Greek's Baby of Redemption

She paused, her face drawn in reflective and even sorrowful lines. ‘I suppose I’ve had certain experiences, but in their essence

they’ve all been the same.’

‘How?’ The word came out abrupt, and she raised her eyebrows, a faint smile playing about her mouth even though her eyes still looked soft and sad.

‘You want to get to know me now?’

‘I’m curious.’

She shrugged. ‘My mother found me to mainly be an inconvenience. She sent me to boarding school when she could afford it, and left me at home when she couldn’t.’

Alex frowned. ‘And what about your father?’

‘They divorced when I was five. I rarely ever saw him.’

It sounded miserable—about as miserable as his childhood, and yet as far as he could tell she hadn’t had the loving care of a stepfather the way he had been blessed to have. ‘Were any of your step-parents decent people?’ he asked. ‘Besides Bentano?’

‘I wouldn’t call them parents, really,’ Milly answered after a moment. ‘They certainly didn’t see themselves in that role.’

Which told him everything he needed to know, and left him feeling oddly unsettled, although he couldn’t say why. They didn’t speak again until the limousine pulled up to the dock at Piraeus, and Alex ushered her towards the gleaming white superyacht.

‘This is yours?’ Milly’s eyes widened as she took in all fifty metres of the impressive structure.

‘It belonged to my stepfather,’ Alex answered as he took her hand to help her aboard. One of his staff, paid to be discreet and blank-faced, stepped back. ‘He used to host parties on it, for business.’

‘And you don’t?’

‘No.’ Not any more.

She gazed at him uncertainly, their hands still clasped, her slender fingers resting on his. ‘Because of your scars?’ she asked quietly, and he cringed at the pity he thought he heard in her tone.

‘Yes, but also because I am not much of one for parties. Never have been.’

‘You seem a very private man,’ Milly acknowledged as he led her into the main living area, a luxurious, wood-panelled room with several leather sofas scattered about the plush, ankle-deep carpet. ‘Were you always so?’

‘Yes, I suppose.’ He’d had to be. He turned away from her. ‘Would you like something to drink? It will take about six hours to get to Naxos. We can be there by dinnertime, and then the wedding is scheduled for tomorrow at midday.’

‘All right,’ Milly said, her voice sounding quiet and a little sad. ‘And yes, please, could I have some water?’

Alex snapped his fingers and one of his staff, one of the few he trusted to see him, stepped forward. ‘Sparkling water and a whisky, please, Petros.’

‘Very good, sir.’

Petros withdrew, leaving them alone. The yacht shuddered beneath them for a few seconds and then began to glide through the water.

‘Are we going already?’ Milly looked surprised, and a little excited. Alex recalled what she’d said about never having sailed.

‘Yes, would you like to see?’ He opened the French windows that led out onto one of the yacht’s many decks, this one private, with a couple of rattan sofas and chairs. Ahead of them the Aegean Sea stretched out, a simmering, undulating blanket of blue-green.

Milly stood with her hands on the rail, her hair blowing back from her face, as she gazed out at the sea. She reminded Alex of the statue of winged Nike—courageous and proud. The thought made some forgotten ember flicker to life in him, something he thought had long ago crumbled to ash.

He imagined, for one piercing second, how things could be different. How they could talk, and laugh, and then go back inside and tumble into bed, spending the six hours to Naxos very pleasantly occupied. But of course none of it was going to happen like that. He was a fool even to dream of it, to let himself want it for so much as a moment. He’d never let himself want that kind of life.

‘Are you looking forward to returning to Naxos?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’ She turned to give him a small smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘I really am.’

Alex watched her, noticing the glint of gold in her eyes, the dimple in her right cheek. For a second she looked happy, and it made him realise how worried and withdrawn she’d been before. It also made him realise that he liked seeing her happy, and the possibility that he might be able to be the person who made her so, even just for a brief moment, felt intoxicating. Impossible.