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And Mia knew she had nobody to blame but herself for the shaft of jealousy which stabbed through her.
What were you expecting him to say? That no woman has ever come close to you—the dumpy bride he couldn’t even bear to have sex with?
She took the card from him. The brush of his fingers against her own was barely perceptible, yet it was like being touched with fire. Mia could feel the base of her stomach liquefying as memories came flooding back to haunt her with cruel and sensual clarity.
Theo, stripped to the waist and chopping logs, with sweat glittering on his skin like diamonds as he swung an axe through the air.
Theo’s fingers straying beneath the lace of her bra, kneading the pliant flesh of her breasts until she was moaning with pleasure.
And Theo kissing her passionately in the moonlight, holding her tightly and telling her he would always respect her.
But those words had been worthless. Each one crumbling to dust as they fell from his lips.
She found out later there had been women before her. Women he had bedded with impunity, unlike her. It had beenherhe had tantalised and teased—leaving her so aching for him that she couldn’t think straight. She’d realised afterwards that he must have done it to control her—to make her understand who was in charge. And it had worked, hadn’t it? Oh, yes—it had worked, all right.
She needed to be careful.
More than careful.
So she gave the kind of smile she might have bestowed on a nervous new chambermaid on her first day at the Granchester hotel. Friendly yet impartial. As if her pulse weren’t thudding erratically at her temple. As if her stomach weren’t tying itself up in knots. ‘I appreciate you coming here to tell me this—and for offering to help me—but I really need to get changed now.’
‘You’re going out?’ he demanded.
‘Yes.’
‘With a man?’
Mia wondered how he would react if she confessed that the only person who was longing to see her was Rusty at the dog rescue centre—the ugly little mongrel with the over-long tail. ‘That’s really none of your business, is it?’ she questioned politely.
‘Better make sure you take an umbrella.’ He directed a glance towards the window, his voice dipping with silky emphasis as he glittered his dark gaze back towards her. ‘I’d hate to think of you gettingwet.’
Mia flushed at the sexual implication, grateful when he turned away, hopefully without noticing her response. As the door closed behind him she could hear his footsteps retreating down the corridor, when suddenly the room was lit by a bright flash of lightning and the sound of thunder crashed through the air.
With sweat still trickling between her breasts, Mia stared out of the window as the long-awaited storm broke.
CHAPTER TWO
THEOTAPPEDHISfingers impatiently against the gleam of his desk as he stared out at the dark sapphire gleam of the Aegean Sea. But for once, he didn’t register the dazzling view from the windows of his home office, or the glory of the private beach which lay beyond it. Uncharacteristically, he found himself unable to concentrate on the complex financial negotiations which usually consumed him and which had made him one of the most successful hedge-fund managers on the planet. All he could think about was Mia and the fact that she was due to arrive at any moment.
He wasn’t interested in the voicemail message left by a foxy Swedish politician he’d met last month, who’d made it very clear he was her kind of man. Up until a couple of days ago, he had been intending to slot her into his diary—a long weekend in Stockholm or Paris, maybe—though the venue was irrelevant since he doubted they would leave the bedroom. But today such a liaison was the last thing on his mind.
Today, his heart was thudding, his body aching in a way which felt breathtakingly new, yet which haunted the periphery of his senses like the memory of something sweet and mostly forgotten. A pulse began to pound at his temple, because seeing his estranged wife in the flesh a couple of days ago had made him unable to think about anything but her.
His mouth hardened. He had been expecting his duty visit to Mia to give him a sense of closure. Having almost entirely eradicated her from his thoughts, he had imagined his desire for her would have withered when he saw her again, like unpicked grapes on the vine. He tightened his fists and his knuckles cracked, a ghostly white through the olive-darkness of his skin. Because this was a woman who represented his youthful folly and greatest mistake. Whose cruel words on their wedding night had been chosen in order to inflict as much pain as possible and had left a lasting scar upon his heart. He had found that hard to forgive—so it had been easier to forget.
But he had been shocked by the humble circumstances in which he had found her, briefly overwhelmed by a wash of guilt and the knowledge that he had the means to save her from such an existence. But these considerations had been swamped by the unwelcome discovery that his hunger for her hadn’t abated, despite her unremarkable appearance. Had he hoped it would? Of course he had. But nobody had ever possessed the power to make him feel the way Mia did.
As if he could explode with lust at any second.As if he had lost temporary control of his senses.
He had left her tiny room, high on a cocktail of lust and jealousy, for hadn’t she implied she was meeting someone? Oblivious to the high-powered dealings of his subsequent meeting, he had found himself obsessing about how many men she might have taken to her bed since their split. He knew he was applying the double standards which many men like him were guilty of and, although he knew this was unreasonable intellectually, he found he didn’t care. She had implied she was going on a date that day he’d seen her in London. He realised many women enjoyed casual hook-ups, didn’t they? And while Theo knew it was old-fashioned to disapprove of such behaviour—he couldn’t help himself.
It was the way he’d been brought up.
Or rather, the way he’ddraggedhimself up from the gutter into which he had been born.
Abandoned as a baby, he had been discovered squalling his lungs out in a cardboard box at the roughest end of Athens’ main port, Piraeus, on the wettest night of the year. Soaked and starving. It was a wonder he had survived. But survive he had. His mouth hardened into a mirthless smile. Nobody could ever accuse him of a lack of tenacity, or defying the odds. A passing sailor had scooped him up and given him over to the care of a childless, middle-aged woman, who was desperately poor. She had named him Theo Aeton—meaning a gift of God who was as swift as an eagle. Or so she had hoped.
A roof—of sorts—had been provided in exchange for all the food he could bring in as soon as he was old enough to forage. He’d quickly learnt which restaurant bins provided the best bounty—and to get there before the feral cats did. He’d taught himself to fish, and to take tourists around parts of the city which did not feature in their glossy guide books. And even though they sometimes stupidly left their purses gaping open, he never stole their money, for that was a line he would not cross. Need, not greed, had always been his maxim.
