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They drove for about twenty miles before he brought the bike to a halt on the dusty road close to the monastery of Moni Thari and turned his head to look at her. ‘Do you want to stop and go inside?’
She’d been here before, too. In fact, Lexi realised that there were few places on the island she hadn’t visited, but today it seemed appropriate to go inside that spiritual place and to think of Sofia.
‘I’d like that.’
He parked close to the monastery and they went inside. The thickness of the ancient walls meant that the interior was cool and welcoming and the echoing silence seemed to seep into her skin and fill her with a strange sense of calm.
But as they paused to study the exquisite frescoes, Lexi felt as if she was being emotionally tugged in all directions. She was acutely aware of Xenon at her side, his motorcycle helmet tucked beneath his arm. With his dark hair ruffled and windswept, he looked dressed-down and casual. But no matter what he wore or how he presented himself, he always drew the eye.
She could see a couple of beautiful Swedish women turning to stare at him and she saw the expressions on their faces. And it was always like that. Women always looked at him and wanted him. Yet there was nothing to suggest that the man studying the frescoes with such rapt curiosity was a powerful billionaire with global influence. He just looked so very Greek.
Afterwards, he drove them back to Laerma, only this time they stopped for a drink in the little village. Under the dappled shadows of the trees, they sat outside a small restaurant whose owner came out to greet Xenon, shaking his hand enthusiastically, as if he was an old friend.
It appeared he was, because Xenon introduced him to Lexi as Petros. He served them with thick coffee, water and a plate of salty olives and went inside, only to reappear a few minutes later holding a small plastic bag, which he handed to Xenon.
‘Efharisto,’ said Xenon, inclining his head slightly as he glanced inside.
‘Parakalo.’ Petros gave him a questioning look. ‘Ine simantiko?’
‘Ne.’
Lexi waited until they’d finished their drinks and were walking back towards the bike before she brought the subject up.
‘What was Petros saying to you?’
‘He was asking me whether something was important.’
She scurried to keep up with his long stride. ‘And you said it was?’
He smiled. ‘Very good, Lex. You now know the word for “yes”. Your Greek is improving.’
‘Very funny. Does it have something to do with that plastic bag?’
‘It does.’
‘What’s in it?’
He patted the back pocket of his jeans. ‘A film.’
‘Is that all you’re going to tell me?’
He flicked her a glance, tempted to remind her that she was no longer his wife and therefore she should not expect a wife’s privileges. But her silvery-green eyes looked so earnest that he found himself capitulating. ‘I’m surprised you hadn’t worked it out for yourself. Remember those photos taken of us outside the jeweller’s?’ He gave a hard smile of triumph. ‘Well, this is the rogue film.’
Lexi blinked. ‘You mean you got it back?’
‘Of course. I told you that I’d sorted it. You were obviously upset at the thought of the images getting out, so I spoke to Petros and he arranged for one of his sons to...retrieve it.’
She remembered the brief telephone conversation he’d had in the car. The sense of power which had shimmered from his dark and brooding frame as he had barked out his instructions. ‘And the photographer handed them over—just like that?’
‘Something like that.’ Xenon gave the ghost of a smile. ‘What is it they say? That I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.’
Lexi’s teeth bit into her bottom lip. She tried telling herself that his behaviour was high-handed and that he was a complete control freak. Yet she couldn’t deny her gratitude to him, because those photos could have come back to haunt her. When she went back to Devon, the last thing she wanted was to have to face renewed speculation about her relationship with Xenon. And if she was being brutally honest with herself, didn’t his power and authority sometimes thrill her?
Didn’t she sometimes fight him for the sake of fighting him? Because maybe another of her default mechanisms was that she simply wasn’t used to a man who wanted to protect her.
‘Thank you,’ she said carefully.
‘Parakalo,’ he answered with equal care, his eyes mocking her. ‘At least now you needn’t fear any new photographic evidence linking us.’
