When she was thirteen, she’d been badly bullied by a student at college. The girl was seventeen and should have known better but she’d made it her mission to make Amelia’s life hell. Amelia had prided herself on not showing the bully how badly it hurt, nor how upset she’d been with the cruel name-calling. She’d perfected a calm exterior that rarely failed, even when her insides were being shredded to pieces. Her heart had been slamming into her ribs and her pulse filling her ears with a tsunami-like power but, outwardly at least, she’d kept calm.
With Santos, that had been almost impossible and tonight, the first time she’d seen him since they’d slept together, the effort had cost her. He’d strolled into the dining room, in the midst of their happy domesticity, and her body had begun to reverberate, as if recognising its master. She’d found it almost impossible not to look at him during dinner but she hadn’t been able to look—not without staring. It had been a difficult forty minutes. Wine was welcome.
She watched as he poured the rich burgundy liquid into her glass, half-filling it.
‘What is it?’ She lifted it to her nose, inhaling its wooded fragrance.
‘Xinomavro.’ The word had an almost magical-sounding quality. ‘A type of grape varietal that grows well on the island.’
‘You grow it here?’
He made a noise of agreement. ‘It ages well, so each harvest is bottled and stored for at least five years before it’s sent to my homes around the world.’
She stared at him for several seconds and then laughed. ‘I’m sorry, I know you’re probably used to that, with your helicopter and jets and whatever else, but do you have idea how unusual what you just said is?’
His expression showed a hint of amusement. ‘I do.’
She took a sip, her eyes roaming his face, the same flicker of need that had been tormenting her all week flaring to violent life. She’d felt it endlessly—need, desire, impatience and hunger. What they’d started had launched a thousand wants within her. At twenty-four she’d had her first sexual awakening and, far from satisfying her curiosity, it had only served to fill her with renewed curiosity.
‘I can’t imagine growing up with that kind of money,’ she said honestly, thinking back to her own childhood, how marred it had been by intense poverty—how incredible the contrast when she’d started travelling and suddenly they’d been able to afford some non-essentials, and eventually even a few luxuries. As a child, she hadn’t really connected her activities with an improvement in her family’s fortunes; she’d just been grateful things were slightly less strained at home.
‘It was normal.’ He lifted his shoulders, but there was something in his eyes that had her waiting for him to elaborate. After a moment, he did. ‘I was born into money but my father lost almost all of it.’ She leaned forward and beneath the table their knees brushed so she almost jumped out of her seat, jerking them away. His eyes showed a hint of speculation but he reached down and put his hand on her knee, holding them where they were then stroking her flesh so stars began to dance against her eyelids.
‘How?’ Her question was husky, coated by her unmistakable desire. ‘I would have thought that to be impossible, given your wealth.’
‘Bad investments. Messy divorces.’ Santos grimaced.
‘Plural?’
‘Plural indeed. He’s currently on wife number nine, and that marriage looks like it has just about run its course.’
‘Nine?’ she repeated, her eyes wide with disbelief. ‘How in the world...?’
‘He’s a hopeless romantic.’ Santos said the words lightly enough but she felt the undercurrent of irritation, his strong sense of disapproval. ‘Each wife is younger than the last—my current stepmother is my junior by several years.’ He shook his head.
‘And the divorce settlements are expensive?’
‘Were.’ His lips were a grim line. ‘He signs pre-nuptial agreements now, limiting what his wife is entitled to.’
Was it any wonder Santos had proclaimed a distaste for marriage and commitments?
‘But the first few, when I was still a boy and a teenager, were costly. The fortune was divided, and divided again, so it was left to me at eighteen to take over the running of things. My grandfather had taught me from a young age and I enjoyed it—I lived and breathed the business and had a knack for investments. It took me the better part of a decade but I shored up our interests and transferred away from old corporate strategies to more nimble, digitally based options.’
‘Impressive.’ And she meant it. His business acumen must have been brilliant, given what his father had done to their wealth.
‘Not really. It’s just where my talents lie. Did you always want to be a teacher?’
The rapid-fire conversation change had her shaking her head before she could stop herself. ‘No. I took a pretty circuitous route to this occupation, actually.’ The wine was spicy and made her feel warm as she sipped it.
‘Via mathematics at the Académie?’
‘Right.’ She chewed on her lip, wondering at the temptation to speak honestly with him when she made a habit of keeping her background to herself these days. Having been a child prodigy, trotted out for newspapers and television talk shows, had taught her how valuable discretion was. Additionally, most people tended to be intimidated by her, or became too embarrassed to speak honestly, as though she might be critiquing their sentence structure on repeat. Isolation had been part and parcel of her life as a child and teen. For the first time, it played no part in her life; she generally ensured it stayed that way by not mentioning her academic career.
‘What were your other specialities?’ It was as though he knew how close she was to opening up to him and understood exactly the question to ask.
‘Physics.’ She looked at her wine as she spoke. ‘My first degree was in physics. My postgraduate as well.’