She Can't Say No to the Greek Tycoon

Sophie stared at his grizzled, still curly hair, and wondered if that had been genuine emotion she’d seen or simply the effect of his stroke.

‘Look like … her.’ He struggled to get the words out, as if the impediment of an almost useless tongue had got worse.

Silence throbbed between them, beating down against her like a weapon.

She felt numb. No, not numb. She felt everything. Fear, resentment, despair, grief. And something else, a grudging link she couldn’t explain.

‘Look … like … Christina.’

Her breath snared in her throat at his words.

He turned his head to glower at her, his eyes fiercer than ever.

But now she suspected that look was a mask designed to hide whatever emotions he felt as he stared back at her.

‘Sit.’ It was an order, despite his weak voice.

Sophie held his gaze, knowing that they were both remembering her mother.

She reached out a hand and drew forward the visitor’s chair. Then she sat down beside her grandfather.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE SUN HAD dropped out of sight, leaving only the pellucid afterglow of twilight to show the cliff path.

Sophie breathed in the salty air, drawing the aromatic scent of wild herbs and the sea down deep into her lungs. So different from the antiseptic smell of the hospital.

She wrapped her arms tight round herself, hugging back the pain, dismayed at the welter of confused emotions that bombarded her. Each day they grew stronger.

Today had been no different from any other. An early walk along the shore and then her hospital visit. A few minutes’ polite, stilted conversation with Costas as she left Eleni’s room. Nothing extraordinary. And yet … today she felt raw, rubbed bare by intense emotion.

She should feel optimistic. Eleni looked brighter by the day, was making steady progress. Even her grandfather had gathered strength since her first visit. And a relationship of sorts was developing gradually, almost grudgingly, between them.

Sophie turned her face towards the sea breeze and shut her eyes, seeking peace from her confused thoughts.

Inevitably she saw him. Costas. His wide-shouldered frame and smouldering eyes filled her mind as always.

There was no escape, even though they worked hard to avoid each other. He haunted her waking hours as well as her sleep—an edgy, demanding presence that she craved, despite her efforts to be sensible.

He was pure temptation. He couldn’t give her what she longed for and she couldn’t settle for the little he offered. But the strain of resisting him was almost unbearable.

Especially when he’d tried to make amends. Not just with easy things like the bouquet of ice-white roses and a written apology after their confrontation. or the offer of an Aegean island tour on his yacht, no strings attached.

No, what she appreciated was far more intangible. The first time she’d visited her grandfather she’d left feeling hollowed out, shocked by the depth of her inner turmoil. She’d emerged from the room to find Costas waiting. Tall, silent and surprisingly comforting. She hadn’t even objected when his hand, hard and hot, encircled her elbow and he wordlessly led her away.

They’d walked in silence through the hospital. Costas’ expression had been unreadable. But something about his taut features as he’d looked back at her spoke of understanding. Strength and sympathy.

Ever since, whenever she left her grandfather, Costas was waiting. And his solid presence, his unquestioning support, meant more than she’d thought possible.

Sophie opened her eyes, determined to clear it of his disturbing presence. She turned and headed down the steep track to the cove below the Palamidis villa.

There were so many thoughts and fears crowding her mind: Eleni’s progress; her feelings for her grandfather; and the dilemma of when to go home. It was time to pick up her life in Sydney. But somehow she couldn’t make the decision to leave.

She’d told herself she stayed for Eleni. She’d come to care for her and knew the little girl loved having her around. She refused to dwell on the possibility that it was because of her likeness to Eleni’s mother.

Then too, she wanted to explore the tenuous bond with Petros Liakos. She’d told him she must leave soon and he’d welcomed her idea that she return for another visit to Crete.

But above all there was Costas. The man tied her emotions in knots and her mind into a syrupy pulp of yearning. And her body—hell! He only had to come close and all pretence of control left her. It was as if something in her body, and in her soul, came alive only when she was with him.