At His Revenge. Trish Morey

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СКАЧАТЬ island. I’ve planned this for so long—you have no idea.’

      ‘Why go back at all? Stay here with me.’

      The invitation was so tempting. ‘I can’t do that. There are things I need from the island—’ Years of playing a part stopped her revealing that final secret part of herself. It was how they lived. Pretending that this was normal. Keeping up the show for the outside world. ‘Important things. But I don’t plan to stay for any time at all. I have to be away again before he returns.’

      ‘Because you’re afraid he won’t want you to leave? Stand up to him.’ His tone cooler, Stefan eased himself away from her and sat up. ‘Show him you’re a grown-up and he might treat you that way.’

      Missing the intimacy, Selene sat up, too. ‘You don’t know my father.’

      ‘I know that being independent means taking responsibility for your actions and owning them. There is no reason to hide this from him. Tell him you’re with me. Show him you’re not afraid.’

      She was afraid. She’d be a fool not to be and she wasn’t a fool.

      Selene thought about what happened when someone stood up to her father and she thought of her mother, alone and vulnerable on Antaxos.

      ‘I can’t do that. Not yet.’ The magic had gone so she slid from the bed.

      She felt different.

      She felt beautiful.

      She was aware of herself in a way that felt new. And she was aware of him. Of the way he watched her as she picked a dress from the clothes he’d bought her. Of the way he looked, his eyes hooded and his jaw shadowed by blue-black stubble.

      ‘Come back to bed. I’ll fly you back to Antaxos later if that’s what you want. We’ll pick up whatever it is you need and then you can come back to Athens with me. I’ll help you with your business.’

      ‘I have to do this by myself.’

      She walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the jets of water slide over her body. Closing her eyes, she reached for the soap but he was there before her.

      ‘This soap smells like you.’

      She smiled and pushed her soaking-wet hair away from her face as he slid his hands down her body. ‘It’s my soap. It comes in the same three scents as the candles.’

      ‘At least you know a bit more about seduction now.’

      As he kissed her neck she closed her eyes, but this time the anxiety twisting inside her prevented her from relaxing.

      Reluctantly, she pulled away from him and grabbed a towel.

      ‘I have to go.’

      It felt urgent now, to get this done so that she could start her new life. Excitement bubbled under the feeling of apprehension. She walked back into the bedroom and picked up the pretty linen dress she’d chosen from the clothes he’d provided. Her hesitation was driven by years of living with her father. He wasn’t here, and yet she could hear his voice telling her to change into something more suitable. Telling her that the dress was too short, too eye-catching, too—everything.

      Then she remembered her father wasn’t going to see her wearing it.

      From now on the only time she heard his voice would be in her head.

      There would be no row because this was the last time she was going home and her father wouldn’t be there.

      Stefan strolled back into the bedroom, a towel knotted around his lean hips.

      Determined not to be distracted, Selene let her own towel drop to the floor and reached for the dress.

      Behind her she heard the sharp intake of his breath. Assuming his response was because she was naked, she lifted her head and smiled at him. He was looking at her body.

      ‘Theé mou, did I do that? I hurt you?’ He was across the room in three strides, his hands gentle on her arms as he turned her and took a closer look at her back and then her arms. ‘You have bruises. Finger-marks.’

      Selene twisted away from him and pulled the dress over her head quickly. ‘It’s fine. It’s nothing.’ It wasn’t nothing, of course, but it wasn’t anything she wanted him to know about. It was her past and she wanted it to stay in her past.

      His face was suddenly pale. ‘I thought I’d been gentle.’

      ‘You were gentle. You were brilliant. Honestly, Stefan, it’s nothing—’ She stumbled over the words, feeling guilty that she had to let him think that but unable to give him an alternative explanation. ‘And now I really need to go.’

      ‘You should have told me I was hurting you. I would have stopped.’

      ‘You didn’t hurt me.’ No way could she tell him, or anyone, the truth—and she didn’t need to because she was fixing it. ‘I just bruise easily, OK? It’s nothing to do with you.’ Not looking at him, she scooped her damp hair into a ponytail.

      Now that the moment had come, she just wanted it over with. She wanted to get it done. ‘I’ll take the ferry to Poulos and the nuns will take me back by boat.’

      ‘I’ll take you back to Antaxos.’

      ‘No! Someone might see you and call my father. I can’t risk him knowing I’ve left the island. I need a head start on him.’

      ‘Selene—’ His tone raw, Stefan dragged his hand through his hair and shot her a look she couldn’t interpret. ‘He probably already knows.’

      In the process of sliding her feet into her shoes, she assumed she’d misheard him. ‘How can he possibly know? He’s with one of his women. He won’t be home for another six days.’

      ‘He knows because he will have seen the photographs.’

      ‘Photographs?’ Selene stared at him, her brain infuriatingly slow as she tried to make sense of what he was saying. ‘What photographs?’

      ‘The photographs of us together. You and me.’

      ‘Someone took photographs?’ Selene felt physically nauseated. The bag slipped from her hand. ‘How could they? This is your home. There were no journalists. Please tell me you’re joking.’

      ‘I’m not joking.’

      ‘No—’ She felt the colour drain from her face, felt her fingers grow cold and her body sway. She saw the sudden narrowing of his eyes as he saw the change in her.

      ‘I don’t see why it would bother you. Nothing else has bothered you. Drinking too much champagne, waking up in my bed, having sex—’

      ‘That’s different. My father doesn’t know about any of that.’ Or at least she hadn’t thought he did.

      ‘So this new life of yours only works if your father doesn’t know about it? The first step to independence is standing up for yourself. Just tell your father what you told me. СКАЧАТЬ