Playing by the Greek's Rules (10 page)

There had been a brief moment when they'd pulled into the car park that she'd thought he might be about to kiss her. He'd looked at her mouth the way a panther looked at its prey before it devoured it, but just when she'd been about to close her eyes and take a fast ride to bliss, he'd sprung from the car, leaving her to wonder if she'd imagined it.

She'd followed him to the jetty, watching in fascination as the group of people gathered there sprang to attention. If she needed any more evidence of the power he wielded, she had only to observe the way people responded to him. He behaved with an authority that was instinctive, his air of command unmistakable even in this apparently casual setting.

It was a good job he didn't possess any of the qualities she was looking for, she thought, otherwise she'd be in trouble.

Her gaze lingered on his bronzed throat, visible at the open neck of his shirt. He handled the boat with the same confident assurance he displayed in everything and she was sure that no electrical device had ever dared to misbehave under his expert touch.

Trying not to think about just how expert his touch had been, she anchored her hair and shouted above the wind. ‘The beaches are beautiful. People aren't allowed to bathe here?'

‘You can bathe here. You're my guest.' As they approached the island, he slowed the speed of the boat and skilfully steered against the dock.

Two men instantly jumped forward to help and Nik sprang from the boat and held out his hand to her.

‘I need to get my bag.'

‘They will bring our luggage up to the villa later.'

‘I have a gift for your father and it's only one bag,' she muttered. ‘I can carry a single bag.'

‘You bought a gift?'

‘Of course. It's a wedding. I couldn't come without a small gift.' She stepped out of the bobbing boat and allowed herself to hold his hand for a few seconds longer than was necessary for balance. She felt warmth and strength flow through her fingers and had to battle the temptation to press herself against him. ‘So how many bedrooms does your father have? Are you sure there is room for me to stay?'

The question seemed to amuse him. ‘There will be room,
theé mou
, don't worry. As well as the main villa, there are several other properties scattered around the island. We will be staying in one of those.'

As they walked up a sandy path she breathed in the wonderful scents of sea juniper and wild thyme. ‘One of the things I love most about Crete is the thyme honey. Brittany and I eat it for breakfast.'

‘My father keeps bees so he will be very happy to hear you say that.'

The path forked at the top and he turned right and took the path that led down to another beach. There, nestling in the small horseshoe bay of golden sand with the water almost lapping at the whitewashed walls, was a beautiful contemporary villa.

Lily stopped. ‘
That's
your father's house?' The position was idyllic, the villa stunning, but it looked more like a honeymoon hideaway than somewhere to accommodate a large number of high-profile international guests.

‘No. This is Camomile Villa. The main house is fifteen minutes' walk in the other direction, towards the small Venetian fort. I thought we'd unpack and breathe for an hour or so before we face the guests.'

Witnessing his tension, she felt a rush of compassion. ‘Nik—' She put her hand on his cheek and turned his face to hers. ‘This is a wedding, not the sacking of Troy. You do not need to find your strength or breathe. Your role is to smile and enjoy yourself.'

His gaze locked on hers and she wished she hadn't touched him. His blue-shadowed jaw was rough beneath her fingers and suddenly she was remembering that night in minute detail.

Seriously unsettled, she started to pull her hand away but he caught her wrist in his fingers and held it there.

‘You are a very unusual woman.' His voice was husky and she gave a faint smile, ignoring the wild flutter of nerves low in her stomach.

‘I am not even going to ask what you mean by that. I'm simply going to take it as a compliment.'

‘Of course you are.' There was a strange gleam in his eyes. ‘You see positive in everything, don't you?'

‘Not always.' She could have told him that she saw very little positive in being alone in the world, having no family, but given his obvious state of tension she decided to keep that confidence to herself. ‘So how do you know we're staying in Camomile Villa? Cute name, by the way. Maybe your father has given it to one of the other guests. Shouldn't you go and check?'

‘Camomile belongs to me.'

Lily digested that. ‘So actually you own five properties, not four.'

‘I don't count this place.'

‘Really? Because if I owned this I'd be spending every spare minute here.' She walked up the path, past silvery green olive trees, nets lying on the ground ready for harvesting later in the year. A small lizard lay basking in the hot sun and she smiled as it sensed company and darted for safety into the dry, dusty earth.

The path leading down to the villa cut through a garden of tumbling colour. Bougainvillaea in bright pinks and purples blended and merged against the dazzling white of the walls and the perfect blue of the sky.

Nik opened the door and Lily followed him inside.

White beamed ceilings and natural stone floors gave the interior a cool, uncluttered feel and the elegant white interior was lifted by splashes of Mediterranean blue.

‘If you don't want this place, I might live here.' Lily looked at the shaded terrace with its beautiful infinity pool. ‘Why does anyone need a pool when the sea is five steps from the front door?'

‘Some people don't like swimming in the sea.'

‘I'm not one of those people. I adore the sea. Nik, this place is—' she felt a lump in her throat ‘—it's really special.'

He opened the doors to the terrace and gave her a wary look. ‘Are you going to cry?'

‘It's perfect.' She blinked. ‘And I'm fine. Happy. And excited. I love Crete, but I never get the chance to enjoy it like a tourist. I'm always working.' And never in her life had she experienced this level of luxury.

She and Brittany were always moaning about the mosquitoes and lack of air conditioning in their tiny apartment. At night they slept with the windows open to make the most of the breeze from the sea, but in the summer months it was almost unbearable indoors.

‘You are the most unusual woman I've ever met. You enjoy small things.'

‘This is not a small thing. And you're the unusual one.' She picked up her bag. ‘You take this life for granted.'

‘That is not true. I know how fortunate I am.'

‘I don't think you do, but I'm going to be pointing it out to you every minute for the next few days so hopefully by the time we leave you will.' She glanced around her and then looked at him expectantly. ‘My bedroom?'

For a wild, unnerving moment she hoped he was going to tell her there was just one bedroom, but he gestured to a door that led from the large spacious living area.

‘The guest suite is through there. Make yourself comfortable.'

Guest suite.

So he didn't intend them to share a room. For Nik, it really had been one night.

Telling herself it was probably for the best, she followed his directions and walked through an open door into a bright, airy bedroom. The bed was draped in layers of cream and white, deep piles of cushions and pillows inviting the occupant to lounge and relax. The walls were hung with bold, contemporary art, slashes of deep blue on large canvases that added a stylish touch to the room. In one corner stood a tall, elegant vase in graduated blues, the colour shifting under the dazzling sunlight.

Lily recognised it instantly. ‘That's one of Skylar's pots.'

He looked at her curiously. ‘You know the artist?'

‘Skylar Tempest. She and Brittany were roommates at college. They're best friends, as close as sisters. I would know her work anywhere. Her style, her use of colour and composition is unique, but I know that pot specifically because I talked to her about it. Brittany introduced us because Skylar wanted to talk to me about ceramics. She's incorporated a few Minoan designs into some of her work, modernised, of course.' She knelt down and slid her hand over the smooth surface of the glass. ‘This is from her
Mediterranean Sky
collection. She had a small exhibition in New York, not only glass and pots but jewellery and a couple of paintings. She's insanely talented.'

‘You were at that exhibition?'

‘Sadly no. I don't move in those circles. Nor do I pretend to claim any credit for any of her incredible creations, but I did talk to her about shapes and style. Of course the Minoans used terracotta clay. It was Sky's idea to reproduce the shape in glass. Look at this—' She trailed her finger lightly over the surface. ‘The Minoans usually decorated their pots with dark on light motifs, often of sea creatures, and she's taken her inspiration from that. It's genius. I can't believe you own it. Where did you find it?'

‘I was at the exhibition.'

‘In New York? How did you even know about her?'

‘I saw her work in a small artisan jewellers in Greenwich Village and I bought one of her necklaces for—' He broke off and Lily looked at him expectantly.

‘For? For one of your women? We're not in a relationship, Nik. You don't have to censor your conversation. And even if we were in a relationship you still wouldn't need to censor it.'

‘In my experience, most women do not appreciate hearing about their predecessors.'

‘Yes, well the more I hear about the women you've known in your life, the more I'm not surprised. Now tell me about how you discovered Skylar.'

‘I asked to see more of her work and was told she was having an exhibition. I managed to get myself invited.'

Lily rocked back on her heels. ‘She never mentioned that she met you.'

‘We never met. I didn't introduce myself. I went on the first night and she was surrounded by well-wishers, so I simply bought a few pieces and left. That was two years ago.'

‘So she doesn't know she sold pieces to Nik Zervakis?'

‘A member of my team handled the actual transaction.'

Lily scrambled to her feet. ‘Because you don't touch real money? She would be so excited if she knew her work was here in your villa. Can I tell her?'

He looked amused. ‘If you think it would interest her, then yes.'

‘Interest her? Of course it would interest her.' Lily pulled her phone out of her bag and took a photo. ‘I must admit that pot looks perfect there. It needs a large room with lots of light. Did you know she has another exhibition coming up?' She slipped her phone back into her bag. ‘December in London. An upmarket gallery in Knightsbridge is showing her work. She's really excited. Her new collection is called
Ocean Blue
. It's still sea themed. Brittany showed me some photos.'

‘Will you be going?'

‘To an exhibition in Knightsbridge? Sure. I thought I'd fly in on my private jet, spend a night in the Royal Suite at The Savoy and then get my driver to take me to the exhibition.' She laughed and then saw something flicker in his eyes. ‘Er—that's exactly what you're going to be doing, isn't it?'

‘My plans aren't confirmed.'

‘But you do have a private jet.'

‘ZervaCo owns a Gulfstream and a couple of Lear jets.' He said it as if it was normal and she shook her head, trying not to be intimidated.

For her, wealth was people and family, not money, but still—

‘Seriously, Nik. What am I doing here? To you a Gulfstream is a mode of transport, to me it's a warm Atlantic current. I used to own a rusty mountain bike until the wheel fell off. I'm the one who works in a dusty museum, digs in the dirt in the summer and cleans other people's houses to give myself enough money to live. And living doesn't include jetting across Europe to a friend's exhibition. I have no idea where I'll even be in December. I'm job hunting.'

‘Wherever you are, I'll fly you there. And for your information, I wouldn't be staying in the Royal Suite.'

‘Because you already own an apartment that most royals would kill for.' His lack of response told her she was right and she rolled her eyes. ‘Nik, we had an illuminating conversation earlier during which you confessed that you think your new stepmother is only interested in your father's money. Money is obviously a very big deal to you, so I'm hardly likely to take you up on your offer of a ride in your private jet, am I?'

‘That is different. I'm grateful that you agreed to come here with me,' he said softly, ‘and taking you to Skylar's exhibition would be my way of saying thank you.'

‘I don't need a thank you. And to be honest I'm here because of the conversation I had with your father. My decision didn't have anything to do with you. We had one night, that's all. I mean, the sex was great, but I had no trouble walking out of your door that morning. There were no feelings involved.' She shook her head to add emphasis. ‘Kevlar, that's me.'

He gave her a long, steady look. ‘I have never met anyone who less resembles that substance.'

‘Up until a week ago I would have agreed with you, but now I'm a changed person. Seriously, I'm enjoying being with you. You're smoking hot and surprisingly entertaining despite your warped view of relationships, but I am no more in love with you than I am with your supersonic shower. And you don't owe me anything for bringing me here—in fact I owe you.' She glanced across the room to the terrace outside. ‘This is the nearest I've come to a vacation in a long time. It's not exactly a hardship being here. I am going to lie in the sun like that lizard out there.'

‘You haven't met my family yet.' He paused, his gaze fixed on hers. ‘Think about it. If you change your mind about coming to Skylar's London exhibition, let me know. The invitation stands. I won't withdraw it.'