The Greek Tycoon's Achilles Heel. Lucy Gordon

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ mind that. He probably won’t have a woman on his arm.’

      ‘I’ve heard he has quite a reputation with women.’

      ‘True. But he never takes them out in public. Too much hassle, I guess. To him they’re disposable. I’ll tell you this, half the women who come here today will have been in his bed.’

      ‘You really hate him, don’t you?’ she asked curiously.

      ‘Years ago he was involved with a girl from this family, but he ill-treated her.’

      ‘How?’

      ‘I don’t know the details. Nobody does.’

      ‘Then maybe she ill-treated him,’ Petra suggested. ‘And he reacted badly because he was disillusioned.’

      He glared at her. ‘Why would you think that?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ she said, suddenly confused. A voice had whispered mysteriously in her mind, but she couldn’t quite make out the words. It came from long ago, and haunted her across the years. If only—

      She tried to listen but now there was only silence.

      ‘She fled, and later we heard that she was dead,’ Nikator continued. ‘It was years ago, but he knew how to put the knife in, even then. Be warned. When he knows you’re connected with this family he’ll try to seduce you, just to show us that he can do it.’

      ‘Seduce?’ she echoed with hilarity. ‘What do you think I am—some helpless maiden? After all this time around the film industry I’ve learned to be safely cynical, I promise you. I’ve even been known to do a bit of “seducing” myself.’

      His eyes gleamed and he reached out hopeful hands. ‘Ah, in that case—’

      ‘Be off,’ she told him firmly. ‘It’s time you left to collect Debra.’

      He dashed away, much to her relief. There were aspects of Nikki that were worrying, but that must wait. This was supposed to be a happy day.

      She checked her camera. There would be an army of professional photographers here today, but Estelle, as she always called her mother, had asked her to take some intimate family pictures.

      She took one last look in the mirror, then frowned at what she saw. As Nikator had said, she looked gorgeous, but what might be right for other women wasn’t right for Estelle Radnor’s daughter. This was the bride’s big day, and she alone must occupy the spotlight.

      ‘Something a little more restrained, I think,’Petra murmured.

      She found a darker dress, plainer, more puritanical. Then she swept her luxuriant hair back into a bun and studied herself again.

      ‘That’s better. Nobody will look at me now.’

      She’d grown up making these adjustments to her mother’s ego. It was no longer a big deal. She was fond of Estelle, but the centre of her life was elsewhere.

      The bride had already moved into the great mansion, and now occupied the suite belonging to the mistress of the house. Petra hurried along to say a last encouraging word before it was time to start.

      That was when things went wrong.

      Estelle screamed when she saw her daughter.

      ‘Darling, what are you thinking of to dress like that? You look like a Victorian governess.’

      Petra, who was used to her mother’s way of putting things, didn’t take offence. She knew by now that it was pointless.

      ‘I thought I’d keep it plain,’ she said. ‘You’re the one they’ll be looking at. And you look absolutely wonderful. You’ll be the most beautiful bride ever.’

      ‘But people know you’re my daughter,’ Estella moaned. ‘If you go out there looking middle-aged, what will they say about me?’

      ‘Perhaps you could pretend I’m not your daughter,’ Petra said with wry good humour.

      ‘It’s too late for that. They already know. You’ve got to look young and innocent or they’ll wonder how old I am. Really, darling, you might try to do me credit.’

      ‘I’m sorry. Shall I go and change?’

      ‘Yes, do it quickly. And take your hair down.’

      ‘All right, I’ll change. Have a wonderful day.’

      She kissed her mother and felt herself embraced as warmly as though there’d never been an argument. Which, in a sense, was true. Having got her own way, Estelle had forgotten it had ever happened.

      As she left the room Petra was smiling, thinking it lucky that she had a sense of humour. Thirty-two years as Estelle Radnor’s daughter had had certain advantages, but they had also demanded reserves of patience.

      Back in her room, she reversed the changes, donning the elegantly simple blue silk dress she’d worn before and brushing her hair free so that it fell gloriously about her shoulders. Then she went out into the grounds where the crowds were gathering and plunged into introductions. She smiled and said the right things, but part of her attention was elsewhere, scanning the men to see if Lysandros Demetriou had arrived.

      The hour they had spent together, long ago, now felt like a dream, but he’d always held her interest. She’d followed his career as far as she could, gathering the sparse details of his life that seeped out. He was unmarried and, since his father’s death had made him the boss of Demetriou Shipbuilding, he lived alone. That was all the world was allowed to know.

      Occasionally she saw a photograph that she could just identify as the man she’d met in Las Vegas. These days his face looked fearsome, but now another face came into her mind, a naïve, disillusioned young lover, tortured out of his mind, crying, ‘She made me trust her,’ as though that was the worst crime in the world.

      The recent pictures showed a man on whom harshness had settled early. It was hard to realise that he was the same person who’d clung to her on that high roof, seeking refuge, not from the physical danger he’d freely courted, but from the demons that howled in his head.

      What had become of that need and despair? Had he yielded to the desire to destroy everything, including his own heart?

      What would he say to her if they met now?

      Petra was no green girl. Nor was she a prude. In the years since then she’d been married, divorced, and enjoyed male company to the full. But that encounter, short but searingly intense, lived in her mind, her heart and her senses. The awareness of an overwhelming presence was with her still, and so was the disappointment she’d felt when he’d parted from her with only the lightest touch of the lips.

      Now the thought of meeting Lysandros Demetriou again gave her a frisson of pleasurable curiosity and excitement. But strangely there was also a touch of nervousness. He’d loomed so large in her imagination that she feared lest the reality disappoint her.

      Then she saw him.

      She СКАЧАТЬ