A Cinderella for the Greek

But even as she told herself that she could hear that voice cry out again in silent anguish.

But what man could I desire after Max? What man could ever compare to him? Impossible—just impossible! No one could ever melt me with a single glance, could make love to me as he does, could set the fires racing through my veins as he can! No one! No one else ever will.

A shiver went through her, as if she had stirred ghosts from a future that had not yet happened but was waiting to happen. A future without Max Vasilikos in it. An empty future.

No, she mustn’t think like that. A future without Max in it would not be empty. Could not be—not while she had to fight for her beloved home, keep it as long as she possibly could, safe from those who wanted to take it from her. Including Max.

Her face shadowed. Here, on the far side of the Atlantic, she had been able to forget that it was he who wanted to oust her—for her own good, as he believed—but that bitter truth was not something she must ever forget.

And it was a truth that loomed larger with every hour on the plane as they flew back to the UK.

Her mood had darkened as they flew into the night, and she had slept only patchily and uncomfortably. She knew she had a sombre air about her as they arrived at Heathrow in the bleak early hours of the morning. She was facing the end of her time with Max and the resumption of her battle for her home.

After the tropical heat of the Caribbean, and the crisp, clean air of the American west, the wet spring weather of the UK was uninviting and drear as a chauffeured car drove them into London through the rush hour traffic.

Ellen sat huddled into a corner, groggy from the red-eye flight, and Max let her be, busying himself with catching up on his emails on his laptop. Thoughts were racing across his mind.

As they stepped out on to the pavement outside the hotel he shivered extravagantly. ‘It’s freezing!’ he exclaimed. He ushered her inside the hotel, and as they reached the warmth of the lobby said, ‘Thank goodness the Gulf is our next destination!’

He didn’t notice Ellen’s sudden start at his words, only guided her into the elevator. Back in his suite, he elaborated, watching as room service departed after setting breakfast out for them.

‘I’ve just had confirmation via email that my appointment with the business adviser to the Sheikh there is the day after tomorrow. It will be a bit of a rush, but we can fly out tomorrow. You can cope with that, can’t you?’ He smiled. ‘We’ll stay on—go camping in the Arabian desert. Stargazing, camel rides, dune-bashing—you’ll love it.’ Then his expression changed. ‘What is it?’ he asked.

Concern was in his voice. Ellen was just looking at him in consternation.

‘Max... Max, I can’t,’ she said.

He frowned. ‘You’ve still got a while before your next term starts,’ he said.

She shook her head. Her expression had not changed. ‘It’s not that,’ she said.

‘Then what is it?’ he demanded.

There was an edge in his voice he could not suppress. Emotion was starting up inside him. An emotion he did not want to feel, but that was happening all the same. Why was she hesitating like this? Making objections? Didn’t she want to come out to the Gulf with him?

Because I certainly want her to come with me. I don’t want to let her go—not yet. Definitely not yet.

Emotion swirled within him. He was certain—two hundred per cent certain—that he had no desire whatsoever to part company with Ellen now. That conviction had been growing with every passing day they’d spent together, and had come to a head on their overnight flight, when he’d realised he did not wa

nt their time together to end yet.

She’d been a revelation to him—a total revelation. Not just in her new-found physical beauty, which had knocked him for six from the moment she’d walked out looking so incredibly fantastic in that Edwardian ballgown, but ever since... And, no, not just in that respect. But more—oh, much more!

I like being with her. She’s good company. Fun, intelligent, with a great sense of humour. She’s easy-going, undemanding. She enjoys everything, is good-tempered, isn’t self-obsessed or demanding of my attention—though I’m more than happy to lavish it on her because I so enjoy being with her.

The litany ran on in his head, concluding with the most obvious reason of all. In bed, he and she set off fireworks!

Ardent, passionate, sensual, sensitive, affectionate...

The litany set off again. And was cut brutally short as she shook her head again. He saw emotion flash across her face, then vanish. There was something different about her suddenly. Something that reminded him, with a sudden flicker of concern, an inward frown, of the way she’d looked when he’d first gone to look over Haughton and succumbed to its charms. As if she were locked inside herself. Shutting out the world. Shutting him out.

And he didn’t want that. He didn’t want it at all.

OK, he allowed, trying to rationalise her reaction, so she was jet-lagged. Flying the red-eye was never a fun experience. But her wavering was more than just sleep deprivation and grogginess. His thoughts raced on swiftly. Was it because although he was two hundred per cent sure he had no desire to call it quits between them, she might not realise that? Was she feeling uncertain about him? About what they had between them?

He took her hand in his, squeezed it tight. Time to reassure her.

‘Ellen—we are good together. Never doubt that. So let’s go on making the most of it until your term starts. Don’t cut this short unnecessarily—come with me to the Gulf! I want to show you as much of the world as I can. I want—’