Consequence Of The Greek's Revenge. Trish MoreyЧитать онлайн книгу.
hadn’t been interesting or scandalous enough to become common paparazzi fodder—not for a long time.
After the undisciplined years of her late teens, she’d made sure of that. She’d been cautious. Responsible. Determined to keep out of the public eye as much as possible. Which meant not taking unnecessary risks, however good-looking those risks might be.
‘No,’ she said finally, common sense winning over recklessness, not letting him argue further when he raised one hand as if to protest. ‘I’m afraid not. Thanks for the conversation. It’s been...’
‘Tempting?’
‘Interesting.’ Although she knew his word was far closer to the truth.
Someone brushed quickly behind her before moving away—a waiter gathering cups and plates, she presumed—so she had to wait a few moments until she could push her chair back. ‘It’s been lovely chatting. Have a pleasant evening.’ And then she reached beside her to where she’d left her bags. Except there was only one there. She blinked, checking on the floor under and around the chair.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘My handbag,’ she said. ‘It’s gone.’ She scanned the café, saw a man scooting between the tables towards the exit, the white strap of her shoulder bag trailing under the crook of his arm, and felt the sickening realisation that it hadn’t been a waiter or even a customer brushing past behind her, but a thief. He glimpsed back over his shoulder as if checking he’d made a clean getaway, guilt written all over his profile, and she was on her feet, pointing. ‘Stop!’ she cried, before appealing to the startled restaurant patrons, ‘That man’s stolen my bag. Someone stop him!’
‘Wait here,’ said Alexios, with a comforting hand to her shoulder and already off in pursuit, heads of patrons turning as he cut a swathe through the tables.
The waiter stood back for Alexios before he wove his way across to her, full of apologies and consolation. ‘Let me get you another coffee,’ he offered.
‘Not coffee,’ she said, not needing it. Her heart was already beating wildly in her chest. It needed no more stimulation. Her passport and her purse were in that bag. The thief had a head start on Alexios. If he disappeared amidst the alleyways of Thera and if she lost it...
The waiter nodded, only to return with sparkling water instead, and a tiny ouzo, ‘To calm your nerves’, while an American woman at the next table leaned over to pat her on the arm, tut-tutting about thieves who preyed on tourists, and hoping that Athena’s husband would get her handbag back.
She didn’t have the heart to tell the woman the truth, that they had never met before today. Because the second Alexios had disappeared, another unpalatable possibility had already wiggled its way into her consciousness, that her would-be rescuer and thief had been working together, one to distract her with compliments and meaningless conversation, while the other worked out the best time to strike. She’d assumed he was some kind of gigolo when all the time he was more likely some kind of common thief.
A devastatingly handsome, charming thief.
More fool her.
The seconds ticked by, feeling like minutes, all the smooth-talking compliments he’d given coming back to haunt her, mocking her. He’d called her beautiful and she’d been charmed stupid because of it. And suddenly she couldn’t sit there any more. Why was she waiting for a stranger to return with her purse? She should be going to the police.
The waiter waved aside the bill when she promised to return, when there was a commotion at the door, followed by applause and cheers, and there, standing in the doorway, was Alexios, breathing hard and holding her bag.
Relief surged like a wave over her. Never had she seen a more welcome sight. ‘You caught him?’
‘I did,’ he said, handing her the bag. ‘The boy won’t be bothering anyone around here again.’
More cheers rose from the patrons and Alexios was hailed a hero while Athena opened her bag to check her passport and purse were still there. ‘I was just about to go to the police. Should we report it anyway, in case he tries again?’
‘He didn’t have time to open it, let alone steal anything,’ Alexios assured her. ‘And after the talking-to I gave him, I’m sure he won’t be trying that again any time soon.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, peeling off some bills to pay for their coffees. ‘My passport and my credit cards are in here. I don’t know how to repay you.’
He smiled. ‘That’s hardly necessary. Though, if you insist, my invitation still stands to come to dine with me, if you care to change your mind?’
Her eyelids closed on a slow blink. The man had just rescued her handbag and she felt a flush of guilt for thinking Alexios might be working alongside the thief. And after he had proven himself trustworthy by catching up with the thief who had stolen her bag, it would be churlish to refuse dinner with him now, surely?
Besides, just for once it was nice to be able to give into temptation and not feel guilty about it. What possible harm could it do?
Her smile told him all he needed to know. He was already smiling himself before she uttered the words, ‘It would be my pleasure. Of course I’ll have dinner with you.’
HE HAD HER.
He’d never doubted it would work, of course. He’d expected her to refuse his advances, but he’d been prepared for that. What better way to secure her agreement than to make her believe she owed him? It had all gone off with domino simplicity, and now the blood in his veins pumped with new purpose, his plan unfolding as he led her through the winding paths and towards the table for two he’d prearranged that would give the best view of the sunset.
‘Santorini is my favourite Greek island,’ he said, as they strolled together through the labyrinthine paths. There was no need to rush. Sunset was still some time away, despite the jockeying already going on for positions. ‘Perhaps my favourite place in the world.’
‘Mine too,’ she said.
‘Is that so? Then we have something in common. This is a good place to start, don’t you think?’
She smiled in a way that told him she was amused rather than impressed. ‘I’m sure it’s a favourite for many people in the world.’
‘True,’ he conceded, knowing he still had work to do. She’d agreed to dinner but she was still wavering, he could see, still cautious. But she’d come around. It wasn’t as if it were a chore to charm her. He’d been speaking the truth to her over coffee. When she smiled, her face came alight, her surprisingly blue eyes dancing, and the most surprising discovery of all—dimples in her cheeks either side of her lush mouth, that turned classically beautiful into bewitching.
And then there was the way she moved. Wearing a cute nineteen-fifties-inspired sundress, with wide shoulders and full skirt all cinched in at the waist to accentuate the slim form that lay beneath, she moved with model grace, the sway of her hips sending the skirt of her dress in a seductive motion that had him already itching to peel it off.
No, it would be no hardship bedding her. No hardship at all. And before she knew it, she’d be so busy luxuriating in the glow of the loved, he’d relieve her of her fortune without her even noticing.
And by the time she did, revenge would be his.
It was perfect.
The sun was slipping lower in the sky, couples and groups of tourists already staking their claim for what they thought the best vantage point from which to witness the sun dipping into the sea in all its molten glory.
He made small talk as they wended their way through the town, keeping it light, making way when another train of tired donkeys lumbered home past them, their brightly coloured tassels