‘You don’t mean it,’ she denounced.
But he did mean it. Which was why she was sitting in the garden wondering what she was supposed to do about a party she didn’t want, meant to celebrate a betrothal she didn’t want, to a man who wasn’t here to share either even if she did want him!
Where was he?
Her heart gave a little whimper. Was he with Leona right now, worshipping the unattainable, while her long-suffering husband played the grim chaperone—just to save face?
I hope they’ve had him thrown into a dungeon, she decided savagely. I hope they’ve cast him out into the desert with no food and water and definitely no tent!
But where was he? her stupid heart cried.
Today was Saturday. Yesterday she’d left a message on the answering machine in San Estéban asking him to call her. Couldn’t he have done that at least? He owed her that one small consideration for all the love she’d poured into him.
I want him back. I don’t want him back. She stood up, sat down again, let her hands wring together, looked down to find the thumb from the right hand rubbing anxiously at a finger on the left where Ethan’s ring used to be.
I miss it. I miss him. Come and get me, Ethan! Oh, good grief, she never knew anything could feel this wretched.
‘Eve…’
‘Go away, Grandpa.’ She didn’t want to speak to anyone.
‘There was a telephone call for you—’
‘From Ethan—?’ She shot eagerly back to her feet. Seeing the pity in her grandfather’s eyes made her wish the ground would open up and swallow her whole.
What have I let that man do to me?
‘It was Aidan Galloway,’ her grandpa told her. ‘He is on his way from the airport. I said you would be glad to see him.’
‘Why?’ Her green eyes began to spark with aggression. ‘Are you thinking that Aidan could stand in as substitute?’
It made her even angrier when he dared to laugh. ‘That is not a bad idea, sweetness,’ he mused lazily. ‘He will be here in a few minutes. I will leave you to put the suggestion to him.’ With that he strolled off, still grinning from ear to ear.
He was enjoying this, Eve realised. It amazed her that she hadn’t realised before what a twisted sense of humour her grandfather possessed. Her life was on the line here—her one hope at happiness—and he thought it was funny to watch her tear herself apart?
Theron did pause for a moment to wonder whether he should put her out of her misery and tell her what he already knew. He had been in touch with Victor Frayne about the Greek project. Victor Frayne had, in turn, told him about Ethan’s quick departure from Rahman.
If the man wasn’t coming to claim his granddaughter, then his name wasn’t Theron Herakleides. Keeping Eve unaware of this prediction was good for her character. Good things came too easily for Eve, he’d come to realise. She had sailed through her life without feeling the pangs that hunger breeds. She had wit, she had grace, she had charm and intelligence, and she knew how to use them all to reach her goals with ease. But love stood on its own as something that must be worked at if it was to develop into its fullest potential. Feeling the sharp-edged fear of losing love should make her appreciate and heed the fear of losing it again.
Why did he feel she needed to do that? Because Ethan Hayes was a man of hidden fibre, he’d discovered. To keep up with the sneaky devil she was going to have to learn dexterity and speed.
Ethan landed in Athens and had to utilise some dexterity and speed to get through an airport that the rest of the world had seemed to decide to use at the same time.
He managed to grab a taxi by jumping the queue with the help of a British fifty-pound note. The drive through the city set his teeth on edge. The heat, the crowded streets, the knowledge that he had taken a chance and come here directly from Rahman, instead of checking out San Estéban, all helping to play on his stress levels. So, by the time he passed through the gates of the Herakleides mansion, he was beginning to regret this madly impulsive decision to chase after Eve.
The taxi pulled to a halt in front of a stone-fronted residence built to emulate Greek classicism at its most grand. A maid opened the door to him, smiled in recognition of the times he had been here before. When he asked to see Eve, she offered to take his suit bag from him then directed him towards the garden at the rear of the house.
His heart began to pump with the adrenaline rush of relief because he now knew his instincts had not let him down and he had been right to miss out San Estéban to come straight here.
It was mid-afternoon and as he stepped out onto the wide stone-flagged terrace the air was just taking on the warm golden glow that reminded him of the Caribbean. Striding forward he paused at the head of a set of wide shallow steps which led down into the garden. Standing on a hill as the house did, the garden itself sloped away from him in a riot of summer colour, so from up here he should easily be able to pick out Eve.
He did so immediately. It would have been impossible not to do when she was wearing a hot-pink stretchy top with a short lavender skirt. She stood out in this garden of colour like the most exotic flower ever created. As his heart began to pound in response to wrapping all of that vivid colour to him and never letting go of it again, he saw her move, realised that she wasn’t alone, realised that she was also standing in the exact same spot he had seen her standing the last time he’d seen her here—and locked in the arms of the same man.
Aidan Galloway—she was locked in the arms of Aidan Galloway! Lightning was striking twice again, using a burning blast of cynical reality to hit him full in the face.
Aidan Galloway. It was a joke. He almost laughed. Only he didn’t feel like laughing. Turn, he told himself. Leave, he told himself. Get away from here before she sees you and knows what a bloody fool you’ve made of yourself.
‘Oh, Aidan,’ Eve sobbed into his shoulder. ‘I’ve made such a fool of myself!’