The Greek’s Cinderella Deal by Carol Marinelli

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THEFALSESUMMERwas over.

Mary woke to a day on Anapliró that was silvery grey and yet still exquisite.

She could see the beautiful sea churning from where she lay. She and Costa were spooned into each other, and possibly, Mary decided, she had played the part of fake girlfriend a little too well, for he was trying to justify why he couldn’t take her with him.

‘I would ask you to come today,’ Costa said, ‘but I need to speak to Yolanda away from here.’

‘Of course.’ She tried to pull her lips into a smile, even though she was facing away from him. ‘That’s for the two of you. I understand.’

‘Even so...’

‘Hey, you promised me Sunday off,’ Mary said.

He rolled away and onto his back as she reminded him of all they had agreed to.

‘I want to go and look at the shops...’ She turned and moved towards him, looking him square in the eye as she lied. ‘And I want—’

‘I get it... I get it. You’re fine with the arrangement.’

He showered and dressed, and only when he had left to collect Yolanda did she let her smile fade.

How was she supposed to leave someone she loved? Did she wave, or smile, or did she just make it easier on her heart and disappear now? Take the ferry to Thira, maybe? Just be gone?

It seemed rude, but somehow kinder to her heart.

The coffee was strong, but nothing could clear the mist in her head.

Mary started to pack, but though she had done that more times than she could begin to count, this time it was agony. It was like trying to squeeze her heart into the case, and she was sitting there defeated, nowhere near packed, when there was a knock at the door.

He’d come back, she thought, with a surge of delight, and she almost ran to the door naked. But then, realising Yolanda might be there with him, she pulled on a wrap and flung open the door.

‘Nemo?’ She frowned, for he stood there in his uniform with a female security guard at his side.

‘This is my colleague,’ Nemo said, as she met his blank brown eyes. ‘There have been complaints of things going missing.’

‘I’m sorry?’ Mary shook her head. ‘We haven’t had any trouble. At least—’

‘Since you arrived,’ Nemo cut in. ‘I need to check your things.’

‘No!’ Mary went to close the door, but his foot moved to halt it. ‘You can wait until Costa is back,’ she told him.

‘Yolanda has asked me to do this while her son is with her. We have spoken and she is aware now that you are here as a working girl. I can either do this discreetly or I can call for the police.’

It was the ultimate walk of shame. Walking into the room alongside two security guards who knew that Costa had paid for her services. But far worse than that was the fact that Yolanda knew.

Except it wasn’t really like that.

Was it?

The only vindication was that of course she wasn’t the thief.

Still, it felt nerve-racking.

The luggage that Costa had bought her was all clear.

‘I told you,’ she said.

Then they went through her make-up bag, and it was then that Mary knew she would be leaving right away. There was no way she could stay here a moment longer after this.

But then Nemo opened up her folded hat, which was still in the wardrobe, and shook out the shells she had collected form the beach. Onto the bed fell some earrings, then a watch, and a silver hairpin with a diamond as big as Mary’s little fingernail...

‘No!’ she said immediately. ‘I did not take them.’

‘So they just fell into the hat?’

‘Of course not.’ Mary could feel her heart thumping in her chest as her worst nightmare came true. ‘I would never...’

She would not even pick up so much as a penny on the street to avoid precisely this situation. Her father’s crimes tortured her still.

‘It’s a set-up.’

‘What the hell’s going on?’

It was Costa, with his mother behind him.

‘Oh, Mary...’ Yolanda said.

The shell earrings Mary had given her were dangling on her ears and so it hurt even more that her voice was wretched with disappointment as she surveyed the bed.

‘Papou’s watch, Yaya’s earrings...’ Yolanda started to cry. ‘That is the hairclip poor Roula lost last night.’

‘Get out!’ Costa said.

Mary stilled at the darkness in his voice, but it was aimed at the guards.

‘I mean it,’ he said. There was no doubting that he did. ‘Out.’

‘Do you want the police?’ Nemo asked from the safety of the doorway.

Costa told him once again, this time somewhat less than politely, to leave.

‘Send a car.’ Yolanda dragged herself into management mode. ‘No police.’

‘You too,’ Costa said to his mother when the guards had departed. ‘Go.’

‘Costa, listen to me. We have policies for this.’

‘I’ll wheel you out myself,’ Costa warned.

Mary stood silently, like a statue, barely able to breathe as Yolanda turned to leave.

‘Costa...’ she tried one last time.

Mary turned and saw that Yolanda was crying and couldn’t manage the door. In silence he went over and saw her out.

‘She broke down in tears halfway up the mountain and told me what was happening back here,’ Costa explained when he returned to the bedroom, his face the colour of putty. ‘Things going missing, Nemo ran a background check...’

‘But I have no background.’

He just stood there.

‘Costa...’ She took a breath. ‘You know I’ve never slept with anyone else and you know I’d never steal.’

He would not even attempt to unscramble that one. He was cross, for there was drama, and there was panic, and all of this he most definitely did not want.

He had flown down that hill in a fury when Yolanda had confessed, and still he could not catch his breath...

‘We could have met when the ancient civilisations built that pool and I still would not have worked you out by now.’

He looked at the bed and the jewels and the watch and the shells and the scatter of sand. He was cross still, but for different reasons than he’d expected.

‘Surely you could have come to me if you needed more?’

But Mary clearly had more important things than money on her mind and she snapped, ‘How does Yolanda know about our agreement?’ She felt ill at the very thought.

‘I don’t know.’

He surveyed her half-packed cases and figured she’d been about to do a runner with the items. He thought of the plans he’d had for tonight and suddenly felt like the biggest fool who’d ever lived.

‘You were clearly about to leave.’

‘Yes.’ She was all shrivelled up inside again; all the confidence she had found had simply evaporated, but there was anger brewing too.

The injustice of it all! Costa stood, watching, as she started to put the rest of her things in her case. She did not cry, nor try to defend herself. Instead, her face was pinched, and he felt sideswiped again.

Because instead of feeling his usual world-weary indifference, he was crushed. He couldn’t summon up an angry word, nor bear to see her out to the car.

Costa took hold of her shoulders. ‘Mary, listen...’

He had never felt this close to anyone—never wanted to be this close to anyone...never been so desperate not to lose someone... He had never had to ask a woman to stay in his life. Usually he was the one ensuring they would leave as soon as possible.

‘Look, I’m not going to lose you over Yaya’s earrings. She was a miserable old cow...’

Not going to lose her? What was he talking about?

She was shaking now with anger and shame. ‘We can get past this,’ he told her.

‘Your mother won’t.’

‘I love her, but I long ago stopped answering to her. All that matters is us and that I forgive you.’

‘How generous of you,’ Mary sneered.

‘What the hell?’

What had he done wrong now? Because whatever it was she was shaking off his touch and pulling on her clothes.

‘I’m telling you that we can get past it, that—’

‘I don’t need you to forgive me, Costa.’ He watched her snarl. ‘I needed you to believe me. I slept with you...’

She said it as if it mattered. and it did—it had—but she upended his brain and shook the contents out, and he struggled to hold on to logic as she continued.

‘I slept with you, but more than that I gave you my heart. I was absolutely prepared for it to be broken, absolutely prepared to walk away as per our agreement, but never like this...’ She was closing up her luggage. ‘You should have believed in me...’

‘You make no sense.’ He just could not see it. ‘I know you are struggling. I have struggled too, in the past, and I am saying that I understand.’

‘You don’t,’ Mary retorted. ‘I am always the first one they point the finger at.’

‘They?’ Costa reared. ‘Who is they?’

‘At school, at work, in the foster homes I was sent to. It was always easier to blame Mary Jones. “Her dad’s in prison and she’s always short of money. Oh, and she’s a bit odd, you know.”’

‘And Mary Jones lies,’ Costa pointed out. ‘An awful lot.’

‘Yes,’ Mary said. ‘But I told you how much it hurt me to lie to your mother and to you. You should have stood up for me, defended me.’

‘Mary...’ he said as the retreat’s car arrived. ‘Barely a word you’ve said since we met has been true...and now, when it suits you, I’m supposed to believe you’re telling the truth?’

‘I haven’t told you anything. You never even asked. But, yes.’ She nodded. ‘Hell, yes.’

Let her go, Costa told himself. Let Mary from London, with her penchant for kleptomania, get the hell out and let me return to my life.

Except he liked it better with her here.

‘Mary...’ He watched her stomp angrily out to the car. Of course members of the security team were there, and no doubt his mother was watching too.

God, he loathed it here at times.

He almost charged out to haul her back, to halt her and have a good old row with her. But then for the first time in his life Costa Leventis froze.

Because he did believe in her. And he hadn’t even asked her... Even if it defied logic, he absolutely did.

His guts turned to ice.

Costa called to the driver to wait, went inside and grabbed a package, then walked back to the car and knocked on the rear window. She ignored it, but the driver knew who was boss and the rear window slid down.

‘Here.’ He emptied his wallet of notes and dropped them into her lap. ‘You might need—’

His lips pressed into a grim smile as the notes fluttered back and drifted off to the pool as she refused to accept them.

‘Don’t throw this back,’ he said. ‘You need a phone.’ He dropped the one he had bought her into her lap and thankfully she didn’t fling it back. ‘I’ll call you.’

‘Please don’t.’

‘Na proséhis.’This time he used the more fitting farewell. Take care. In the process. Yet her little phrase book might not capture the true affection behind the term.

And then she was gone.