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“There’s a rumour about her.”
“No doubt.” He glanced back at the pamphlet, studying the beautiful brunette with dispassion. She was quite stunning, and yet, compared to Phoebe, she was too—something. Or not enough of something else. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but she was dull compared to the light that shone from Phoebe’s eyes.
“It concerns you.”
“Me?” He looked more closely at the picture. Was it possible he’d met her? Slept with her? He racked his brain, but he was sure he’d remember her name, if not her face.
“Or more specifically, your father.”
He gripped his scotch glass tighter, his face giving nothing away, his mind in freefall. Another lover? Heaven help him. He couldn’t imprison or bribe them all.
“Yes?”
“It’s delicate.”
“You’ve said that already.”
“So I should just blurt it out?”
“I promise not to shoot the messenger.”
“Okay, okay.” Her smile offered sympathy, so mentally he braced for what was coming. “There’s a rumour that she’s Uncle Kon’s daughter.”
He straightened, his back filled with iron suddenly. “What did you say her name is?”
“Ophelia Agnavadi.”
“Not Westbourne?”
“Hmm, no. Why?”
He stared at the brochure, his body numb. Another love child? Or the same one? Damn it, he needed more information.
“I’m sure it’s just a rumour,” Cora said gently. “But the thing is, she does look an awful lot like us. Don’t you think?”
He leaned closer, his eyes tracing the woman’s face, as he recognized certain features. Ghosts of recognition, really. A flicker of something familiar in the corners of her eyes, a nose a little like Thanasi’s, a smile that bore a passing resemblance to Dimitrios.
“Could it be true?”
His eyes met Cora’s and he wished he could simply deny it. But this was Cora. He could trust her. He could lean on her.
“Yes. It’s very likely true.”
She breathed out slowly. “Tell me everything.”
It wasseveral hours later that he brought the helicopter back in over the yacht, the sun already low in the peach-hued sky, and despite the way his eyes searched the deck, there was no sign of Phoebe. What had he expected? A welcome party?
He docked the helicopter with the ease of a man who’d performed the operation many times before, then pushed out, the brochure to the opera still heavy in his pocket.
Prior to his meeting with Cora, Ophelia had been an academic concept. A half-sister was interesting, but the present situation was an emergency, and he intended to devote his energy to crisis management. There’d be time later to speculate on the newest member of the family.
And yet, if the rumours were circulating, he was already walking a dangerous tightrope.
Two, in fact.
He dragged a hand over the back of his neck, distracted as he strode into the lounge area. He’d thought of Phoebe all day, far more than he’d wanted to, and yet he was surprised to find her here, wearing a tiny pair of shorts and a bra, doing a strange, twisty yoga pose.
He stopped in his tracks and stared, not even attempting to hide the direction of his thoughts. Her bottom was pushed into the air, her shapely, toned legs on full display, so every thought evaporated from his mind, leaving one part of his anatomy in charge.
