CHAPTER THREE

      JO GAZED AT the picture Toby proudly held up. Apparently it was a drawing of the two of them. It resembled a pair of colourful ants, one of which had been given long purple hair as his red felt-tip pen had run out.

      ‘That’s amazing,’ she said, trying not to laugh, and inordinately proud of his attempt at a family portrait.

      ‘Uncle Jon says he’ll scab it for you.’

      She stifled another giggle at his word for scan. At some point she knew she would have to tell him when he mangled words and mixed them up—like using alligator for escalator and Camilla for vanilla—but for the moment it was too cute. She’d start correcting him properly when he started school in five months’ time.

      She was dreading it—her baby growing up. They’d only been apart for one night so far, and this was already the second time they’d spoken via video-link. Thank God for technology.

      She wondered how parents had handled time away from their children before video conferencing had been invented. A voice on the end of a phone was no substitute to seeing their faces as they spoke. Not that she would count her own parents in that equation.

      She remembered going on a week-long school trip when she’d been eleven and calling home after three days only to have her mother say, ‘Is there an emergency?’

      ‘No, I—’

      ‘Then I don’t have the time to talk. It’s feeding time.’

      And that had been the end of that conversation. In the Brookes household the animals came first, Jonathan came second, with Jo and her father vying for last place.

      ‘Sorry, sweet pea, but I have to go to work now,’ Jo said, infusing her words with all the love her own mother had denied her.

      He pulled a face. ‘Already?’

      ‘We’ll talk again later.’ Theseus would be expecting her at any minute.

      ‘After lunch?’

      ‘Tell Aunty Cathy we’ll speak before you go to bed,’ she promised, knowing full well that Cathy would be listening to their conversation and would make sure Toby was ready for her.

      ‘Have you brought me a present yet, Mummy?’ Toby asked, clearly doing everything he could to keep her talking for a little longer.

      ‘I haven’t been anywhere to get you one yet, you little monkey. Now, blow me a kiss and shoo before you’re late for preschool.’

      Toby did better than blow her a kiss. He put his face to the screen, puckered his lips and kissed it.

      With her heart feeling as if it were about to expand out of her body, she pressed her fingers to her lips and then extended them to touch her screen. ‘Love you.’

      Before he could respond the connection was lost. No doubt he’d leaned on something he shouldn’t have pressed when he’d leaned forward to kiss her.

      Laughing whilst simultaneously wiping away a tear, Jo turned off her laptop.

      She took three deep breaths to compose herself, then left her apartment, took four paces to the door opposite and entered her office, yawning widely.

      ‘Late night?’

      Theseus’s voice startled her.

      He stood in the archway that separated their offices, dressed in a navy suit and white shirt, without a tie.

      She would never have imagined Theo in a suit, much less that he would look so unutterably gorgeous in it. On Illya he had lived in shorts, his golden chest with those defined muscles and that fine hair dusting over his pecs unashamedly on display.

      But this man wasn’t Theo, she reminded herself sharply. He was nothing like him. This man’s lips seemed not to know how to smile. This man carried none of the warmth Theo had had in spades.

      The only thing the two had in common was that same vivid masculinity. That vital presence. Her eyes would have been drawn to him even if she’d never known him as Theo.

      ‘I stayed up to finish reading what Fiona had written,’ she answered.

      ‘Was that necessary?’

      ‘I needed to find the rhythm of her work,’ she explained evenly. ‘I’ll need to replicate it if I’m to make the transition seamless for the reader.’

      ‘And are you ready to start writing now?’

      ‘Not yet. I need to read through the research papers for the period of your grandfather’s life I’m covering.’

      He inclined his head and straightened. ‘I shall leave you to it. I’ll be back later if you find you have any questions for me.’

      She forced a smile in acknowledgement, but the second she was alone she dropped her head onto the desk and closed her eyes.

      Barely five minutes in his company and now not a single part of her felt right, as if being with him had caused her entire body to turn itself inside out.

      She would have to find a way to manage it.

      With grim determination she forced her attention to the piles of research papers before her.

      The work Fiona had done on the biography had made for compelling reading.

      King Astraeus had led a fascinating life, one filled with glory and honour. While many men of his nation had fought for the allies in the war—his brother among them—the then Prince Astraeus had led the defence of his own island. When a battalion of naval ships had approached the island with the intention to occupy it, Astraeus had led the counterattack. The fleet had been obliterated before it had reached the shore.

      No other enemy ship had attempted to land on Agon since.

      That would have been impressive on its own, but only the day before Astraeus had been given the news that his only brother had been killed in action.

      This was Jo’s son’s heritage—a family that led from the front and who were all prepared to put their lives on the line to defend their home and their people.

      A powerful family. And in it fitted Theseus—the father of her son.

      The chapter Fiona had finished just before being taken ill detailed the death of Astraeus’s only son and daughter-in-law in a tragic car crash twenty-six years ago. Theseus’s parents. He’d been nine years old. So very young.

      Her heart cracked a little to imagine what he must have gone through.

      But that had been a long time ago, she reminded herself. Theseus the child had no bearing on Theseus the adult. She could not allow sympathy to lower her guard. Until she knew the real Theseus she couldn’t afford to lower it for one second.

      * * *

      Theseus put his phone down. He could hear the soft rustle of papers being turned in the adjoining office.

      When Fiona had worked on the biography he’d hardly been aware of her. Other than the times when she would ask him questions, she might not have existed. Fiona using that office hadn’t interrupted the flow of his own work.

      As the financial figurehead of the Kalliakis Investment Company, and with his newer role of overseeing the palace accounts, which his grandfather had finally agreed to a year ago, he had plenty to keep his brain occupied.

      In