Playing by the Greek's Rules (Puffin Island 0.50)

He felt a heaviness in his chest that had nothing to do with the intensity of his father’s grip. Emotions rushed towards him and he was beginning to wish he’d never agreed to this reunion when Lily stepped forward, breaking the tension of the moment with her warmest, brightest smile and an extended hand that gave his father no choice but to release Nik.

‘I’m Lily Rose. We spoke on the phone. You have a very beautiful home, Mr Zervakis. It’s kind of you to invite me to share your special day.’ Blushing charmingly, she then attempted to speak a few words of Greek, a gesture that both distracted his father and guaranteed a lifetime of devotion.

Nik watched as his dazzled father melted like butter left in the hot sun.

He kissed her hand and switched to heavily accented English. ‘You are welcome in my home, Lily. I’m so happy you are able to join us for what is turning out to be the most special week of my life. This is Diandra.’

For the first time Nik noticed the woman hovering in the background.

He’d assumed she was one of his father’s staff, but now she stepped forward and quietly introduced herself.

Nik noticed that she didn’t quite meet his eye, instead she focused all her attention on Lily as if she were the lifebelt floating on the surface of a deep pool of water.

Diandra clearly had sophisticated radar for detecting sympathy in people, Nik thought, wondering what ‘news’ his father had for them.

Experience led him to assume it was unlikely to be good.

‘I’ve brought you a small gift. I made it myself.’ Lily delved into her bag and handed over a prettily wrapped parcel.

It was a ceramic plate, similar to the one he’d admired in her apartment, decorated with the same pattern of swirling blues and greens.

Nik could see she had real talent and so, apparently, did his father.

‘You made this? But this isn’t your business?’

‘No. I’m an archaeologist. But I did my dissertation on Minoan ceramics so it’s an interest of mine.’

‘You must tell me all about it. And all about yourself. Lily Rose is a beautiful name.’ His father led her towards the table that had been laid next to the pool. Silver gleamed in the sunlight and bowls of olives gleamed glossy dark in beautiful blue bowls. Kostas put Lily’s plate in the centre of the table. ‘Your mother liked flowers?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t know my mother.’ She shot Nik an apologetic look. ‘That’s too much information for a first meeting. Let’s talk about something else.’

But Kostas Zervakis wasn’t so easily deflected. ‘You didn’t know your mother? She passed away when you were young, koukla mou?’

Appalled by that demonstration of insensitivity, Nik shot him an exasperated look and was about to steer the conversation away from such a deeply personal topic when Lily answered.

‘I don’t know what happened to her. She left me in a basket in Kew Gardens in London when I was a few hours old.’

Whatever he’d expected to hear, it hadn’t been that and Nik, who made a point of never asking about a woman’s past, found himself wanting to know more. ‘A basket?’ Her eyes lifted to his and for a moment the presence of other people was forgotten.

‘Yes. I was found by one of the staff and taken to hospital. They called me Lily Rose because I was found among the flowers. They never traced my mother. They assumed she was a teenager who panicked.’ She spoke in a matter-of-fact tone but Nik knew she wasn’t matter-of-fact about the way she felt.

This was why she had shown so much wistful interest in the detail of his family. At the time he hadn’t been able to understand why it would make an interesting topic of conversation, but now he understood that, to her, it was not a frustration or a complication. It was an aspiration.

This was why she dreamed of happy endings, both for herself and other people.

He felt something stir inside him, an emotion that was entirely new to him.

He’d believed himself immune to even the most elaborately constructed sob story, but Lily’s revelation had somehow managed to slide under those steely layers of protection he’d constructed for himself. For some reason, her simply stated story touched him deeply.

Unsettled, he dragged his eyes from her soft mouth and promised himself that no matter how much he wanted her, he wasn’t going to touch her again. It wouldn’t be fair, when their expectations of life were so different. He had no concerns about his own ability to keep a relationship superficial. He did, however, have deep concerns about her ability to do the same and he didn’t want to hurt her.

His father, predictably, was visibly moved by the revelation about her childhood.

‘No family?’ His voice was roughened by emotion. ‘So who raised you, koukla mou?’

‘I was brought up in a series

of foster homes.’ She poked absently at her food. ‘And now I think we should talk about something else because this is definitely too much detail for a first meeting, especially when we’re here to celebrate a wedding.’ Superficially she was as cheerful as ever but Nik knew she was upset.