The Kiss She Claimed From The Greek

Sofie thought about how she never asked for anything. Or let people know her dreams. Preferring to fade into the background, as if apologising for her presence. Not wanting to take up space, to remind her parents of their lack of family.

‘There’s something I should explain,’ he said.

Sofie shook her head, dislodging her unwelcome thoughts. ‘Why do you need to explain anything?’

‘I didn’t go to Scotland just to clear my head. It was to escape—get off the grid for a while to dim the heat of a news story about me.’

Sofie recalled the salacious headlines she’d seen and remarked dryly, ‘It must have been pretty dramatic to force you to make that decision.’ She remembered how she’d suggested he was burnt out. The thought was laughable.

Achilles made a face. ‘It wasn’t anything that would have fazed me before, but things have changed recently.’

Sofie sat on the arm of a chair. ‘Like what?’

He hesitated, and she had the sense that he resented having to spell this out, because he wasn’t used to having to explain his motives or actions to anyone. The thought gave her some sense of satisfaction. Of some kind of control being restored.

He said, ‘Like the fact that my actions have a direct effect on my business and my employees. Apparently my bad reputation has exceeded its sell-by date and people are less willing to indulge me. I couldn’t care less what people think, but when opinion starts affecting my bottom line it’s time to reassess.’

Sofie squinted at him. ‘So no more jumping out of planes?’

Achilles was dry. ‘Apparently it doesn’t inspire confidence in my commitment to Lykaios Industries.’

Or yourself, Sofie was tempted to add, still smarting a little after his own insight into her self-esteem, or lack of it.

He said, ‘I know a very high-profile couple—not well, but well enough. She wants a divorce. He doesn’t. The woman used my name in her reasons for wanting to divorce, exploiting my notoriety as a way to bring her very conservative husband as much adverse public exposure as possible.’

Sofie’s mouth opened. ‘But you—?’

He was already shaking his head and Sofie had to admit to a flash of relief.

‘No, of course not. I don’t get involved with married women. Apparently it was actually their poolboy, but he’s an unknown. I decided to absent myself from the scene to take the heat out of the story and in the end, after a warning from my legal team, she dropped the claim.’

‘Okay...’ Sofie was wondering why Achilles was telling her all this now. ‘What does this have to do with me?’

Achilles looked at Sofie. Last night he’d been fully prepared to say goodbye to her. One last night. She didn’t belong here, and he shouldn’t have led her on by asking her to come to London with him. He should cut it off now. Let her go. Get on with his life.

But...he couldn’t. Last night had only proved that he wanted her with a passion he hadn’t felt in a long time. If ever. So, as a man who had never denied himself anything pleasurable, why would he start now?

She was a grown woman. As long as he was very clear about what to expect, if she decided to stay then there should be no concerns.

‘There’s an event in a few days on one of the Greek islands. It’s an art exhibition showcasing some of the world’s biggest artists. The woman who was naming me in her bid for a divorce will be there and, while she’s no longer using my name, the rumours made some waves and it would deflect the lingering gossip if I had someone with me.’

‘Me...?’

‘Yes.’ Achilles cursed silently. Usually he was a lot more suave about getting his message across. Women usually met him halfway. More than halfway. Eager to pick up any crumb he threw them.

‘I want you to stay, Sofie, and come with me.’

She blinked. Her cheeks coloured. ‘I... You want me to stay just because you need a date to create a diversion from gossip and this woman?’

Her lilting Scottish accent caught at Achilles’s gut. He cursed inwardly again. ‘It’s not just that. I don’t want you to go. I’m not ready to let you go.’

Again, not words that Achilles had ever uttered to a woman. But this was different. Sofie was different. She would understand what he meant. She wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

‘I’m not ready to let you go.’

But I will be as soon as I don’t want you any more.

Sofie picked up the message hidden between his words loud and clear. A pang of vulnerability reminded her of the loneliness she’d always felt. The loneliness waiting in the wings. She would be mad to pretend it didn’t exist.

She felt very clearly in that moment that if she left now she might, just might, be able to get on with her life and put him behind her. But if she stayed and succumbed to the all too seductive temptation to revel in his attention for longer, it would be a different story.

She shook her head. ‘I don’t know if that’s a good idea.’

Achilles took off his jacket and pulled at his tie, undoing it. He came towards Sofie and she stood up, every part of her body quivering with anticipation. A little voice mocked her. It’s already too late.

But he stopped a couple of feet away. ‘When was the last time you took a holiday?’

Sofie’s mind was blank for a moment. Then she said, ‘I went to Edinburgh for a weekend with my mother before she died.’

He shook his head. ‘No, I mean the kind of holiday where there is nothing asked of you except that you are indulged. Where the sun warms your whole body from the inside out and when it gets too much you jump into the refreshing waves of the sea or the pool. Where by the evening your skin is golden and sandblasted. Where you eat the finest, freshest foods and get drunk on the best wines. Where the sunsets colour the entire sky in red and gold.’

Sofie desperately resisted the picture he was painting. It was far too compelling. She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Gallinvach has some amazing sunsets too, you know.’

His mouth quirked, as if he knew he was getting to her. He came closer, but still kept a little distance between them. He cupped her elbows with his hands and tugged her gently towards him. She could smell him...that unique and very masculine scent. It was probably bespoke, made especially for him.

He said, ‘I don’t think you’ve ever been indulged, Sofie. Let me indulge you. Let me spoil you. Let’s enjoy this chemistry, because it is rare and it won’t last for long. I need someone by my side and we still want each other. Let’s have some fun.’

Fun. There it was. The explicit warning. It untangled something inside Sofie. At least he wasn’t making her any promises. Leading her on to think that something was going on here more than pure physical compatibility. Lust. And when was the last time she’d had fun? She felt a pang. She didn’t know if she’d ever really had fun in her life.

If Achilles hadn’t appeared in a hospital bed on her tiny island, in a coma, then right about now Sofie would probably be changing a bed or cleaning out toilets. And—not that she’d resented that work for a second—something inside her chafed at the life she’d been living. Doing menial work that didn’t ask her to step out of the shadows or question what she wanted. Using her grief as a shield to hide behind.

She knew she should resist prolonging this fantasy. She knew she didn’t belong here. But his words were weaving a spell around her and inside her. Luring her further along the path. ‘Let me spoil you.’ Words that she’d never heard in her life. ‘Let me indulge you.’ It was shockingly decadent. The thought of being indulged. Spoiled.

Achilles was looking at her. Really looking. He saw her in a way no one else ever had, not even her parents. It was dangerous. But it was also exhilarating. Too exhilarating. Fatally, she knew she couldn’t resist. She wanted to have fun.

‘Okay.’