It was opulent beyond belief! Everywhere she looked there was rare wood panelling, silk, velvet and leather upholstery, gold and silver fittings, cashmere, suede and skins on floors and walls, inlays and gilding all around. A fortune must have been paid to fit out the interior, let alone the cost of the massive yacht itself, thought Andrea.
As they were shown round by an oh-so-attentive chief steward, Andrea felt increasingly oppressed. What had Nikos called it? Her grandfather's latest toy...
On the upper deck, she watched the mainland of Greece slip away behind them as the yacht nosed out towards the open sea. Meanwhile Nikos watched the wind billow through Andrea's exquisite hair. Her face was set. Clearly she was still in a mood. Nikos's expression hardened. Just how spoilt was this woman? he thought. Here she was, aboard a yacht that was the last word in extravagance, and she still wasn't happy! He thought back to the days of his childhood, so long ago, when he had been a no-hope
street kid. No pampered upbringing for him! He had got here, to the deck of a luxury yacht, as head of one of Europe's largest companies, Coustakis Industries, by his own efforts.
And now he was married to Yiorgos Coustakis's granddaughter.
Well, he had better make the most of it...
CHAPTER EIGHT
Champagne beaded in Andrea's glass, fizzing gently. She took another sip. Across the table from her, Nikos did likewise. They were in the dining room—a vast expanse dominated by a huge ebony table, lavishly set with crystal and gold. A suffocating smell of lilies permeated the atmosphere, emanating from the banks of bouquets all around the room. Above their heads a vast chandelier shed its light upon them. Four uniformed stewards stood in a line to one side, ready to do the slightest thing that the honeymoon couple required of them. Deep below the steady thrum of the vessel's motor was the only indication that they were actually on board a boat—the windows were obliterated by vast swathes of black velvet, tas-selled in gold, reflecting the gold and black patterning in the deep, soft carpet under Andrea's feet.
She picked at her food. It had probably cost a fortune, just like everything else around her.
'You would prefer something else?' Nikos broke the oppressive silence.
'No, thank you. I'm simply not hungry.' Andrea's voice sounded more clipped than she intended, but civility was hard to project right now. Her whole body felt as if it had been tied into an excruciatingly tight knot.
You 've got to tell him! End. this farce right now.1 Then you can go to bed—alone!—and the yacht can start heading back to port.
She wished she had managed to talk to Nikos earlier. She should have stopped him leaving her alone on the deck, when he, with nothing more than a brief, 'There are a few matters I must attend to—excuse me,' disappeared into the interior. But he had not reappeared until a short while ago. In the meantime a stewardess had politely enquired when she would like dinner served, and when she would like to change for it. Helplessly, Andrea had gone along with her, telling her to refer to Mr Vassilis re the timing of dinner.
My, what a good little Greek wife I sound! she had thought. Deferring to my husband right from the start!
Husband—the word echoed in her brain.
I'm in shock, she thought, as her fork lifted mechanically to her mouth. I never really believed this would happen. I blanked it out, focussed only on the money for Kim. But it's real; it happened. I married Nikos Vassilis today and he's sitting opposite me, and I still haven't told him that this is going to be the shortest marriage in history!
So tell him now!
I should send away the crew, she thought—get rid of them all. Then simply open my mouth and tell him Fm leaving in the morning.
Instead, she found her mind wandering off. What on earth did all those stewards think? she wondered. A pair of newly-weds eating in stony silence? Did they think anything? Did they care? Were they even human? Their faces were totally expressionless. She had a sudden vision of them being androids, like something out of science fiction, and had to suppress a hysterical laugh. Quickly she snapped her mind onto something else.
Like who on earth had been in charge of the interior design of this place? They should be taken out and shot, she thought viciously. To spend such money for such atrocious results seemed like a criminal offence. The decor was hideous, just hideous!
Nikos looked across at her. Her eyes were working around the room disdainfully. Was she picking out flaws, signs of cheapness? he wondered sourly. He glanced down at her plate. She had stopped eating.
With sudden decision Nikos pushed his plate away from him. He was in no mood to eat. No mood to go on sitting here, with a row of statues like a silent Greek chorus witnessing his bride display her feelings about marrying him.
He got to his feet. Andrea started, and looked up at him.
'Come.'
He held out a hand to her. His mouth was a thin line.
She hesitated a fraction. There was something about him that unnerved her, but at the same time she, too, felt an overpowering urge to get out of this oppressive room. And after all she needed to speak privately with him, so she might as well go with Mm.
As he headed towards the door one of the stewards was there before him, attentively opening it. Andrea hurried after Nikos in the same tight green evening dress she'd worn her first night in Greece as he strode along the wide, thickly carpeted corridor. He flung open a door at the end and held it for her.
She went inside.
It was their bedroom.
Mahogany panelled the room from floor to ceiling, and in the middle a gigantic bed, swathed in gold silk, held centre stage. Ornate gold light fittings marched around the room. She dragged her eyes away.