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‘Don’t be facetious, Theo. I just don’t want to buy a lot ofstuff,’ she elaborated. ‘The bare minimum, in fact. I won’t be...’ Her rosy face crumpled, as if suddenly remembering the grim purpose behind her visit. ‘Because Pappous is very sick, so I’m probably not going to be here for long, am I?’
‘No,’ he said, his voice heavy. He broke off, as his maid appeared in the doorway. ‘Yes, Dimitra, what is it?’
‘Would you like some more coffee, Kyria Aeton?’ she questioned shyly, in her cautious English.
‘No more coffee for me, thank you, Dimitra,’ Mia said, with a soft smile. ‘My breakfast was delicious and the flowers you put on the table are very pretty. Thank you so much.’
‘Parakalo,’said Dimitra shyly, and her beaming smile as she scuttled from the room was something Theo had never witnessed before. Suddenly he imagined a very different kind of life, with a full-time woman in it who made the servants smile.
What was the matter with him? His career was on yet another upward trajectory. As one of the wealthiest men in Greece, he was highly respected by his peers, by politicians—even by various minor royal families to whom he had given financial advice over the years. His diary was full to bursting with invitations to the kinds of parties which, as a boy, would have seemed like an impossible dream to him. Next week he had been asked to give the keynote speech at a world-leading conference in Nice. His formidable reputation went before him and there was little in the world of venture capitalism he did not excel at.
His body grew tense.
Yet suddenly, all he could think about was Mia.
CHAPTER NINE
THESHOPTHEOtook her to didn’t look much like a shop and when Mia said as much, he laughed. With its gleaming frontage and sophisticated window displays, she thought the grand neo-classical building seemed more like a temple. Housed in the very centre of Athens, it wasn’t far from Syntagma Square and the imposing parliament building which dominated it.
But despite her pleasure at being back in the hustle and bustle of the historic city, Mia found herself shivering as she stepped inside the air-conditioned interior of the department store, recognising it as the natural habitat of the very wealthy. How her mother would have loved it! It was filled with the same kind of women who had their nails regularly painted in the Granchester spa, with their tiny waists and skinny bodies which owed their sinewy muscularity to obsessive gym sessions and sustained denial of food.
Was she imagining every female customer and assistant turning to gaze at the man who towered by her side? No, she was not. Of course they were looking at him. It was as much as she could do not to stare at him herself, he looked so utterly delectable in the handmade charcoal suit, which drew attention to the muscular power of the body beneath. He had chosen not to drive today and the chauffeur-driven car which had brought them here only served to reinforce just how powerful and wealthy he was.
She was introduced to a terrifyingly sleek personal shopper and they were taken into a beautiful wood-lined room, lit by vast chandeliers and decorated with vases of blood-red peonies, which the shopper informed them came from Mount Parnassus.
‘I’m terrified they won’t have anything in my size,’ Mia hissed to Theo, as all her old body insecurities came flooding back.
‘We have plenty,’ said the shopper, with a reassuring smile. ‘Just wait and see.’
‘You speak perfect English,’ said Mia, going a little red.
‘I would have great difficulty doing my job if I didn’t,’ said the woman gently.
As a runner was dispatched to bring back armfuls of clothes, Mia thought what a waste it was that she’d never studied the Greek language properly, in order to make herself understood in a land she had always loved. And yes, her mother had discouraged her—but she could have ignored her advice, couldn’t she? Jasmine Minotis might have been a bad mother on many levels, but she was hardly going to punish her only child forlearning, was she?
In front of an enormous mirror which ran the risk of cruelly highlighting every bump and blemish, Mia slithered into a day dress of filmy silk chiffon. Part of the problem had been withher, she realised. Everyone in her life—her grandfather, her mother and then Theo himself—had treated her as if she were a mindless object who could be moved around at will.
But she had allowed them to do that, hadn’t she?
Even now, wasn’t she allowing Theo to splash the cash and treat her as his puppet?
She sighed. No. She was discovering that there was always a different way of looking at things. Her grandfather was a crashing snob—he always had been—and she had seen the flicker of disapproval in his eyes yesterday, when he’d seen what she was wearing. Was it such a big ask to wear the sort of outfit which would make him happy?
When she looked into the mirror, she was slightly taken aback by what she could see. She had imagined the fancy fabrics the shopper had guided her towards would do little for her voluptuous shape, but it seemed she had been wrong. Cleverly, the woman had selected a more upmarket version of her existing wardrobe for her approval. The delicate material was exquisitely cut—especially on the bust and hips. It enhanced her body in a way which flattered and the dark green suede shoes she chose made her stand differently. Walk differently. Suddenly, she was filled with a new-found sense of confidence and self-belief.
‘How’s this?’ she questioned, pulling back the red velvet curtain before swishing into the room, and when Theo looked up from his laptop, Mia felt a sudden tightening of her heart as she saw his unguarded expression. Had she imagined the brief spear of pensiveness which had replaced the habitual flintiness of his black eyes? Didn’t he used to look at her that way in the past?
But just as quickly his gaze became shuttered, his slow speculative smile indicating that there was nothing other than sex on his mind.
Of course it was.
Exactly the same thing as was on hers, she told herself fiercely.
Soon a small collection of purchases began to pile up. More dresses. A couple of swirly skirts and gossamer-fine blouses. A denim jacket. Sandals and shoes. But no trousers.
‘I don’t want to see you in trousers,’ Theo growled. ‘It is a crime to cover up legs like yours.’
And even though Mia knew this was an outrageous thing for him to say, she couldn’t deny the thrill it gave her—particularly when she saw the shopper’s expression of dreamy appreciation. But didn’t plenty of women fantasise about masterful men who expressed distinctly unfashionable sentiments? She swallowed. Guilty, as charged.
