Claimed by his touch...

Alexis Constantinou haunts Selena Blake’s every memory. Before his expert touch awakened her, she was nothing more than a naive schoolteacher. Now she dreams every night of his idyllic Mediterranean island, and the scorching affair that stole her innocence...

Left carrying his child!

But their brief time together left Selena with a shameful secret. And when family duty calls her back to Greece, she must face the man whose caress branded her as his! Seeing Alexis once more, Selena cannot ignore their still-sizzling passion, but dare she reveal the truth she’s hidden from the world—the secret Constantinou heir!

There was a violent flash of eerie green light and then, almost at once and right above their heads, an ominous rumble, building slowly and inexorably to a roaring, deafening crash as if the cave was collapsing on top of them.

Selena cried out, her voice lost in the uproar, and stumbled forward, her hands reaching out to Alexis, who caught her and held her until the last terrifying echoes of the thunder died away and all she could hear was the tumultuous thud of her own heartbeat.

And beneath her cheek his—like the relentless rhythm of a drum.

His hand moved down, impelling her silently to look up at him. To read his intention in the sudden flare of his gaze as he bent and his mouth found hers, gently, sensuously, coaxing her lips to part for him.

She leaned into the heat and strength of his body, welcoming his kiss, responding with bewildered ardour as it deepened and a shiver of pleasure feathered enticingly across her skin.

When, at last, he took his lips slowly from hers she made a small, lost sound in her throat that never became an actual word—even if she’d been able to think of one.

She registered that the crackle of the lightning had become less frequent and the answering thunder had become a sullen mumble in the distance.

‘The storm is over.’

There was an odd silence, then he said quietly, ‘On the contrary, Selena mou, I think it is just beginning.’

Secret Heirs of Billionaires

There are some things money can’t buy...

Living life at lightning pace, these magnates are no strangers to stakes at their highest. It seems they’ve got it all… That is until they find out that there’s an unplanned item to add to their list of accomplishments…!

Achieved:

1. Successful business empire

2. Beautiful women in their bed

3. An heir to bear their name?

Though every billionaire needs to leave his legacy in safe hands, discovering a secret heir shakes up his carefully orchestrated plan in more ways than one!

Uncover their secrets in:

Unwrapping the Castelli Secret by Caitlin Crews

Brunetti’s Secret Son by Maya Blake

The Secret to Marrying Marchesi by Amanda Cinelli

Demetriou Demands His Child by Kate Hewitt

The Desert King’s Secret Heir by Annie West

The Sheikh’s Secret Son by Maggie Cox

Look out for more stories in the Secret Heirs of Billionaires series, coming soon!

The Innocent’s Shameful Secret

Sara Craven

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Former journalist SARA CRAVEN published her first novel, Garden of Dreams, for Mills & Boon in 1975. Apart from her writing—naturally!—her passions include reading, bridge, Italian cities, Greek islands, the French language and countryside, and her rescue Jack Russell cross Button. She has appeared on several TV quiz shows, and in 1997 became the champion of UK TV show Mastermind. She lives near her family in Warwickshire—Shakespeare country.

Books by Sara Craven

Mills & Boon Modern Romance

Inherited by Her Enemy

Seduction Never Lies

Count Valieri’s Prisoner

The Price of Retribution

The End of Her Innocence

Wife in the Shadows

His Untamed Innocent

The Innocent’s Surrender

Ruthless Awakening

The Santangeli Marriage

One Night with His Virgin Mistress

The Virgin’s Wedding Night

Innocent on Her Wedding Night

The Forced Bride

Bride of Desire

Seven Sexy Sins

The Innocent’s Sinful Craving

Men Without Mercy

The Highest Stakes of All

Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Secret Heirs of Billionaires

Title Page

About the Author

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

SELENA SAW THE letter as soon as she opened the front door, the blue airmail envelope unmissable against the brown matting.

She halted abruptly, recognising the Greek stamp, her stomach lurching as a sudden image blazed into her mind of tall bleached columns rearing into an azure sky, with a pool of grass hidden among the fallen stones at their feet. And the soft murmur of a man’s voice in the sunlight, and the brush of hands, lips and warm, naked skin against her own.

She gasped, the plastic carrier bag she was holding slipping from her numb fingers, sending the lemons it contained bouncing and rolling down the narrow hall to the foot of the stairs.

Before she realised almost in the same instant that the untidy scrawl on the envelope could only be Millie’s. No one else’s. And alarm was replaced by growing anger.

Nearly a year of silence, she thought, her throat muscles tightening. And now—what? Another diatribe of recrimination and accusation with the pen scoring the paper just as her sister’s furious voice had scraped across her flinching senses in that last disastrous telephone conversation?

‘It’s all your fault,’ Millie had accused tearfully. ‘You were supposed to help—to put things right. Instead you’ve behaved like a brainless idiot and ruined everything for both of us. I’ll never forgive you, never, and I don’t want to see you or speak to you again.’

And the phone had gone down with a crash that sounded as if it was in the next room rather than hundreds of miles away in a taverna on a remote Greek island.

Leaving her with the knowledge that there was little she could have said in her own defence even if Millie had been prepared to listen. That she had indeed behaved like a fool and worse than a fool.

But she’d suffered for what she’d done in ways that Millie could not even imagine, or was determined to ignore.

Because since that phone call, there’d been nothing. Until now...

She was sorely tempted to leave the letter lying there. To step over it and walk into her living room and begin the new life that had filled her thoughts on the bus journey home.

Except it wouldn’t just go away. It wouldn’t disintegrate or vanish on a breeze. And, in spite of everything, curiosity would be bound to get the better of her in the end.

She bent stiffly and picked up the envelope, walking through the living room, and tossing it on to the worktop in her small galley kitchen, before filling the kettle and setting it to boil.

She’d originally planned to make a jug of fresh lemonade, clinking with ice, and enjoy it in the warmth of her tiny courtyard. A quiet celebration of this unexpected fresh start.

Now what she needed instead was a caffeine rush, she thought bleakly, taking the jar of coffee and a beaker from the cupboard.

While the kettle was coming to the boil, she went back to the hall, collected the lemons, and put them in the fruit basket.

Idiotic, she told herself, to panic like that. Needless, too. Had she really thought, even for a moment...?

No, she told herself harshly, her hands clenching into fists. You do not—not—go there. Not again. Not ever.

She made her coffee strong and carried it outside, settling herself on the elderly wooden bench in the shadiest corner, making herself recap the previous events of the morning and try to recapture something of its optimism.

She had been alone in the classroom, taking down the wall display for Mrs Forbes and putting it in a folder while she considered rather anxiously how she should occupy the unpaid six week summer break ahead of her, when her reverie was interrupted by the arrival of Mrs Smithson, the head teacher.

She said briskly, without preamble, ‘Lena, we heard last week that Megan Greig has decided not to return after her maternity leave. Her job as teaching assistant has therefore become a permanent instead of a temporary post, and the staff and governors agree with me that it should be offered to you.’ She gave Selena a brief, friendly smile. ‘You’ve worked very hard and become a real member of the team at Barstock Grange. We all want this to continue, especially Mrs Forbes, and hope you do, too.’

‘Well—yes.’ Selena was aware she must sound dazed, having expected to be once more jobless and probably homeless by Christmas. ‘That—that’s terrific.’

This time, Mrs Smithson’s smile was broader and tinged with relief. ‘Then we’re all pleased. You’ll be sent official confirmation in the next week or so. And—see you next term.’

Selena’s state of euphoria had lasted throughout her journey home and the short walk to her tiny terrace property. Until, that was, she’d opened the door...

She didn’t need to be subjected to another rant, she thought wearily, or, indeed, to the other possibility—a request to borrow money.

If so, she’s going to be disappointed, she told herself, because I’m skint.

Besides, I need to concentrate on my own priorities, like looking for somewhere else to live where children and animals are allowed.

She and Millie had always wanted a pet, she remembered, but Aunt Nora would never agree, clearly believing that two orphaned nieces were sufficient responsibility.

And, considering what had happened, perhaps she’d been right.

Over the years, it had become clear to Selena that Miss Conway had offered her late sister’s children a home more from a sense of duty than any warmer feeling, family visits having been few and far between. But, as she got older, she’d realised that her aunt’s decision owed an equal amount to self-interest.

Her valued role as a pillar of local society in Haylesford might have taken a serious knock if word had got out that she’d allowed her nieces to be put into care. A lot of people might have felt that charity should begin at home.

Having experienced it, Selena wasn’t so sure. Eleven years old, shocked and wretched with the loss of her parents, killed in a collision with a hit and run driver, it hadn’t seemed to matter where she and Millie went, or what happened to them, as long as they were together.

Although they were as different as chalk and cheese, physically as well as temperamentally.

Millie, two years her junior, was a golden girl, small, curvaceous and pretty, her hair a deep, rich blonde which curled slightly. Selena was tall and on the skinny side of slender. Her eyes were grey to Millie’s blue, and her skin much paler than her sister’s peaches and cream complexion.

But the big difference was her hair, almost at the silver end of the spectrum, and totally straight, spilling halfway down her back, even when confined to the thick braid insisted upon by Aunt Nora.

Hair like moonlight...

Oh, God, she thought, as memory stabbed at her suddenly, viciously. Not dead as she’d believed and hoped, but brutally alive.

She sat rigidly, her nails digging into the palms of her hands as she tried to force that particular memory back into the oblivion it deserved.

No one would ever say it to her again. She’d made sure of that long ago, leaving the long silky strands on the floor at the hairdressing salon in Haylesford in exchange for a gamine crop with feathery tendrils framing her face and giving emphasis to her high cheekbones.

Yet another difference between us, she thought, as she made herself think about Millie again.

She looks like Mum, and I take after Dad’s side of the family, she reflected, swallowing past the lump in her throat. He always claimed he had Viking ancestry and that’s where our colouring came from. On the other hand, he tended to wing his way through life like Millie, while my mother was the steady, sober member of the partnership. As I believed I was.

But whatever the reason for Aunt Nora’s reluctance to take them on, it couldn’t be a dislike of children because she ran a private junior school for girls and a very successful one, catering for those needing extra help to pass the examinations for their very expensive senior schools, or, as it was known, a crammer.

Not that she and Millie were ever enrolled at Meade House School, even though they were both under thirteen. Instead, they were both placed very firmly in the state system.

Her long-term plans for them, however, she’d kept to herself, Selena thought drily.

She drank some more coffee, wondering why she was re-treading these well-worn paths all over again. Especially when she’d told herself the best way to survive was to shut the door on the past. Think only of the future.

Or was this simply deliberate prevarication? Delaying the moment when she’d have to deal with Millie’s letter, still in the kitchen, silently demanding her unwilling attention.

Time to get it over with, she decided as she finished her coffee and went indoors.

The single piece of paper inside the envelope looked as if it had been ripped from a small notebook.

‘Lena’ Millie had written. ‘We have to talk. It’s an emergency, so please, please call me.’ She’d added the telephone number, including the code, and signed off ‘M’.

Short, but not too sweet, thought Selena. And it’s almost certainly about money because Rhymnos is bound to be having its share of economic problems.

Or has her life on a small Greek island already palled and could this cry for help involve a one-way ticket back to Britain?

But to do what—and to live where? Well, hardly here, that was for sure, sharing a cramped bedroom with a three-quarter-sized bed, not to mention a shower room not much bigger than a cupboard.

And apart from some undistinguished GCSEs, Millie had no qualifications for any career except bar work or waitressing. And she’d probably had her fill of both by now.

Surely she can’t imagine there’s a remote possibility that Aunt Nora’s been in touch and all is forgiven?

If so, dream on, Millie, she thought. She’s out of our lives for good and all.

And why didn’t you ring me if it’s all so urgent? Especially as I sent you my number along with the address.

She realised she’d crumpled the letter in her hand, and smoothed it out again on the work surface.

The phone number Millie had given clearly demonstrated that she was still living with Kostas at his taverna, named Amelia in her honour. But maybe that was only temporary.

And although it was tempting to take the coward’s way out and pretend the letter had never come, Millie was, in spite of everything, her sister and wanted her help.

She said aloud, ‘I can’t let her down.’

Steeling herself, she picked up the phone. It was answered on the second ring. A man’s voice.

She kept her voice cool and steady. ‘Kostas? It’s Selena.’

‘Ah, sister, you have called.’ Across the miles, she could hear the relief in his tone. ‘How good to hear you. But I knew it would be so. I told my Amelia that she must not disturb herself with worry.’

‘Things have obviously been—difficult for you all,’ she said. And that’s putting it mildly.

‘Po, po, po. Now we look for better times.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Of course.’ She paused. ‘Is Millie around? Can I speak to her?’

‘At this moment, no, sister. The doctor has ordered she must rest, and she is sleeping.’

‘The doctor,’ Selena repeated, frowning. ‘You mean she’s ill? What’s wrong with her? Is it serious?’

‘I cannot say. It is a woman’s thing, and she feels scared and very much alone.’ He hesitated. ‘My mother is here, of course, but—it is not easy, you understand.’

I bet, thought Selena, remembering Anna Papoulis in her unrelieved widow’s mourning, her headscarf framing her sharp face with its narrow-lipped, bitter mouth set in resentment of her son’s foreign bride.

However, it seemed as if the marriage was surviving, which was some relief.

‘It is you that she wants. Again and again she says it, and she weeps.’ His tone became eager. ‘If you would come here—be with her for a while—she would soon be better. I know it. And there is a room for you here with us. I prepared it in hope.’

She was shocked into silence. And disbelief.

Rhymnos, she thought. He actually thinks I can go back to Rhymnos? After everything that happened? He must be crazy.

‘No,’ she said at last, her voice harsh. ‘That’s impossible. You know it is. I—I’m needed here.’

‘But things are different now,’ he persisted. ‘You have nothing to fear, sister. People have gone,’ he added, his voice heavy with meaning. ‘The island has changed. You will be safe here. Safe with us.’

I thought I was safe before. Believed Millie was the one in danger. Yet I was the one to be betrayed and I still have the scars.

He went on quickly, ‘And my Amelia wants so badly to see you—to be with you. I cannot bear for her to be disappointed.’

No, she thought. That’s how it all began. Because Millie mustn’t be disappointed. Because two of her classmates were having a holiday in Greece, for the first time without their parents, and asked her to go with them. And she cried when Aunt Nora said, ‘At seventeen? Absolutely not.’

Tears on their own probably wouldn’t have worked, but reinforcements arrived in the shape of Mrs Raymond, mother of Daisy, whose idea the trip had been, and, in her way, as formidable as Aunt Nora.

‘I think one has to allow them some independence at their age,’ she’d pronounced majestically. ‘Demonstrate that we trust them. After all, they’ll all be off to university next year.’

Daisy and Fiona, perhaps, Selena had thought drily. Millie—only if she started doing some work.

‘And Rhymnos is only small and quiet, not crowded with nightclubs, which means fewer opportunities for mischief,’ Mrs Raymond had added. ‘The hotel, too, is family run and has a good reputation. The girls are so keen for Millie to go with them, and she’s bound to be disappointed if she’s left behind. Besides, there’s safety in numbers, you know.’

It all sounded too good to be true, Selena had thought with sudden unease, hoping that Aunt Nora would stick to her guns.

But, albeit reluctantly, she’d eventually agreed, leaving Selena to shrug and decide it was none of her business.

Which only proved how wrong it was possible to be.

Because, suddenly and incredibly, it had become her business, turning her entire life upside down.

Kostas was speaking again. ‘If it is a matter of cost, I shall happily pay the airfare to Mykonos, and the ferry transfer. I ask only that you come to us—for Amelia’s sake. She hopes so much to see you.’

She said crisply, ‘That was hardly the impression she gave when we last spoke.’

He sighed. ‘But in all families, sister, things are said in anger and then regretted. And I am relying on your compassion for a sick girl.’

Selena bit her lip. Put like that, she thought, she could hardly refuse. And yet she was aware again of that odd sense of unease. Although, he’d said things had changed...

But I haven’t changed, she thought. I know that now. And perhaps I never will until I have the courage to face my demons and put them finally to rest. And maybe that time has come.

She took a deep, painful breath. ‘Very well, Kostas, I’ll come as soon as I can get a flight—which I will pay for myself, thanks all the same. I’ll be in touch when I have the details.’ She added, ‘And wish Millie well for me.’

She occupied the rest of her day with some heavy duty housework, trying to ignore the small voice in her head telling her that she’d clearly learned nothing from her past mistakes and was, once again, behaving like an idiot.

Because she knew how doubtful it was that Millie would make the same concessions for her, if their positions were reversed.

But she could probably live with herself, she thought drily. Whereas I couldn’t—especially if this illness of hers turns out to be something really serious.

And, in that case, what kind of medical attention could Millie expect in so small a place?

If she needs to come back to England with me, I’ll deal with it, even if it means finding an even bigger place.

She decided to have an early night, in view of all she had to do the following day, hoping, too, that sleep would silence that little warning voice—at least for a while.

As she undressed, she embarked on a mental list of what she’d need to take with her to Rhymnos, remembering that the high summer temperature could soar to forty degrees plus.

Reaching for her nightdress, she glimpsed herself in the wall mirror and paused, wondering if the events of the past year had altered her in any significant way. But, apart from her severely shorn hair, her critical gaze could see no real change. Her breasts were still high and rounded, her waist small, her stomach flat and her hips gently curved.

I look, she told herself ironically, almost untouched. And found her laugh turning into a sob.

* * *

She spent a wretched, restless night and was sorely tempted, when her radio alarm went into action, simply to silence it, pull the covers over her head and stay where she was.

The coward’s way out, she thought wryly as she swung her feet to the floor and headed to the shower.

Her first visit was to the letting agency, to register her new requirements, followed by a wander round a cheap and cheerful fashion store which still had a few pairs of cotton cut-off pants, tee shirts and even a one-piece swimsuit available in her size and within her limited budget.

Working on the premise that she wasn’t sure how long her stay would last or if she’d be returning alone, she booked a single flight at the travel agency, and bought some euros, knowing she would have to use them carefully because she could afford no more.

But her most difficult task was still ahead of her, she reminded herself as she emerged into the street, subjecting her, no doubt, to more disapproval and more pressure. Except this time, she’d have a positive response to make. An actual workable plan for the future.

She heard her name called and turning saw Janet Forbes coming towards her smiling.

‘I’m glad I’ve seen you,’ she said. ‘I was planning to get in touch anyway and have a chat, over an iced coffee maybe, or are you too busy?’

‘No, that would be great.’

They went to a cafe with a veranda overlooking the river, its banks busy with families sunbathing, eating ice cream and feeding the ducks.

‘I wanted to say how delighted I am that we’ll be working together again next year,’ Mrs Forbes began as they sipped their coffees under the shade of the awning.

‘Megan was a nice girl and very conscientious, but I always felt that she was simply filling in time. Whereas you...’

She paused. ‘I wondered if you’d ever considered getting a BEd and becoming a teacher yourself, because I’d say you were a natural.’ She added swiftly, ‘Not that I want to lose you, of course. Please don’t think that.’

Selena was all set to declare herself perfectly happy with her lot. Instead, to her own astonishment, she heard herself say, ‘I did start training but got no further than the second year.’ She forced a smile. ‘Family problems.’

‘Well, that’s a great shame.’ Mrs Forbes gave her a thoughtful look. ‘You could always go back to it, you know. It’s never too late to start again.’

That, Selena thought, is what I keep telling myself. Maybe it’s time I believed it.

‘One day, perhaps,’ she said. ‘I mean, I’d love to, but right now I have—other priorities.’

‘Well, do bear it in mind for the future.’ Mrs Forbes got to her feet, collecting her bags. ‘I hate to see talent wasted.’ She patted Selena on the shoulder. ‘Maybe when your family problems are behind you.’

Except, thought Selena, watching her go, you don’t know the half of them. And I can never tell you, or anyone else, what happened two years ago.

Or that I’m still struggling with the aftermath.

CHAPTER TWO

SHE SUPPOSED SHE ought to move. Go back to the store and buy some of the clothes she’d seen. The absolute minimum would do and was all she could afford anyway.

But being accustomed to living on not much could stand her in good stead if her life changed in the way she hoped.

Not ‘if’, she told herself, but ‘when’.

And in celebration, she recklessly ordered another iced coffee.

How strange, she thought, when she’d been watching Janet Forbes so closely, admiring her classroom technique, her patience and ability to engage the children, and keep them interested and focussed, that, all the time, Mrs Forbes had been watching her. Deciding to encourage her into teaching.

Not blackmail her into it.

She’d been sixteen, quietly delighted with her GCSE results when Aunt Nora had dropped her bombshell. Informed her that all her university expenses would be paid as long as she, and eventually Millie, too, agreed to teach at Meade House after graduation.

Otherwise, Selena could forget the Sixth Form and college, leave her comprehensive school and find a job.

‘I had to settle your late parents’ debts as well as bearing the costs of your upbringing,’ her aunt had stated coldly. ‘I expect to be repaid, Selena. And Amelia, of course, will have to do the same.’

She paused, allowing that to sink in. ‘And kindly stop looking as if your death sentence had just been pronounced. At Meade House, you and your sister will be guaranteed a continuing home, careers and security. A little gratitude would not come amiss.’

How am I supposed to look, Selena had wondered, when every plan—every dream I had of getting away from Haylesford and being my own person—has been virtually knocked on the head?

For a moment, she’d been prepared to say To hell with it and take the risk, but she knew that she could not make choices that would also affect the future of fourteen-year-old Millie. That was neither right nor fair.

And once her agreement had been obtained, however unwilling, there had been a perceptible easing of Aunt Nora’s strict regime, leading eventually, inevitably to Millie being permitted her Greek holiday with her friends.

Selena had found a vacation job in a cafe, one which turned out to be short-lived because one showery July day her aunt slipped and fell in her garden and ended up in hospital with a broken leg.

Aunt Nora, ensconced in a comfortable private room, received her sourly. ‘They won’t allow me to go home until I’ve mastered using these crutches.’ She gestured disdainfully to where they stood, propped against the wall. ‘But even with them, I’m going to require help, and Amelia, of course, is leaving for Greece in ten days’ time.’

Lucky Millie, Selena thought grimly.

As she’d suspected ‘patient’ was hardly the word to describe her aunt, who kept her on the run from first thing in the morning until last thing at night, with the help of the little handbell she kept beside her at all times.

In addition, Millie had fussed endlessly over her packing, claiming exclusive access to the washing machine and ironing board, and providing Aunt Nora with another excuse to grumble.

It was almost a relief when Mrs Raymond arrived with Daisy and Fiona to drive them all to the airport.

One less problem to handle, Selena thought, as she closed the front door.

‘Dr Bishop says I shall need physiotherapy when the plaster is eventually removed,’ her aunt announced the following week. ‘He has given me a list of reliable practitioners who pay private visits.’

‘Isn’t it available on the National Health Service?’ asked Selena.

‘Not to the extent that I shall require,’ Aunt Nora said coldly. ‘Dr Bishop says it was such a serious fracture that I shall probably have to learn to walk all over again.’

Selena thought drily that Dr Bishop, rightly nicknamed Old Smoothie by Millie, excelled at telling her aunt exactly what she wanted to hear, and hoped the physio would have more sense.

And, talking of Millie, apart from an initial text announcing that Rhymnos was great, they’d heard nothing from her.

Still, she decided, philosophically, the parents of Daisy and Fiona were probably in the same boat, and, anyway, wasn’t no news supposed to be good news?

She’d been into town the afternoon the girls were due back, taking a list of her aunt’s requests to the public library. She expected Millie to have arrived when she got back, yet there was no clutter of luggage in the hall.

The flight must have been delayed, she thought, then heard her aunt calling her, her voice high and angry, and found her sitting upright, two bright spots of colour in her cheeks emphasising her unusual pallor.

She checked, the terrible memory of her parents’ accident striking at her, making her feel sick to her stomach with fright. ‘Has—has something happened?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Her aunt’s voice shook with fury. ‘Your sister, it seems, has involved herself with some local yob on that island and decided to stay there—to set up house with him. Apparently she’d gone from her hotel room this morning with all her things. The other girls had to leave without her.

‘Well, I won’t have it. I will not allow her to disgrace me, to make me ridiculous in front of the whole town—a child of her age. However there’s nothing I can do about it, so you’ll have to go over there and bring her back.’ She added ominously, ‘Before too much harm is done.’

Selena sank down on the nearest chair. Typical, she thought bitterly, that her aunt should see the situation in terms of personal disgrace rather than the danger to Millie and the potential ruin of her future.

She said, ‘Who is the man? Do Daisy and Fiona know?’

‘It seems he’s the barman at the Hotel Olympia where they were staying. His name is Kostas.’ Aunt Nora pronounced the name with acute distaste then held out a piece of paper that had been crumpled in her hand. ‘She left this note.’ She shuddered. ‘Mrs Raymond could hardly look me in the eye. I blame her entirely for allowing this trip in the first place and then badgering me to let Amelia be part of it.

‘But that, of course, won’t stop her telling the entire town what’s happened. She’s probably already started.’

Selena read the note frowningly. Millie said simply that she was not coming back to England because she loved Kostas and was staying with him.

So, not much room for negotiation there, she thought.

‘As you can see, there’s no time to lose.’ Aunt Nora was regaining some of her old briskness. ‘So, you go there, you find her and you bring her back. That’s all there is to be said.’

She added decisively, ‘I will not have my plans for the future of the school wrecked by some childish infatuation. Men like this barman should be locked up.’

Selena tried to reason with her, pointing out that Millie was not a child and it might be better to let her realise her mistake and return of her own accord.

And how, she asked, would her aunt manage without her, only to discover that Aunt Nora had already booked a live-in carer.

‘Terribly expensive,’ she’d said sourly. ‘I hope Amelia realises the inconvenience she’s causing.’

But nothing Selena said made the slightest difference, which was why, only two days later she found herself on board the ferry from Mykonos with the harbour at Rhymnos already in sight.

She was in no mood to appreciate the attractive scene it presented, with its tangle of caiques and motor cruisers, and beyond them the row of tavernas and shops fronting the waterside.

And above them, on the hillside and not nearly as impressive as its name, picked out in large blue letters on the white walls, stood the Hotel Olympia.

Enemy in sight, thought Selena grimly as she picked up the big canvas satchel that served as her luggage and slung it over her shoulder.

As she came ashore she was assailed by a chorus of whistles and other bids to attract her attention by the young men mending fishing nets or waiting on tables at the tavernas.

No wonder Millie, released from the kind of purdah existing at Meade House Cottage, had been such easy game for an unscrupulous local, she thought.

Daisy and Fiona, with obvious reluctance, had volunteered a few details—his full name, Kostas Papoulis, young, good-looking, full of himself, and—with a shrug—sexy.

Besides, Daisy had added with faint malice, she hadn’t thought that he was that interested in Millie. Just—playing around.

Selena wanted to slap her. Hard.

On the other hand, if this had also occurred to Millie by now, it might make her own task much easier.

The short walk up to the hotel was blisteringly hot, and she began to think longingly of iced water.

From the road, a path led up through borders bright with flowers to a terrace running the length of the frontage, and a pair of glass doors.

The foyer was light and airy, with a marble floor and a polished reception desk, currently unattended.

But Selena headed straight for the door labelled ‘Bar’, immediately opposite, and, drawing a deep breath, she walked in.

Once again, it seemed entirely deserted. Where was everyone? she wondered, as she looked about her. It was as if the entire establishment had been abducted by aliens.

Which the aliens could have done with her good wishes, she thought, just as long as they hadn’t taken Millie.

But as she hesitated, she heard above the hiss and bubble of the coffee machine on the end of the counter, an unmistakable chink of bottles coming from behind a curtained doorway at the rear of the bar itself.

She walked to the counter, sliding her bag from her shoulder to the floor, and coughed loudly. When there was no immediate response, she followed it up with an imperative, ‘Hello.’

The curtain was swept back, and a man appeared, clipboard in hand, his frowning gaze scanning her impatiently.

Selena found she was staring back, hoping she didn’t look as shocked as she felt because he bore little resemblance to the arrogant young stud described by Daisy, or any of the grinning lads she’d encountered at the harbour.

For one thing he was clearly older, probably in his late twenties, tall, swarthy, and in need of both a haircut and a shave, with a lean muscular body clad in jeans and a faded red polo shirt that emphasised the easy strength of his chest and shoulders.

Not conventionally handsome, she thought, aware her throat had suddenly tightened, his dark eyes brilliant, the nose and chin strongly marked, the mouth cool and sculpted with a firmness that suggested he was very much in charge of himself and his surroundings. Someone with—presence. And more.

She thought, Oh, God, Millie, you stupid, stupid girl. He’s miles out of your league. What have you done?

He broke the silence, his voice deep and resonant as he addressed her in what was apparently German.

She said, ‘I don’t understand,’ and saw his scrutiny sharpen and become more searching.

If you’re thinking I could be trouble, you’ve got it in one, she informed him silently.

His English was excellent, with only a faint trace of an accent. ‘I apologise for my mistake, thespinis. I was misled by your hair.’ His gaze rested on the gleaming pale blonde mass tumbling over her shoulders, and for a startling moment, it was as if he’d touched it. Run his fingers through the length of it.

‘But I was telling you that the bar is closed at this time of day, unless, of course, you wish for coffee.’

She lifted her chin. ‘No thank you. I’ve only come for my sister.’

‘Then I am afraid you must look elsewhere.’ He glanced pointedly past her at the unoccupied array of glass-topped tables and small easy chairs, set in comfortable groups. ‘Most of our guests are by the pool at the back of the hotel, or on the beach. Is she a resident?’

‘You tell me. After all you’re the only one likely to know her exact whereabouts.’ She glanced at her watch.

‘So shall we stop playing games? Just take me to her and she’ll be off your hands and on the way back to Mykonos and the airport on the next ferry.’

‘An excellent plan.’ His voice was crisper. ‘But there is a problem. I do not know either your sister’s identity or where she may be found. Except it is plainly not here.’

Selena gasped. ‘You mean she’s already left? She’s on her way home?’ She glared at him. ‘I suppose I should be grateful to you, but I’m finding it difficult.’

‘It is also unnecessary. I was not aware of her presence here, or her departure. I suggest you conduct your enquiries elsewhere,’ he added with cold finality and turned as if to go back to the store room.

‘And I suggest you answer my questions,’ she flung after him, aware that she was trembling inside, and not simply with temper at being so summarily dismissed. ‘Otherwise I shall go to the police and tell them you’ve taken advantage of a vulnerable seventeen-year-old. That you’ve kept her here to have sex with her, forcing her friends to return to the UK without her, and causing endless worry to her family.’

She added contemptuously, ‘I thought the Greeks were supposed to respect foreign travellers.’

‘We do,’ he said. ‘Although your female compatriots do not always make it easy.’ The contempt was echoed and the frown was back in force. ‘She was staying here, your sister and her friends? Their names?’

‘Raymond, Marsden and—and Blake.’ She heard her voice quiver slightly and snatched at her self-command.

‘Ah, yes.’ He nodded. ‘I remember some of the staff speaking of them.’ His tone suggested the comments were not to their credit.

Well, he was the last person with any right to pass judgement.

‘Whatever their opinions, nothing justifies your behaviour, Mr Papoulis.’ She was about to say ‘And I insist you bring Millie here immediately,’ when she was stopped in her tracks by the realisation that he’d started to laugh.

‘I’m glad you’re amused,’ she said scornfully. ‘However, the police may not share your sense of humour.’

‘They may,’ he said, still grinning. ‘When they hear I have been mistaken for my own barman. And they would undoubtedly tell you that, when you burst in, all guns blazing, thespinis, you should make sure they are aimed at the right target.’

He put down the clipboard and held out his hand. ‘Allow me to introduce myself. I am Alexis Constantinou and I own this hotel. Kostas is merely employed here, when he can take the trouble to work,’ he added sardonically. ‘But at least I know the reason for his absence this time, and that he cannot use the excuse that he is ill.’

Numb with embarrassment, and bitterly aware of the mockery in his dark eyes, Selena allowed her fingers to be gripped briefly in his.

‘So Kostas has sweet-talked your young sister into his bed,’ he went on musingly. ‘Strange. He usually confines his attentions to rather older women—the single, the divorced, so...’ He paused, his gaze once more drifting down her hair. ‘So—she must have made quite an impression.’

Her skin warming, she said tautly, ‘I don’t find that particularly reassuring.’

‘Nor would I,’ he said unexpectedly, ‘if she was my sister.’

He turned to the shelf of bottles behind him. ‘I think you need a drink, thespinis, and so do I.’ He poured something amber into two glasses and gave her one. ‘Five-star Metaxa,’ he said. ‘A universal remedy. Especially for shock.’

She said tautly, ‘You don’t seem particularly shocked over your employee’s behaviour.’

‘No,’ he agreed. ‘However, it is an irritation.’

He came round the bar and took the drinks to a table, motioning her to join him. She obeyed reluctantly, bringing her satchel with her.

Alexis Constantinou eyed it with faint amusement. ‘You travel light, Kyria Blake.’

‘It’s going to be a brief visit, Mr Constantinou. I intend to find my sister and persuade her to leave this—this cut-price Casanova she’s involved with and come home.’

His amusement deepened. ‘You have quite a turn of phrase, thespinis.’

‘Thank you.’ She added tautly, ‘And if I may say so, perhaps you ought to exercise more vigilance over your staff’s out-of-hours activities.’

‘I make sure they do their job,’ he said. ‘I do not claim to be anyone’s moral guardian. And perhaps your sister and her friends are the ones in need of guidance.’

‘How dare you,’ she flared. ‘Millie is totally inexperienced. He’s taken advantage of her innocence.’

‘You paint a moving picture,’ he said, clearly remaining unmoved. ‘Now let us drink.’ He raised his glass, touching it to the one she was holding, ‘Yamas. That means—to our health.’

She didn’t like the way the toast seemed to unite them, but took a cautious sip, suppressing a gasp as it trailed fire down her throat.

‘What is that?’ she asked when she could speak.

‘Brandy. To give you strength for your search. And—to calm you.’

She bit her lip. ‘I’m perfectly calm, thank you.’ And wished it was true. Because she was suddenly all too aware of him watching her. Glanced away and found herself instead looking at the hand clasping his glass. At the long fingers and well-kept nails, and the way his thumb was playing with the glass’s stem.

Even with the width of the table between them, he seemed too close for comfort.

She went on hurriedly, ‘If you’ll just give me Mr Papoulis’s address, I’ll go and let you get back to—whatever you were doing.’

‘Stock-taking,’ he said. ‘As for Kostas’s address,’ he added with a shrug, ‘I doubt if that will help. Like the rest of the staff, when he is working, he has a room here, but this, I am told, he has not used for several days.’

The implication in his words was obvious, Selena thought, swallowing.

‘And when he’s not working?’ she demanded.

‘He lives with his widowed mother,’ he said. ‘But she is very pious, so I doubt you will find your Millie there, either.’

She said half to herself, ‘Then what am I going to do?’

‘I am sure that is not a request for my advice,’ he drawled. ‘But I shall offer it just the same. Go home, thespinis, and wait for your sister to come to her senses.’

She took another gulp of brandy. ‘And if he’s keeping her here against her will?’

‘Once again you are allowing your taste for the dramatic to run away with you,’ Alexis Constantinou said softly. ‘Kostas, believe me, has no need to use force.’

‘You take all this so lightly.’ Her voice shook. ‘When I’m worried sick, and I—I can’t leave without her.’

She paused. ‘I shall have to go to the police.’

‘I would prefer that not to happen.’

Her voice rose indignantly. ‘You’re actually protecting him?’

‘No,’ he said, with faint grimness. ‘I am protecting the reputation of my hotel. And for that, I am prepared to help you. Give me a day, maybe two, to make enquiries. To find where he is and if your sister is indeed with him. But that is all. After that, it is up to you. Do you agree?’

Selena stared down at the table. Almost in spite of herself, she could feel the warmth of the brandy quelling her inner trembling. A sense of something like hope growing in its place. Which was, of course, quite ridiculous under the circumstances.

She said, ‘How do I know I can trust you?’

‘Because stock-taking bores me,’ he said. ‘I want my barman back. His absence is inconvenient.’

She glared at him. She said mutinously, ‘In that case—I suppose we have a deal.’ She reached for her satchel and got to her feet. ‘Thank you for the drink, and I hope your plan succeeds.’

‘Wait,’ he said. ‘I need to know where to contact you.’ He eyed her narrowly. ‘You have made a reservation, found a place to stay, of course.’

She hesitated. Fatally. ‘Not yet, but I’m sure I’ll find somewhere.’

‘I do not doubt it.’ His tone was cynical. ‘With that hair and those eyes, pedhi mou, you will be overwhelmed with offers in the first moment. In fact, your sister, wherever she may be, is probably much safer.’

She was shaken by that altogether too intimate reference to her appearance. She said coldly, ‘I’m a university student, Mr Constantinou. I can look after myself. I can make my own arrangements—and my own enquiries.’

‘The English, I think, have a saying,’ he drawled. ‘“Famous last words.” Perhaps you know it.’

‘Nevertheless...’

‘Nevertheless, thespinis, you will not go into the town asking for a room to rent. I shall not permit it. Besides, how can you enquire about anything when you do not speak Greek?’

He rose to his feet. ‘The Olympia is fully booked, but I have a small flat on the top floor for my personal use. You may stay there.’

‘We have another quaint old saying in my country.’ She faced him, lifting her chin. ‘“Out of the frying pan into the fire.” Maybe you’ve heard that, too.’

He said silkily, ‘And you, pedhi mou, should not jump to conclusions. I shall stay at my house, the Villa Helios, on the other side of the island. A safe enough distance, wouldn’t you say?’

There were a lot of things she would like to have said, but she only managed a reluctant, ‘Thank you.’

Alexis Constantinou nodded. ‘Now I will speak to my housekeeper about your accommodation. And you perhaps should finish your brandy.’

As he walked to the door, Selena said, ‘Why have you changed your mind suddenly? I—I don’t understand.’

‘You think I should not concern myself over the well-being of an innocent and inexperienced girl?’

‘A moment ago you were implying that Millie’s problems are all of her own making.’

‘I still do,’ he said. ‘But the innocent I speak of is not your sister, thespinis, but yourself.’

And he walked out of the bar, leaving Selena staring after him.

CHAPTER THREE

‘EXCUSE ME, DO you want to order anything else? Only there are people waiting for tables.’

The aggrieved tone of the waitress jolted Selena back to the present.

‘I’ve finished, thank you.’ She tried a smile. ‘I’m sorry, I was miles away.’

Worlds away. An ocean of pain away, she thought as the girl gathered up the used crockery and walked away with a faint sniff.

Back in the honeyed trap that she’d thought was kindness. Caught by a man who was neither innocent nor inexperienced.

And now she had to go back to where it all happened. To Rhymnos—the place where she’d ruined her life and broken her heart.

At the same time, it was her chance to prove to herself that she had survived. Even mended.

As she left, she passed the young couple waiting for her table, and saw that the man was wearing a baby sling across his chest, cradling an infant obviously in its first weeks of life, its over-large cotton sun hat slipping down over a red, crumpled, sleeping face.

Saw, too, the way the young father looked down proudly at his child, then exchanged smiles with the pretty girl beside him in shared delight.

Selena felt a sudden twist of agony inside her, as if a hand had reached into her and wrenched at her heart, then she turned slowly and walked away, to tackle her final and most important problem.

The interview had proved just as difficult as she’d anticipated, she thought unhappily as she walked home.

‘You’re going on holiday?’ Mrs Talbot had radiated disapproval. ‘Do you think that’s appropriate?’

‘Unavoidable, I’m afraid,’ Selena had returned quietly. ‘And it’s hardly a holiday. My sister is ill.’

‘All the same, you’ll be missing scheduled visits, which is very disappointing—for everyone.’

She was almost tempted to cancel, but, in the end, she simply sent Kostas a text with the time of her flight.

She made herself a cheese salad before she emptied and cleaned the fridge. Then she stuffed the contents of her linen basket into a large carrier bag, and set off to the nearby launderette.

She’d taken a book to read, but she found it difficult to lose herself in the story when other thoughts, other memories persisted in intervening. In pushing aside all other considerations.

Forcing her to go back to that first day on Rhymnos and that fateful encounter at the Hotel Olympia.

Left alone in the bar, she’d taken one more sip of brandy, then pushed the glass away. She’d already made one idiotic mistake, she reminded herself, and there was no need to muddle her thinking any further.

Because she had to decide very quickly whether to remain here and accept the help Alexis Constantinou had offered, or grab her bag and run.

In principle, her mission had seemed simple enough. Come to the hotel, confront this Kostas, who might be having second thoughts himself by now, and convince Millie that a holiday romance was not a commitment for life, and it was time to go home.

It had never occurred to her, or presumably Aunt Nora, that the pair might disappear.

And where would she go, anyway? If the Olympia was full, it might not be easy to find a respectable alternative—although Alexis Constantinou’s offer of his private flat hardly qualified as that, either, in spite of his assurances.

And relying solely on a Greek phrasebook wasn’t going to be much help in tracking down the runaways.

I should have done more homework in advance, she thought bitterly. If I’d been allowed to, of course.

However, she was here now, and her main concern was finding Millie, for which, galling as it might be, she probably needed the help of Alexis Constantinou.

It doesn’t matter, she told herself, gritting her teeth. After all, the sooner you trace Millie, the quicker you can leave.

Suddenly restless, she rose and wandered over to the glass doors, which ran the length of one side of the bar, and walked out on to the balcony beyond with its flight of marble steps leading down to another area of garden, bright with flowers and shrubs and surrounded by hibiscus hedges. And beyond that, hazy with heat, the infinite blue of the Aegean.

Apart from a faint sound of splashing from the pool area, it was very quiet.

If I was here for a different reason, just one guest among many, I’d probably not want to leave, either, she realised with a swift pang.

She remained where she was, letting the peace soak into her, until a sound from the bar behind her made her turn hurriedly in time to see a tall, thin man with a heavy black moustache place a tray with a pot of coffee and a plate of pastries on her table.

‘For you, thespinis,’ he announced. ‘Kyrios Alexis, he say it is long before dinner.’

‘Oh,’ Selena said disconcerted. ‘Thank you.’ Then remembering one of the words she’d learned on the plane, she added, ‘Efharisto.’

He inclined his head. ‘Parakalo,’ he returned politely. ‘I am Stelios and I manage the hotel for Kyrios Alexis. Anything you wish for, please ask me.’

Presumably that did not include a missing sister, Selena thought as he vanished.

The coffee was a strong filter brew, and the food turned out to be delicious little cheese tarts, still warm from the oven. Selena ate every scrap.

She had just drained her final cup when she was joined by a middle-aged woman wearing a neat black dress and an air of unmistakable authority.

She pointed to herself. ‘Androula, thespinis. Housekeeper. Your room waits for you.’

She picked up the satchel and waited for Selena to accompany her.

A lift at the side of the foyer whisked them to the third floor. Androula led the way along the corridor to a pair of double doors at the end, which she unlocked, then stood aside allowing Selena to precede her into a spacious sitting room, with comfortable sofas and chairs upholstered in deep blue linen grouped round a massive square coffee table, its surface tiled in cream and gold.

As she looked round her, two girls emerged from another room, one carrying an expensive leather suitcase, the other a linen laundry bag.

As they passed Selena, they smiled shyly, but their eyes were alive with curiosity.

They must be wondering why they’ve been asked to clear the decks, she thought drily. However, it seemed that their boss was a man of his word after all and she only wished she could feel more at ease with the situation.

The bedroom was uncompromisingly masculine, almost disturbingly so, with shutters at the windows instead of drapes, dark fitted furniture, and what seemed to Selena to be an ultra-wide bed, made up with immaculate white linen, and a brown and gold coverlet in a Greek key pattern folded at its foot.

A door in the corner led into a bathroom almost as big as the bedroom, with a large walk-in shower as well as a tub, and twin basins in the long mirrored vanity unit, indicating, perhaps, that the owner did not always lack for company.

As if, she reminded herself swiftly, it was any business of hers.

Nevertheless it seemed she would be maintained pretty much in the lap of luxury during her brief stay, although she would have to make it clear to Mr Constantinou at their next encounter that she’d come prepared to pay for her board and lodging.

At least Aunt Nora has allowed for that, she thought. So I won’t be obliged to be in his debt more than I can help.

She turned to Androula. ‘Thank you.’ She made an awkward gesture. ‘It’s lovely.’

The housekeeper inclined her head politely. ‘You rest now,’ she said. ‘I will send someone to bring you to dinner at eight o clock.’

And on that, she departed, closing the outer door behind her. And, Selena realised in horror, locking it, too.

She was just about to rush over and beat on the panels, shouting ‘Come back,’ when she saw, just in time, another key lying in the centre of the coffee table, and realised her host was probably not the floor’s sole occupant. And allowed herself a faint groan of relief that she hadn’t made an utter fool of herself twice in one hour.

She’s right, she thought. Maybe I do need to rest. Also—get a grip.

She retrieved her forlorn cotton robe from her bag and went to the bathroom, where she took a long, satisfying soak in the tub, then stretched out in the middle of that vast bed and gratefully closed her eyes. She was asleep within minutes.

It was already after seven when she awoke, and for a while she lay watching with languid pleasure how the evening sunlight slatted through the shutters across the marble tiles.

Yes, she had to get ready, but it wouldn’t take long. There weren’t any anxious choices to make over how to dress for dinner. There was her denim skirt with a white top, or her denim skirt and the other white top.

Travelling light has its advantages, Mr Constantinou, she addressed him silently as she wriggled off the bed.

It was the prettier of the two maids she’d seen earlier who came to collect her and escort her to the restaurant on the ground floor, and her sideways glance, although polite, conveyed she was not greatly impressed by either the denim skirt or the other white top, or by the fact that Selena, on some inexplicable impulse, had plaited her hair into the severe braid preferred by Aunt Nora.

But then, thought Selena, I’m here on business, not out to impress—anyone.

The dining room was a large, airy room, most of its tables already occupied, and Selena attracted little attention as a waiter conducted her to a secluded corner partly screened from the rest of the room by a trellis supporting foliage plants growing in terracotta pots.

As she sat down, Selena realised it was the first time she’d ever eaten alone in a hotel. What a sheltered life you’ve led, Miss Blake, she mocked herself.

It had only just dawned on her that the table was set for two when Alexis Constantinou appeared, sauntering across the dining room, exchanging smiling greetings with the other diners as he approached, and clearly heading straight for her corner.

Oh, please no, she begged under her breath as her tense fingers crumpled the linen napkin she was spreading on her lap.

‘Kalispera,’ he said as he took the chair opposite. ‘That means good evening.’

‘Yes,’ she said shortly. ‘I picked up a few words on the flight. That was one of them.’

No one would have mistaken him for a barman now, even someone with an Olympic gold for leaping to conclusions, she conceded ruefully.

He’d shaved, for one thing, and the elegant, pale grey suit he was wearing was offset by a charcoal shirt, carrying the unmistakable sheen of silk, and open at the neck, revealing several inches of bronzed, hair-darkened skin, which it would be safer to ignore.

No, not handsome, she thought in sudden bewilderment, but stunningly, mind-blowingly attractive in a way she’d never encountered before. Or never been aware of, at any rate.

By contrast, she must look like something the cat dragged in.

‘Excellent.’ He smiled at her. ‘Perhaps during our acquaintance, we will be able to extend your repertoire.’

‘I doubt if there’ll be time.’ She adjusted a perfectly placed fork, crossly aware that her skin was warming. She added hurriedly, ‘I’m hoping that you have some news for me.’

‘I have certainly made enquiries among the staff,’ he returned. ‘But so far, without result.’

‘Perhaps they’re shielding him.’

‘I never thought he was that popular,’ he said drily. He paused. ‘It seems, this time, he took the trouble to be discreet.’

This time, Selena repeated under her breath and winced.

He saw and said more gently, ‘Forgive me. I meant it might indicate that this time he could be genuinely in love.’

‘In two weeks?’ Her objection was instant and vehement. ‘That’s ridiculous. No one could possibly fall truly in love that quickly.’

‘You don’t think so?’

‘Of course not. People have to—to like each other first. Be friends. Enjoy each other’s company. Have shared interests, and learn respect for each other’s opinions.’ My God, she thought. I sound like my great-grandmother.

His brows lifted. ‘That is how it was for you?’ His tone was politely interested.

And what was she supposed to say to that? To admit she could count the number of her dates, all strictly casual, on the fingers of one hand?

It might be best, safer, she thought uneasily, to make him think she was involved. ‘Yes,’ she said defiantly. ‘As a matter of fact.’

‘And that is how it sounds, pedhi mou.’ His dark eyes glinted at her. ‘Matter of fact.’

A change of subject seemed well overdue. She said, ‘What do you keep calling me?’ She tried to pronounce the words as he had.

‘It means—my little one.’

She lifted her chin. ‘Then please don’t say it again. It’s—demeaning. I am not a child.’

‘Po, po, po,’ he said softly. ‘Then why tie back your beautiful hair like a little girl at school?’

‘Because it’s cool,’ she said. ‘And neat.’

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘That is how you see yourself, perhaps?’

‘I’m too busy to give it much thought,’ she retorted. ‘Besides, all that’s important to me right now is my sister’s well-being.’ She paused. ‘How do we go about finding her?’

‘Quietly,’ he said. ‘Another reason not to go to the police. People talk and news travels fast. It is better your sister does not know you are here to collect her, so she and Kostas do not run away to another island, or even to the mainland and add to your difficulties.’

He beckoned and a waiter arrived at the table with an ice bucket, a gold-foiled bottle and two flutes.

‘Champagne?’ Selena asked incredulously. Another first. ‘What is there to celebrate?’

‘As yet, nothing.’ He shrugged. ‘So let us toast a beginning. The launch, if you wish, of our quest and its ultimate success.’

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