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At the start of that summer he’d had no inkling that his life was about to change so irrevocably—first by going into business with Philippos and then by falling in love with Kate O’Connor.
Even to this day Nikos still wasn’t sure how the latter had happened. With his parents’ doomed relationship as his only role model, he had vowed he was never going to let himself get involved. Never going to trust a woman.
Somewhere buried deep in his subconscious he had been dimly aware that being rejected by his mother at such a young age had coloured his whole view of the female race. Not for him the rosy-pink glow of romance—more a sort of no-nonsense beige. He’d always taken great pleasure in the company of women, but that was as far as it went.
Until Kate. Meeting Kate had blown all his cast-iron resolutions out of the water. Before he’d known it he, the hardened bachelor, the die-hard sceptic, had found himself down on one knee, slipping a handmade silver ring onto Kate’s finger, declaring his undying love.
He remembered that day with such vivid clarity. The two of them so happy...sitting on the beach side by side, watching the sun set. Then going back to his little white cottage with the blue shutters and the baby lizards running across the walls. Making love all night long. They had been different people then. Living in a different world.
Afterwards work had been both his salvation and his nemesis. Using it to block out the pain, he had worked all hours, pushing himself to the limits of endurance and beyond. Marketing and then selling Philippos’s brilliant idea had earned them both a fortune. But what good had it done them? Nikos had become a bigshot businessman, his only aim in life to make more and more money—money he didn’t need or even want. Money had turned him into a man he didn’t recognise. Or even like. And Philippos was dead... Something that Nikos would hold himself responsible for as long as he lived.
But recently, at least, he had been putting his money to good use. This morning he had received an update from his lawyers, telling him that his guardianship application was progressing favourably. Securing himself a wife—effectively buying Kate O’Connor—had been an excellent idea. As far as the lawyers were concerned anyway.
From his point of view it was more complicated.
A lot more complicated.
His conflicting feelings towards Kate had kept him awake last night. Somehow the acrimony he had felt towards her just a couple of weeks ago had gone, to be insidiously replaced by respect, admiration, affection. They worried him, these feelings—the way they could creep over him at any given moment, triggered by nothing more dramatic than a glance in her direction when she stopped to stroke a stray cat or smile at a toddler. They gave Kate a hold over him. And that was something Nikos needed to avoid at all costs.
He leant back into the sofa, telling himself to relax. Spending time with Sofia yesterday had been good. It had given him cause for hope. Seeing what a confident young woman she was growing into had thawed a little of the guilt he felt so deeply. Maybe the change in him these past three years hadn’t been all bad. He realised he was ready for responsibility now, actively looking forward to taking on the challenge of a teenage girl. And he suspected Sofia would be quite a challenge!
She and Kate, of course, had hit it off like a house on fire. Watching them interact, listening to their conversation, he had felt a strange sense of pleasure creeping over him. He didn’t know where it had come from, or why it had been there, but where Kate was concerned he never knew what to feel.
All he did know was that being around her rocked his very foundations. Desires that he’d buried deep within him, never to be revisited, had surfaced in a flood of craving and lust and desperate hunger that he now knew would never be sated.
The past few days bore testament to that. What had happened in Venice—finally taking Kate to his bed—had been meant to be a one-off. Nikos had been sure that sex with Kate would serve a purpose, settle an old score, and allow him to move on. Slake his thirst.
Except this particular thirst refused to be slaked. Instead he had found his craving increasing day on day, hour upon hour, until the ‘one-off’ had become two, three, four times. Until spending every night with her seemed perfectly natural. Inevitable. Imperative.
