Page 25 of Seasons of Sin

He looked at her expectantly.

“What is it?” She asked, not understanding the significance.

“When my driver picked up our dinner from Athens last night I had him collect some clothes for you. As much as I love seeing you get creative with my shirts and belts, I thought you might appreciate some actual garments.”

His thoughtfulness made her heart flip over. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” he assured her. “I want you to be comfortable. I should have arranged it sooner, only you kept me so distracted…”

She nodded. It was too much. Everything was hurting, most of all her heart.

“Thank you.” She smiled up at him, but it was over-bright; she felt it stretch her cheeks. “Do you mind giving me a moment to try something on?”

He didn’t sense the undertone of panic. “I’ll make coffee.” He lifted a hand to her cheek. “Thank you for last night.”

A lump welled in her throat. It was Saphire who wanted to thank him, but she didn’t trust herself to speak. So she nodded and spun away from him, hoping to keep a lid on her emotions until he left.

When she heard the door click softly in place she sat onto the edge of the bed and buried her head into her hands.

What a mess! She couldn’t see a way out that wouldn’t end in disaster for someone. Could she stick with her original plan? Could she stay with him until he left for Paris and then return to Jordan? Could she go back to the man she had thought she loved and tell him, ‘Ha, ha, I cheated too!’

And whatever she did, how could she live with herself?

She groaned and stood up. No matter how she chose to resolve this mess, there was no sense in indulging a display of emotional drama. She was better than that. “Pull yourself together,” she urged, scanning the clothes with misted eyes. She reached for the closest bag and lifted out a pair of white linen pants and a soft blue shirt. It was perfect with her eyes; comfortable, flattering and a great fit.

Of course.

He was a man with an eye for detail apparently, and undoubtedly she wasn’t the first woman he’d bought clothes for.

“Agape mou, are you ready?”

She checked her reflection in the mirror with a frown. She looked so much more like herself. For the past few days she’d been sort of wild and free-spirited. Now? She was looking alot more like Mrs Saphire Arana, wife of up-and-coming lawyer Jordan Arana, future politician Jordan Arana. All she needed was a pearl necklace and a sophisticated chignon and she’d be transformed back to normal.

It made her want to scream and rail against everything she’d become.

She didn’t though. She ground her teeth together and moved to the door. She pulled it in and had to take a deep breath. God, he was gorgeous. He’d changed too, pulling on a dark grey polo shirt and a pair of pale chinos.

“The timing isn’t great but one of my oldest friends just called. He’s choppered to the island to check up on me.” He laughed. “Actually, I suspect he wants to meet you.”

“Me?” Fear made her stumble a little. “What do you mean? What did you tell him about me?”

“Only that I had the most beautiful house guest in the world and that he should stay away.”

“And yet he’s here anyway,” she responded breathily.

He nodded. “He was concerned that I might become morose after Aristotle’s death.”

“You? Morose?” She couldn’t help but tease. But butterflies were filling her whole chest cavity.

The small speedboat was already waiting at the bottom of the ladder. The dream of the sea-life was over. Life would go on.

“Who is he? Your friend?”

“Rocco Barone,” he said, watching as she climbed deftly down the ladder. “You will like him.”

She smiled awkwardly. His name wasn’t familiar. What were the chances that he knew her husband? She settled herself in the boat, trying to calm her nerves.

They walked more quickly on the return to the beach. It was not far to the mansion. As they crossed onto the tufted grasslawn that bordered the sand, they were met by a man who was, Saphire presumed, Thad’s friend.