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she’d glanced around the room she’d become conscious that she was being looked at by other men, and whilst it had given her a little thrill of confidence in her new appearance it had also, with her not being used to it, been somewhat disconcerting. She was grateful to have Max with her. He seemed...reassuring.
How odd that Max Vasilikos should seem reassuring to me—yet it’s true.
A thought flickered through her mind. Could this man who had wrought this seismic revolution within her, with whom she’d spent the most amazing twenty-four hours in her life and still counting, really be the same man who was threatening Haughton, threatening to wrest from her all that she held most dear? It was hard to think of it.
‘Maybe.’ He was answering her now. ‘Of course I’ll need to look over it in person. But it ticks a lot of boxes. It’s on at a good price, I like the look of it and it’s close to London.’
‘Much closer than Haughton!’ she heard herself say quickly.
Max’s eyes veiled. ‘Haughton is quite different,’ he said. ‘I have...other plans for it.’
‘If you manage to buy it!’ Ellen riposted, her chin going up.
But even as she spoke she wished she hadn’t. She didn’t want to talk about Haughton, about how he wanted to buy it. For now—just for now—she only wanted to enjoy the present, this wonderful time with him. Nothing more than that. All the difficult, painful stuff could be left to one side. For now at least.
He gave a guarded smile. ‘As you say,’ he murmured, offering nothing more than that.
The sommelier returned with his choice of wine and he busied himself sampling it, nodding his approval.
He glanced across at Ellen. ‘So,’ he said, ‘did you enjoy the helicopter ride?’
‘It was amazing!’ she exclaimed. ‘A completely new experience.’
His long lashes dipped over his dark eyes. ‘Well, new experiences are what you should be having, Ellen. Lots and lots of amazing new experiences!’
Was there a subtext to what he was saying? He was conscious of it. He was determined for her to have experiences with him... But he also wanted to indicate to her how her life could, and would, open up once she was free—not just of the chains that had made her think herself plain and unattractive, but of those that bound her to a house that had become a weapon against her stepmother and stepsister.
‘Tell me,’ he said, taking the subject further, ‘when were you last abroad?’
She thought. ‘Um... I took a school team to the Netherlands in the autumn term,’ she recollected. ‘And I did a field trip to Iceland with some sixth-formers—that was extraordinary. The geology and geography is breathtaking!’
Skilfully Max drew her out, and then equally skilfully drew her into contemplating where in the world she might yet like to go, exchanging his own views and experiences with her as their food arrived and they started on their meal.
An idea was forming in his head, but it would be premature to voice it now. He could sound her out, however, in general...
‘And what about sun, sea and sand—tropical beaches and all that?’ he ventured. ‘Or did you do all that as a child in holidays with your parents?’
She shook her head. ‘No, my mother preferred cultural destinations—so I’ve been to places like Florence and Paris and so on. Done all the museums and art galleries. I’m not sure I’d like to go back to those places again,’ she said. ‘They’d have sad memories for me now.’ A shadowed look permeated her expression.
He nodded in sympathy. ‘I’ve never gone back to where I was raised except once. And that,’ he said, ‘was to buy out the taverna my mother once slaved away in. I bought it, and now run it as a place to train unemployed young men—of which Greece now sadly has all too many—in useful skills.’
She looked at him. ‘Would you never live in Greece again? Never settle there?’
He shook his head. ‘I’ve let it go, Ellen. Cut my ties to a painful past and made a new life for myself. A better life by far! One I’d never known I’d dreamed of until I started to make the dream come true.’ His eyes rested on her, his expression intent, challenging. ‘Maybe, Ellen, it’s time for you to do the same. Make a new life for yourself. Think about the future instead of clinging to a past that is gone.’
He’d spoken deliberately. It had to be said, after all. For her own sake as well as his.
She needs to be free—free of her chains. Free to move on. She needs to see the truth of that.
But a mutinous look had closed down her face and her eyes dropped, refusing to meet his gaze. ‘This isn’t a subject for discussion,’ she said tersely. ‘I don’t want to sell you Haughton and that’s that.’
Inside her head thoughts were teeming. She was immediately wary, reminding herself just who this man was and why he was interested in her, in spending time with her.
He’s a stranger who wants to buy your home—and he’ll use any means to get it. Including all this that he’s doing for you now. Oh, he may have given you a priceless gift, freeing you from what that witch Chloe did for so long, but don’t think it’s for your sake he’s done it—it’s for his. That’s why he’s done it.
From the corner of her eye she saw the waiter approaching with their dessert and was glad of the diversion.
For a moment Max went on gazing at her, fulminating. Her constant obdurate stonewalling was frustrating. Then, with an intake of breath, he let it go. He’d made his point—he would let it be. He hoped she would take it on board internally, even if she did not accept it yet. Besides, he thought as he rested his gaze on her closed face as she doggedly focussed on her food, he wanted to dismiss the subject himself. He didn’t want to think about the house she was refusing to sell, or her convoluted reasons for that. No, what he wanted to think about right now was something far more immediate.
The effect that she was having on his libido.
He’d been resolutely repressing it all day, but now, sitting opposite her, with her newly revealed beauty playing havoc with his senses, he knew without a doubt what he wanted to happen between them.
Even if she didn’t own a single brick of the house I want to buy from her I’d still be doing this—still be spending the day with her, the evening with her.
And the night too...?
His eyes drifted over her face, visually caressing the curve of her cheek, the length of her lashes, the sweep of her hair, the lush, inviting richness of her mouth whose sweetness he had tasted so tormentingly as he’d bade her goodnight. He tore his gaze away, only for it to slip downwards, to see how the soft material of her dress shaped and pulled across the generous swell of her breasts, and into his head leapt the memory of how they had danced last night, her body so intimately close to his. He wanted to feel her in his arms again, closer and closer still...
He reached for his glass of wine, started to speak again to take his mind back into safer territory for the moment. Besides, he wanted to remove that fixed, closed look on her face. Wanted to see it soften again, become animated with interest and engagement with him. Wanted to see her smile at him again.
‘So, tell me,’ he opened decisively, ‘this eco-resort of mine in the Caribbean—do you think it’s the kind of place that would appeal to someone keen on an active holiday?’
It was a deliberate trail—something to catch her attention, make her look at him, take her away from that dark mental interior where she brooded on her father’s resented second marriage. It seemed to work, for she lifted her head, blinking for a moment.
‘What sort of activities will there be?’ she asked.
Max waved a hand expansively. ‘Well, water sports, definitely. Nothing motorised—that would be out of keeping—but