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“I don’t know.” A frown flickered across his face. “As long as it takes to kill the story.”
“There is no—,”
He lifted a finger, pressing it to her lips. “Someone at your restaurant thinks there is.”
Her eyes flared wide, partly because of the way his touch seared her lips, and partly because of his revelation. “Someone at the restaurant?”
“That’s who sold the story. And apparently, they’ve volunteered you to share your side, for the right price.”
She gasped. “I can’t believe it.”
“Can’t you?” He asked with sarcasm. “Come. I’ll show you to your room.”
She formed her hands into fists, contemplating how ridiculous this was. Everything was spinning so completely out of control, but didn’t she owe it to Konstantinos to do everything she could to make sure this falsehood didn’t end up in the newspapers? It wasn’t just the newspapers, either. A day or two of publicity was okay, but stories that went online had a way of living forever. Anytime someone googled Konstantinos in the future, his sordid ‘fling’ with her would come up.
They’d been friends—good friends. The last thing she wanted was to be a part of his memory being sullied, particularly when he wasn’t around to redeem himself.
It was for that reason, and that reason only, that she followed Anastasios, past two shiny black jet-skis then up a wide set of stairs, through glass doors that led to a sitting area with white leather and beige accents, and enormous windows that showed views on either side of the lines of yachts bobbing alongside them and the glistening Mediterranean.
A casual lounge room gave way to a formal dining room, large enough to accommodate at least twenty people, then a bar that wouldn’t have looked out of place in any luxury hotel, past a circular staircase on one side and another sitting room with a grand piano and then, finally, to a wide, timber door.
“Your room.” He gestured through the door. “There’s a bathroom, and some clothes in the wardrobe.”
She arched a brow. “How thoughtful. No one can fault your kidnapping etiquette.”
“Good to know. I trust you’ll leave a five-star review for me?”
She blinked. A joke? From Anastasios? He looked as surprised as she was.
“My room is next door. Try not to get lost.”
That sobered her. “You mean you’re staying too?”
“Did you think I’d leave you to jump ship at the first available opportunity? Yes, I’m staying. It occurs to me you’re someone who needs supervision.”
“Believe it or not, I’m as eager to avoid this story being printed as you are.”
“Somehow, I doubt that.”
“Well, that’s because you don’t know me at all.”
“I know enough.”
She wanted to scream. It was like having a conversation with a brick wall. “Whatever.” She stepped into the room, immediately hit by the overwhelming luxury. It was at least four times the size of her bedsit, with a sumptuous king bed against one wall, enormous windows framing a view of the sea, and the bathroom, far from being sequestered from the room, was open plan, with a large claw-foot bath and enormous shower positioned to take advantage of the views.
“Well, then,” she said, over-brightly, as the boat began to purr, and the outside world shifted. Whatever she’d been about to say scuttled from her mind. “We’re moving.”
“We’re on a boat.”
“Yeah, but…I thought we’d just…I don’t know, be parked here.”
“No.” His eyes probed hers. “We’ll be floating in the middle of the ocean, far away from the world, your friends, and nosy journalists. Katanoitó?”
“Yes, I understand,” she agreed, distractedly.
His eyes narrowed. “You speak Greek?”
“No, not at all.” A nostalgic smile crossed her lips. “Your dad used to say that.”
