‘I’m fine,’ she said through gritted teeth, taking a step back, and wobbling a little—from surprise at seeing him again. His hand swooped out immediately, before she’d even registered her reaction, and curled around her back, drawing her against his body. Which really, really didn’t help matters at all.
‘You look like you are about to pass out,’ he muttered, condemnation in the words.
‘I’m not,’ she denied, though, in truth, she did feel very weak all of a sudden. ‘I’m just hungry. I haven’t eaten yet.’
He looked as though he wanted to snap at that, and inwardly, she dared him to. She was fed up with this man—blowing hot, cold, and right back into her life when she’d spent the last thirty hours forcing herself to accept the brutal reality of never seeing him again.
‘Then let’s go and eat.’
She opened her mouth to tell him, witheringly, that she had a sandwich in her room, but as she mentally conjured an image of that small space, with its double bed in the centre, she clamped her lips together. Better to avoid being in a hotel room with this man right now. She might have been annoyed with him, but there was no way she could deny the effect his proximity was having on her pulse.
‘Why are you here?’ she asked, instead.
‘We need to talk.’
She shook her head. ‘Not as far as I’m concerned.’
‘I owe you an explanation,’ he said, still holding her against his body. ‘You were right: I should have told you about her.’
Genevieve’s eyes swept shut on a wave of surprise. Nikos was clearly different from James in myriad ways, but this was yet another. Jamesneveradmitted to having made a mistake, and he never apologised for anything. He certainly never explained his actions. Nikos’s willingness to do so brought a heady rush of power to her brain, and a strangely heartening sense of security. It threatened to undermine all her sense and reason, her rational thoughts. Because regardless of his good points, he was still a man, still someone she needed to treat with caution. Not because of him, but because of herself, her battered heart, her destroyed abilities to trust.
‘Yes, you should have,’ she said, making a half-hearted effort to push away from him. But he held her up regardless, his arm like a vice around her waist, offering support that, in fact, she did feel she needed.
‘Then let me tell you now.’
‘Fine. Tell me.’ She tilted her face to his defiantly, but his eyes shifted over her shoulder, towards the door. She turned to look in that direction to see a middle-aged couple walking down the street.
‘Can we go to your room?’
‘No way, buster. Tell me this isn’t some kind of inter-island booty call.’
‘It’s not,’ he muttered.
‘Tell me here.’
‘No.’ He looked around, then let out a rough breath. ‘Come with me.’
She shook her head. ‘Not until you tell me where we’re going.’
‘For lunch. You need to eat, and I would prefer not to have this conversation in the middle of a hotel foyer.’ His eyes bored into hers, as grey as the stormy ocean, and she lost herself for a moment in their depths. She thought she might actually agree to anything he asked of her, if she wasn’t careful.
‘Fine. I know a place nearby.’
She could see that he didn’t like that. Nikos, she suspected, was very used to calling the shots. But Genevieve had been in a relationship like that, and it had nearly been the death of her. She arched a single brow, silently challenging him to argue, but he didn’t.
‘Fine. I presume it’s close?’
‘Just next door.’
‘Show me.’ He kept his arm around her waist as they walked from the hotel, offering her support. She wasn’t sure she needed it now the shock of seeing him had passed, but she didn’t say as much to him. Not when it felt so good to be held close to his large, strong body. Besides, what was the harm? They were on the other side of the world from Washington—thousands of miles from her ex-husband’s sphere of influence. He would never find out about this.
* * *
The waiter who’d led them to a table was little more than a child, fourteen or fifteen at most, and he’d shown more interest in his mobile phone than he had in his guests, so for once, Nikos wasn’t recognised when he arrived at a restaurant. ThankChristos, because the last thing he needed was for this to go out of order.
The more he’d thought about it, the more he’d realised how much of himself he’d kept locked away from Genevieve. Strangely, though, he’d told her many of the most important details of who he was. Away from the glitz and wealth of his success, he’d told her about his father and his upbringing, his values and his life on the island. To say she didn’t know him wouldn’t be accurate.
Not entirely.
