Secrets of Cinderella’s Awakening by Sharon Kendrick

CHAPTER TWO

‘SOWHATDO you think? Like it?’

The drawled questions, delivered in Leon Kanonidou’s knockout velvety voice made Marnie’s cheeks grow hot and, hoping he hadn’t noticed—she looked around the restaurant.

It was gorgeous. Like something you might see in a film. Just a few tables perched on a dramatic rocky outcrop above the sea, into which the sun was sinking like a giant red ball. Beneath them was a long beach of fine sand, lit crimson and mauve by the dying light. Still early, the place was empty except for them—though surprisingly for such an out-of-the-way location, every table was reserved. In fact, the proprietor had borne down on them rather forbiddingly when they’d arrived, all windswept and dishevelled and she’d thought they were going to be turned away. Until Leon had spoken to him in Greek and Marnie had watched an astonishing transformation take place. The man had almost done a double take before nodding his head, quickly removing a ‘Reserved’ notice and reverentially ushering them to the table with the best view.

Marnie thought she could understand why. Had her companion used his lazy charm to get what he wanted, or had he simply turned on the full force of his charismatic personality which made it hard to imagine refusing him anything?

She felt supremely relaxed, sitting here with him. The tiny place had none of the unashamed opulence of the Paradeisos complex where she worked, which sometimes made her feel a little bit uncomfortable. Yet as she shifted her bottom on the chair, she found herself wondering what she was comfortable with—because climbing onto the back of a total stranger’s motorbike and speeding off in a cloud of dust wasn’t her kind of thing at all.

Usually she was cautious with men and as unlike her twin sister as it was possible to be. She had never acted impetuously with a member of the opposite sex because up until now there hadn’t been a good reason. Was feeling as if someone had reached inside her body to stir up her senses a good enough reason? As Leon’s eyes met hers she saw his lips curve into a faintly mocking smile—almost as if he’d guessed at her thoughts. Yet instead of bristling defensively, Marnie found herself grinning back and that was addictive too. For a moment she felt as if she were somebody else. One of her clients, maybe. One of those rich, confident women who breezed into the salon and seemed to smile for no reason at all. Who studied their phones with expressions of pleasure, not dread. She stared down at the dish of shiny olives and wondered if it would be wise to eat one before deciding to err on the side of caution because black teeth were never a good look, except maybe at Halloween.

Instead she sat back and luxuriated in the fact that for the first time since she’d been on Paramenios, she actually felt as if she were on holiday.

Leon had driven her all the way round the tiny island, past postcard images of sleepy white villages with purple bougainvillea scrambling around bright blue doors. She’d marvelled at crystalline turquoise waters fringed with unexpected greenery and the soar of distant mountains. They’d skirted tiny shops bursting with trays of ripe, plump peaches, and seen lines of drying octopi, which stretched in front of the dancing sea. Yet all the time she had been acutely aware of the Greek’s hard body as she clung to his waist. Had found herself grateful that her pillion position gave her a legitimate excuse to wrap her arms around him and feel all that hard muscle rippling beneath his black T-shirt. Which came as a bit of a shock to someone who wasn’t remotely tactile. Who found it hard not to recoil if someone touched her. The truth was that she’d never met a man she considered irresistible.

But Leon Kanonidou was another matter...

And now, sitting opposite him sipping a delicious drink he’d told her was made from almonds and cinnamon, she luxuriated in the sensation of being happy in her own skin. Until she remembered Pansy, miserable and scared in her prison cell in England, and a shiver of guilt ran down her spine.

Aware that Leon was regarding her expectantly as if awaiting a reply to his question, she dragged her thoughts back to the present. ‘I love it,’ she said. ‘It’s the prettiest restaurant I’ve ever seen.’

‘And does it make up for the coach trip to see the vases?’

‘Oh, I think you could definitely say that. Not an ugly vase in sight.’

He smiled, lifting his fingertips to summon a waiter, but the proprietor himself came scurrying over, nodding his head intently while the order was given in Greek.

Once the man had departed, Leon leaned back in his chair. ‘I’ve ordered fish. I hope you like it. It’s the only thing on the menu.’

She hesitated, aware that so far he had made all the decisions and although she was quite enjoying somebody else being in charge for a change, maybe it was time she asserted herself. She looked at him with challenge in her eyes. ‘What would you say if I said I hated it?’

‘I’d say you’d never eaten fresh fish which had been hauled out of the water just a few hours before and then thrown on a fire scented with herbs fresh from the mountainside, so that the flesh is as soft as butter melting in your mouth.’

His voice was caressing now and Marnie was suddenly aware of the weight of her hair as it fell over her breasts and the sweet, tight tug of her nipples. And suddenly Pansy was forgotten. Everything was forgotten except for the way he was looking at her and making her feel. Was that why she blurted out her next words, which afterwards would make her cringe for being so unbelievably naïve? ‘You make everything sound so...’

‘So?’

His gaze pierced through her like a blue sword aimed straight at her heart. Marnie wanted to say romantic, but suspected that wasn’t the right word. Because romance was soft, wasn’t it? And there was nothing soft about this man, no matter how silken his question. There was something hard and invulnerable about him—something which attracted yet cautioned her at the same time. She wanted him to kiss her, she realised. She wanted it in a way which was inexplicable—yet she didn’t know a thing about him. She smiled up at the proprietor as a delicious-looking platter of sizzling fish was deposited on the table, alongside a bowl of Greek salad and two plates.

‘Why don’t you tell me something about yourself?’ she said, her years as a hairdresser reminding her that people liked nothing better than to talk about themselves.

‘Ohi.’He shook his head, tendrils of dark hair moving sinuously against the olive glow of his skin. ‘I’m far more interested in you, Marnie Porter. Who you are and how you came to be here.’

She felt a sudden rush of nerves, though she kept her face impassive—the result of years of knowing that social workers would be studying your expression and trying to work out what you were really thinking. But Marnie didn’t want to talk about her past, which had been rubbish. She didn’t want to consider the equally scary future either, with all the worrying possibilities which lay ahead. She just wanted this. Now. Whatever this was. So she stalled. She was an old hand at stalling. ‘What exactly do you want to know?’

‘You’re English?’

‘Yes, I am. From London. Well, Acton.’

‘Act On,’ he repeated, making it sound like two words instead of one. ‘I know London very well but I don’t think I’ve heard of Act On.’

‘There’s no reason why you should—it’s hardly in the buzzing epicentre of the city, though there is a transport museum, which is very popular with schoolboys.’

‘But not with you, I think?’

‘No. Not with me.’

He smiled as a waiter slid a sizzling fish onto each of their plates, before raising his dark eyebrows at her. ‘And this is your first time in Greece?’

She nodded. ‘It is.’

‘Where are you staying?’

‘You don’t think I could be staying where you found me?’ she questioned innocently. ‘At the Paradeisos? Don’t I look like their usual type of client?’

There was a pause. ‘If you want the truth, then no.’

Marnie stiffened because this was familiar territory. Who could blame her for being defensive when she’d been considered second-best for most of her life? Being second-best was the reason she’d worn hand-me-down clothes and shoes. And why she’d been stuck in the homes of people who didn’t really want her, or her sister. ‘Too trashy, I suppose?’ she demanded hotly.

But he shook his tousled head. ‘No, not at all. Too...normal, I guess.’

Oh, how wrong could he be? Normal? Marnie almost laughed. An outsider, yes. And a freak too, very occasionally. Both those things. But a human being who blended in with the rest of the world? Never.

‘I am staying there, if you must know,’ she countered, enjoying the surprise which flickered over his face. And then, because he had been kind to her and because she liked him, she shrugged before making her admission. ‘I work there. In the spa.’

‘You work there?’

‘That’s right. I’m a hairdresser, though I’m also qualified as a manicurist and a beauty therapist. And obviously I can do brows and waxing. Not my favourite part of the job, I have to admit.’ She pulled a face. ‘Whoops. Probably too much information.’

Leon felt a rush of something he didn’t recognise. Was it her deadpan delivery which was making him smile, or her refreshing outspokenness? She certainly wasn’t the usual kind of woman he had dinner with. He mixed with investment bankers and CEOs. With models who commanded a king’s ransom for photographers to capture their matchless faces and incredible bodies. With actresses who kept gold-plated awards rather pretentiously on the shelves of their downstairs closet.

And usually he would be bored out of his skull by this stage of the meal.

He felt his pulse quicken as he acknowledged the steely throb at his groin. She wasn’t his usual type, that was for sure—and not just because she was blonde. She was pretty enough. Not beautiful, no—the set of her jaw was too firm and her lips weren’t full enough for conventional beauty—though her dark-lashed eyes were remarkable. She was no traffic-stopper, yet there was something about her which was so out of his comfort zone that Leon felt curiously alive in her company.

‘A hairdresser,’ he observed softly.

She pursed her lips together, as if he had criticised her. ‘I’m actually a very good hairdresser, which is how I got a job in a place like the Paradeisos,which—in case you didn’t know—is a very high-end hotel complex.’

‘Yes, it is,’ he agreed gravely.

‘In fact, I can give you a trim some time, if you like. Those ends don’t look in great condition to me and it’s long enough for you to be able to lose a bit. Call it payback for having come to my aid, if you like.’

Leon nearly laughed as he wondered how the prohibitively expensive hairdressers he visited in London and Paris and New York would react to the suggestion that his hair wasn’t being properly maintained. ‘Maybe I’ll take you up on that,’ he murmured. ‘But in the meantime—don’t you think we should eat? Any minute now and the chef will come storming over here to demand to know what’s wrong with the food.’

She looked startled. As if she had forgotten that they were in a restaurant and that the proprietor was casting worried looks over their untouched meal.

‘I guess we should,’ she said.

But he noticed that she was spooning salad onto her plate without enthusiasm, and chewing fish in a way which seemed almost mechanical. Did the food taste like sawdust on her tongue, as it did for him? Yet that should come as no surprise when eating was the last thing he needed right now. He wondered if she was aware that he wanted to taste nothing more complex than her skin. To slowly lick his tongue over every salt-covered atom of her curvy body, to discover her scent and her flavour.

Yet he didn’t do casual hook-ups. It didn’t suit his fastidious nature. Maybe it was arrogant of him to think that his cool intellect was always capable of conquering his baser instincts, because hadn’t he been on fire with need since she’d slid onto the back of his bike? Hadn’t it taken all the concentration he possessed—which was usually formidable—to focus on the journey and not the heavy throb between his legs? As an exercise in self-control, it had been considerable.

‘Your turn now,’ she said.

Her words shattered his erotic fantasy. ‘My turn?’ he questioned throatily.

‘I don’t really know anything about you, do I? Other than the fact you were named after a lion and you’re very handy with a pair of tweezers.’

He started to laugh. Maybe that was the secret of her unexpected allure. She was quick-tongued. Bright. Plus she was treating him with an irreverence he wasn’t used to, which he was discovering he liked. Would she continue to behave in the same way towards him once she discovered who he really was? He doubted it.

All the more reason not to tell her.

‘I’m Greek,’ he informed her.

‘Obviously.’

‘And I came to Paramenios for the weekend because work has been pretty full-on lately.’

He watched as she bit into a slice of tomato and found himself wanting to lick away the gleam of juice which lingered on her lips.

‘What kind of work do you do?’

The question was unwelcome and Leon wondered how to avoid it. If he told her, it would change everything. It always did. His billionaire status altered the way women viewed him—hadn’t that been demonstrated time after time, and contributed to his innate cynicism?

‘I’m a builder,’ he said.

‘Ah. I thought so!’

‘You did?’

‘Uh-huh.’ Pushing away her barely touched plate, she smiled. ‘I can imagine you wielding a sledgehammer on a building site. You’ve definitely got the build for it—no joke intended.’

For some reason, Leon found her remark slightly insulting. Was she implying he was all brawn and no brains? For a moment he was tempted to tell her that he’d been offered a place at Stanford at a precociously young age, until he’d decided that his future didn’t lie in academia and he needed to get out there and make some money. But then he wondered what he was thinking. This wasn’t some sort of boasting exercise. He certainly wasn’t there in order to establish his intellectual credentials, or prove himself to her. He knew exactly why he was there—and judging from the sexual energy which had been fizzing between them from the get-go, she knew it too.

‘Have you finished?’ he asked.

She surveyed her plate. ‘Well, I have and I haven’t. I really don’t want to offend the chef, but I’m not hungry.’

‘Me, neither.’

‘Must be the heat.’

‘Must be.’ There was a long pause. ‘Don’t worry about the chef,’ he said softly. ‘We’ll make sure we tip generously.’

‘Yes. Yes, of course.’ Hastily, she reached for her beach bag and a sandy shell fell onto the table as she started to rummage around inside. ‘I’ll get my purse—when I can find it, that is. I’m happy to split the bill.’

Leon’s eyes narrowed. It was a novel experience to have a woman offer to pay and for a moment he thought about letting her, because novel experiences were rare in his world. Until he reminded himself that despite the clifftop restaurant’s deceptively rustic appearance, the food commanded prices far beyond the reach of most mortals. He shook his head. ‘No, you won’t—but thanks for the offer. I’ll see to it.’

‘But—’

‘I said, I’ll pay. Now, would you like to look at the desserts before I ask for the check, or would you prefer to walk on the beach and catch the last of the sunset?’

His words floated on the warm air and as Marnie stared into his sculpted face, she was unbearably tempted. Until he’d suggested it, she hadn’t been aware of just how much she wanted to be alone with him—away from the frankly intrusive glances of the attendant staff who seemed to be hovering around their table quite unnecessarily in her opinion, considering they were the only customers in the place.

But she wasn’t stupid and she knew how the world worked. If it were possible for a person to be aware of the corrupting power of sex without ever having had any actual experience of it—then Marnie was that person. She had been brought up to fear it. To be aware of all the trouble it could get a woman into. It was why it hadn’t particularly bothered her when men had accused her of being frigid or cold, whenever she’d failed to respond to their fumbling kisses. But those kisses had felt like ambushes, whereas the thought of Leon’s lips pressing down on hers was making her feel quite dizzy with need.

He was making it clear that he found her attractive and maybe she should be scared by the knowledge of where that could lead. Maybe she should tell him that if he wanted to see her again, then he should take her number and call her and then arrange a second date. That was what you were supposed to do, wasn’t it?

But she wasn’t going to.

Because Marnie knew better than anyone how fleeting happiness could be and something was telling her that if she didn’t grab at whatever he was offering, she might never get the chance again. Why wouldn’t she want to take a walk with this gorgeous man whose black waves tumbled so riotously against his darkly golden skin?

Which was why she nodded. Why she rose to her feet with a solemn expression. Why she accepted that she was about to break one of her most fundamental rules—and break it big time. ‘I’d like that very much.’ Her fingers tightened around the strap of her beach bag. ‘I’ll just use the bathroom and then I’m all yours.’

Her words were clumsy and open to misinterpretation and she wished she could take them back. But there again, why should she?

They both knew what was on the menu for tonight and it certainly wasn’t fish and salad.