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His mouth twitched. ‘Don’t look so distressed,matia mou. We have lost a little time. But I intend for us to more than make up for it.’
The words were too ominous to stop the shiver that raced through her. And this close, he felt it. His eyes narrowed and his arms tightened. Even more alarmed by how much she wanted to stay, to delve deeper into this fascinating aspect of Zeph, she cleared her throat and pushed away.
He resisted her for a fraction of a second before he set her free, the faint tic in his temple conveying that he wasn’t too pleased about that.
Ignoring the thrill that sent through her blood, she went to retrieve her phone. ‘I really need to catch up on work. Dinner is normally served at eight, unless you prefer it to be later?’
He waved her away, his eyes following her as she headed for the stairs. ‘Eight is fine. And, Imogen?’
She looked over her shoulder, that jumpiness taking an even firmer hold on her. ‘Yes?’
‘There will be many more discussions in the coming days. I hope you’re prepared for that.’
‘I know.’
‘Kalos.’
Good.
But would it be for her?
CHAPTER FIVE
ITSTRUCKIMOGENas she prepared for dinner two short hours later that it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since she’d found Zeph.
It felt as if she’d lived a whole year and been on several emotional roller coasters since she’d stepped into that church. So she wasn’t surprised when her hands trembled a little as she secured the gold hoops in her lobes. The turquoise and gold paisley bohemian sundress she’d chosen was light, flared and airy enough to swish about her mid-thigh as she examined herself in the mirror.
Dinner was being served on the aft deck on level three and she recalled the breeze was cooler there at night. Enough for her to leave her hair down after brushing. Spritzing her favourite perfume at her pulse points, she assured herself she wasn’t nervous. That the butterflies cavorting giddily in her belly were to be expected.
A set of gold bangles and bone-coloured wedge shoes completed the outfit, then she had no more reason to linger.
Heading up from her stateroom, she furiously debated how to get through dinner with Zeph without falling under the magnetic spell he seemed to have cast around her.
Only to realise halfway through their first course that she might not need to go on the offensive.
The Zeph who’d arrived within a minute of her reaching the designated deck had been withdrawn, the lines around his mouth pinched. Even the gaze that had slanted over her, although missing nothing, had held a faint shadow of bleakness.
His voice had been a low, deep rumble as he’d greeted her and held out her chair.
Then he’d lapsed into brooding silence.
For alarming minutes, Imogen had wondered whether she was witnessing yet another facet of him. One she realised she didn’t particularly know how to deal with. Not that she was particularly adept at handling the other two.
Then, as the staff approached with their after-dinner drinks, she realised what was happening when she caught his wince at the sharp footsteps.
‘Are you feeling unwell?’ She kept her voice soft and low.
He flicked her a hard little glance, his lips tightening a touch before he answered. ‘Headache. I get them sometimes.’
That startling softening inside made her clench her gut. But like before, empathy slipped out before she could contain it. ‘Did the doctor give you anything for it?’
‘Nothing that has made a meaningful difference.’
His gaze rested on her for a few more seconds. ‘Did I get them before?’
She shook her head. ‘Not to my knowledge. You were always as healthy as a horse.’
His mouth twitched with wry amusement. ‘Far better than feeling as if I’ve been kicked in the head by one.’
