The Greek’s Cinderella Deal by Carol Marinelli

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

‘I’MSORRY, DAD.’ Mary pushed out a smile. ‘About last week.’

‘It’s fine, Mary. They got a message to me and I’ve always said you don’t have to come every week.’ He looked at her. ‘You’ve got a suntan...’

Mary felt more wretched with each passing day, yet somehow she looked healthy and glowing.

‘Yes,’ Mary said, and took a breath. Certainly she didn’t want to tell her father about her weekend. But... ‘Actually, I do have some news...’

She’d been using the phone Costa had given her. She loved it, actually, and had learnt from some friendly backpackers at the hostel she was staying in how to set it up. And how to recognise and block calls from Greece!

‘I’ve got some interviews lined up,’ she told her dad.

Except her father didn’t want to hear about her work.

‘You’ve been crying.’

‘I haven’t.’

She didn’t exactly sob herself to sleep in the dorm at the hostel, but she’d had a little weep this morning when all the excited tourists had headed off. She’d thought she had been so careful, but obviously he had spotted her slightly puffy eyes.

‘I’ve got hay fever.’

‘Mary. You might be able to fool everyone else, but I’m still your father...’

‘Just leave it, please, Dad.’ She looked at the bleak surroundings and then swallowed as her father pushed a parcel towards her. ‘What’s this?’

‘It’s okay, I’ve got permission. I’m sorry that it wasn’t ready in time. It was in the kiln. I made it for your twenty-first.’

‘I thought you’d forgotten.’

‘Of course not. I was just embarrassed that I didn’t have anything to give you, so I just...’

Avoided it.

They were both brilliant at that.

It was a little dish painted in her favourite colours, all oranges and bright blues. It almost looked as if it belonged on Anapliró.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Mary said.

And now the tears did fall—not a lot, but a couple of hot salty ones squeezed out of her eyes and ran down her cheeks.

‘You can use it for your earrings and things...’

A bitter laugh shot out of her lips and she quickly looked to her father. ‘That wasn’t aimed at you. This really is gorgeous...’

And then she looked up and saw his eyes were full of concern, just as they had been when she was a little girl.

Could she tell him?

How?

Yet she ached for advice, for an adult in her life who cared and who took an interest in her.

‘I met someone.’

‘Costa Leventis?’

‘How do you know?’

‘Mary, when all the newspapers were asking “Who is she?” I knew the answer. I’m your father. I’d recognise the back of your hand! How did you meet?’

‘I was on a date with someone else...’ She was too wretched to lie. ‘Not a date, exactly.’

‘Mary, please don’t take that path—’

‘I’ve learnt my lesson,’ she interrupted. ‘Well, I thought I had. Costa rescued me from an awful dinner. We agreed to spend a weekend on Anapliró—a Greek island,’ she explained. ‘I know it was a terrible idea, but it honestly didn’t feel like that at the time. He’s not really close to many people—just his mother—but he’s...’ How best to describe Costa? ‘He’s a bit of a lone wolf. Certainly he’s not the settling down type. I was supposed to convince his family that he was finally serious about someone. He told me from the start that he didn’t want to get involved, except...’

‘You’ve fallen for him?’

‘Yes,’ Mary said. ‘Dreadfully so...’ The tears were falling thick and fast now. ‘Not that it matters. There’s Roula...’

‘Roula?’

She shook her head. ‘Anyway, he thinks I’m a thief.’ She took a breath, because she didn’t want to hurt her father, but these were the bald facts. ‘Some earrings went missing. They were found amongst my things. A watch too...’

‘So he saw you off the island?’

‘Not at first.’ She let out a low laugh and stared at the tissue she was shredding with her incongruously still gorgeous nails. ‘He was all magnanimous and said that he forgave me. That he forgave me, Dad—’

‘He forgave you?’ her father cut in.

‘I needed him to believe in me.’

‘Mary, don’t disregard what he did. I’d kill for you to forgive me.’

She went very still and carried on staring at her hands, but then she dared to look up and she met his misty eyes.

‘I was always so cautious...’ her father said.

She wanted to halt him. It hurt too much. But she forced herself to listen.

‘Your mother used to tease me about it,’ he admitted. ‘Sometimes she told me off for being such a stickler for the rules.’ He gave a pale smile. ‘I said we should get a taxi home.’

‘You didn’t, though?’

‘No.’ There was so much regret in his voice that he didn’t even need to shake his head to emphasise it.

‘What happened?’ Mary asked, for the first time.

‘It was just a work do.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘You were upset. It was after that diving incident at school.’

‘Yes.’

‘I didn’t even want to go. I wish to God we never had.’

‘Mum wanted to go,’ Mary said.

‘She did.’ He gave a fond smile. ‘It turned into fun; she could always light up a room. She wanted to dance, have champagne...’

‘Mum was supposed to be driving,’ Mary said, recalling her mother picking up the car keys. ‘It was decided.’

‘Don’t...’ Her father shook his head.

She remembered scolding Costa. You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. And yet by never doing so, by never examining what had happened that night, somehow she had turned her mother into a saint. And this perfect person, her beloved mother, had been so much more than that. She had been funny, loving, mettlesome—and, yes, contrary at times. A perfectly imperfect human whom they had both loved so much.

‘You both made a terrible mistake that night,’ Mary said, and she thought of Costa’s words when she’d told him about her father: ‘Poor man.’ He had shown such compassion.

Forgiveness from someone you cared about was a gift indeed, and she swore to remember that in the future.

For the first time since she was a little girl she took her father’s hand. ‘She wouldn’t want this for you, Dad.’

‘I know, and I know I’ve said it a million times, but I am going to sort myself out.’

‘You will.’ She smiled. ‘I know it’s taken a long time, but I do forgive you. Both of you,’ she added.

‘It means the world to hear you say that.’

He seemed to sit a little straighter now, and Mary felt a little less adrift, for it was as if he’d become her daddy again. Mr Sensible.

‘You are not to go running off with strangers ever again,’ he said.

‘I won’t.’ Mary even smiled at the very notion. ‘Costa really was the exception. The first time I saw him it felt as if I’d just recognised a friend.’

But her father was dealing with the practicalities. ‘So, this man who by all accounts trusts no one...?’

‘What accounts?’

‘I do read the papers here, and I can get online too, and when I saw you with him... You’re telling me that he forgave you on the spot?’

‘But for something I didn’t do. He never even asked me.’

She remembered Costa glancing at the bed, at the watch and the jewels, at the evidence glaring him in the face. And he had forgiven her practically instantly.

She thought about him asking his mother and the security guards to leave, remembered the brief flicker of disappointment, and then something else in his eyes: concern. Compassion.

He had forgiven her. And now, as she sat there, she couldn’t even call it unwarranted—because that would be to discard an incredibly precious gift.

‘Why would he forgive you?’ asked her dad.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Don’t you think you should maybe find out?’

‘It’s too late for that.’

Her father smiled then. For the first time in fourteen years Mary saw her father’s real smile.

‘It’s never too late,’ he told her. ‘I found that out today.’

For once the visit was over too soon, and Mary left with her mind whirring.

Why had Costa so readily forgiven her?

She was frantic to call the retreat and plead with Yolanda for a chance to speak with him. But she’d probably hang up, or get Roula...

She hadn’t even reached the prison gates before she’d done a frantic search for airfares on her new phone. Perhaps it was just as well she was broke, or this time tomorrow she could be flying to Athens and sitting outside Costa’s office like some crazy stalker...

‘Mary?’

She heard her name said in rich, deep tones, as only he could, and thought she must be hearing things. Yet she looked up and there he was.

Dishevelled again, and unshaven.

His eyes were so black he might well have been in another fight—except they looked exhausted rather than damaged.

Mary walked out of the prison and into his arms. Whatever was happening, for a moment she simply relished being held by him, and the delicious safe space that his chest provided.

She could hear the thud, thud, thud of his heart. It was faster than she had known it before, even faster than after they’d made love, and yet he stood completely still as she gathered herself together in order to hide the glistening of love in her eyes.

Finally she was able to pull back a touch and ask, ‘How did you find me?’

‘I ask the questions,’ Costa said, looking down at her sternly. ‘I spoke with your delightful ex-boss on a couple of occasions last week.’

‘With Coral?’

‘Yes. You didn’t just leave your job to come to the island, did you? You left your home too.’

‘It was never really a home.’

‘You are dangerous, Mary Jones,’ he said, but he smiled along with saying it. ‘When you go for something, you really go for it, don’t you?’

‘It would seem so...’ She sighed.

‘Well, I have told Coral that I am still deciding whether or not to pursue a course of legal ac—’

‘Pursue what?’

‘Her treatment of you was so wrong, Mary, and believe me she has been told. Oh, and I can tell you the reason you’re getting nowhere with your references. I had Roula call her, and it would seem dear Coral takes less than a minute to discredit you. I thought it would be hard to find out where your father was imprisoned, but Coral sang like a bird.’

‘I knew it,’ Mary muttered. ‘So what are you doing here? Apart from making trouble at my old salon.’

‘A number of things. But first off I came to apologise.’

‘For what?

‘For not believing in you. For believing the worst.’

‘Costa...’ She wanted to interrupt him, to pause, to think over what her father had said, but he shook his head.

‘Not here.’

She was shaking as he led her to a car, and bewildered as they were driven to the hotel where they had first met.

Back where they’d started.

They were sitting in gorgeous chesterfields, he with a cognac and she with a hot chocolate, she looking at the purple orchid in its glass jar while he closed his eyes.

But then he pulled himself out of his reverie and opened his eyes, and there was the Costa she knew.

‘So, what have you been up to, besides trying to get over me?’ he asked.

‘Oh, I’ve been trying to get over you, have I?’ He really was so arrogant. ‘Actually, I’ve been busy looking for work. And I’ve got interviews—not just for work. I’m looking into a flat-share with some lovely Belgian people I met in the hostel I’m staying at.’

She deliberately didn’t let on about the rather dire status of her emergency fund.

‘I owe you some money...’ Costa said. ‘Kristina said you never gave her your bank details...’

Ah, so that was why he was here.

‘I don’t want your money, Costa. Most of our time together was wonderful. It would cheapen it for me if I was paid. Anyway, you’ve already given me enough...’

‘What?’

‘I’ve got nice clothes for interviews and I’ve got a phone...’ She took a breath. ‘I know better now how things should be, how I should expect to be treated. You did that for me, and it’s worth a whole lot more than a bundle of cash. I want to think of our weekend as...’

She shrugged and tried to come up with a word that downplayed the true depth of her feelings. Certainly a man like Costa would be bored with women declaring their love for him.

‘As a fling.’

‘Oh, I think you can do better than that,’ Costa said.

She flushed. ‘Okay, a romance rather than a paid date...’

‘Better.’ He gave her a small smile. ‘Mary, it was a romance.’

‘Thank you.’ With her father’s words still spinning in her head, she knew there was something else that needed to be said. ‘And thank you for forgiving me. I’m still furious that you felt you needed to, but I understand what it cost you to do it.’

Costa frowned. ‘I don’t forgive easily, Mary, but I figured you had your reasons...’

He struggled to elaborate, for the waiter was hovering, and even if this was his chosen secluded spot for business, it felt too exposed for this conversation.

Yet there were things they had to get through, so he nodded for another drink and she declined one.

‘You blocked my number,’ he accused. ‘I bought you a phone and the first thing you learnt was how to block me.’

‘I was about to unblock it,’ she admitted. ‘And if you didn’t answer I was going to call your mother, or even Roula, and ask to speak with you...’

‘About that...’

He’d closed his eyes again, and Mary had the awful feeling she was about to be told that he had given in to the pressure from his family and his community.

‘Here...’ He put his hand into his pocket and handed her something precious. ‘You forgot your magnet. It didn’t exactly suit my fridge...’

She held it as he shredded her heart.

‘Roula asked what the hell it was when I invited her over...’

‘Spare me the details, Costa.’

‘You always said you wanted details, though.’

Yes, she had. And, in truth, she did want the details and so she nodded.

‘Do you know why I let you go?’ he asked.

‘You didn’t have any choice,’ Mary pointed out.

‘Do you know why I wasn’t waiting for you in Athens?’

‘I never expected you to be...’

‘Mary, for a while there I told myself you were a little magpie.’

How did he get away with smiling as he said that?

Except she smiled too. ‘I have many issues, Costa, but stealing isn’t one of them.’

‘Well, whatever your issues, we will get to them later, but I wanted you to leave because I felt you were in danger.’

‘Danger?’

‘You never liked Nemo.’

‘No,’ Mary said, ‘probably because he didn’t like me...’ She took a breath. ‘I know he’s your head of security, and so you must trust him, but I think he set me up.’

‘Absolutely he did,’ Costa agreed, and then accepted his drink from the waiter. ‘Mary, I am going to tell you something that no one knows. Not even my mother—not a soul. It is incredibly important that you don’t breathe a word of this.’

‘Whom would I tell?’ she asked. ‘I’m not exactly connected.’

‘I know,’ he said, ‘but this is very delicate. After you left, I took my mother to her new home...’

‘Did she love it?’

Costa glanced sharply up.

‘Yolanda was a little upset,’ he said, and she was sure he was trying to be tactful. ‘About the events earlier...’

‘I ruined her birthday, then.’ Mary sagged in her seat.

‘Of course not,’ Costa said. ‘She blamed me entirely.’

‘Well, you will go bringing outsiders home!’ Mary sat back and wagged a playful finger, in her endless attempt to hide how much she was hurting.

Just this conversation to get through, she told her weary heart, and then we can move on.

Only it wasn’t like a prison visit that seemed to stretch on for ever.

It wasn’t duty or a sense of responsibility that tethered her to the chair opposite Costa.

It was love.

A different kind of love from any she had known.

A grown-up love that felt rather too enormous to contain.

There was sadness, and longing, but also love.

For though his hands were on the table, she felt as if they were cupping her cheeks again. Or gently holding her hands. Or as if they had crept up her skirt and were lightly stroking her thighs.

Her ache for Costa was permanent, and now heightened by his presence.

‘We spoke at length,’ Costa said.

‘Who did?’ Mary asked, because she was looking at the little scar above his eyebrow and trying not to think of those invisible hands.

‘Yolanda and I,’ he said. ‘Are you listening? This is important.’

‘Of course.’

‘We spoke a lot about days of old, promises made and then broken and the hurt they caused. She’s tired,’ Costa admitted. ‘Tired of working so hard at the retreat, tired of being vigilant...’

‘Surely she can slow down now?’ Mary frowned.

‘She said a few things that troubled me,’ Costa admitted. ‘Mary, why won’t you look at me?’

With supreme effort, she met his eyes.

‘Anapliró is not mine,’ he said. ‘Yes, I own a lot of it, but it has traditions and history that can never belong to one person. She told me of the shame she had felt when the Kyrios family cut us out. Yolanda knew it was not me they spurned, but the burden of caring for her. Some of the family bitterly regret it now. She can feel it. I told you Yolanda was a white witch.’

‘You did.’ Mary was on the edge of crying. ‘How did she find out about our arrangement?’

‘Nemo lied. I spoke to him when I got back. He said he had done a background check on you and that’s how he got Yolanda to sign off on what he did. I knew for certain then. Mary Jones from London, no fixed address...’ He started to laugh, but dryly. ‘We’re good at the retreat, but we’re not MI5. He was lying,’ Costa said, and then he offered her a toast and drained the one-hundred-year-old cognac without it touching the sides.

Mary sat bewildered as he righted himself.

‘After I spoke with Nemo I found Roula, and asked her to come to dinner at my home...’

‘Costa, please...’ Mary closed her eyes and massaged her temples. She wanted details, but not those.

‘I’m Greek,’ he told her. ‘I do business face to face. So you will listen.’

‘Even difficult business?’

‘Especially so.’

She took a breath and forced her game face back on. ‘So Roula came for dinner?’

‘Yes. You remember Yolanda said that Roula had been upset for a while...?’

Mary nodded.

‘We spoke. At first I spoke about the jewels and the watch her brother had found. She was nervous, I could see, so I changed the subject to work...’

‘And drank a little ouzo...?’ she said.

‘Of course,’ he agreed. ‘Unlike you, some people need to be a little loose to speak their mind. Roula wants to leave the island. But her family are upset at the thought, and Nemo especially does not want her to leave. He thinks that old promises should be kept. In fact, every day that he works for me he feels is an insult.’

Mary met his eyes urgently and opened her mouth to speak, but he overrode her.

‘Listen!’ he warned with a pointing of his finger. ‘Roula is more than troubled. She found something in her brother’s garage and is scared that her husband’s death might not have been an accident. I told you about philotimo...honour... Well, his is misguided, I believe. He wants the way paved for his sister to marry me and will use any means necessary. He is bitter and twisted and black with silent rage...’

‘Oh, God!’ It was far worse than she had even considered. She thought of Nemo’s cold brown eyes and felt fingers of fear grip her heart. ‘Has he been arrested?’

‘Not yet.’ Costa shook his head. ‘I gave him a promotion for catching a thief, but first he’s taken a few weeks’ bonus vacation...’

‘Thanks.’

‘No...’ He smiled. ‘Thank you! Look, I can’t have him near any guests. He’s being investigated, and I believe he’ll be arrested any day now, but it was five years ago that Roula’s husband died, so they have to be sure before they make a move. Nemo is in a good mood right now, telling everyone that Roula and I are together. Mary, I had to put that in place before I came here. I want you to—’ His voice cracked then, only she knew this was not fear. This was bigger.

‘Not here,’ he said.

Mary frowned. ‘No one can hear.’

‘Can we go up to my suite? I can’t do this with an audience. Look, I understand if you’re not comfortable...’

Mary stood without thinking, then wished she’d remained seated—or hesitated, at least! She was like a puppy galloping towards a treat, she thought angrily. For, despite all promises to her father and to herself never to make foolish mistakes again, Costa seemed to be the exception to her new rule.

She had a vision of him rolling up in London twenty years or so from now, sitting at this table, where she would be waiting for him. He was both her weakness and her strength.

Conflicted, she took his arm and they walked to the elevators.

He was going to tell her he and Roula were engaged—she just knew it.

Yet that lure was still there between them. Always there.

She sighed as the lift hurtled them up to his suite.

One more time, perhaps...

One last time with the man she would always love...

They stood on opposite sides of the lift. Costa looked at Mary and saw not the choppy new haircut, nor Leo’s stylish clothes, but the little fridge magnet she clutched in her hands.

Her admission of loneliness still humbled him. Her bravery terrified him at times—the fact that she would simply step out, or dive off, or refuse the easy route. And her honesty and loyalty disarmed him a thousand times over.

Hewas the coward—at least where love was concerned. And it was time now to be brave.

As they reached the penthouse floor he stopped her from stepping out of the lift. ‘Do you know why I forgave you when I thought you had stolen those family jewels?’

‘No.’

‘Because they mattered less than you.’

Mary stilled, unsure where his words were leading, unsure quite what he meant. She was silent more from being overwhelmed than by lack of words, for she was desperate for clarification.

‘I figured you had your reasons,’ he said eventually.

‘I didn’t, though...’

‘I was hoping we could work it out.’

She frowned.

‘Together.’

She stood so still, yet there was absolute movement in her soul. For she felt as if he was stepping into the empty space contained within it.

‘You were worth more to me than any jewellery,’ Costa told her, and offered his arm again.

On shaky legs Mary walked towards his suite.

‘You are the first person since my father whose leaving has mattered.’

They were at his door, but he did not go in.

‘I lied too, for I do have some good memories. He taught me to swim, to fish... I loved him. But one day he decided it was all too much and just walked away.’

‘I’m so sorry.’ She looked into those stunning eyes and the firewall was momentarily down, for there was old pain and confusion swirling there.

And so they just leant on the door, as if they were back lying in the pool, holding on to the edge and floating in the water.

‘I love my mother—you know that. But I wanted to be a kid, and a teenager too. I wanted school rather than work—fun rather than the constant fight to make ends meet and to care for her. I wanted liberty and I swore I would get it some day. It has taken me more than two decades to wrestle Anapliró from developers’ hands. I did up the family home, and I got that final piece of land back the day before we met. My duty was finally done and I could distance myself some more... I planned to see Yolanda for her appointments in Athens, and such, but I was ready for a life alone—or to be like ships that pass in the night on the occasional visit home.’

‘Beholden to no one?’

‘Yes,’ Costa said. ‘But it’s more complicated now.’

Of course it was. Yolanda wanted old promises kept and her son close by—and lots of big babies to smother in her love...

Mary knew that could never be for her. And not just because she was an outsider, but because she could never, ever leave her father behind.

‘Shall we go in?’ he asked.

They were still in the plush corridor, Mary realised. She stepped back from the door they were leaning on and he swiped it with his key card. She knew it would be far wiser to leave now. It bleeped with a red light and Costa swore in Greek.

He seemed... She frowned, because this very assured man seemed nervous as he swiped it again.

And then the door swung open and the very breath was stolen from her throat.

There were balloons.

Hundreds of balloons.

Gold, silver, pink and red, they floated or stood trailing delicate ribbons.

Mary walked through them slowly, looking up, looking around, and fourteen years of missed celebrations were erased.

‘Cake!’ she croaked.

‘Sokolatopita on one side,’ Costa told her. ‘Strawberry Fraisier on the other...’

She had never imagined that he might be so romantic. It had never entered her head that this man could take all the broken pieces of her and knit them together again.

But then smash it all on his inevitable way out...

‘I love you,’ she told him, and yet she kept her arms by her side. ‘But I think you already know that. Please don’t take advantage of the fact.’

‘Who’s taking advantage?’

‘You are. You’re going to marry Roula and have big, fat babies and live on Anapliró. Well, I won’t be your mistress. I can’t be!’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘You’ll cheat.’

‘I would never cheat.’

‘I’ll be your London lover, then,’ Mary accused. ‘You’ll roll through the city every now and then and I’ll—’

‘Seriously,’ he said, ‘what the hell are you talking about?’

‘Costa, why did you bring me up here?’

He looked at her, all flushed and angry—and jealous! Oh, yes, she was!

Costa smiled inwardly at her misunderstanding, but he loved this game too much to concede just yet.

‘I want sex.’

He had warned Mary he would be upfront about it when he asked, and she stood there, surrounded by balloons, watching unmoved as he took his tie off.

And then he shrugged away his jacket.

‘Are you going to just stand there?’ he asked, thinking of the other time she had stood in his doorway, so innocent yet so utterly brave.

‘How dare you? To come here and expect this...to toy with me when I’ve told you I love you. I can’t, Costa. I won’t.’

She watched him strip off so easily; he made her weak and so desperate to join him.

‘I can’t be a mistress or whatever... I can’t be lonely any more.’

‘Mary, you’re never going to be lonely again.’

And at that point she just melted.

One last time and then it would be over.

He kissed her so hard that she saw stars, and her skin screamed for him as he shed her dress.

She had on her Hope Dies Tonight underwear set. Not that she’d ever be wearing it again, for he tore it off.

And she was weak, weak, weak. Because she was frantically kissing him back. He tasted of cognac, and decadence, and it was the kiss she wished she’d been able to give him had he taken her to his suite that first night.

It was desperate.

She was scaling his body, clinging to him, and the constant need he created was pounding at her senses. The low throb of desire that had begun on the night of her birthday had become a constant companion.

He held her hips and one of the balloons popped—or was it her resistance? Because she was sinking onto him, wrapping herself around him.

She bit his shoulder, for it was as if they were back in the pool, or on his dark navy bed, only it didn’t hurt this time.

He guided her to a table and placed her hands behind her, so that she held herself up on its edges. Mary arched back, with nothing but the impossible pull of him holding her up. He was watching their rapid union, looking down at where they were joined. The sharp, breathy noises he made as her slippery body writhed in his hands seemed to spur him on, yet he held her steady so he could drive into her.

She wanted to watch him, but her neck was arching back. So she gave in to the delicious sensation. His shout and the way he seemed to swell inside her were both urgent, but she was lost in the abrupt thrusts he delivered, and in his sudden stillness as he drove into her for the final time, holding himself there while he poured himself into her.

And as he cried out she shuddered around him, knowing that nothing would ever be as incredible as this moment right here, right now.

Her arms were trembling and he was stroking her stomach, still shuddering with his last precious drops, and it actually hurt to feel sensation receding.

He scooped her up in his arms and gathered her close to his cooling body. He carried her to the bed, laying her down and falling on top of her.

They paused for a minute or two, catching their breaths and enjoying the delicious side by side of their bodies.

‘You didn’t open your present,’ he told her in a breathless voice.

‘I don’t want presents,’ she told him.

‘Okay,’ he said and sat up. ‘I’ll open it.’ He picked up the box and showed her. ‘I have very good taste, by the way.’

‘Good for you.’

‘Platinum,’ he said, ‘because I don’t like gold jewellery. I really do need to lose that watch—God, I wish someone would steal it!’

She felt the stretch of a tiny smile, but she did not dare to hook her heart onto his words.

Except...

‘I had Leo speak to a local jeweller who knows. Because I wanted a sapphire the colour of an Anapliró sky at midday, which is the closest I can get to describing your eyes.’ He took her left hand and found her ring finger and said simply, ‘I need you to marry me, Mary.’

‘Costa...’

‘Be with me.’

‘But Roula...?’

‘We are friends. I have told you that,’ he said, but she felt her eyes filling. ‘Always just friends...’

‘It’s not that.’ She and her father were finally close again. She could not abandon him now.

‘I’ve spoken to your dad.’ Costa’s voice slipped into her despair. ‘I visited him.’

‘You’ve met him?’

‘Yesterday. I asked his permission to marry you.’

Her heart flooded then, because her father had lost so much pride and Costa had given him a piece of that back.

‘We spoke about you, about your mother, and I told him about the moment I knew I was in love with you.’

‘When?’

‘You asked for scooter helmets and I laughed—and then I thought of him, of the agony of playing a part in the death of his wife, in the death of his daughter’s mother. I could have taken you up that hill and been every bit reckless as he...’

‘No.’ She shook her head.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Right or wrong, I would never have forgiven myself, and I knew then that even if it went against all my plans to be free, I was in love.’

‘And you didn’t think to tell me?’

‘I didn’t know what to do with those feelings,’ Costa admitted. ‘So I decided to wait until after Yolanda’s birthday...maybe in Athens...’

Mary lay there, spinning.

‘I didn’t tell your father this,’ Costa said, ‘but that man needs a good lawyer. And whatever happens from here, I shall make sure he gets one.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I swore him to secrecy.’ Costa frowned then, for ever the cynic. ‘You really had no idea I was going to ask you to marry me?’

‘None...’ Mary blinked. ‘I even told him a bit about what had happened. He just asked me why you would forgive me when everything pointed to my guilt.’

‘Because I love you first,’ Costa said. ‘Then we deal with any problems.’

It was a world she’d doubted she would ever know again, and yet since Costa had come into her life she had been right slap-bang in the middle of it.

It was her parents’ love that had made her brave as a little girl. It was their love that allowed for risks.

And it was his love, Mary realised, that had coaxed her return.

‘I would be beyond happy to marry you,’ she told him.

As the cool metal slid onto her finger she felt its weight, and she lifted her hand to stare at the enchanting stone. It was indeed as blue as her eyes and as deep as her soul.

She looked up at Costa, her safe harbour, and her adventure too.

‘Can we have babies?’ she asked.

He rolled his eyes. ‘Yes.’

‘And live on Anapliró?’

‘We’ll go often,’ he said. ‘Very often,’ he conceded.

‘Are you going to call Yolanda and tell her?’

‘I’m not that Greek,’ Costa said, and he climbed onto the bed to kiss her, and hold her, and who knew what else...? ‘It’s our party.’