‘Please don’t let me become something else you beat yourself up about,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘You didn’t do anything wrong, Nikos. Even not telling me about Isabella was your prerogative. We were clear about the nature of our relationship from the outset. Just because I opened up to you didn’t obligate you to do the same to me.’
‘You were upset.’
‘Yes, I was, but both things can be true at once.’
He quirked a brow.
‘I was upset you hadn’t told me about Isabella, but at the same time, it wasn’t your fault. It’s just…one of those things.’
‘When you told me about your husband, and how selfish he was, all I could think was that I could give you something special. Something joyous. When you told me he’d never given you pleasure, I ached to offer that to you.’
‘And you did,’ she said, before her eyes widened and then blinked away. ‘Because of her,’ Genevieve said. ‘It was never really about me, was it?’
He frowned, trying to work back what he’d said.
‘You are so torn apart by what you perceive you failed to give your wife that you thought you could make some sort of amends with me. Right?’
He found it hard to draw breath. He thought about denying it, but why? She was right. He had sought penance, in Genevieve. ‘Two birds, one stone.’
She let out a low whistle and then glanced over his shoulder.
‘Do you know those people?’
He braced himself even as he turned around, to see a group of women by the counter all looking at him. When he turned their way, one of them snapped a photo. He grimaced as he spun back to Genevieve.
‘No.’
‘They seem to know you.’
He dipped his head in silent acknowledgement.
Genevieve’s voice was a little uneven when she spoke next, her eyes widening. He could practically see the penny dropping. Slowly, but dropping nonetheless. ‘But you grew up around here, so they must know you, or your parents…’
‘They know of me, not me personally.’
Genevieve sat a little straighter, voice strained. ‘Why would they know of you?’
‘Because I’m Nikos Konstantinou and in Greece, at least, that makes me famous.’
Chapter Nine
‘NOT JUST INGREECE,’ she said, voice shaking, looking around with a sinking feeling of absolute desperation. And though Genevieve rarely drank alcohol, she reached for the wine and finished her glass, panic setting her nerves on edge. ‘You’re famous everywhere. Nikos. Oh my God. You’re Nikos Konstantinou. You are…very famous,’ she hissed. ‘How could you not tell me this?’ But how had she not put two and two together? True, he looked very different from any mental image she had of the man—and even then, it wasn’t as though she had a clear image. It was hisnamethat was synonymous with success and wealth, hisnamethat was spoken in all the business circles.
He grimaced. ‘Does it matter?’
‘Not on the island, no, and not to me. I don’t carewhoyou are. But those people were taking photos of you. Ofus. If they end up on the Internet, or on gossip sites—’
‘They will,’ he muttered, tone frustrated. ‘The flipside of living a reclusive life is that when I show my face anywhere, it makes the news.’
‘The news,’ she exclaimed, looking around urgently. ‘I need to get out of here. At least this doesn’t look too bad. I can explain having lunch with you,’ she rambled, reaching into her handbag and pulling out some money, placing it on the table between them as she stood. ‘No one needs to know— Oh, God. But the lobby. You had your arm around me for minutes. Someone probably saw, and took photos there, right?’
He nodded once.
‘Oh Nikos,’ she groaned, dropping her head into her hands. ‘I have to get out of here,’ she repeated, looking around. Nikos was standing then, ignoring the cash she’d left on the table. He reached down and took her hand.
‘No,’ she said, quickly pulling her own away. ‘Don’t touch me. That’s just going to make this so much worse.’
‘Let’s go to your hotel.’
