Oh, she enjoyed saying that! He treated her like a whore and she was responding as a whore. His dark lashes fluttered, folding down over his eyes then back up again as the full brutal smack of her words hit him full in his arrogant face.
Because he was no fool he recognised that she was not only acknowledging herself as a whore but that he was no better in his treatment of her.
But he got his own back. Heavens, did he get his own back! ‘Fine,’ he agreed smoothly. ‘I will do that.’
The door closed behind him, leaving her standing there where she had faced up to him with her chin high and her stance proud, while the tears trickled unchecked down her pale cheeks.
Why was she crying? She didn’t know. What had she expected, after all? For him to show disappointment, concern for her health, a bit of human compassion for her lonely plight?
The man didn’t give a damn about her as a living, breathing human being, and went on to prove it by not coming back to the island for the next seven days.
A week to the day later, she was just climbing out of the swimming pool when Sofia came out onto the terrace. ‘The master wishes to speak to you on the telephone,’ she informed her.
The master. Mia mocked the title acidly. The man with everything—master of all he surveyed! Except an island he coveted and a child he hadn’t managed to conceive.
‘Thank you.’ She nodded coolly to Sofia, grabbed her beach robe and pulled it over her dripping body as she followed the maid into the house and to a telephone extension in the drawing room.
‘A helicopter is on its way to you,’ Alex announced. ‘It will arrive in about thirty minutes. It has no time to linger so be ready to board as soon as it lands.’
‘But—’
That was as far as she got for the line went dead. Frowning slightly and wondering what this new development could mean because she had not been out of the confines of the estate since she’d arrived, she hurried upstairs, showered, dried her hair, then quickly knotted the still slightly damp mass at her nape. She threw on a pale blue cotton sundress, added a white linen jacket and gathered a few things together in a large white linen beach bag because she didn’t know if she was going to be away for an hour or two or for a week.
She was waiting when the helicopter touched down on the purpose-built pad situated a little way off from one side of the house. The pilot didn’t stop the rotors while he waited for her to duck beneath them and climb on board.
An hour later she was being transported by a chauffeur-driven limousine into the centre of Athens.
The car drew to a stop outside a residential apartment block, the driver getting out to escort her inside. He led her to the lift, smiled politely but briefly as he pressed a button on the lift console then stepped back again, leaving her to travel upwards alone.
Was this where he usually met with his mistress? she wondered, and felt her stomach turn over—felt the usual surge of bitter self-contempt begin to burn at how she let him get away with it.
Was it the mistress’s turn to be unavailable?
The doors slid open on a private foyer. Sucking in a deep breath of air, she forced her unwilling limbs to start moving. Chin up as usual and her eyes revealing no hint of what was eating away at her insides, she stepped out of the lift and heard the doors hiss as they closed behind her.
But it was the man propping up a doorframe directly across from her who really held her attention. He was dressed casually in pale chinos and a white polo shirt that clung to the taut contours of his muscle-tight body. His big arms were folded across his wide chest, and one neat ankle crossed over the other. His lean, dark, frighteningly ruthless face was shuttered, his eyes hooded by long lush lashes as he looked her over.
‘The hair,’ he said.
That was all. Just ‘the hair’. As she reached up in mute obedience to loosen the heavy flow of red-gold she saw the intensity with which he watched her fiery tresses tumble around her arms and shoulders.
It was a look she knew well and could feel it touch deep, deep in the very essence of her womanhood.
Desire, unhidden and unwanted.
It was time to begin again.
CHAPTER FIVE
IT SET the pattern for the next two months. When commuting to and from the island to Athens, Alex came to Mia’s bed every night without fail except at weekends when, she presumed, he went to his mistress.
Mia told herself stubbornly that she didn’t care, that the five days when he did come to her meant she deserved a brief respite on Saturday and Sunday from his insatiable demands on her.
Anyway, she always rang Suzanna on a Saturday morning and spent long, precious minutes reassuring the poor child that she had not been forgotten.
Those telephones calls hurt as much as they made each passing week bearable. The little girl was lonely. Mia knew what it felt like because she had been there herself during her own loveless childhood. She would usually spend the rest of the weekend sunk in the kind of heavy mood that made Alex’s absence a relief.
During the day she had formed her own quiet routine where she swam twenty lengths of the pool before breakfast and the same again late in the afternoon. In between she read a lot, silently grateful that his home possessed such a comprehensive library.