Probably a great deal more adaptable than he thought.
She braced herself as the plane came into land. ‘Is this it?’
‘No.’ He unfastened his seat belt and rose to his feet. ‘There is no landing strip on the island; it’s too mountainous and craggy. We take a boat from here. So if you’ve any thoughts of running away, you’re going to be disappointed. Unless you develop fins and a tail, once you’re on the island you’re stuck there.’
* * *
Angelos felt the spray on his face and increased the power, revelling in the sudden surge that had the luxury speedboat bouncing over the water, leaving a line of foam in its wake.
This stretch of sea was notoriously rough, but he didn’t slacken the pace. Instead he steered the boat bows-on to the dancing waves.
Would the woman be seasick?
For a moment he almost relished what lay ahead.
Someone like her, who preyed on vulnerable men, would be frustrated and out of her depth on the island. There would be no one to seduce.
And not only that she’d been forced to leave all her seduction tools behind, he thought, smiling to himself as he contemplated what the mixture of seaspray and wind must be doing to her hair.
With a certain sadistic pleasure, he glanced over his shoulder—and felt a flash of surprise. Her hair was blowing wildly in the wind, but instead of clutching at it, as he’d expected, she was resting her head back against the safety rail of the boat and her eyes were closed.
She looked strangely content. Which made no sense at all.
He glanced towards the one small bag she’d brought aboard the flight from Paris. Her lack of luggage was a clear indication that she expected to be taken on some serious shopping trips—which meant that she was going to be severely disappointed. They weren’t going anywhere, and she would be forced to wear whatever items she’d brought with her. And wear them again. And again. And launder them herself.
Angelos smiled as he thought about the role that she was going to be expected to play as his prospective wife.
Knowing his father, the first thing he’d want to see would be her prowess in the kitchen.
Can she cook, Angelos?
Undoubtedly not. In fact, he was willing to bet she’d never been near a hot stove in her life, let alone slaved over one. Why would she, when the men she’d married had given her a lifestyle beyond her wildest dreams?
If she’d had any sense she would have taken the money from her last divorce and settled in the Caribbean, instead of moving on to her next victim.
As they drew closer to the island Angelos slowed the boat and pulled in alongside the jetty. He cut the engine, and the air was filled with the insistent rasp of cicadas.
Above them he glim
psed the whitewashed walls of the villa. Hot pink bougainvillaea tumbled joyfully over the walls, basking in the hot Greek sunshine, and the path that led up from the jetty was thickly bordered with blue agapanthus.
‘Home.’
It was only when she looked at him that he realised he’d spoken the word aloud.
‘Is it home? I thought you lived in Athens?’
‘My business requires that I travel a lot and I have a home in Athens because my headquarters is based there. But I have offices in almost all the major cities in the world. It’s a necessity.’
‘You don’t like the city?’
‘Sometimes. But the villa feels more like home than any other property I own. It is the place we spend time as a family.’ He didn’t know which surprised him more. His own confession or her nod of immediate understanding.
‘I can see why you love it. It’s beautiful.’
It seemed such an unlikely response from a woman with a love of the bright lights that he felt a flicker of irritation and suddenly regretted that circumstances had forced him to bring her with him. The island was usually a place to escape from the stresses and demands of his life. This time he’d been forced to bring the stress along with him.
He was about to make a sharp comment when he caught sight of the expression on her face. Her eyes sparkled with excitement and she was staring at the white-pebbled beach as though she couldn’t wait to slip her shoes off and take a walk.