The Kalliakis Crown. Michelle Smart
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that term,’ he said, his eyes narrowing. ‘It implies a certain disrespect towards women.’
She had to laugh. ‘Don’t tell me you’re a feminist?’
‘My grandmother was the strongest person I’ve ever known. If I was to disrespect any woman or make judgements on the basis of her gender I am certain my grandmother would hunt me down in my dreams to give me a dressing-down.’
‘She sounds like a formidable woman.’
Talos nodded. Without his grandmother’s loving but steely influence—especially when he’d hit his teenage years and gone completely off the rails—he knew he wouldn’t be half the man he was today.
‘She was a pillar of strength,’ he said, raising his glass of retsina. ‘And I think she would approve of you playing her final composition.’
She made a snorting sound. ‘Why would you think that?’
‘Because you have the same steel core she had.’
Amalie’s eyes widened, and then she frowned, a V forming in the centre of her brow. ‘I can’t perform in front of people. My core is made of blancmange.’
‘But, little songbird, you are the only person other than my family who dares stand up to me.’
Even now she was disagreeing with him.
For the first time he understood why Theseus had taken a two-year sabbatical after he’d completed his time at Sandhurst. The travelling part he’d always understood, but Theseus’s insistence on travelling under an assumed name had been something he’d never got. Talos was proud to be a Kalliakis—proud of their family reputation as fighters, proud of his nation’s people and culture. He saw himself as a protector of their proud island and had seen Theseus’s insistence at disguising his identity as a snub to the Kalliakis name.
Now he understood how it must have felt for his brother to be treated as someone...normal. Theseus had shared many of his tales about the personal freedom he’d found in his time away, but only now did Talos understand why it had been such a special time for him.
Amalie was the first person since childhood to treat him like a normal person. She had no qualms about disagreeing with him on any subject. As he thought back over the past few days he realised that she simply didn’t pander to him. He could be anyone.
Which meant that when she smiled at him—which, admittedly, was rarely—it was because she meant it. When those stunning green eyes became stark, their pupils enlarged, showing her desire for him—little tells she would hate to know he recognised—it was for him.
He’d never bedded a woman and been one hundred per cent certain whether she was in his arms out of desire for him or the aphrodisiac quality of his title. It had never bothered him—indeed, the idea that he could bed any woman he chose held an aphrodisiac quality of its own—but the mistrust had always been there, unacknowledged yet simmering away in the depths of his consciousness.
If he were to make love to Amalie there was no question that her responses would be authentic. If she made love to him it would be for him.
The temptation to lean over the table, cup that beautiful heart-shaped chin in his hand and taste those delectable lips was so strong he dug his toes into his boots to keep his feet grounded to the floor.
Theos, it was a temptation that grew harder to resist the more time he spent with her. His will power and control were legendary, and yet he was having to remind himself of all the reasons he had to hone them to greater strengths when with this woman.
Making love to Amalie could be disastrous. He was supposed to be getting her fit to play at his grandfather’s gala, not plotting to get those lithe limbs wrapped around his waist...
He looked at his watch and got sharply to his feet. ‘I need to head back. I’m flying to New York in the morning but I’ll be back Thursday evening. I’ll get Kostas to take you to Natalia’s—she’ll make a ball dress for you.’
‘I haven’t agreed to come,’ she protested.
‘I am a prince of the land, little songbird,’ he answered with a grin. ‘If you defy my wishes I will have you locked in the palace dungeons.’
‘You’ve already said the dungeons are only a tourist attraction.’
He winked at her. ‘It will take me two minutes to appropriate the keys for them.’
He laughed at the scowl she bestowed upon him.
‘I’ll see myself out. Kali̱nýchta, little songbird.’
He might not have any intention of acting on the absurdly strong chemistry growing between them, but he could damn well enjoy her company for one evening of entertainment.
A LOUD RAP on the front door broke Amalie out of the spell she was under.
She froze, violin under her chin, bow bouncing lightly on the E string. There was only one person she knew who so vividly announced his presence with just a knock on the door.
The five days of peace without Talos had come to an end. He’d returned to Agon the previous evening but she’d had a lucky escape in that he hadn’t bothered with her. That hadn’t stopped her spending the entire evening at his gym, looking over her shoulder, waiting for him to appear. And that sinking feeling when she’d been driven back to the cottage without him having made an appearance had not been disappointment.
‘Hello, little songbird,’ he said now, with a lazy smile on his face, the mid-afternoon sun shining down on him, enveloping him in a hazy, warm aura that made her stomach flip left, right and centre. ‘Have you missed me?’
‘Like a migraine,’ she answered with a roll of her eyes, turning back into the cottage and leaving him to shut the door and follow her in, his low laughter at her quip reverberating through her.
‘Have you had a good week?’ he asked, stepping into the living room.
‘It’s been very peaceful, thank you. And yours?’
‘Incredibly boring.’
‘That’ll teach you to be a lawyer.’
Today he actually looked lawyerly. Well, more like Tarzan dressed up as a lawyer, the crisp white shirt, open at the neck, rippling over his muscular chest, and charcoal trousers emphasising the length and power of his thighs. No matter what he wore he would still emit enough testosterone to fill a dozen buckets.
‘It’s a living,’ he said, deadpan.
She couldn’t help it. She laughed. She doubted Talos Kalliakis had needed to work a single day in his life.
‘What does a man have to do to get a coffee round here?’ he asked.
‘Go to the kitchen and work the coffee machine.’
‘But I am royalty. I shouldn’t be expected to make my own coffee.’
‘I’ll have a mocha while you’re there,’ she said, only just stopping herself throwing a wink at him.
His irreverence was contagious.
His nose wrinkled. ‘I have serious doubts about your taste, knowing you drink that muck.’
She had serious doubts about her taste too. Always she’d steered herself in the direction of safe, dependable men, those with whom she could have a nice, safe, dependable life.
There was nothing safe about Talos.
That little fact didn’t stop her thinking about him constantly.
It didn’t stop her heart from hammering at a prestissimo pace by virtue of just being under the same roof as him.