So she merely sat still as they climbed steadily up increasingly tortuous roads into the mountains. Snow still capped their peaks, glistening in the brilliant sun which turned the Alpine pastures to verdant green and the pine forests to a dark lustre, transformed the rushing streams that the road crossed in its climb to sparkling diamonds. Watching the dramatic scenery gave her something to do—something to distract her from Angelos’s presence. Yet from the corner of her eye she could still see the strong curve of his hands on the wheel, the glint of sun on the dark glasses he had slid over his eyes. The sense of his presence was, as ever, overpowering.
How long the journey took she didn’t register, but it must have been a good couple of hours. They’d driven through several towns, the last one clearly a ski resort in winter, but now they were leaving it behind and climbing up a narrow road marked by snow poles, rising steeply into the mountains towards a col that was visible in the distance. Then, abruptly, the car turned off even this road and started to snake slowly, with its low suspension, up an unmetalled track towards a wide stand of pine trees about half a mile further ahead. Any sign of human habitation had been left far down in the valley.
As the car rounded the base of the stand of pine trees the unmetalled track opened out and revealed, cantilevered out over the steep slope of the mountainside, a large wooden chalet with a sharply angled roof and wrap-around wooden balconies at several levels. It was spectacularly sited—as if hanging on to the edge of the mountain. Angelos slewed the car to a halt near the entrance, which was bedecked with flower baskets full of trailing geraniums. Several people were issuing out of the chalet—a middle-aged man, a younger one and a maid.
Angelos cut the engine and got out of the car, greeting the older man in German and nodding at the younger members of staff. As Thea got out of the climate-controlled interior of the car she felt her lungs seize. The air was crystal, sharp and clear, the sunlight dazzling. She gazed about her, breathing deeply. The setting of the huge chalet was breathtaking, but she could only stare around her for the time it took for Angelos to ushered her forward, pausing briefly to introduce the staff to her. She smiled politely at them, glad that they seemed to speak fluent English. Indoors, as Thea looked around a large hall with a sweeping wooden staircase leading to the upper levels, was the kind of rustic luxury that only real wealth could afford. A huge fireplace with antlers on the wall above, everything wood-panelled, wood-floored, solid furniture gleaming with the patina of assiduous polishing, and warm rugs and carpets in abundance. Although the style was simple, it was clear a great deal of money had been spent on it. Yet nothing was ostentatious, and the overall effect was warm and appealing.
The maid took her upstairs, showing her into a spacious, sunny bedroom in the same solid, wood-dominated style, and Thea’s eyes were drawn immediately to the doors leading out on to the balcony at this level. Thanking the maid, who had started to unpack for her, she wandered out.
The view was incredible! She had realised it must be spectacular, but actually standing here, poised over the edge of the mountain, it was as if she was almost a bird in flight, soaring down from the high peak. The clarity of the air caught at her lungs again, and as she gazed about the snow-capped peaks were impossible to look at in the brilliant sunshine. She wrapped her hands around the sun-warmed wood of the balustrade and gave a sigh of pleasure.
‘Is that a vote in favour?’
A deep, half-drawling voice sounded from along the balcony, and Thea’s head whipped round. Angelos had emerged from what she assumed must be the master bedroom, further along. He strolled towards her.
He was still wearing his sunglasses, and for the first time Thea was looking at him straight on. She felt a jab of dismay. Why, oh why, did sunglasses do for him what they were so obviously doing? And not just to him—to her …
‘The view is amazing,’ she said, her voice stiff, but she felt it would be unfair to the unknown architect of the chalet to deny it.
‘You don’t suffer from vertigo, I take it?’ remarked Angelos.
She shook her head.
‘Nevertheless,’ he warned, ‘do not lean over too far, and when you are outdoors be careful. The paths can be treacherous, with scree that’s unstable, and it is easy to lose your balance if you too near to any sheer drops. Don’t emulate the goats—they are bred to the mountains!’ A half-smile tugged at his mouth, and Thea realised with a strange twist inside that it made his features less severe.
‘You must be hungry after the drive. Lunch awaits us. Come.’
He led the way past her and down a level—the lower level of the balcony was linked to the upper by a flight of open-tread wooden stairs. The lower balcony was wider yet, almost a terrace, and a table with a red-checked tablecloth had been set out, laid for a meal. The manservant helped her to her seat, and she murmured, ‘Danke,’ which was about all the German she knew, apart from bitte.
The manservant answered something in German which sounded odd.
‘Switzerdeutsch,’ said Angelos to Thea. ‘Swiss-German. Don’t even try and understand it! Even I find it very hard still.’ He nodded a smile at the manservant, who said something in more normal-sounding German, to which Angelos responded, again with a smile.
It was weird to
see him smile. Weird to see him without a business suit. Weird to see him with the sun glinting off his dark hair. The sun was still dazzling, and the manservant crossed to the wall and operated a mechanism which resulted in an awning extending to shield the sun from their eyes. Angelos kept his dark glasses on, all the same, and Thea realised it was making things slightly easier, not being able to see his eyes. The manservant was busy setting out drinks, opening a bottle of white wine, which, as usual, Thea refused with a polite smile.
She wanted to ask if the chalet was Angelos’s, but why should she want to know? He probably owned properties all over the world. Rich people did. Instead, she found herself saying, ‘How many languages do you speak?’
The moment she said it she wondered what had possessed her to ask a question—to show any sign of interest in him at all.
He did not seem to find her question out of place.
‘Four,’ he answered. ‘Including Greek, of course. English is mandatory now, and I learnt both French and German while I was here in Switzerland at school.’
Thea stared. It was impossible to think of Angelos Petrakos as a schoolboy. Just impossible.
‘You were brought up in Switzerland?’ she found herself asking—and again immediately wondered why she had asked. It was not an unreasonable question. As Thea, she had come to know that many wealthy people of many nationalities were based in the financial haven of Switzerland.
‘No, I was sent to boarding school here at thirteen. My father thought it a good idea to broaden my horizons. Switzerland is full of international schools offering an excellent education.’
‘Didn’t your mother mind you boarding?’
Questions were coming from her, and she didn’t know why. It could only be, she reasoned, because she had gone into some kind of automatic social behaviour more, assuming the kind of conversation that she was familiar with when she talked to people. How else could she possibly be sitting here, having the semblance of a normal conversation with him?
‘She died when I was three. I don’t remember her. I was brought up by my father. We were very close. I was his only child. But he spent his life working, creating Petrakos International. Overworking. He died when I was twenty-one.’
The clipped tones revealed nothing, and she could not see his eyes. But she saw him lift his wrist slightly.