fractured and fraught families could be, and while on some level she might have the maternal instinct most women possessed, she had no desire to kick-start it. Anna was her primary concern.
‘So you do not wish to have children?’
Milly felt herself flush. Why was he trying to pin her down on this? ‘Maybe one day,’ she half muttered. ‘I haven’t thought that far ahead. But really, I can’t see how it is any concern of yours.’
‘Perhaps you will.’
