Vows of Revenge

Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

K ASSIA LET HERSELF into her room, still in a daze. On her bare hand she could still feel the light...oh, so light imprint of Damos taking it in his and kissing it. Such an old-fashioned gesture—and yet now she could understand why Victorian maidens had swooned over it.

For just a moment she let herself relive it, feel again the warm clasp of his hand, the cool touch of his lips...

She gave herself a mental shake. She had no business reacting like this, she told herself sternly. No business wanting to read anything into it.

Deliberately, she moved her eyes to the mirror over the chest of drawers, made herself look at her reflection. Really look.

No, she had not turned into some fairytale princess whose hand a man like Damos Kallinikos—God’s gift to women if any man was ever rated so!—would be kissing for any romantic purposes.

I’m still exactly the same as I always have been and always will be. Whether I’m in evening dress, or day wear, looking smart or looking casual, it makes no difference at all.

Whether her father told her brutally and viciously, or her mother sighingly and sympathetically, it did not—could not—alter what she was seeing in the mirror. What she had always seen...all her life.

She turned away, blinking a little. Damos Kallinikos had kissed her hand because he was being gallant —that old-fashioned Continental term for old-fashioned courtesy. He would have done as much had she been an old lady of eighty.

She took another breath, steadying herself. There was no point yearning to be some imaginary glamorous beauty like the kind Damos Kallinikos usually hung out with, because she wasn’t. And that was that.

With a lift of her chin she reached her hands behind her back, unzipping her gown. She’d bought it in a rush, given the shortage of time, but it had served the purpose. It wasn’t glamorous in the least, or even elegant—but then nothing in her wardrobe was.

She made herself ready for bed, regret pulling at her. Regret that the day was over. She would treasure the memory of their day out at Blenheim, and then the entirely unexpected bonus of the evening just ended. Treasure the memory of being with Damos...

It was strange, really, she thought. She and Damos came from such different backgrounds, led such different lives, yet they seemed to get on well together. Once she’d lost her sense of awkwardness with him, and once she’d got her quite irrelevant, if totally predictable female reaction to him under firm control, she had been quite at ease with him.

As she climbed into bed memories of the evening and of the day were still filling her head, vivid in her mind. She lay back, letting them play. Such lovely memories...

She frowned slightly. There had been only one jarring moment—when he’d talked about ambition, defending it, justifying it. Regret at her own reaction plucked at her.

I have no right fearing it has made him like my father. You can be ambitious without being ruthless...without making use of other people for your own ends. Damos wouldn’t do that.

She turned out the light, settling down to sleep. Regret was filling her now for quite a different reason. Because her brief time with Damos was now well and truly over. Definitely over.

It was time to go back to her own life—time to let Damos Kallinikos and her brief encounter with him slip into the past.

Damos was driving to London, his mind occupied with considering his next move with Kassia. He knew she was visiting a schoolfriend for the next couple of days. He’d texted her that morning to wish her a pleasant weekend, and to thank her again for the previous day. But she’d also mentioned, when he’d made a carefully casual enquiry at some point during the day, that there was no pressing need for her to get back to Greece—that she still had annual leave accrued if she wanted to take it.

Damos definitely did want her to take it—with him.

But how to achieve it? How to get her to accept from him what he wanted her to? Accept that he wanted more from her than casual company—much, much more.

His brow furrowed and there was a sardonic twist to his mouth. He was not used to having to work to get a woman to accept his interest in her. He’d gone as far as he could in taking his leave of her last night, and his deliberate hand-kiss had made her tremble. Would he have kissed her if the porter hadn’t been able to see them? Would that have convinced Kassia of his intentions?

What he needed, he knew, was to get past her defences—the barrier she lived behind. The barrier of her self-deprecating image of herself.

I need to change her mindset...change the way she sees herself...so I can change the way she sees me...

But how to achieve that?

His thoughts ran on as he cruised along the M40 towards London. He had some business to attend to there, but his main focus was going to be Kassia. It needed to be. Reports from Athens were indicating that Yorgos Andrakis and Cosmo Palandrou were definitely getting together...spending time with each other. Cosmo had apparently been a guest aboard Yorgos’s mega yacht—absently Damos recalled Kassia’s pungent criticism of it as a monstrosity—and they’d been seen lunching together a couple of times as well. Yorgos was moving things along.

And so must I. I have a limited window of opportunity.

He had the weekend in which to come up with a sure-fire way to seize it.

And by Sunday he knew just what he was going to do.

It would work perfectly...

Just perfectly.

Kassia was out in the garden of her mother and stepfather’s house. It was manicured to within an inch of its life, with pristine flowerbeds, a clipped lawn, and an azure swimming pool glinting to one side. The pool looked tempting, even in the slightly cooler temperatures the weekend had brought after the run of hot weather. She would have a dip later.

She was here on impulse. An impulse she didn’t quite want to admit to. It had been good, spending the weekend with her friend, but now she was at a loose end. Really, she should head back to Greece—there was nothing to keep her in the UK. But she was conscious of a reluctance to do so—conscious of a reluctance to admit the reason for her reluctance.

She wanted there to be something to keep her in the UK. Or rather some one . She knew she was being stupid—ridiculously so—and she knew it was pointless to be so stupid. Knew there was no reason— none —for thinking that maybe, just maybe, Damos might get in touch again.

Because why should he? She’d been convenient to him in Oxford—pleasant enough company for Blenheim, useful in her own way for the college dinner. But now he’d gone to London, as he’d said in passing that he would be, and given absolutely no indication that he expected to see her again at any time. That he had any interest in seeing her again.

She gave a sigh, and then gave herself a mental shake. This was absurd. There was no point hanging around like this. Her mother and stepfather were happily on holiday in Spain, and although they were fine with her staying at their Cotswolds house, what on earth was she here for all on her own?

It was pointless—just as pointless as staying on in the UK.

She reached for her phone. She would check the flights and book one for tomorrow. Then she’d text Dr Michaelis to say she’d be back at work this week and defer the rest of her leave till later.

She was just about to search for flights when an incoming call flashed up on her phone.

She froze. It was Damos.

Damos kept his voice smooth. ‘Kassia. Hi. How did your weekend go? Well, I hope? Whereabouts are you now? Do you still happen to be in the UK?’

She took a moment to answer.

He felt himself tense.

‘Um...yes. I’m at my mother’s house. But she’s not here. She and my stepfather are in Spain. I’m just...well, just about to book my flight back to Athens.’

‘Do you have to get back?’ he asked.

Again she took a moment to answer, and again he felt himself tense.

‘Er...no, not really.’

Damos felt his tension drop a level.

‘In which case, I’ll come right out with it. Could I possibly persuade you to do me yet another favour?’

He kept his voice light—deliberately so. She was back to sounding awkward again, and he wanted that gone. Wanted her to relax with him. But there was something else in her voice too. Something that his masculine senses were indicating that he definitely wanted to be there.

She is glad that I have phoned her.

‘It’s a bit of an ask,’ he went on, ‘but I need another plus one. You were so kind last week, to be that at the college dinner, and I was wondering if I could prevail upon you a second time.’ He paused. ‘Let me explain.’

She didn’t say anything, so he went on. He needed this to sound plausible—genuine.

‘I’m in London and, rather like in Oxford, I’ve been invited out of the blue to an evening affair.’ He made his voice dry, and deliberately humorous. ‘It seems that wealthy Greek businessmen are currently in high demand! Anyway, as in Oxford, it would be good for me to arrive with a plus one. So, I’m afraid I immediately thought of you.’ He made his voice humorously apologetic now. ‘What do you say? It’s the day after tomorrow. You’d enjoy it, I’m sure—it’s at the Viscari St James, up on the roof garden, so we must hope it doesn’t rain.’ He paused again. ‘What do you say? Can I persuade you to rescue me yet again? I don’t want to hassle you, but I’d be really grateful. Of course, if you don’t want to I understand completely, and can only apologise for importuning you.’

It was a classic negotiating technique—putting something forward, then seeming to withdraw it.

‘It isn’t “importuning” me,’ she responded. ‘Only... Well...um...if you really think...?’

He moved in for the close. ‘Kassia, thank you! I’m so grateful. OK... What would be involved is this: I’ll send a car for you, the day after tomorrow, then there will be the evening function and a night at the hotel. Of course I’ll be covering all expenses. Would that suit? I can’t thank you enough. I’m just going to need the address of your mother’s house...’

He had it already, but she would not know that.

She gave it to him, somewhat falteringly.

‘Great,’ he said. ‘Look—do forgive me—there’s an incoming call from Athens that I need to take. I’m so sorry. But, Kassia— thank you !’

He rang off. There was no incoming call, but he didn’t want her having second thoughts. He put his phone away, crossed to the sideboard in his hotel suite, and poured himself a beer from the fridge. Relief was filling him. She might have turned him down...might have had other commitments. But she hadn’t. She’d agreed to what he wanted.

The ice-cold beer slid down his throat as he took a long draught of it.

And what he wanted was to see her again. As soon as he could...

Oh, he wanted her to fall in with his plans—wanted all of that—but he wanted more, too. A lot more...

He took another, more leisurely draught of his beer.

Of that he was quite, quite certain. Because against all his expectations, all his assumptions, Kassia Andrakis had become more than just a means to an end. She was an end in herself. A very desirable end.

When she had become so, he didn’t know. Sometime during that day at Blenheim, or that evening at the college dinner. Sometime when he’d found himself reacting against her downplaying of herself, her passive acceptance of herself as someone men would not be attracted to, when all along...

I know I can show her herself differently, teach her to think well of herself, not ill.

And now he had the opportunity to do just that. The perfect opportunity. It could not have worked out better.

He smiled to himself, finishing his beer, and set aside the empty glass, anticipation filling him. And impatience.

He wanted Kassia with him already.

The rest of the day, and the whole of tomorrow, stretched glaringly, emptily, frustratingly ahead.