Modern Romance December 2015 Books 5-8. Kate Walker
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her earlier that evening.
Since their first trip to his gym, lunch and dinner had been brought to her on Talos’s orders. She knew it was only the fear that she would become anaemic or something, and faint from hunger onstage, that prompted him to do it, rather than any regard for her, but his concern touched her nonetheless.
The tray from earlier was still on the dining table, untouched. A warm, almost fluffy feeling trickled through her blood that he’d noticed.
Hesitating for only a moment, she let him in and headed to the kitchen, grabbed a couple of plates and some cutlery, and took them through to the dining area of the living room.
What was she supposed to do? Insist that he leave when he’d gone to the trouble of bringing her food, just because she kept having erotic thoughts about him? It would be incredibly rude. He might have used blackmail to get her here, but since then he’d treated her decently. He’d treated her well. Thoughtfully. She wasn’t a prisoner, as she’d feared she would be, but had his whole household staff at her disposal for whatever she wanted or needed.
More than any of that, she would be spending a lot more time with him in the coming weeks. She had to get used to feeling off-centre when she was with him. She had to. She refused to become a gibbering idiot in his presence.
Talos held aloft a bottle of rosé retsina. ‘Glasses?’
Once they were settled at the table, Talos busy removing the foil lids of the dozen boxes spread out before them, she said, ‘I didn’t think there would be any takeaways open on a Sunday night.’
One of the chattier members of Talos’s staff had warned her yesterday to get anything she needed on Saturday, as the island mostly shut down on a Sunday.
‘There aren’t—I got the chefs at the palace to cook for us.’
Oh, yes. He was a prince. In Paris his royalty was something she’d been acutely aware of. Here, in the relaxed atmosphere of Agon, it was an easy thing to forget.
‘And they have proper takeaway boxes to hand?’
‘The palace kitchens are ten times the size of this cottage and cater for all eventualities,’ he answered lightly, pouring the retsina.
‘Didn’t you go to the gym?’ He’d showered and changed into a pair of black chinos and a dark blue polo shirt since he’d turned up at the cottage earlier, so he’d clearly done his workout, but she couldn’t see how he’d have had time to go the gym and the palace in the short time he’d been gone.
‘As you weren’t doing the kickboxing class I worked out at the palace gym. It gave me a chance to catch up with my brothers and my grandfather.’
That would be the King and the two other Kalliakis Princes.
‘I thought you went to your gym every night?’
‘I work out every night, but not always at the gym. I try and make it there a couple of times a week when I’m in the country.’
‘Have you been putting yourself out for me, then?’
‘You’re my current project,’ he said with a wolfish grin. ‘As long as I get you on that stage for the gala I don’t care if I have to be inconvenienced.’
That was right. She was his pet project. She had to remember that anything nice he did was with an ulterior motive and not for her.
She took a sip of retsina, expecting to grimace at the taste, which she’d always found rather harsh. It was surprisingly mellow—like an expensive white wine but with that unmistakable resinous tang.
‘You approve?’ he asked.
She nodded.
‘Good. It is our island’s vintage.’
‘Do you make it?’
‘No—we rent out our land to a producer who makes it under the island’s own label.’
The food looked and tasted as divine as its aroma. Amalie happily dived into kleftiko—the most tender slow-cooked lamb on the bone she’d ever eaten—and its accompanying yemista—stuffed baked tomatoes and peppers—eating as much as she could fit into her stomach. She hadn’t realised how hungry she was.
As during their shared meal at his gym, Talos ate heartily. When he’d finished wolfing down every last scrap on his plate, and emptying the takeaway boxes of every last morsel, he stuck his fork into the few leftovers on her plate.
‘For a prince, you don’t behave in a very regal fashion,’ she observed drily.
‘How is a prince supposed to behave?’
She considered, before answering, ‘Regally?’
He burst into laughter—a deep, booming sound that filled the small cottage. ‘I leave the regal behaviour to my brothers.’
‘How do you get away with that?’
‘They’re the heir and the spare.’ He raised a hefty shoulder into a shrug. ‘Helios will take over the throne when my grandfather...’
Here, his words faltered—just a light falter, that anyone who wasn’t observing him closely would likely have missed. But she was observing him closely—was unable to tear her eyes away from him. It wasn’t just the magnetic sex appeal he oozed. The more time she spent with him, the more he fascinated her. The man behind the magnetism.
‘When the day comes,’ he finished smoothly. ‘Theseus has been groomed for the role too, for the remote eventuality that something untoward should happen to Helios.’ He must have caught her shock at his unemotional analysis because he added, ‘No one knows what’s around the corner. Our father was heir to the throne, but life threw a curveball at him when he was only a couple of years older than I am now.’
The car crash. The tragedy that had befallen the Kalliakis family a quarter of a century before, leaving the three young Princes orphaned. Looking at the huge man sitting opposite her, she found it was almost impossible to imagine Talos as a small child. But he had been once, and had suffered the most horrendous thing that could happen to any child: the death of not one but both parents.
The sudden temptation to cover his giant hand and whisper her sympathies was smothered by the equally sudden hard warning in his eyes—a look impossible to misinterpret. I do not want your sympathies. This subject is not open to discussion.
Instead she said, ‘Did your brothers get favourable treatment?’
He relaxed back immediately into a grin. ‘Not at all. I got all the preferential treatment. I was the happy accident. I was raised without any expectations—a prince in a kingdom where the most that is expected of me is to protect my brothers if ever the need arises. Even my name denotes that. In ancient mythology Talos was a giant man of bronze. There are a number of differing myths about him, but the common theme is that he was a protector.’
Goosebumps broke out over her flesh.
Something told her this big brute of a man would be a fierce protector—and not simply because of his physique.
Cross him or those he loved and you would know about it.
She cleared her throat. ‘Aren’t older siblings supposed to protect the youngest, not the other way round?’
His smile broadened. ‘Usually. But I was such a large newborn my parents knew my role would be to protect my brothers from anyone who would do harm to them or our lands.’
‘And have you had to do much in the way of protection?’ she asked.
‘When I was a child it seemed my role was to protect them from each other,’ he said with another laugh. ‘They used to fight constantly. We all did.’
‘Do you get on now?’
‘We all still fight, but nowadays it is only