’t hold on to a boyfriend. But a virile, sexually rapacious man like Mak could only be pushed so far or dangled on a string for so long. She had no wish to find out what happened when he was dragged beyond his limits.
Downstairs, Mak was already seated in the villa’s smaller, ‘private’ dining room, a circular space with two enormous picture windows and a glass roof that opened to the stars. In a beautifully tailored Zegna suit and a silk shirt in sky blue, open at the neck, he too had clearly made an effort tonight. The room was full of flowers (peonies, Persephone’s favorite). But, most tellingly of all, the table had been set for two. Ella had been expecting two other couples, business associates of Mak’s and their wives.
‘Your friends aren’t joining us?’
‘No.’
Looking up, Mak took a moment to marvel once again at her beauty. More than beauty. Her radiance. That charisma, that presence Persephone had that he could no more describe than he could capture. She looked particularly ravishing tonight, in that dress that seemed painted onto her body, and that showed such tantalizing expanses of skin. Her smooth back. Her long, slender arms. And she was wearing the Graff earrings he’d bought her, for the first time.
‘I thought it would be nicer just the two of us. Do you mind?’
‘Of course not.’ She smiled at him warmly, taking a seat as the waiting staff glided in bearing a variety of salads and fish dishes. ‘I feel like I’ve hardly seen you these last few days.’
He didn’t respond, but seemed to be watching her even more intently than usual. Ella felt her stomach begin to churn with nerves. Something felt different.
‘Please don’t think I’m complaining,’ she said, projecting a poise she was far from feeling while her wine and water glasses were filled. ‘You’ve been so generous, having me here. I hope you know how grateful I am.’
His eyes wandered from her face, to her body, gift-wrapped in silk for his viewing pleasure, then slowly back up to her eyes. The expression on his face made it crystal clear what form he wanted her gratitude to take.
‘It’s been my pleasure to have you here, Persephone,’ he said eventually. ‘And you’re right, business matters have kept me preoccupied for the last few days. But I’d like to make that time up to you. I’ve decided to spend the rest of the month on my yacht. I’d be honored if you would join me.’
Ella’s throat went dry. This was a major curve ball. Was it a test? He hadn’t mentioned any plans to leave Mykonos this summer before now. Whatever his motives, she knew she must play this very, very carefully.
‘Where will you be sailing?’ She played for time.
‘I’m not sure. Perhaps to Italy eventually. Sardinia. But maybe to some of the smaller Greek islands first. Paxos. Alonissos. I’ve heard Sikinos is beautiful this time of year. Do you know it?’
Ella could hardly breathe. Sikinos was where Sister Elena’s convent was. Why would he mention that to me? Does he suspect I know something? But why would he? How could he?
‘No, I’m afraid I don’t.’ She buttered a slice of bread with Oscar-worthy nonchalance. ‘Unfortunately, I won’t be able to join you, at least not for the first part of the month.’ She toyed with her earring thoughtfully. ‘Although perhaps I could come aboard later, once you reach Italy?’
A small muscle began to twitch at the edge of Makis’s jaw.
‘Why can’t you come now? You have plans?’
She sighed deeply and continued eating. ‘I’m afraid I do. I’ve decided to divorce Nick.’
Mak sat back in his chair, surprised. ‘Really?’
‘Mmm hm,’ she nodded, avoiding his gaze in a coy manner that might have implied he was a part of the reason for her decision. ‘Being here has given me a lot of time to think. I needed that.’
‘I see,’ his voice softened.
Mak’s conversation yesterday with Miriam Dabiri had troubled him deeply. It was no secret that Miriam was jealous, that she resented his interest in Persephone and the fact that he’d tired so suddenly of her. And yet, he believed the story she’d told him, about the animated call and the disassembling of the ‘burner’ phone. It simply sounded too elaborate and specific to have been made up.
‘Be careful,’ Miriam had warned him. ‘As a friend. I don’t think you can trust her.’
His first instinct had been to agree. Persephone must be spying on him, although for whom and to what end he couldn’t fathom. But if she was divorcing her husband, perhaps there was another, less troubling motive for her secretive calls? She might be trying to hide money from her soon-to-be ex, or conceal an affair, or she might be hiring some shady investigator to look into his affairs and not want those calls traced. Divorce and secrecy often went hand in hand.
‘I have to go to Athens to see some lawyers,’ she told him now. Reaching across the table, she stroked his hand with what felt like more than just friendly affection. ‘For various reasons it makes sense for me to file here, in Europe. Depending on how Nick responds, I may also have to fly back to the States.’
‘For how long?’
She squeezed his hand. ‘I don’t know yet. But I leave for Athens in the morning. I’ll know more after my meetings there.’
‘You leave tomorrow?’ he frowned. The thought was painful.
‘Not for ever.’ She tried to sound reassuring. ‘If he doesn’t contest it – and there’s a good chance he won’t – I would love to join you on the yacht in a week or two. But I have to do this, Mak. You understand, don’t you?’