Playing by the Greek's Rules (Puffin Island 0.50)
* * *
The next couple of days passed in a whirl of social events. Helicopters and boats came and went, although tucked away on the far side of the idyllic island Lily was barely aware of the existence of other people. For her, it was all about Nik.
There had been a subtle shift in their relationship, although she had a feeling that the shift was all on her side. Now, instead of believing him to be cold and aloof, she saw that he was guarded. Instead of controlling, she saw him as someone determined to be in charge of his own destiny.
In between socialising, she lounged by the pool and spent time on the small private beach next to Camomile Villa.
She loved swimming in the sea and more than once Nik had to extract her with minutes to spare before she was expected to accompany him to another lunch or dinner.
He was absent a lot of the time and she was aware that he’d been spending that time with his father and, judging from the more harmonious atmosphere, that time had been well spent.
After that first awkward lunch, he’d stopped firing questions at Diandra and if he wasn’t completely warm in his interactions with her, he was at least civil.
To avoid the madness of the wedding preparations, Nik was determined to show Lily the island.
The day before the wedding he pulled her from bed just before sunrise.
‘What time do you call this?’ Sleepy and fuzzy-headed after a night that had consisted of more sex than sleep, she grumbled her way to the bathroom and whimpered a protest when he thrust her under cold water. ‘You’re a sadist.’
‘You are going to thank me. Wear sturdy shoe
s.’
‘The Prince never said that to Cinderella and I am never going to thank you for anything.’ But she dragged on her shorts and a pair of running shoes, smothering a yawn as she followed him out of the villa. She stopped when she saw the vintage Vespa by the gates. ‘I hate to be the one to tell you this but something weird happened to your limo overnight.’
‘When I was a teenager this was my favourite way of getting round the island.’ He swung his leg over the bike with fluid predatory grace and she laughed.
‘You are too tall for this thing.’ But her heart gave a little bump as she slid behind him and wrapped her arms round hard male muscle. ‘Shouldn’t I have a helmet or a seat belt or something?’
‘Hold onto me.’
They wound their way along dusty roads, past rocky coves and beautiful beaches and up to the crumbling ruins of the Venetian fort where they abandoned the scooter and walked the rest of the way. He took her hand and they scrambled to the top as dawn was breaking.
The view was breathtaking, and she sat next to him, her thigh brushing his as they watched the sun slowly wake and stretch out fingers of dazzling light across the surface of the sea.
‘I could live here,’ she said simply. ‘There’s something about the light, the warmth, the people—London seems so grey in comparison. I can’t believe you grew up here. You’re so lucky. Not that you know that of course—you take it all for granted.’
‘Not all.’
He’d brought a flask of strong Greek coffee and some of the sweet pastries she adored and she nibbled the corner and licked her fingers.
‘I don’t believe you made those.’
‘Diandra made both the coffee and the pastries.’
‘Diandra.’ She grinned and nudged him with her shoulder. ‘Confess. You’re starting to like her.’
‘She is an excellent cook.’
‘And a good person. You’re starting to like her.’
‘I admit that what I took for a guilty conscience appears to be shyness.’
‘You like her.’
His eyes gleamed. ‘Maybe. A little.’
‘There, you said it and it didn’t kill you. I’ll make a romantic of you yet.’ She finished the pastry, contemplated another and decided she wouldn’t get into the dress she’d brought to wear at the wedding. ‘That was the perfect start to the day.’