But even just setting eyes on him again, shielded as she was by her dark glasses, was an ordeal. For one awful moment, as she saw his tall figure swing round towards her, it was all she could do to stop herself turning tail and running as far and as fast as she could.
There was nothing in his eyes as they flicked over her. Neither satisfaction that she’d given in to his despicable terms nor disdain at her scruffy appearance. He simply said something briefly in Greek to the young man standing rather upright and nervously attentive at his side, who promptly came up to her.
‘I am Demetrious Xanthou— Theakis’s aide. Please let me know if there is anything you would like for the flight.’
He was new to Vicky. She didn’t remember him from before. His manner was impeccably polite, but the expression on his face was studiedly incurious. The word ‘discretion’ all but shrieked from him.
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ she answered. She tried to make her voice offhand, as if it were nothing that Theo Theakis’s ex-wife was flying off to Greece with him two days after throwing her handbag at him in a fit of temper.
It certainly seemed nothing to Demetrious Xanthou, and her face tightened, little more to his employer.
Well, she thought grimly, if Theo wanted to treat her like the invisible woman she should be glad of it! She was only too happy to treat him as the invisible man.
Except that it was very difficult to do that. As they boarded the plane, Theo letting her board first with a gesture that was light years away from true consideration but merely social habit, she was horribly conscious of him following her, too close behind. The interior of the jet, with its huge leather seats and mahogany tables—light years away from flying economy class—caught at her suddenly. Memory jabbed into her, sharp and intrusive.
Private jets, squillion-pound yachts, supercars and designer wardrobes—a lifestyle that was the stuff of dreams for so many.
But not for her. For her it had turned into a nightmare.
Abruptly she dropped herself down in the seat she hoped would be furthest away from Theo, and dumped her backpack at her feet. She refused both offers of help to take it from her or to stow it, and busied herself pulling out a paperback from a side pocket, clipping her seat belt across her in a businesslike fashion, and settling down to read. Determinedly, she kept her nose in the book, pausing only to look out of the porthole window for takeoff, which never failed to bring a rush of adrenaline to her, until the jet had reached its cruising altitude. Across the wide aisle she could see that Theo had settled himself down and was talking incisively in Greek to Demetrious, who had a sheaf of papers laid out on the table between them.
The mellifluous tones of the language of her father tugged at her. Since her marriage had ended she’d avoided anything Greek like the plague. Even though she had never managed to learn the language beyond anything other than hesitant reading and simple conversation, hearing Theo give instructions to his aide brought the words teasing back into her mind. And words that were more than business terms…
She felt her stomach plunge, her skin contract over her flesh. All her Dutch courage of the night before had vanished completely. All her vain resolve to turn this outrageous situation to her own advantage was gone—completely gone! All that remained was panic—blind, blind, panic. She was sitting on Theo’s plane, being flown back to Greece.
He’s going to have sex with me, and I’ve consented! My very presence on this plane is my consent!
She must have been mad! She would have to run—run the moment the plane landed. Use her credit card to buy a return flight and get out the moment she could!
But if she did she would never get her money.
Jem would never get her money. Pycott Grange wouldn’t be able to open that summer. Children who needed it desperately would have to do without. And she—she would not achieve what last night had seemed finally within her grasp…
Her ultimate freedom from the power that Theo Theakis wielded over her. The power she dreaded more than anything else in the world…
You’ve got to do it. You’ve got to—it’s the only way.
Just don’t think about it—don’t think about it till you have to.
Hurriedly, she scrabbled about in the rucksack for her music and stuck headphones in her ears, flicking on the soothing counterpointed intricacies of Bach, instantly silencing the rest of the world around her. Doggedly she forced herself to keep reading. When, a little later, the smiling stewardess came to ask her what she would like by way of refreshments, she asked for coffee, refusing the champagne that was proffered. The very thought of alcohol now was stomach churning. So was food. Acid was running in her stomach, and she felt sick.
But she mustn’t, mustn’t let it show! To let Theo see her nerves would be to pander to his vicious need for revenge, and she would not, would not give him that satisfaction.
At least he was not in her line of sight, and nor could she hear his deep, dark voice any more, and for that she could be grateful. When her coffee arrived she lifted the cup, taking little sips, staring out of the window over the fleecy cloudscape, willing herself to be calm as the Brandenburg Concertos wove their compelling rhythm through her head. The morning had been such a rush she’d had no time to do anything other than surface, groggily, after a restless, tormented night of unpeaceful intermittent sleep and tearing emotion, then throw the essentials into her backpack.
As for Jem—she’d changed her mind half a dozen times about whether to phone him and tell him she was on the trail of the money. Half of her wanted to reassure him, but half was terrified he’d start asking her questions about how she’d finally managed to change Theo’s mind…
Jem must never know. Never. He would be outraged, and rightly so. No, she mustn’t think about Jem. She must keep him ignorant for his own sake, to protect him. Just as she’d kept him ignorant about how brutal Theo had been when he had ended their marriage so precipitately. She’d done so partly to protect Jem, but also because he’d have been bound to storm off and confront Theo on her behalf, and then Theo would know…
No—she cut off her thoughts abruptly. Jem now, like then, had to be kept out of this. This was between her and Theo. That was all. She and Jem went back a long, long way, and he was vitally important to her—but she didn’t want him dragged back into the ungodly mess that had been the ending of her farcical marriage.
I’ll do what I have to do—achieve what I aim to achieve. Then I’ll come home again, to Jem, hand him the money, and never say a word of what I had to do to get it.
What I’m going to have to do…
As she sat, tense as a board, sipping hot coffee, the full enormity of what she was doing hit her like slugs to her chin. Disbelief drenched through her, and a sense of dissociation from reality that she had been clinging to for dear life.
I can do this—I can.