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‘Then I’m still on time.’
It was all handshakes and smiles—well, between Roula and Hector—but she was breathing hard as she packed up.
‘What?’ Galen demanded.
‘Nothing.’ She looked up then. ‘Just that the game’s practically finished.’
‘Oh, you know that, do you?’
‘Nico said...’
‘Your new friend?’
‘Yes.’
‘You have no idea of the circus that will start the moment I give a completion date.’
‘Just get it over with,’ Roula said.
‘I don’t need career advice, Roula, and I don’t need you staring me down in a meeting.’
‘I wasn’t...’
‘I was waiting for a kick under the table to prompt me,’ Galen said—because that was exactly how it had felt. ‘And, while we’re discussing things, I don’t need you to bring me coffee and pastries and then hover until I say thank you...’
‘I just want to be sure you know it’s there,’ Roula said. ‘So that you don’t spill it.’
‘No!’ He would not have that. ‘You stand there and...’Make me notice you!
They were having a row, Roula realised. Only it wasn’t the type of row she was used to. Oh, she’d had rows at work at the retreat, and she’d dealt with them. And, of course, there had been rows with Dimitrios. But this in no way compared.
This was not personal, but it was not work.
It was the first exchange of words with a man that Roula had found exhilarating. Not scary, nor intimidating. It was not at a level she was trying desperately to ignore, and so she fumbled on.
‘I apologise for messing up with Hector,’ Roula said.
‘This isn’t about Hector...’
His hazel eyes were like two infernos, yet she still wanted to step into their fire.
‘I’m going out,’ Galen snapped. ‘No calls.’
She stood breathless after he had gone, unsure of the energy that still swirled in the room, and then she tried to locate her phone, that was buzzing in her bag.
Or was it Galen’s phone?
‘Hello...?’ she croaked.
‘Roula.’
One word—that was all it took for the balls to clatter down. Roula briefly wondered if detectives went to voice training school, because she knew who it was even before she confirmed her full name...
And as for her own voice—well, she thanked the detective for letting her know in a voice that sounded oddly normal.
‘Thank you,’ she said again, and then somehow made her way on shaky legs and to take a call from her mother.
‘The police are all over Nemo’s...’ Mamá was frantic, breathless. ‘Roula, I don’t know what’s going on.’
Roula swallowed.
‘There’s a car outside!’ she cried out, and Roula could picture her, peering out of the window. ‘The police are coming to the door. What the hell is going on?’
‘Mamá...’ Roula attempted, but was saved from answering as presumably her mother opened the door and those deep detective voices were there in the background.
‘Kupia Kyrios?’
The phone went silent.
