Greek Mavericks: The Greek's Unforgettable Secret. Кейт Хьюит
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whilst gargling theatrically.
‘Sundresses are for old ladies,’ Thea insisted. ‘And you need new clothes more than me,’ she added with engaging honesty. She frowned. ‘You are coming to Greece to hear us play, aren’t you?’
‘Of course I am,’ Lizzie confirmed, her stomach clenching with alarm as she thought about it. ‘I haven’t missed a concert yet, have I?’
‘Good.’ Thea relaxed.
Lizzie’s concerns about the Gavros family would have to be put to one side. She’d take any job to pay her way. Practical considerations—like where the money for her airfare would come from—were secondary to Lizzie’s determination that she would do whatever it took to support Thea.
‘Do you know whose birthday party it is?’ she asked casually as they went up to the counter to pay the bill.
‘Some old gentleman, I think,’ Thea said vaguely, clearly not too interested.
It didn’t have to be Damon’s father. Thea’s grandfather.
Lizzie’s stomach clenched tight. Sucking in a breath, she jumped straight in. ‘You know we never talk about your father—’
‘Because we don’t need to,’ Thea cut across her, frowning. ‘And I don’t want to,’ she added stubbornly. ‘Why do I need a father when I’ve got you?’
‘It might be nice to—’
‘Ha!’ Thea exclaimed dismissively. ‘We don’t even know where he is. He’s probably on the other side of the planet.’
‘What if I did know?’
‘But you don’t,’ Thea insisted. ‘And if you talked to my friends at school about parents at war you wouldn’t be so keen to look for him either.’
‘Not all marriages are like that.’
‘Just most of them,’ Thea said confidently. ‘And we’re happy, aren’t we? Why would you want anything to change?’
‘But what if things did change?’ Lizzie tried gently.
‘I’d change them back again.’
Thea sounded as confident as Lizzie had once been. And now their precious time together was up, Lizzie realised. She had to go to work and Thea had to go to school.
‘We’ll talk again,’ she promised.
‘In Greece,’ Thea reminded her.
‘In Greece,’ Lizzie confirmed as she raised her umbrella to shelter them both.
Organising his father’s party was a welcome change from Damon’s usual work. He was enjoying it far more than he’d expected to. The high spirits of the volunteers was heartening. Everyone wanted to do their bit for the man who had done so much for them. Damon’s father was universally loved. He’d brought prosperity to the island, and now he’d retired and passed the baton on, Damon was determined to do the same for those who had remained loyal to his father.
They would do more events like this, he decided. Mixing with good people had reminded him that not everyone was a fraudster or a gold-digger.
As he’d learned during the course of his meteoric rise, massive wealth brought vultures flocking, and they came in all shapes and sizes. Which was the only reminder he needed that what he’d seen in Lizzie eleven years ago had been the possibility for something more. He looked forward to his plans where Lizzie was concerned coming to fruition. And Stavros had proved a staunch ally.
The setting for his father’s concert couldn’t be bettered, he concluded as he walked across the sugar sand beach. An open-air stage had been erected on the playing fields behind the school where the youth orchestra were staying. The orchestra was already here and rehearsing and, like everyone else within earshot, he’d been entranced by their music.
One particular young livewire, with black bubbly curls and mischievous eyes, had just played the most extraordinary solo. She was the young violin prodigy everyone was talking about. She wasn’t self-conscious or inflated by her success, as she might have been. She just loved her music—as Thea had told him.
He smiled as he remembered her explaining, ‘Thea’s a Greek name. I’m a bit Greek.’
He’d laughed. ‘I’m a bit Greek too,’ he’d told her.
‘No. You’re all Greek,’ she’d argued, staring up at him intently. ‘I can tell that from the colour of your eyes.’
‘Is that such a bad thing?’
‘No. It’s a very good thing,’ she’d assured him. ‘My mother’s half-Greek, and my grandmother was all-Greek. I’m a bit Greek because I choose to be. You should meet my mother,’ she’d added, squinting against the sun as she studied his face.
‘Should I?’ Another matchmaker, he’d thought, groaning inwardly.
But this matchmaker was different, he thought, remembering Thea’s dramatically mournful expression as she’d explained, ‘My mother’s young, and very beautiful, and she’s all alone.’
‘Tragic,’ he’d agreed, playing along. ‘But I’m sure that if she’s anything like you she won’t be alone for long.’
After which he’d thought he should extricate himself as diplomatically as possible. Thea might have the makings of a great matchmaker, but he wasn’t looking for a match.
Stavros had saved Lizzie. His cousin had a beach restaurant on the island owned by the Gavros family, and his cousin just happened to be desperate for more staff…according to Stavros.
Another coincidence? Or not?
Lizzie had known she couldn’t afford to be picky when Stavros had adopted a dreamy expression as he’d described the island of his birth, adding, ‘You haven’t heard from Damon, I suppose?’
‘No,’ Lizzie had admitted, thinking it better to break it to him that, sooner rather than later, that Cupid had failed. ‘And I don’t expect to.’
So here she was, standing outside Cousin Iannis’s restaurant, on what looked and sounded like a party night. She was feeling optimistic. How could she not, when Thea had called to say she had settled in and everything was going really well, and she’d made a lot of new friends on the island?
It was hard not to fall in love with the island, Lizzie thought as she stared up at the star-peppered sky. It was warm even this late at night, and the candles glowing inside the restaurant gave everything such a welcoming glow. Traditional music was playing, and the scent of delicious food made her hungry.
Iannis had picked her up at the airport, and now he ushered her inside and directed her towards the kitchen.
‘We’re in training for the big birthday party next week,’ he explained above the din of crashing plates and shouts of, ‘Oopa!’
Iannis was the double of his cousin Stavros, and Lizzie doubted either man needed an excuse to hold a party. They were both kindness personified. Stavros had insisted on paying for her flight, saying he owed her holiday money, and now there was this—the warmest of welcomes.
‘No work tonight!’ Iannis insisted as she glanced at the row of servers’ aprons hanging on pegs in the lobby outside the kitchen. ‘You’ve only just arrived, so tonight you’re my guest at the party. Your apartment is just up those stairs by the entrance door—’ he indicated where ‘—and your luggage is already on its way up to your room.’
‘You’re too kind.’
‘No. You’re too kind,’ Iannis argued. ‘Stavros has