The Greek's Secret Son. Julia James
with countless carrier bags of designer clothes and a new hairstyle—barely shorter, but so cunningly cut it had felt feather-light on her head, floating over her shoulders. Her make-up had been applied by an expert, and Anatole had smiled in triumphant satisfaction when he saw her.
I knew she could look fantastic with the right clothes and styling!
His eyes had worked over her openly, and he’d seen the flush of pleasure in her face. The glow in her eyes. Felt the warmth of it.
I’ve done the right thing—absolutely the right thing.
The certainty of that had streamed through him. This breathtakingly lovely creature that he’d scooped off the road and taken into his life was exactly right for him.
And so it had proved.
Taking Tia to Athens would only be the first of it.
He’d sorted out a passport for her—or rather, his office had—and they were now flying out...first class obviously.
For the entire flight she sat beside him in a state of stupefied bliss, sipping at her glass of champagne and gazing out through the porthole with a look of enchanted disbelief that this could really be happening to her.
In Athens, his chauffeured car was waiting to take him to his apartment—he did not use the Kyrgiakis mansion, far preferring his own palatial flat, with its stunning views of the Acropolis.
‘Didn’t I tell you that you should see the Parthenon one day?’ he quizzed her smilingly, indicating the famous ruins visible from all around. ‘It’s not in the best of shape because the Ottomans used it as a gunpowder store, which exploded...’ He grimaced. ‘But it’s being preserved as well as possible.’
‘Ottomans?’ Tia queried.
‘They came out of what is now Turkey and conquered Greece in the fifteenth century—it took us four hundred years to be free.’ Anatole explained.
Tia looked at him uncertainly. ‘Was that Alexander the Great?’ she asked tentatively, knowing that the famous character must come into Greek history somewhere.
Anatole’s mouth twitched. ‘Out by over two thousand years, I’m afraid. Alexander was before the Romans. Greece only became independent in modern times—during the nineteenth century.’ He patted her hand. ‘Don’t worry about it. There’s a huge amount of history in Greece. You’ll get the hang of it eventually. I’ll take you to the Parthenon while we’re here.’
But in the end he didn’t, because instead, business matters having been attended to, he decided to charter a yacht and take her off on an Aegean cruise.
His father had commandeered the Kyrgiakis yacht, but the one upon which he and Tia sailed off into the sunset was every bit as luxurious, and it reduced Tia to open-mouthed, saucer-eyed amazement.
‘It’s got a helicopter!’ she breathed. ‘And a swimming pool!’
‘And another one indoors, in case it ever rains,’ Anatole grinned. ‘We’ll go skinny-dipping in both!’
Colour flushed in her cheeks, and he found it endearing. He found everything about her endearing. Despite the fact that after a fortnight together she was way past being the virginal ingénue she’d been that first amazing night together, she was still delightfully shy.
But not so shy that she refused to go for a starlit swim with him—the crew having been ordered to keep well below decks—nor declined to let him make love to her in the water, until she cried out with a smothered cry, her head falling back as he lifted her up onto his waiting body.
For ten days they meandered around the Aegean, calling in at little islands where he and Tia strolled along the waterfront, lunching in harbourside restaurants, or drove inland to picnic beneath olive groves, with the endless hum of the cicadas all about them.
Simple pleasures...and Anatole wondered when he had last done anything so peaceful with any female. Certainly not with any female who was as boundlessly appreciative as Tia was.
She adored everything they did together. Was thrilled by everything—whether it was taking the yacht’s sailing dinghy to skim over the azure water to a tiny cove on a half-deserted island, where they lunched on fresh bread and olives and ripest peaches and then made love on the sand, washing off in the waves thereafter, or whether, like today, it was drinking a glass of Kir Royale and watching the sun set over a harbour bar, before returning to the yacht, moored out in the bay, for a five-course gourmet meal served on the upper deck by the soft-footed, incredibly attentive staff aboard, while music played from unseen speakers all around, the yacht moved on the slow swell of the sea and the moon rose out of the iridescent waters.
Tia gazed at Anatole across the damask tablecloth, over the candlelight between them.
‘This is the most wonderful holiday I could ever have imagined!’ she breathed.
Adoration was obvious in her eyes—for how could it not be? How could she not reveal all that she felt for this wonderful, incredible man who had brought her here? Emotion swelled within her like a billowing wave, almost overpowering her.
Anatole’s dark eyes lingered on her lovely face. A warm, honeyed tan had turned her skin to gold, and her hair was even paler now from the sun’s rays. He felt desire cream within him. How good she was for him, and how good he felt about her...about having her in his life.
‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘have you ever been to Paris?’
Tia shook her head.
Anatole’s smile deepened. ‘Well, I have to go there on business. You’ll love it!’
It felt good to know that he would be the first man to show her the City of Light. Just as it had felt good to take her on this cruise, to see her enjoy the luxury of his lifestyle. Good to see her eyes widen, her intake of breath—good to bestow his largesse upon her, for she was so appreciative of it.
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