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The Millionaire's Virgin
Anne Mather
Mills & Boon are excited to present The Anne Mather Collection – the complete works by this classic author made available to download for the very first time! These books span six decades of a phenomenal writing career, and every story is available to read unedited and untouched from their original release.Proving her innocence…in his arms! With her financial situation so precarious, Paige Tennant has walked right into Nikolas Petronides' hands. It's obvious that he's not forgiven her for walking out on him years ago. But what else could she have done after he's shockingly–and unfairly– accused her of being nothing but a gold-digger!Once a welcome guest in his Greek island home, Paige is now just a paid employee. But what exactly is Nikolas expecting for his money?!


Mills & Boon is proud to present a fabulous collection of fantastic novels by bestselling, much loved author
ANNE MATHER
Anne has a stellar record of achievement within the
publishing industry, having written over one hundred
and sixty books, with worldwide sales of more than
forty-eight MILLION copies in multiple languages.
This amazing collection of classic stories offers a chance
for readers to recapture the pleasure Anne’s powerful,
passionate writing has given.
We are sure you will love them all!
I’ve always wanted to write—which is not to say I’ve always wanted to be a professional writer. On the contrary, for years I only wrote for my own pleasure and it wasn’t until my husband suggested sending one of my stories to a publisher that we put several publishers’ names into a hat and pulled one out. The rest, as they say, is history. And now, one hundred and sixty-two books later, I’m literally—excuse the pun—staggered by what’s happened.
I had written all through my infant and junior years and on into my teens, the stories changing from children’s adventures to torrid gypsy passions. My mother used to gather these manuscripts up from time to time, when my bedroom became too untidy, and dispose of them! In those days, I used not to finish any of the stories and Caroline, my first published novel, was the first I’d ever completed. I was newly married then and my daughter was just a baby, and it was quite a job juggling my household chores and scribbling away in exercise books every chance I got. Not very professional, as you can imagine, but that’s the way it was.
These days, I have a bit more time to devote to my work, but that first love of writing has never changed. I can’t imagine not having a current book on the typewriter—yes, it’s my husband who transcribes everything on to the computer. He’s my partner in both life and work and I depend on his good sense more than I care to admit.
We have two grown-up children, a son and a daughter, and two almost grown-up grandchildren, Abi and Ben. My e-mail address is mystic-am@msn.com (mailto:mystic-am@msn.com) and I’d be happy to hear from any of my wonderful readers.

The Millionaire’s Virgin
Anne Mather


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CONTENTS
Cover (#uc06d03b2-9a87-5608-b9a6-c310f1b505b1)
About the Author (#u35eb2c23-e8a5-5d39-b0f1-a7078f4b626e)
TITLE PAGE (#u60c15880-0d99-592c-aac9-c0a4430c073b)
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
EPILOGUE
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#ua9b7c717-4c9f-5101-b7c0-8b5e3d4851cd)
THE man sitting at the table wasn’t Martin Price.
Paige’s stomach hollowed and she glanced blankly at the waiter who was escorting her across the restaurant. There’d been some mistake. Martin’s shoulders weren’t as broad, his skin wasn’t as dark, and his fair curls bore no resemblance to the thick black hair that erupted in rough splendour over the rim of white collar that was visible above his charcoal tailoring.
She was about to make her protest when the man rose to his feet and turned to face her. ‘Ah, Paige,’ he said, as her legs threatened to slip out from under her. ‘How good of you to come.’
Paige didn’t know what to do; what to say. There had been a mistake. She saw that now. And she’d made it. She’d believed she was coming here to meet her ex-fiancé, but it was obvious that that had only been a ploy on someone’s part to get her here. She turned frantically to the waiter but he was already walking away, and although she badly wanted to follow him people were watching them and she was too much of a coward to make a scene.
‘Won’t you sit down?’ he said, indicating the chair opposite. His lips parted in a thin smile. ‘It’s good to see you again.’
Paige hesitated. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘You will.’ His dark eyes narrowed between lashes that had always been absurdly long for a man. ‘If you’ll give me a few minutes of your time.’
‘Why should I?’ Paige was panicking now, but she couldn’t help it.
‘Oh, I think you owe me considerably more than that,’ he remarked, his expression hardening. ‘Please—’ It was hardly a request. ‘Sit down.’
Paige drew in a breath but unless she wanted to embarrass herself she didn’t have a lot of choice. Still, it was with evident reluctance that she subsided into the chair across the table, wrapping her hands about the purse in her lap as if it provided a lifeline.
‘Good.’ Having succeeded in his objective, he resumed his seat just as the wine waiter arrived at his elbow. ‘Now, what will you have to drink?’
He was drinking wine, she noticed. Red wine that reflected the light from the chandeliers above their heads and gave off a ruby brilliance. She was tempted to join him; she loved wine and he knew it, but she had no intention of giving him any advantage and in her present condition it would probably go straight to her head.
‘Um—just mineral water, please,’ she murmured, after a moment, addressing herself to the waiter, and he gave her a polite little bow before going to attend to her order.
‘Mineral water?’ His tone was mocking now but Paige refused to be intimidated.
‘What do you want, Nikolas?’ she asked, avoiding his sardonic gaze. She didn’t want to look into his eyes again, didn’t want to feel the sudden rush of sexual awareness she’d felt when she’d first realised who he was. ‘Where’s Martin?’
‘He’s not coming.’ He said the words without apology. ‘Ah, here’s your—water.’
Paige gazed at him now, ignoring the waiter completely. ‘What do you mean, he’s not coming?’ she demanded. ‘I think you’d better tell me what’s going on.’
‘Do you?’ His tone was ironic. ‘I gather he didn’t explain the situation when he spoke to you.’
‘No.’
Paige swallowed. She refused to admit that it was Martin’s secretary who had contacted her and arranged this meeting. She’d been so relieved to hear from him again, she hadn’t questioned why, after breaking their engagement, he’d suddenly decided to invite her to lunch at one of London’s most exclusive restaurants. The fact that it used to be their favourite restaurant had persuaded her that Martin had had second thoughts and wanted to start seeing her again.
What a fool she’d been.
‘So you have no idea why I invited you here?’
‘Haven’t I just said so?’ Paige was abrupt, but she couldn’t help it. This was just another occasion when nothing turned out as she’d expected.
‘Tell me,’ murmured Nikolas after a moment, his low, attractive voice barely exhibiting any trace of an accent, ‘how long were you and Price—what shall I say?—’ he frowned ‘—together?’
Paige stiffened. ‘What business is that of yours?’
‘Humour me.’
‘Why should I?’
‘Well…’ He paused. ‘If we are to have any kind of a working relationship—’
‘A what!’
She interrupted him then, getting half out of her chair before his hand on her forearm pressed her down again into her seat. He did it so effortlessly, she thought, rubbing her arm when he released her, glaring at him with resentful eyes. All trace of sexual awareness was swamped now by the very real feelings of outrage that were gripping her.
‘Calm down,’ he said mildly. ‘You are looking for a job, aren’t you?’ He regarded her dispassionately. ‘I may have one to offer.’
‘No, thanks.’
Paige looked away from his dark-skinned face, wondering how Martin could have done this to her. She’d thought he’d loved her. But she’d been wrong about that, too. Wrong about everything.
‘Don’t be too hasty,’ Nikolas murmured now. He pushed the glass of water towards her. ‘Drink. You’ll feel better after some refreshment.’
‘I don’t want anything.’ Paige realised she was behaving like a petulant child, but events were moving too fast for her to keep any kind of control over her emotions. She straightened her spine. ‘I’d just like to know how Martin knew that you—that you and I—had—had—’
‘Been lovers?’ Nikolas suggested softly, and despite herself her face suffused with colour.
‘Known one another,’ she amended tersely. ‘We were never lovers.’
‘No.’ He conceded the point with a certain amount of regret. ‘Or you would not have done what you did, ohi?’
‘I did nothing,’ she insisted. ‘Nothing wrong, that is.’ Then, realising she was getting into deep waters, she added, ‘How did Martin know we knew one another?’
‘He didn’t.’ Nikolas was careless. ‘As far as your—fiancé is concerned, we had never met before today.’
‘He’s not my fiancé.’ Paige could feel her jaw quivering and hurriedly pressed her lips together to control it. ‘I suppose you thought it was amusing, deceiving him like that?’
‘I deceived no one.’ His harsh features mirrored a momentary displeasure. ‘Your Martin is not the most perceptive of men.’
‘He’s not my Martin.’
‘No.’ An air of satisfaction surrounded him at this admission. ‘He told me that also.’
‘He told you—’ Paige’s lips parted in dismay. ‘He discussed our relationship with you.’
‘Let us say that when your name entered the conversation I—persuaded him to confide in me,’ declared Nikolas smugly. ‘I can be very persuasive, as I’m sure you remember.’
Paige shook her head, refusing to explore that particular time bomb. ‘What did he tell you? How do you know him?’
‘Ah.’ Nikolas relaxed back in his chair and Paige was reminded of a sleek predator that, having successfully subdued its prey, was now prepared to play with it. ‘I happened to be looking for a new financial advisor and the firm of Seton Ross appeared to have an excellent reputation.’
‘So you met quite by chance?’
‘How else?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Why not?’ He adopted an air of injured innocence.
‘Because if Nikolas Petronides approached a firm like Seton Ross he wouldn’t be put off with one of the minor associates. Either Neville Ross or Andrew Dawes would have dealt with you personally.’
‘Indeed.’ Nikolas smiled. ‘It pleases me that you would think I warrant a more expert evaluation than your—friend was able to offer. It proves that you have not been entirely deceived by his rather obvious charms. Be thankful he broke the engagement, aghapita. You can do much better, I am sure.’
Paige fumed. ‘Don’t patronise me.’
‘Was I doing that?’ Nikolas moved his silk-clad shoulders in a dismissive gesture. ‘I am sorry.’
She was sure he was nothing of the kind, but she waited impatiently for him to go on. When he didn’t, she said shortly, ‘I’d still like to know how you came to discuss my—situation.’
‘Yes…’ He was evidently in no hurry to satisfy her curiosity. ‘Well, let me see, how did the conversation go? I think we were discussing the recent fall in the stock market and how even recognised firms of stockbrokers were not immune from collapse. Naturally, Tennants was mentioned—’
‘Naturally!’
‘It was, after all, one of the most disastrous falls of the decade, was it not? And your father’s untimely death was a real tragedy.’ There was nothing but compassion in his face as he continued, ‘Please: I cannot tell you how sorry I am; how much sympathy I feel for you and your sister.’
‘We don’t need your sympathy,’ retorted Paige tightly, but even though it was months since her father had suffered the massive stroke that had ended his life she still felt totally bereft.
‘Etsi ki alios, it is sincere,’ Nikolas assured her. ‘Although I had no love for the man, I would not wish what happened to him on my worst enemy.’
Paige regarded him coldly. ‘So you decided to offer me a job,’ she said scornfully. ‘How kind!’
‘Do not be bitter, Paige.’ Nikolas sighed. ‘It does not become you. Just because your fiancé has deserted you, do not—’
‘How dare you?’
Once again, Paige attempted to push her chair away from the table, but this time the waiter thwarted her. Misunderstanding, he assumed she was trying to pull her chair closer to the table, and he assisted her in doing just that before presenting her with the menu.
‘I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your order,’ he said politely, and Paige was obliged to stay where she was, at least until he had returned to his station.
But as soon as he’d moved away she fixed Nikolas with a furious stare. ‘How dare you?’ she demanded again. ‘How dare you discuss my private life with—with—?’
‘With the man you’d hoped to share your life with?’ suggested her companion drily. ‘Perhaps you should be asking him why he’s telling all and sundry that the Tennant sisters are virtually penniless.’
‘Oh, I intend to.’
‘What?’ Nikolas’s brows rose sardonically. ‘And give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he’s hurt you? Think again, Paige. As I said before, he’s not worth it.’
‘And you are?’ She was contemptuous.
‘Let us say, I have reason to enjoy your humiliation. He does not.’
Paige glanced about her. ‘And that’s what this is all about? Humiliation?’
‘No.’
‘Oh, please…’ She gazed at him disbelievingly. ‘At least have the decency to tell me the truth.’
‘I will. If you’ll let me.’ He shrugged. ‘Have lunch with me. That is why you came, after all.’
‘To have lunch with Martin,’ she corrected him tersely, and then, remembering what her ex-fiancé had done, she realised how pathetic that sounded. She hesitated. ‘Why should I?’
‘Because you’re here; because you’re curious.’ His thin lips twitched. ‘Let me tell you why I let Price arrange this meeting.’
Paige took a considering breath but once again the waiter made the decision for her. Returning to take their order, he regarded them both with polite, enquiring eyes, and Nikolas turned somewhat impatiently to his own menu.
‘Shall I order for us both?’ he enquired, and because Paige was too bemused to argue with him she gave an unwilling nod. ‘We’ll have the avocado mousse and the grilled salmon,’ he told the waiter smoothly. ‘It is fresh salmon, not farmed?’ After gaining the waiter’s reassurance, he said, ‘Thank you.’
Paige had forgotten how efficient Nikolas was in any situation. How easily he could make a decision and act on it without resorting to discussion. He could decide what he was going to eat in less time than it had taken Martin to open a menu, and he had an effortless air of command that would persuade even the hardiest maître d’ to do his bidding.
The waiter collected the menus and went away and they were alone again. But not for long. The wine waiter returned with his list, but this time Nikolas was ready for him. ‘A bottle of the ’97 Chardonnay,’ he said, waving the list away. ‘That’s all.’
Paige breathed deeply, trying desperately to achieve even a little of his composure, but it was almost impossible. Despite her frustration at being put in such a position, she couldn’t deny a certain exhilaration at this unexpected turn of events. It was a long time since anything had inspired her to the kind of emotional upheaval Nikolas had so effortlessly created. And, while she still resented the way both he and Martin had treated her, her eyes were continually drawn to the lean brown fingers that played with the stem of his glass and the coarse black hair that dusted his wrists below the pristine cuffs of his shirt.
Nikolas was such a masculine animal, she thought, a sense of suffocation at his nearness almost overwhelming her. The only man she’d ever known who could reduce her to trembling supplication with just a single look. Or, at least, he had when she was younger, she corrected herself fiercely. She was much older—much wiser—now.
‘So,’ he said, startling her out of her reverie, ‘you would like to know about the job, ne?’
‘If I must,’ she answered tautly. ‘If there really is a job.’
‘You think I would be here otherwise?’
Paige realised that to admit that that was what she had been thinking was conceited, and amended her response. ‘Perhaps.’
‘First of all, am I right in assuming that you are looking for employment?’ he asked softly, and two red flags of colour burned in her pale cheeks.
‘If Martin said it, then it must be true,’ she replied frostily, resenting the question. ‘I suppose he also told you I have no qualifications to speak of.’
‘You have discussed your problems with him?’ Nikolas frowned.
‘No.’ Paige was indignant. ‘Sophie did. She’s desperate for me to get a job so we can find somewhere else to live.’
‘Ah, Sophie.’ He nodded. ‘Your sister. Regrettably, we were never introduced.’
Paige shrugged. ‘She was at school when—when—’
‘When your father was attempting to blind me with his elder daughter’s beauty?’ suggested Nikolas ironically. ‘Yes, I know. How old is she now?’
‘Sixteen.’ Paige pursed her lips. And then, because she couldn’t let him get away with defaming her father’s memory, she added, ‘And Daddy only introduced us. It wasn’t his fault that we—that you betrayed his trust.’
Nikolas’s lips twisted. ‘You do not really believe that.’
‘Why not? And the Murchison deal appeared to be an attractive proposition. He was trying to do you a favour by offering you the chance to invest…’
‘In something that folded only a few months later,’ remarked her companion bleakly. ‘At which time, I’d have lost a considerable amount of money.’
You could afford it, thought Paige defiantly, but she kept that opinion to herself. ‘It might have succeeded if you’d been prepared to back it,’ she said instead, only to meet a blank wall of contempt.
‘Be honest,’ said Nikolas harshly. ‘Theos, the shipping line was already losing money and all your father really wanted was someone else to share the burden of his mistake. Why else do you think he destroyed our relationship? As soon as he realised he was wasting his time with me, he moved on to the next—what is that word you use?—sucker? Yes, sucker.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘Of course it’s true.’
‘No—’
‘Yes—’
‘Avocado mousse, madam.’
The arrival of the meal put an end to any further argument, and although Paige had the feeling she was betraying her father’s memory by even being here now she refused to let Nikolas Petronides have the last word. All the same, meeting his dark eyes across the table, eyes that could turn from black velvet to burnished agate in a twinkling, she suspected she was playing a dangerous game.
‘Perhaps we should discuss why I had Price invite you here,’ he declared, after the waiter had departed again. ‘I’m sure you understand why I prevailed upon him to offer the invitation. I was fairly sure that were I to contact you you would not submit.’
‘Submit?’ Paige pushed the delicate mousse around her plate. ‘That’s a typically Petronides word to use, isn’t it? But you’re right. I wouldn’t have come.’
‘I thought not.’ He paused. ‘That was why I suggested that as Price was a friend of yours he should arrange this meeting.’
Paige absorbed this as the wine waiter poured some of the deliciously flavoured Chardonnay into her glass. But when they were alone again she exclaimed, ‘And Martin had no idea that—that we knew one another?’
‘I’m afraid not.’ Nikolas looked at her over the rim of his own glass. ‘Poor Paige. The men in your life do seem perfectly willing to throw you to the—wolves, do they not?’
Paige refused to let him provoke her. ‘Is that a warning, Kirie Petronides?’ she asked mockingly, and had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes darken accordingly.
But, ‘Maybe,’ was all he said, and it was Paige who felt every nerve in her body tingle at the veiled menace in his voice.
They didn’t speak again until the grilled salmon had been served and then it was Paige who felt compelled to break the uneasy silence that had fallen. ‘I—I would have expected Yanis to handle any employee recruitment,’ she murmured, aware that she had barely touched the mousse and was only making a paltry effort with the salmon. A morsel caught in her dry throat and she was forced to cough and resort to her wine before continuing, ‘He is still with you, I assume?’
Nikolas was not deceived by her attempt at casual conversation. ‘Yanis is still my assistant, ne,’ he conceded evenly. ‘But this is a rather—delicate affair.’
‘Why?’ Despite herself, Paige was puzzled. She couldn’t believe it was anything to do with her.
‘Because it is a personal matter,’ he replied, taking another mouthful of his wine. Then, because she was still looking at him enquiringly, he went on, ‘The job I have in mind concerns my ward. In such circumstances, it is not—suitable—to leave the decision in Yanis’s hands.’
Paige gasped. ‘Your ward?’ She looked stunned. ‘I didn’t know you had a ward.’
‘That is because I did not have a ward when we—knew one another,’ he told her. ‘Ariadne’s father was a close friend, and when he and his wife were killed three years ago I discovered they had appointed me their daughter’s guardian. She has no other close relatives, you understand? Oriste, I have a ward.’
‘I see.’ Paige moved her shoulders uncertainly. ‘That’s quite a responsibility. How old is she?’
‘Ariadne is seventeen years of age. Not too much of a responsibility, as you can see.’
‘Oh.’ Paige was surprised. ‘Then why—?’
‘I am looking for a young woman of good family to—how shall I put it?—keep her company for the summer. And to share with her all those womanly confidences she can no longer share with her mother.’
‘And you thought that I—?’
‘In the absence of any other offers, yes,’ he essayed mildly. ‘Why not?’
Paige gasped. ‘I couldn’t work for you.’
‘Do not be too hasty, aghapita.’ He speared her with a penetrating look. ‘The position carries a generous salary with all expenses found, and the hours would not be too arduous.’
‘I’m not for sale, Nikolas.’
‘No, but you are short of funds, are you not? And you said yourself that your sister is eager for you to find alternative accommodation, ne?’
Paige put down her fork. ‘This is a pointless conversation. I don’t speak Greek.’
‘Ariadne understands English. She is still at school, of course. But she has been educated to a very high standard.’
‘Then she’s probably perfectly capable of taking care of herself,’ said Paige, thinking of her own sister. Sophie would die if anyone suggested she needed a chaperon. ‘Besides, as you’ve just mentioned, I have a sister, who—who—’ Had been quite a handful since Paige had had to remove her from the expensive boarding school she’d been attending. ‘Who I couldn’t possibly leave on her own.’
Or with Aunt Ingrid, she appended ruefully. Ever since their father died, they’d been staying with their mother’s sister in her ‘bijou’ cottage, as she described it, in Islington. And it was only because Paige was there to keep the peace between them that Sophie and her aunt remained on speaking terms…
‘Then bring her with you,’ said Nikolas carelessly. ‘She will be on holiday, too, will she not? And I would prefer Ariadne to stay at my house on Skiapolis for the summer.’ He shrugged. ‘There is plenty of room, as you know, and your sister may befriend Ariadne. They are of a similar age.’
They were, but Paige could imagine Sophie’s reaction were she to drop this particular bombshell in her lap. Although her sister resented the circumstances in which they were now being forced to live, blaming their father for not making adequate provision for them during his lifetime, she would find the idea of leaving London for some unsophisticated island in the Aegean even more unacceptable. Besides, she’d just settled down at the local comprehensive; she’d made friends; and although Paige wasn’t altogether enthusiastic about the crowd Sophie was mixing with she had no desire to uproot her again.
‘I don’t think so,’ she said now, bestowing a slightly warmer smile on the waiter when he came to remove her barely touched plate. ‘No, it was fine,’ she assured him when he expressed his concern. Then, looking at Nikolas again, she said, ‘I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time.’
‘No time is ever wasted,’ he responded, his brooding expression giving the lie to his words. ‘At least think about it, Paige. I shall be in London for a few more days and you can always contact me via this number.’ He drew out a card and scrawled some figures on the back before pushing it across the table towards her. ‘Take it.’
Somewhat against her better judgement, Paige reached for the card, but as she did so Nikolas covered her hand with his, successfully imprisoning her fingers within his cool grasp. And, although she made a futile attempt to free herself, she knew she had no real chance of competing with his strength.
‘Think about it. Please,’ he begged softly, and Paige was overwhelmed by the sensual appeal in his voice.
Dear God, she thought, dragging her eyes away from his to gaze unsteadily at the powerful fist encasing hers. A fiery warmth was spreading up her arm and invading every quivering pore of her slender frame, and no matter how she tried to rationalise her reaction she knew her body hadn’t forgotten anything about this man. It remembered; her skin remembered; and that was something she had never expected.
Eventually, he was obliged to let her draw her hand away and she cradled it in her lap, as if it had been abused. That was what it felt like, she thought shakily, the vibration his touch had evoked still rippling through her veins. She just prayed he wasn’t aware of her upheaval.
Somehow she got through the next few minutes. Although she didn’t want it, she agreed to coffee in lieu of a pudding, and endeavoured to come to terms with the fact that she had more than one reason for refusing his offer. Even if it was the only offer that came her way, she couldn’t work for him. Apart from anything else, she didn’t want to be hurt again, and Nikolas Petronides would have no qualms about recovering what he saw as his pound of flesh…

CHAPTER TWO (#ua9b7c717-4c9f-5101-b7c0-8b5e3d4851cd)
PAIGE caught the Underground back to Islington. At this time of the afternoon, the trains weren’t busy, and after finding herself a seat she reflected how quickly she’d adapted to using the Tube instead of taking taxis everywhere.
All the same, it had been raining when she’d left the restaurant, and she’d had to resist Nikolas’s offer to get a taxi for her. Although it was June, the weather was still unseasonably cold, and the pretty cream Chanel suit she’d worn to impress Martin was now dotted with damp patches.
She just hoped it didn’t pick up any dirt on the way home. She and Sophie were having to conserve what clothes they had, and it had been quite a drain on their meagre resources outfitting her sister with clothes for her new school.
She sighed. If only their father were still alive, she thought wistfully, but Parker Tennant had died as he’d lived: without making any provision for the future. He’d left his daughters with a mountain of debt besides, and the unhappy task of having to salvage what little they could from his possessions. Not that there had been much. The beautiful home they’d had in Surrey had been mortgaged twice over, and even their mother’s jewels had had to be sold to satisfy their creditors.
Paige thought it was just as well their mother hadn’t lived to see it. Annabel Tennant had died of an obscure form of cancer when Paige was seventeen and Sophie only ten, and she’d sometimes wondered whether that was when her father had started taking such enormous risks with his clients’ money. It was as if his wife’s death had persuaded him that there was no point in planning for a future that might never happen, and there was no doubt that losing her mother had affected him badly.
It was why Paige had left school without finishing her education; why she’d appointed herself his protector. She’d been there when he needed her, taking care of him when he didn’t, and somehow getting him through those first awful months after Annabel died.
It had taken a toll on her, too, but she’d never considered herself. She’d been happy making him happy, and until she’d been introduced to Nikolas Petronides she’d cared little for the fact that the only men she’d dated had been men her father had had dealings with.
Of course, he’d approved of Nikolas, too—at least to begin with. It was only when he’d discovered that the Greek had had no intention of investing money with him that he’d turned against him. And Paige had had no doubts where her loyalties lay…
Which was why there was no way she could accept Nikolas’s offer now. Apart from the fact that they had once known one another too well, she wanted nothing from him. In his own way, he was like Martin: he was using her situation to humiliate her, and however attractive the prospect of a summer in Greece might be—not to mention the generous salary he’d tried to bribe her with—she needed a real job with someone who wasn’t out for revenge.

But she didn’t want to think about that now. It was four years since her relationship with Nikolas had foundered and since then she’d insisted on taking charge of her own life. She sighed. Not that she’d been any more successful, she conceded wryly. Her association with Martin Price had hardly been a success. But then, she hadn’t been aware that the handsome young accountant had been more interested in furthering his own career, and in paying court to Parker Tennant’s daughter he had envisaged a partnership in her father’s investment brokerage firm as his reward. Of course, when Parker Tennant died in such inauspicious circumstances, he’d quickly amended his plans. In a very short time, Paige had found her engagement had only been as secure as her father’s bank balance, and although Martin had made some excuse about finding someone else she’d known exactly what he really meant.
She stared dully out of the window. That was why she’d felt so mortified when she’d learned that Martin had arranged for her to see Nikolas Petronides. It was galling to think that his prime concern was to put some distance between them, and she half wished she could tell him exactly what she and Nikolas had once been to one another. Would he be jealous? She doubted it. Of Nikolas’s wealth, perhaps, but nothing else.
The train pulled into her station and, leaving her seat, she discovered to her relief that it had stopped raining. Which was just as well, as she had a ten-minute walk to Claremont Avenue, and no umbrella.
Aunt Ingrid’s cottage was about halfway down the avenue, and Paige approached the house with some relief. It had been quite a day, one way and another, and she was looking forward to changing into shorts and a T-shirt and spending some time weeding her aunt’s pocket-sized garden. It was what she needed, she thought: mindless physical exercise, with nothing more momentous to think about than what the soil was doing to her nails.
She heard her aunt’s and her sister’s voices before she’d even opened the front gate. The windows of the cottage were open and their raised tones rang with unpleasantly familiar resonance on the still air. Several of her aunt’s neighbours were taking advantage of the break in the weather to catch up on outdoor jobs, and they could hear them, too, and Paige offered the elderly couple next door an apologetic smile as she hurried up the path.
What now? she wondered wearily. She glanced at her watch. It was barely three o’clock. Sophie shouldn’t even be home from school yet. For heaven’s sake, didn’t she have enough to worry about as it was?
‘You’re a selfish, stupid girl,’ Aunt Ingrid was saying angrily as Paige let herself into the house.
‘And you’re a harried old bag,’ retorted Sophie, before there was the ominous sound of flesh meeting flesh. There was a howl from her sister before she apparently responded in kind, and Paige slammed the door and charged across the tiny hall and into the over-furnished parlour just as her aunt was collapsing into a Regency-striped love-seat, her hand pressed disbelievingly to her cheek.
‘For goodness’ sake!’ Paige stared at them incredulously. ‘What on earth is going on? I could hear you when I turned into the avenue.’
That was an exaggeration, but they were not to know that, and it had the effect of bringing a groan of anguish from her aunt. The thought that someone else might have been a party to her disgrace was too much, and Paige, who had been hoping to shame her sister, gave a resigned sigh.
Of course, Sophie was unlikely to care what anyone else thought, and as if to prove this she would have pushed past her sister and left the room if Paige hadn’t grabbed her arm. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ she demanded. ‘I asked what was going on here. You might as well tell me. I’m going to find out anyway. Have you been excluded from school? What?’
‘Ask her.’ Sophie’s face was mutinous. She gave her aunt a baleful look. ‘She’s the one who’s been poking around in my things.’
Paige didn’t make the mistake of letting go of her arm. ‘I asked you,’ she reminded her shortly, although her heart sank at the thought that Sophie might have some justification for her complaint. Casting a silent appeal in the older woman’s direction, she added, ‘This is Aunt Ingrid’s house, not yours.’
‘Ask her what she’s got hidden in her underwear drawer.’
Aunt Ingrid’s voice was frail and unsteady, and for a moment Paige wanted to smile. Dear God, what had Sophie been hiding? See-through bras; sexy knickers; what? Then, the reluctant admission that Ingrid shouldn’t have been looking through Sophie’s belongings anyway wiped the embryo grin of amusement off her face.
‘Yeah, how about that?’ Sophie broke in before she could respond. ‘The old bat’s been prying into my drawers, in more ways than one. Nosy old bitch! I told you that we had no privacy here—’
‘She’s a drug addict, Paige.’ The older woman’s voice trembled now. ‘An addict, in my house. I never thought I’d live to see the day that my own sister’s child—’
‘What is Aunt Ingrid talking about?’ Despite the fact that the old lady had been known to exaggerate at times, her words had struck a chill into Paige’s bones. ‘Why should she say you’re a drug addict?’
‘She’s lying—’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘She is,’ insisted Sophie scornfully. ‘She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.’ She gave a short laugh. ‘I’m not an addict. For God’s sake, I doubt if she’d know one if she saw one.’
‘I know what marijuana smells like,’ retorted her aunt tremulously. ‘You’re not the first generation to discover illegal substances, you know.’
‘So?’ Sophie sneered. ‘You’re no better than me.’
‘I didn’t use heroin!’ exclaimed Aunt Ingrid, with evident disgust, and Paige’s jaw dropped.
‘Heroin?’ she echoed weakly, turning to stare at her sister. ‘Oh, Sophie, is this true? Have you been using heroin?’
‘No—’
‘Then what was it doing in your drawer?’ demanded her aunt, and Paige endorsed her question. ‘Oh, I should have known that you’d take her side,’ muttered Sophie sulkily, without answering. ‘Whatever I say now, you’re not going to believe me.’
‘Try me.’
‘You don’t have to take my word for it,’ persisted the old lady. ‘Go into your bedroom, Paige. You can smell it for yourself. Marijuana has a most distinctive scent: sweet and very heady. That was why I looked though Sophie’s belongings. I was expecting to find a pack of joints.’
Paige shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t recognise marijuana, Aunt Ingrid. It may sound stupid, but I’ve never smoked a joint in my life.’ She frowned. ‘But I thought you said you found heroin in the drawer?’
‘I did.’
Sophie snorted. ‘She has no right to criticise me. She’s obviously familiar with drugs or she wouldn’t be accusing me.’
Paige caught her breath. ‘You admit that you’ve been smoking marijuana?’ she exclaimed, horrified, and Sophie gave her a pitying look.
‘Where have you been living for the past ten years, Paige?’ she exhorted. ‘Not on this planet!’
‘Don’t you dare try and justify it,’ cried her aunt, but Sophie wasn’t listening to her.
‘Everyone uses these days,’ she said, and Paige stared at her with disbelieving eyes.
‘I don’t,’ she said, but somehow that wasn’t enough.
A sense of panic gripped her. What was she going to do now? When she’d accepted responsibility for Sophie, she’d never expected anything like this.
Her aunt shifted in her chair. ‘Aren’t you forgetting something, Paige?’ she asked. Then, after fumbling in the pocket of her trousers, she declared, ‘This.’
‘This’ was a tiny plastic packet of white powder and Paige could only guess at what it was. ‘Oh, Sophie,’ she exclaimed, feeling sick to her stomach. ‘Where did you get it? What is it doing in your drawer?’
Sophie hunched her shoulders. ‘That’s my business.’
‘Not as long as you’re living in my house, young lady,’ retorted her aunt sharply, and Paige wanted to groan aloud when her sister answered back.
‘We won’t be living in your house much longer,’ she announced triumphantly. ‘Paige is going to find us a decent place of our own, aren’t you, Paige? Somewhere better than this shoebox, without any crazy old woman telling us how to live our lives.’
‘Sophie—’
Paige’s protest was useless. There was only so much their aunt would take, she knew that, and Sophie had tried her patience for the last time. Struggling to her feet, she pointed a trembling finger at the younger girl. ‘That’s it,’ she said. ‘I’ve had enough of you and your insolence. I don’t care what Paige does, but I want you out of here tonight!’

Two weeks later, Paige stood at the window of their room in the small bed-and-breakfast, watching somewhat anxiously for the taxi that was going to take them to the airport. It was already fifteen minutes late and her palms were damp with the realisation that if they missed the flight they would also miss the ferry that would take them to Skiapolis.
Behind her, Sophie lounged sulkily on her bed, making no attempt to gather her belongings together. She had left her sister to do all their packing, and Paige had had to bite her tongue against the urge to tell Sophie that this was all her fault. But it was. And Paige could have done with some reassurance that she wasn’t making yet another mistake.
Glancing round, she met the younger girl’s defiant gaze with some impatience. If only Sophie were older: if only she could have been relied upon to pull her weight, they might have got through this. Aunt Ingrid wasn’t a monster. With a little persuasion on Sophie’s part, the older woman would have come round.
As it was, with no other job in prospect and bills to pay, Paige had been compelled to call the number Nikolas Petronides had given her. At least working for him would give her a breathing space, she’d consoled herself, and if she saved every penny he paid her there might be enough to put the deposit down on a small apartment by the time they came back to England.
It had been a relief to find that someone other than Nikolas had answered when she’d rung. A man, who had introduced himself as Donald Jamieson, and who was apparently Nikolas’s solicitor, had been left to handle the details. He’d explained that Mr Petronides had had to return to Greece, but he’d issued instructions to the effect that if Paige should decide to take the job Jamieson should make the necessary arrangements for their journey.
Although she’d been reassured by Jamieson’s involvement Paige had wondered briefly if she was being entirely wise in accepting the position. It was useless telling herself that Nikolas couldn’t possibly have known she’d change her mind. That the instructions he’d left had been a logical attempt to cover all eventualities. But the fact was, Nikolas was an arrogant devil, and had it not been for Sophie’s problems she’d have done almost anything rather than accept his help.
Still, she consoled herself, it was only for the summer, and a lot of things could change in three months. Aunt Ingrid had been horrified when she’d explained what they were planning to do. As far as she was concerned, Paige was jeopardising her own future for the sake of a girl who had no appreciation of the fact. And, because the Petronides name meant nothing more to her than the logo on the side of an oil tanker, she’d considered Paige’s decision reckless in the extreme.
Which hadn’t improved her relationship with Sophie one iota. The younger girl continued to assert that despite the presence of the heroin in her drawer she’d never actually touched hard drugs, but Paige had known she couldn’t trust her not to use them in the future. She’d been horrified to learn that Sophie’s introduction to marijuana wasn’t a recent thing either. According to her, it had been in common use at her boarding-school, but if she’d thought that might reassure her sister she couldn’t have been more wrong. Paige had been appalled, and more convinced than ever that she was doing the right thing by getting Sophie out of London.
She scanned the street again for the mini-cab that had promised to pick them up twenty minutes ago. She hoped it came soon. In spite of everything, she didn’t want to admit that she was getting cold feet.
‘Come on, come on,’ she muttered impatiently, and Sophie, who had been viewing her sister’s agitation with a certain amount of satisfaction, now sat up. Pushing back the crinkled shoulder-length perm that was several shades lighter than Paige’s toffee-streaked blonde hair, she looked more optimistic than she’d done since Paige had first told her that she was going to accept the job in Greece.
‘Does this mean we’re going to miss the plane?’ she asked smugly, and Paige knew exactly how her aunt must have felt when she’d confronted Sophie’s insolent stare.
‘No,’ she retorted at once, although she wasn’t absolutely sure what she’d do if they did miss the flight. After all, it was the holiday season. Flights were booked well in advance. ‘We’ll just take a later plane,’ she added shortly, ‘so you might as well resign yourself to the fact that we’re going to Skiapolis.’
‘Skiapolis!’ Sophie spoke disparagingly. ‘It wouldn’t be so bad if it was Athens, or Rhodes, even. Somewhere I’d heard of. But Skiapolis! I don’t know how you can even justify what you’re doing to me. If Daddy was alive, he’d—’
She broke off, and Paige seized her chance. ‘Yes?’ she prompted. ‘If Daddy was alive—what? What would he do? Do you think he’d be proud to learn that his younger daughter was a—a junkie?’
Sophie sniffed. ‘I’m not a junkie.’
‘So you say.’ Paige was scornful now. ‘And what about what you did to Aunt Ingrid? Daddy was very fond of Aunt Ingrid. Do you think he’d applaud you for beating her up?’
‘I didn’t beat her up.’ Sophie was indignant. ‘She slapped me first.’
‘There are other ways of beating up old people than by hitting them,’ retorted Paige without hesitation. ‘What if she’d had a seizure? How would you have felt then?’
Sophie’s shoulders hunched. ‘She’d been nosing about in my things. She had no right to do that.’
‘And you had no right to sneak out of school before your last period,’ Paige reminded her sharply. ‘If you’d had nothing to hide, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.’
‘I wish we weren’t.’
‘I dare say you do. But we are, and that’s all there is to it.’ Paige heard the unmistakable sound of a car in the cul-de-sac outside and breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Here’s the taxi. Grab your things. We’re leaving.’
Sophie flounced off the bed. ‘I’ll never forgive you for this, Paige. Never! Forcing me to go and live on some grotty old Greek island with some grotty old business acquaintance of Daddy’s. I’m going to be bored out of my mind.’
‘Better bored than stoned,’ replied Paige tersely, wishing she felt more positive. And at least Sophie knew nothing about Nikolas, other than the story she’d invented about how she’d got the job. In fact, she’d left Sophie with the impression that if she hadn’t gone crying to Martin about their problems Paige might never have been offered the position at all.
It was late afternoon when they arrived in Athens and the heat was palpable. Even Sophie breathed a little sigh of wonder as they walked down the steps off the plane. With the sun striking on the airport buildings, reflecting back off the glass, and heat rising up from the tarmac, the unaccustomed brilliance was dazzling. For a few minutes, even Sophie forgot her complaints as they walked the short distance to the arrivals hall.
The formalities were soon dealt with. The Greek officials were not immune to the attractions of two young women travelling alone, and in a very short time their luggage was stowed in the boot of an ancient cab, and they were on their way to Piraeus. The ferry was due to depart at seven o’clock that evening, and Paige was hoping they might have time to grab a bite to eat before they boarded the ship. She had no idea what facilities might be provided on the vessel. Her own trips to Greece with her father had never entailed travelling between the mainland and the many islands that dotted the area. Of course, they had visited Skiapolis—but that had been as guests aboard Nikolas’s yacht. This was an entirely different situation, and she had no illusions about the position she now occupied in his life.
Piraeus was the largest and busiest port in Greece. Ferries ran from its harbour to most of the larger islands in the Greek archipelago, some of the bigger ones looking as luxurious as cruise ships.
Paige doubted that the ferry to Skiapolis would fall into that category. Her memory was that it had been one of the smaller islands in the group. Nikolas owned most, if not all, of the island, and he hadn’t wanted to encourage tourists, at least in those days. A small ferry had brought mail and essential supplies, she remembered, but she doubted it possessed tourist accommodation. She was grateful the trip wasn’t a long one. They might have been obliged to sleep on deck.
The instructions they’d been given obliged them to collect their tickets from an agent at the Plateia Karaiskaki, and after the car had dropped them off they carried their bags across the busy concourse. Sophie was briefly stunned by the heat and the smells and the alien language, but although she exclaimed at the brilliance of the sea she was beginning to find the late afternoon sun more of a burden than a blessing. She grumbled every time someone jostled her, or the strap of her rucksack dug into her shoulder.
They eventually found the office they were looking for. Paige went to see about their tickets and was given the number of the quay where the ferry was supposed to leave from. But she was also informed that a seven o’clock departure schedule meant very little. If the ferry was late arriving at the port, they could be looking at nine o’clock or later.
Sophie understood little of the conversation Paige was having with the agent. The office was hot and stuffy, and she was quite happy to spend her time guarding their luggage beside the open door. And exchanging provocative glances with a curly-headed youth in jeans and trainers, whose brown, sun-bronzed arms were seen to advantage in his sleeveless T-shirt.
Their silent flirtation had not gone unnoticed, however. Paige, trying to concentrate on what the agent was saying, made furious gestures at her sister, but without much success. Hot and frustrated, Paige was beginning to wish they’d never left London. At least in England she could understand what was going on.
With the tickets in her hand, she eventually escaped the counter and pushed her way across to where Sophie was waiting. The youth was chatting her up now and, judging by the becoming flush in Sophie’s cheeks, she was having no trouble understanding him. Indeed, she hardly noticed Paige’s arrival, her husky laugh attracting the attention of more than one pair of eyes.
‘Sophie!’ Paige dug her in the ribs with her elbow, bending to pick up her own bags before confronting her sister with a baleful look. ‘Come on,’ she said, ignoring the boy. ‘Let’s go and find a café. I’m dying for a cool drink.’
‘Wait a minute.’ Sophie grabbed her arm, and although Paige prepared herself for an argument it didn’t come. ‘This is Paris,’ she said, as if that was of some interest to them. ‘Mr Petronides has sent him to meet us. Isn’t that great?’
Paige blinked. ‘What?’
‘Kirie Petronides,’ ventured the young man helpfully. ‘You are Kiria Tennant, ohi? And Thespinis Tennant,’ he added, smiling at Sophie. ‘Kalostone, kiria. Welcome to Greece.’
Paige dropped her bags again. ‘Kirie Petronides asked you to meet us?’ she asked disbelievingly, even as the boy’s distinction between greeting an older woman and a younger one caused her to grit her teeth. Still, she probably looked a lot older, she conceded, right at this moment. She was hot and tired, and she wasn’t in the mood for precocious youths.
‘Ne,’ he said, looping the strap of Sophie’s rucksack over his shoulder and picking up her suitcase without obvious effort. ‘If you will come with me…’
‘Wait.’ Paige hesitated. ‘How do I know—?’ she began, only to have Sophie override her protests.
‘Come on, Paige,’ she muttered in a low voice. ‘How else did he know our names?’
‘Perhaps he heard me speaking to the ticket agent,’ replied Paige uneasily. And then, realising she hadn’t mentioned Nikolas’s name, she muttered, ‘Oh—all right.’
But she wasn’t about to stagger across the quay again with both her bags. If the boy could carry one suitcase so easily, he could carry two. Tapping him on the arm, she gestured towards the other bag, and although his smile slipped a little he nodded and picked it up.
‘Isn’t he a babe?’ Sophie whispered as they followed his sinuous saunter away from the busy ferry terminal and along a narrow quay where private yachts and motor vessels bobbed on the rising swell. ‘Great buns!’
‘Sophie!’ Paige realised she sounded like an old maid, but her sister’s language was too liberally peppered with comments of that kind. ‘You watch too much television.’
‘Well, I won’t be watching it from now on, will I?’ Sophie retorted, and Paige didn’t know if that was a blessing or not. When she’d insisted on them coming out here, she hadn’t considered that there might be other distractions, and Paris—if that was his name—might be far too available.
Still, she couldn’t worry about that now. This was their first real introduction to the blue waters of the Aegean, and the breeze blowing off the water was refreshingly cool against Paige’s hot cheeks.
By the time they reached their transport, a steady trickle of perspiration was dampening the skin between her breasts and the hair on the back of her neck was wet. Although she’d warned Sophie against wearing anything skimpy to travel in, she was wishing she hadn’t taken her own advice now. The denim skirt and matching waistcoat, worn over a simple round-necked navy blue T-shirt, had seemed perfectly suitable when they’d boarded the plane in London. Now, however, the shirt was sticking to her, and she wished she’d taken the time to go into the restroom at the airport and remove the white tights that were cutting into her legs.
Sophie looked hot, too, but she’d pulled her shirt out of her cropped jeans and tied it beneath her breasts. Paige hadn’t had the heart to stop her, even though she knew no Greek girl would dress that way. Well, no Greek girl of Nikolas’s family, she amended, thinking of Ariadne. But if Nikolas didn’t like it he had only himself to blame.
The vessel that awaited them was not a yacht. Paige, who had briefly entertained the thought that Nikolas himself might have come to meet them, quickly revised her opinion. The sleek motor launch was much smaller than the other vessel and it was deserted, its fringed canopy flapping in the breeze. But at least it would provide some protection, she thought gratefully. She couldn’t wait to get out of the sun.
Paris threw their bags onto the deck and then jumped aboard. Paige felt a momentary twinge of irritation at his treatment of their luggage and then decided it was probably no worse than the handling they’d suffered on the plane. He held out his hand to Sophie, and she quickly followed after him. Then he did the same for Paige, taking a good look at her white-clad thighs as her skirt lifted in the breeze.
He grinned then, aware of her indignation, and although she wanted to be cross with him she found herself smiling, too. He was only a boy, she told herself as he took her suitcase from her and stowed it with the rest of the luggage in the steering cabin. He probably lived and worked on the island, and they were unlikely to see him again.

CHAPTER THREE (#ua9b7c717-4c9f-5101-b7c0-8b5e3d4851cd)
PAIGE regarded her reflection in the long mirrored doors of the closet and wondered why she was taking so much trouble over her appearance tonight. It wasn’t as if she wanted to impress anyone; not with her looks anyway. But she was nervous about meeting Ariadne for the first time and finding out if they were likely to get along.
She had wondered if the girl would be curious to meet them but evidently Ariadne did not regard paid companions as honoured guests. Instead, it had been left to a black-garbed housekeeper to greet the new arrivals, and although Paige thought she was vaguely familiar Kiria Papandreiu had given no indication that they had met before.
The journey to the island had not been unpleasant, though it had taken rather longer than Paige remembered. Still, once they were out of the busy harbour, Paris had provided light refreshments, and because she’d eaten little of the lunch on the plane Paige was grateful for his consideration.
So much so that she hadn’t objected when Sophie had asked if she could go up front with Paris. Of course she hadn’t anticipated that Sophie would spend most of the journey seated beside him at the controls. But having given her permission there was little she could do about it and at least it had kept her sister occupied throughout the two-hour trip.
Arriving at the small port of Agios Petros had been rather nerve-racking. It had been dark, and although Paige hadn’t expected anyone to meet them at the quay she had anticipated that Nikolas would be waiting at the house. But she’d been wrong. When they’d emerged from the car that had brought them up from the harbour, Kiria Papandreiu had explained, albeit in barely comprehensible English, that Kirie Petronides was away. Where he was, she didn’t say; nor when he’d be back. But, once again, Paige got the impression that as employees they didn’t warrant that kind of information.
It was all a far cry from the last time she was here, she reflected wistfully, and then chided herself for allowing thoughts of that kind to colour her mood. She’d been a guest then, not a servant, and Nikolas had done his best to make both her and her father welcome.
But Parker Tennant hadn’t known what was really going on…
She stiffened now, smoothing down the calf-length skirt of her turquoise taffeta sheath. She’d hesitated some time before choosing the fairly formal outfit, but until she knew what was expected of her, she’d rather not take any chances. However, the clothes she’d bought for the trip, both for her and Sophie, had been off the peg. Sophie, who had grown in the last year, had needed a selection of summer clothes, but Paige herself had had to make do with a couple of dresses.
Fortunately her hair was easy to handle. Unlike Sophie’s, she wore it fairly short and straight, the simple bob curling under at her chin. When she’d known Nikolas before, her hair had been long and she’d worn it in a French braid, but that was in the days when a visit to the hairdressers’ was a weekly event.
She sighed, touching her hot cheeks with nervous fingers. She wasn’t beautiful, not like Sophie anyway, who seemed set to rival their mother’s looks when she’d been young. Paige had expressive green eyes and a generous mouth, but her features were not particularly memorable, which was why she’d never really believed that any of the men she’d dated had wanted her for herself.
A knock at the door aroused her apprehension. What now? she wondered anxiously, but it was only Sophie, who came into the room without waiting for a response. She’d changed, too, but the yellow slip dress she was wearing barely covered her bottom, and her clunky wedges clomped across the rug.
‘Are you ready?’ she asked, viewing Paige’s appearance with critical eyes. ‘Is that new? I don’t remember seeing it before.’
‘It’s not new,’ said Paige, wondering if she dared broach the subject of Sophie’s appearance, but her sister just pulled a face and sauntered over to the balcony doors.
‘I wonder what the view’s like from here?’ she mused, drawing back as a particularly large moth came and fluttered against the glass. ‘You did say you’d stayed here before, didn’t you? I couldn’t see much of the island as we drove up from the harbour, but the house seemed huge.’
‘It is.’ Paige chose her words with care. ‘Is that what you’re wearing for dinner?’
‘Well, I’m not going to get changed again,’ retorted Sophie, swinging round. She looked down at her dress. ‘What’s wrong with it?’
Paige hesitated. ‘Nothing, I suppose—’
‘Just because you like to wear frumpy clothes doesn’t mean I have to.’ Sophie’s jaw jutted belligerently. ‘I bet Paris would approve.’
Paige shrugged. ‘I dare say he would, if he could see you,’ she declared evenly. ‘But until we know what our position is here—’
‘I thought we did know,’ countered Sophie, frowning. ‘We’re going to keep some old man’s ward company. But don’t expect me to dress like a nanny. You can, but I’ve got better things to do.’
Paige shook her head, deciding not to pursue it right now, and changed the subject. ‘So,’ she said pleasantly, ‘have you unpacked your things and put them away?’
‘I’ve unpacked some,’ said Sophie carelessly. ‘I’ll do the rest in the morning.’ She scowled suddenly, turning on her high heels that added inches to her five-feet-six-inch height. ‘Hey, your room is bigger than mine. That’s not fair.’
Paige glanced about her. In all honesty, she’d paid little attention to the spacious apartment she’d been given. She’d noticed the bed was square, with a solid wooden frame, and that the quilt that covered it was made of hand-woven silk. But she’d scarcely admired the carved oak furniture or heeded the high arching ceiling above her head. There were rose chiffon curtains at the windows, she saw now, and richly patterned rugs dotted about the polished floor. In other circumstances, she wouldn’t have failed to be charmed by its simple elegance, and she could understand why Sophie was so impressed.
‘Do you want to swap?’ she asked.
‘No.’ Sophie had the grace to look slightly shamefaced now. ‘I was just admiring it, that’s all.’ She went to take a look into the adjoining bathroom. ‘I think my bathroom’s bigger than yours.’
‘Good.’
Paige decided it was time they were leaving. It was no use putting it off any longer, however apprehensive she felt. She took another look at herself in the mirror, and tucked a loose strand of brown-gold hair behind her ear. Then, after checking that the gold hoops she was wearing in her ears were secure, she picked up her purse and turned towards the door.
‘Shall we—?’
‘This guy—’
They both spoke together, and although Paige wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what her sister had been going to say she knew they couldn’t leave until she did.
‘Nikolas Petronides,’ went on Sophie, after receiving a silent go-ahead, ‘he must be filthy rich, mustn’t he? I mean, according to Paris, he owns a fleet of oil tankers and you have to admit, this house is something else.’
Paige suppressed a groan. The last thing she needed was for Sophie to start getting ideas about Nikolas. And she hadn’t even seen him yet! Her sister thought he was old, but Nikolas was only about forty. And he was still a disturbingly attractive man.
‘I don’t think that’s of any interest to us,’ she declared reprovingly, as if talking about Nikolas didn’t bother her in the least. Didn’t remind her of the first time she been introduced to him by her father, or of the hot dark eyes that had seduced her on the spot…
‘Get real, Paige. I wouldn’t mind marrying someone with pots of money,’ retorted Sophie, with a grimace. ‘I wonder how he’d feel about taking a child-bride?’ She giggled, and Paige knew an almost irresistible impulse to slap her. ‘Or perhaps he has a son. What do you think?’
‘I think you’re being very silly,’ said Paige, aware that she was overreacting. But right now she couldn’t think about Nikolas without remembering the past they’d shared. It was this house, she thought. It had so many connotations—even though he’d never made love to her here…
‘What’s silly about wanting to marry a millionaire?’ exclaimed Sophie at once. ‘Or wanting to know if he has a son?’
‘He doesn’t.’
Paige was abrupt, and Sophie’s eyes widened. ‘Of course,’ she blurted excitedly. ‘You’ve met him. I’d forgotten about that. Go on: tell me what he’s like.’
‘Not now.’ Paige was determined not to get into that discussion. ‘Come on, we’re going to be late for dinner.’
‘So what? Petronides isn’t here. You heard what that old witch said when we arrived. I’m not worried about keeping some Greek schoolkid waiting.’
Paige forbore to mention that the Greek schoolkid in question was a year older than she was. And, looking at Sophie as they left the bedroom and started along the upper gallery, she was reluctantly aware that the younger girl was probably years older when it came to experience of life. Ariadne might have lost both her parents, but she hadn’t been left alone. She’d been protected and cared for all the time she was grieving, and she had the comfort of knowing that her future was secure.
But now was not the time to be having negative thoughts about the girl she’d come here to chaperon. Instead, Paige concentrated on her surroundings, finding that her memory hadn’t deserted her when they reached the top of the stairs. Marble treads led down to an Italian marble foyer, a black iron balustrade following their sweeping curve.
‘Wow!’ Sophie was impressed, and she paused on the first stair to admire the cut-glass chandelier that illuminated the hall below. ‘What a pity we don’t have an audience,’ she taunted. ‘We could make quite an entrance from here.’
‘Thank goodness we don’t—’ Paige was beginning, when a tall figure moved out of the shadows and into the light.
‘Parakalo,’ said Nikolas, a black silk shirt and black trousers accentuating his darkly tanned appearance. ‘Please—Sophie, is it not?—feel free to descend the stairs any way you choose.’
Even Sophie was taken aback and Paige wished she could just fade into the woodwork behind her. Evidently Nikolas had returned and it was him they’d been keeping waiting. Always supposing he intended to eat with the hired help this evening, of course. Until she knew what their position in the household was going to be, she couldn’t be sure of anything.
‘Is that him?’
Sophie’s stage whisper must have reached Nikolas and Paige gave her sister an exasperated look. ‘Go on,’ she urged, pushing the girl forward without answering her, and Sophie returned her look with interest before obediently starting down.
‘I only asked,’ she muttered, but Paige wasn’t in the mood to be placated. She was already wondering how she’d ever thought that bringing Sophie here would be a good idea.
Nikolas had stepped back as they came down the stairs but now he approached them, greeting them in his own language as if to reassure them that he hadn’t heard what Sophie had said. ‘Kalispera,’ he said, his deep voice scraping across Paige’s already frayed nerves. ‘Kalos orissate sto Skiapolis.’
Sophie blinked, clearly not understanding his words, and he took her hand and said easily, ‘Welcome to Skiapolis. Did you have a good journey?’
‘Oh—yes. Thank you.’ Paige was amazed to see that her sister had actually turned fiery red. ‘I’m sorry about—you know—saying what I did. But this house is, like—way cool.’
‘I am glad you like it,’ he responded smoothly, but Paige closed her eyes for a moment, praying for deliverance. She dreaded to think what Sophie was going to say next and she started violently when Nikolas murmured, ‘Paige?’ in a concerned voice. ‘Are you all right?’
He was standing in front of her now and she had no choice but to allow him to shake her hand, too. But her fingers tingled within the strong grasp of his, her damp palm sliding revealingly against his firm flesh.
‘I—I’m fine,’ she managed, extracting her hand again as soon as she possibly could. He was so close, much closer than he’d been across the table at the restaurant in London, and she was instantly conscious of his height and the broadness of his shoulders, and the intimidating awareness that this might not have been such a good idea on her part either. ‘I’m sorry if we’ve kept you waiting. Your housekeeper said you were away.’
‘I was. But now I’m back.’ Nikolas continued to regard her with considering eyes, and Paige, whose eyes were on a level with the opened collar of his shirt, concentrated on the V of dark hair that was visible above the placket. ‘You’re flushed, aghapita. Are you not feeling well?’
‘I’ve told you, I’m fine—’ Paige started protestingly, only to be overridden by her sister’s voice.
‘She didn’t eat any lunch on the plane,’ Sophie told him smugly, not to be outdone, and as if realising they had an audience Nikolas took an automatic step away.
‘That was unwise,’ he said softly, his eyes lingering on her embarrassed face. ‘Was it so stressful? The journey, I mean.’
‘No. No, of course not.’
Paige wished he would leave her alone. Sophie wasn’t a fool and if he continued to behave as if her well-being was of some importance to him her sister would begin to suspect she had something to hide.
But perhaps that was his intention, she mused uneasily. She’d never truly believed he’d offered her this job out of the goodness of his heart. Men like Nikolas Petronides didn’t forgive—or forget. And, although she had no illusions that she’d ever meant a great deal to him, she had walked out on him, which in his eyes was probably unforgivable.
‘Kala,’ he murmured now, inclining his head towards a room on his left. ‘Ariadne is waiting for us. We will go and introduce you, ne?’
Paige nodded, glancing at Sophie before accompanying him across the vast expanse of marble that lay between them and what she seemed to recall from her previous visit was an elegant drawing room. Around them, the plain walls of the reception hall were hung with literally dozens of paintings, large and small, that added vivid colour to what was essentially a neutral area. But there were flowers, too: huge bouquets of magnolia and oleander and lily in sculpted vases, whose distinctive fragrance hung sweetly in the cool conditioned air. It was all very beautiful and very civilised, and Paige wished she could relax and stop thinking that she’d made a terrible mistake.
The lamplit salon they entered was as she remembered: high ceilings above striped silk walls; long undraped windows at either side of an enormous stone fireplace, above which hung an impressive portrait of a woman she knew to be Nikolas’s mother; several upholstered sofas in green and gold; and rich, subtly woven rugs scattered over a polished floor. The many display cabinets were the repository for delicate china and ceramics, a collection Nikolas’s grandfather had begun in his lifetime and which his late father had continued. And, although there were other paintings here, too, there were also a handful of jewelled icons to draw the eye. It was a beautiful room, casually luxurious, yet revealing a lived-in comfort and informality in the sprinkling of cushions on the sofas, in the sprawl of magazines decorating a low granite table, and the squat vase of wild flowers residing on the mantel.
But it was the girl who was standing on the hearth who took Paige’s eye. Ariadne—Stephanopoulous, as Donald Jamieson had advised her—was nothing like the schoolgirl she had been expecting. Tall and slender, with a long coil of night-dark hair hanging over her shoulder, she looked years older than the seventeen she admitted to. She was wearing black: an ankle-length gown that moulded her figure, and would not have looked out of place on a woman twice her age. She looked more like Nikolas’s wife than his ward, thought Paige in some dismay, wondering how on earth she was supposed to deal with her.
And, indeed, Ariadne reacted to their appearance with the kind of studied arrogance that seemed to confirm Paige’s assessment of her. ‘Nikolas!’ she exclaimed, ignoring the two women with him and going towards him, her hands held out in front of her so that he was obliged to take them in his own. ‘Ola entaksi?’
‘Speak English, Ariadne,’ Nikolas chided her mildly. ‘Our guests are not familiar with our language. And, after all, that is one of the reasons I have invited Miss Tennant here: to help you improve your accent.’
‘My accent doesn’t need improving,’ retorted Ariadne at once, with a little less maturity. But Paige had to admit she was right. The Greek girl appeared to speak English very well indeed. A lot better than the schoolgirl Greek she could manage.
‘Whatever…’ Nikolas’s tone had hardened now. He turned to Paige. ‘My ward,’ he said simply. ‘I hope you’ll become good friends.’
‘I hope so, too,’ said Paige firmly, taking the limp hand Ariadne offered her. ‘It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Stephanopoulous.’
‘Miss Stephanopoulous!’ Nikolas was impatient. ‘Her name is Ariadne.’ He glanced at the girl beside her. ‘And this is Sophie. Miss Tennant’s sister.’
‘Hi.’ Sophie greeted the other girl without enthusiasm, and Paige hoped she wouldn’t say anything too outrageous. ‘I guess we’re the same age, right?’
‘Are we?’ Ariadne sounded bored, and she immediately turned back to her guardian, wrapping her hands around his forearm and gazing up at him with wide, appealing eyes. ‘Isos—maybe we can have dinner now?’
‘After I have offered Miss Tennant and her sister an aperitif,’ Nikolas answered evenly, removing her hands from his wrist. ‘Paige?’ He indicated that she should follow him across to an ebony drinks cabinet. ‘What will you have?’
Paige hesitated; then, after exchanging a warning look with Sophie, she crossed the room. She wasn’t happy about leaving the two girls alone, and she kept glancing back over her shoulder as if she expected something awful to happen.
‘Ouzo? Retsina? Or something more familiar?’ asked Nikolas at her approach. ‘And relax. It will do Ariadne good to spend time with someone of her own age for a change.’
Paige expelled a breath. ‘I thought you said she still attended school.’
‘I did.’ Nikolas lifted a bottle of white wine from the refrigerated cabinet and arched an enquiring brow. Then, after she’d nodded her approval, he went on, ‘But Ariadne has been too much with older people this past year. She’s had a series of minor infections which have kept her away from school, and I had to hire a tutor to give her extra lessons.’
‘I see.’ Paige watched him pour her wine. ‘She seems very—attached to you.’
‘You noticed.’
‘It would have been hard not to.’ Paige took the glass he offered, carefully avoiding his fingers, and then looked up to find him watching her with a whimsical expression. ‘What?’ she exclaimed. Then, glancing over her shoulder again, she said, ‘Well—she’s hardly discreet.’
‘Unlike you,’ he remarked drily, pouring a generous measure of Scotch into a cut-glass tumbler. ‘I must admit I was surprised when I heard that you’d been in touch with Jamieson. If I’d thought for a minute that you’d change your mind, I’d have hung on for a few more days. Why did you?’
‘Why did I what?’
He pulled a wry face. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.’
‘Oh—’ Paige knew she should have been prepared for the question, but she wasn’t. ‘I—I decided it was too good an opportunity to miss.’
‘Did you?’
His eyes were lazily intent and she hurried to explain herself. ‘Financially, I mean,’ she assured him. ‘And although it meant taking Sophie out of school a couple of weeks early all her exams are over.’
‘Ah, yes, Sophie.’ His eyes moved past her to where her sister was waiting, a look of resentment on her face now. ‘She’s not at all like you, is she?’
Paige shrugged. ‘If you say so.’
‘I do.’ His mouth took on a sensual curve. ‘And before I ask your sister what she would like to drink, let me say that you have many advantages that she has not.’
‘I’m older, you mean?’
Paige refused to let him disconcert her, and Nikolas’s eyes narrowed on her tense face. ‘Older, of course. But age has its compensations. You know what I am saying,’ he added softly, and then broke off as an argument erupted across the room.
‘Who the f—? I mean, who the hell do you think you are?’ Sophie’s voice rose in outrage. ‘You can’t speak to me like that. You’re not the mistress here!’
‘Arketa! Arketa! That is enough!’
As Ariadne opened her mouth to respond, Nikolas slammed down his drink and strode across the room. For a moment, he seemed to have forgotten his command that they should speak English, and his initial remonstrance was issued in the language of his youth.
Then, as if realising that Sophie couldn’t understand him, he gathered himself, and when he spoke again his manner was more controlled. ‘Ariadne,’ he snapped. ‘Do you want to tell me what is going on? What have you been saying to upset our guest?’
Ariadne looked indignant at first. And then, as if realising her guardian was not going to respond to that kind of attitude, she mumbled, ‘It was nothing, Nikolas. Really. I was merely saying that Kiria Papandreiu does not like to keep dinner waiting.’

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