When her eyes landed on a glass clock with fine gold hands, and she saw it was almost ten, she even felt a little rush of triumph. Her father would have been so furious, and she couldn’t resist the pleasure she took from that knowledge. She’d been too afraid to defy him when she’d been living at home, and it was silly to feel that she’d defied him now, as a twenty four year old, who’d run away from home almost ten years ago and now lived on the other side of the world, but she felt pleased with herself, regardless.
Until she remembered the other tyrant in her life.
Showered and dressed, and changing into a simple cotton dress, Phoebe had delayed for as long as she reasonably could. There were no books in her cabin, nor was there a TV, and she could only watch the rippling ocean for so long.
Besides, she was ravenously hungry after only a light dinner the evening before.
Nonetheless, she moved with care, looking left and right before stepping out, eager to avoid Anastasios for as long as possible. She should have known she wouldn’t be so lucky on that score.
When she emerged into the kitchen, he was right there, naked from the waist up, and bottom half-clad only in a pair of navy blue shorts. Her mouth went dry at this totally unfair display of masculinity. His physique was unfairly beautiful. She tried to look away, but her eyes were locked to his chest, to the delineations of his abdominals, the sparse covering of hair, the depth of his tan, the sheer, rugged masculinity embodied in his frame.
“You slept well?” The gruff question was a sign of civility, perhaps even a show of hostilities being ceased, but it took Phoebe several seconds to drag her recalcitrant eyes to his face, to home in on his own eyes and nod jerkily.
“Like a rock. I don’t remember the last time I’ve been so comfortable.”
“The bed in your accommodation looks half made of rocks.”
It brought back memories that seared her for their intensity. Not only had he seen her bed, he’d been on it, on her. She forced her legs to work, bringing her towards the kitchen but then, with consternation, she stopped. It was large and spacious, but somehow, didn’t feel big enough for both of them to occupy at the same time. Anastasios simply took up too much space—not physically, but in every other way. Her awareness of him was making her mind and heart move discordantly.
“Coffee?”
Relief swept over her. “Yes, please.”
He moved to a proper espresso machine and pressed a button, bringing the aroma of freshly ground coffee into the kitchen. It made her think of work, and she made a small noise. “I have to phone the restaurant and let them know I can’t come in. My manager’s going to kill me.”
Anastasios looked over his shoulder. “Your cell phone will work. There’s a beacon on top of the yacht so I always have reception.”
“Okay.”
Glad for the excuse, she left the room in search of her handbag. Her manager didn’t pick up, so she left a voicemail, glad that she didn’t have to hear his caustic response in person. By the time she returned to the kitchen, Anastasios had finished the coffee and pulled on a shirt. Disappointment warred with gratitude.
The coffee was delicious, even if the view was ever so slightly diminished.
“This yacht is truly amazing.”
He looked around, as if seeing it through her eyes. “You haven’t even seen the cinema or gym yet,” he pointed out.
Her expression revealed her thoughts. “You’re serious?”
“It’s designed to float on water in the event of an apocalypse.”
She arched a brow. “So the world is burning but you can watch every release of The Fast and The Furious?”
He laughed, a genuine sound of amusement that was like warm honey on just-baked bread. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on edge. “Right. What else do you do at the end of all things?”
“How much time do you spend on here?”
She sat at the kitchen counter, watching as he moved to the fridge and removed a platter of sandwiches. Egg, salmon, and tomato and cheese. She reached for a vegetarian one and took a small bite.
“Not as much as I’d like.”
She tilted her head to the side. “You work a lot.”
“Is that a guess, or are you repeating titbits my father has shared with you.”
“Both,” she said, danger signals blaring. As much as she adored Konstantinos, bringing him into conversation was like the lighting of a fuse, and she wasn’t yet ready to resume their sparing.
“It’s pretty obvious.”