He particularly liked her fondness for tasting and touching. A tremor of carnal pleasure scudded along his spine and he made himself look away.
‘Both my parents were only children.’ He knew it to be true in his father’s case. For his mother he only had her word for it, which proved nothing. She reinvented herself regularly to suit whatever role she wanted to play. He forged on. ‘So I didn’t have aunts, uncles and cousins. But Costas Politis has always been like an uncle to me. My father died when I was young and—’
‘How young?’
‘Five.’
Her hand closed gently around his forearm. ‘I’m sorry. It must have been terrible to lose your dad when you were so young.’
Her eyes were stormy grey, sincere with regret, and he felt a strange churning in his chest. Her sympathy dredged up ancient feelings of loss and pain that he hadn’t let himself dwell on for decades.
With them came half-forgotten memories.
His father’s voice, deep and kind. Riding those broad shoulders down to the sea where hisBabataught him to float and later to fish. Lying curled up on a chair in the dappled shade of a vine-covered courtyard, listening to the murmur of male voices and the quick click-click of tavli pieces moving around a playing board. HisBaba’spatience when Fotis scrambled up onto his lap, begging to play. That was how Fotis had learned his numbers, moving counters across the inlaid board, the soft rumble of hisBaba’svoice counting with him.
‘It was a long time ago.’ Yet strangely his throat felt tight.
‘Anyway, Costas did what he could to be a mentor, though I didn’t see him often.’ He read Rosa’s curiosity but she didn’t ask, just waited for whatever he would share. Which made him decide to share just a little more. ‘I lived with my mother for a while after my father died but I was sent away to school within a year.’
Rosa’s fingers dug into his arm. ‘That’sveryyoung, especially for a boy who’s lost his father.’
‘It was.’ It was unspeakably hard, but no worse than facing his mother’s neglect. He shrugged. ‘Over the years Costas stayed in contact, tried to help where he could. He stood up for my right to inherit. I’ve always respected him for that.’
‘Sorry, I don’t understand. There was some doubt over your inheritance?’
It wasn’t something he spoke about but hehadbeen the one to mention it. Besides, it was a matter of public record, if one had the resources to dig deep enough. His mother had done her best to bury it.
‘My father was wealthy. He left my mother an annuity, but the bulk of his estate was left in trust to me. It was managed independently and my mother had no access to it.’ Fotis stared at the sea and the progress of a proud, white yacht, heading for the horizon. ‘She challenged the will. She wanted control of everything. If she’d succeeded there would have been nothing left for me when I came of age.’
‘She’d have spent it all?’ No mistaking the shock in Rosa’s tone.
‘She’d have squandered it as quickly as she could. My father must have known that, to make his will that way.’
It pained him to know hisBabamust by that stage have been disillusioned about the woman he’d married.
‘Costas Politis is a respected and highly successful businessman,’ he explained. ‘His intervention helped ensure she didn’t succeed. He guarded my father’s fortune and later mentored me about business. He helped me make the most of the investments I’d inherited as well as building a new, highly successful enterprise. He was my last link to my father.’
Mouth dry, Fotis swallowed a mouthful of wine and turned to his companion. ‘I like the man and I’m indebted to him. He’s old now and ill, so when I can I keep a friendly eye on his orphaned granddaughter. Dimi had a difficult time after her parents died. She’s impulsive and insecure and—’
‘The perfect target for a greedy con man. Then I broke her heart by having a public fling with her boyfriend, even though I knew they were together. No wonder you hated me.’
‘Pretendingto have a fling,’ he corrected.
She lifted her shoulders. ‘The result was the same.’
‘But your intentions weren’t.’ Their eyes locked and he felt that familiar pulse between them. Only this time the connection was far more emotional than physical. ‘You saved her. Did I thank you for that?’
Rosa looked away, reaching for a slice of apricot tart. ‘There’s no need.’
‘There’s every need. You brought public speculation and censure on yourself for her sake. As random acts of kindness go, that’s a big one.’
‘My reputation can stand it. Besides, it was already less than pristine.’
‘Because of those photos taken in your teens?’
For a second she held his gaze, then stared at the dessert in her hand as if wondering how it got there. She put it down. ‘Yes.’
‘Even though some of them were fake?’
