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In fact, the night had not gone well at all.
Somehow Mary Jones had not just blown up his carefully laid plans, she had completely upended him.
CHAPTER FOUR
MARYJONESHADupended more than Costa’s evening. She had disrupted his sleep. For, despite having his preferred suite in his preferred hotel, rest had not come easily.
Costa opened the drapes long before dawn and lay in bed, watching the steady beat of rain on the windows. He thought of her out there...
Adrift.
The word had unsettled him—for, no, he did not know that feeling.
Be it on a fishing boat in the centre of the heaviest storm, or sleeping on a Santorini beach having missed the last ferry home, he had always felt anchored. Weighted down by responsibility, perhaps, but he had never felt alone.
Chance would be a fine thing, Costa thought wryly, as at that very second the ‘do not disturb’ function on his phone automatically turned itself off, and the phone buzzed with a ringtone that denoted it was his mother.
Now what? It was earlier here in London, but even in Anapliró it was still an ungodly hour for a Sunday. Or rather a Godly hour, because most of the locals would be making their way to church.
‘Who is she?’ his mother demanded.
‘What are you going on about?’ Costa groaned.
‘Angela asked when she brought me my breakfast... You’ll be the talk of the village today. Poor Roula...’
‘Roula?’ Costa needed half a litre of coffee before he dealt with the rapid fire of his mother’s questions. ‘What the hell does Roula have to do with this?’
‘Oh, come off it, Costa. You are looking at this woman with such affection... It’s all over the internet...’
She fired him a link and he fought not to groan, for he and Mary had been photographed outside the hotel, her face cupped in his hands, seemingly a second away from a kiss that had not actually happened.
‘So?’ his mother demanded.
‘Leave it, Yolanda,’ Costa said, for he had long since called his mother by her first name.
‘No. I can just picture Nemo sulking if he finds out that you are serious about someone...’ Nemo was Roula’s brother and Costa’s head of security at the retreat. ‘You two are promised to each other—’
‘I’m not discussing this,’ Costa cut in. ‘We’ll speak later.’
‘Surely you can give me her name? Everyone will be asking. Of course, if it’s no one serious...’
‘Enjoy church,’ Costa said, for he could hear the bells in the background. ‘I’ll see you in Athens for your birthday.’
‘But that is what I’m calling about! There has been a cancellation next weekend at the retreat—that big corporate booking...’
‘I don’t need to know...’ He closed his eyes in frustration; his mother still didn’t get that he didn’t need to know such details. ‘You don’t need to call me about every booking or cancellation. I own it—I don’t run it...’
‘No, Costa, listen. I have decided to have my fiftieth in Anapliró.’
Costa sat up in bed abruptly, not liking what he was hearing but keeping his voice even. ‘We’re having dinner in Athens,’ Costa reminded her.
In fact, it was far more than dinner. Costa had taken more than a year to plan and execute her gift—not that his mother knew.
‘Anyway, you can’t organise a party in a week.’
‘It wouldn’t be any trouble for a paying guest.’
Of course it wouldn’t be—and in truth, the gift he had planned for his mother would be far better delivered on the island. Except he had been avoiding going there for so long...
