The Innocent's Surrender Read online

  Afterwards they’d been barely able to conceal their triumph at her capitulation, and she’d had no difficulty in refusing their offer to join them in the saloni for a celebratory drink, on the grounds that she had an early flight the next day and needed to get her rest.

  Except that she couldn’t sleep, she thought, turning over and giving her inoffensive pillow a thump, as if that might improve the situation.

  But her failure to relax had nothing to do with her physical surroundings. It was the nagging conviction that she’d just made a hideous mistake that was keeping her awake.

  She wished with all her heart that she could go down to the study, retrieve the letter to Alex Mandrakis and destroy it. But it was locked away in the safe, along with the other documents, and she didn’t have the combination.

  And telling the Papadimos brothers over breakfast that she’d changed her mind would make not an atom of difference, she thought bitterly. It was too late, and there was no way back.

  What a pity, she thought wryly, that I can’t share Maria and Christina’s unswerving faith in their husbands’ perspicacity. In their belief that this ludicrous swindle has some outside chance of success.

  She’d been almost tempted to confide in Thia Theodosia when she’d visited her on her way to bed. But she’d found the older woman lying on a couch, a book neglected in her lap, and gazing into space with eyes that seemed to see nothing but sadness, and she’d known at once that she could not add to her troubles.

  So she’d sat with her for a while, bringing a smile to her lips with stories of some of Helping Out’s more eccentric clients, and then, as she’d always done, asking for her foster mother’s parting blessing.

  But this time, she’d had an odd feeling that her request was prompted by more than mere convention. That, after the evening’s events, she needed all the protection she could get.

  She felt almost as if she’d stepped through some barrier into an alternative universe, she told herself wryly, consoling herself that things would seem altogether better once she was back in England, and out of harm’s way, her debt to the Papadimos family finally paid.

  London was her real world, she thought gratefully. The flat she shared with Molly while the latter’s fiancé was overseas, the company they were steadily building together, and now, of course, Neil.

  Closing her eyes, she let herself reflect pleasurably and deliberately on Neil.

  They’d met six weeks ago at a book-launch party for an author whose domestic life had been thrown into chaos when his pregnant wife had been taken into hospital with persistent high blood pressure, leaving him with two demanding older children, a total lack of catering skills and a fast-approaching deadline.

  Natasha had moved in, restored order with a firm hand, and given the author the space he needed to finish his book, along with three meals a day. She’d also stayed on to help when the mother-to-be was eventually allowed home with strict orders to rest, and joined in the general rejoicings when seven-and-a-half-pound Nathan—‘The nearest we could get to Natasha for a boy’—had been safely born.

  Neil was an executive with the PR company used by the publishers.

  He was tall, distinctly attractive, effortlessly charming, and he’d made an unashamed beeline for her when she’d made a hesitant appearance in the doorway of the crowded room, looking round for James and Fiona.

  He hadn’t haunted her side all evening, because he had work to do, but he’d sought her out again as she was leaving, asked for her card, and suggested they should have dinner some time.

  Some time had proved to be the following night, she recalled, smiling into the darkness, and they’d been seeing each other regularly ever since.

  ‘So, is he the one?’ Molly had enquired teasingly only a few nights ago when Neil had brought Natasha home from the theatre, drunk the offered coffee as always, then taken his leave with the usual ruefulness. ‘Are you finally going to take that leap into the great unknown of sex?’

  Natasha had flushed. ‘You think I’m mad to have kept him waiting this long, don’t you?’

  ‘Not altogether. “Treat ’em mean, keep ’em keen” would seem to be working in this case. And when it happens, he’ll know you really mean it.’ Molly allowed herself a small reminiscent smile. ‘But you’re far more hard-hearted than I was with Craig.’

  ‘Blame my sheltered upbringing,’ Natasha said lightly. ‘According to my Aunt Theodosia, sex before marriage does not exist. A girl’s innocence belongs to her husband, and no one else. Because any slips on the path of righteousness would only lead to misery, shame and despair.’

  ‘But the bride’s tough luck if she found out too late that the husband was lousy in bed,’ said Molly cynically.

  Natasha shrugged. ‘How would she know?’ Her eyes danced. ‘Besides, Greek men are all fabulous lovers. Another belief I was taught in my formative years.’

  ‘Well, there’s a comfort,’ Molly said affably. ‘All the same, were you never tempted to test that interesting theory?’

  ‘No,’ Natasha returned with unnecessary emphasis as she carried the used cups into the kitchen. ‘Not even once.’

  The sheet suddenly seemed to be tangling round her, and she pushed it away, sighing irritably, and got up from the bed. Her window was already slightly open in an attempt to capture some stray current of cool air, and she slid it back to its fullest extent, pushed open the shutters, and went out onto the balcony.

  There wasn’t a breath of wind, however. The warmth of the night lay like a blanket across the city, and even the ceaseless noise of the Athenian traffic seemed muted as it warred against the rasp of the crickets in the garden below.

  The moon was full, hanging in the sky like a great silver globe, almost close enough to touch, its radiance catching the cool shimmer of the swimming pool.

  She looked down at it with sudden longing, feeling hot, sticky and frazzled. Each of the rooms in this part of the house had its own flight of steps to the pool area, but no one else had been drawn out into the open air. In fact, the shutters on each window were closed, and there wasn’t a glimmer of light showing, indicating that all the occupants were peacefully asleep.

  Stelios, the security man whose task it was to patrol the perimeter wall, had gone past some fifteen minutes before, because she’d heard his soft footsteps and the subdued whine of his dog. He’d be safely back in his room now, drinking endless coffee, and keeping half an eye on the screens showing the film from the cameras positioned at each entrance, and at intervals round the outside of the wall. The rest of his attention would be devoted to whatever international sport was being shown on satellite TV.

  Anyway, there was no camera covering the pool area. Maria and Christina had protested vociferously about any such thing, claiming it would be an intrusion into their sunbathing privacy. And Basilis had reluctantly given way.

  So if she wanted to relax with a swim, there was nothing to prevent her.

  Her mind made up, she fetched a towel from her shower-room, and made her way quietly down the marble steps and through the thickly encircling bushes and shrubs to the pool.

  She dropped her towel onto its tiled surround, sent her nightgown to join it and stood naked for a moment, dipping an experimental foot into the water. Then, with a little sigh of pleasure, she slipped down into the cool depths, and swam a couple of slow, easy lengths before turning on her back and floating for a while, letting the stress of the evening ripple away in the moonlight that surrounded her.

  Heaven, she thought, sighing softly as she swam back to the side, lifting herself out of the pool in one lithe movement. She twisted her hair into a thick rope, wringing the water from it, then shook it loose again before reaching for her towel and beginning to blot the moisture from her skin.

  As she did so, it occurred to her that the noise from the city had become appreciably louder, and that was because the crickets were suddenly silent.

  My fault probably, she thought, smiling to herself. I must have put
them off their stroke.

  And at the same moment, a first, faint breeze whispered through the tall, crowding shrubs, rustling their leaves and making her shiver as she pulled on her nightgown again.

  She picked up her damp towel, and went swiftly and silently back to her room. The bed received her, and within minutes Natasha was deeply and dreamlessly asleep.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Neil said. ‘I thought a weekend away together might be the next step for us, but I’ve clearly got things terribly wrong.’

  ‘No.’ Natasha reached across the table and put a placatory hand on his. ‘It’s not you—really it’s not. It’s me.’

  ‘Oh, God,’ he said, wincing. ‘Not that excuse, please.’ He looked at her broodingly. ‘Tasha, you haven’t been the same since you got back from that flying visit to Greece three weeks ago. You’ve been quiet—evasive, even. I haven’t been able to get near you. I thought that maybe some time away together, completely on our own, might get us back on track.’

  ‘It could. It will.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But you must know that I have…family problems. Serious ones.’

  ‘Shipping millionaires don’t have problems,’ he said. ‘They just buy another fleet of tankers.’

  ‘Unfortunately,’ Natasha said quietly, ‘in this case, the fleet being bought happens to be ours.’

  She saw his brows lift, and nodded jerkily. ‘I’ve been reading hints in the business news for days now, and praying they weren’t true,’ she went on. ‘But this morning there was an unconfirmed report from Athens that a refinancing bid by the Papadimos brothers had failed, and both the Arianna line and the cargo ships have been acquired by an outfit called Bucephalus Holdings for some rock-bottom price.’

  She groaned. ‘Oh, God, I knew it wouldn’t work. They thought they were being so clever, yet now they’re in a total mess, free-falling to nowhere. Their father must be turning in his grave. And why on earth didn’t they tell me what was happening instead of letting me read it in the papers?’

  ‘Probably too busy trying to save something from the wreckage,’ Neil suggested reasonably, then paused, frowning. ‘Bucephalus? Wasn’t that a famous horse?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. She reached for her glass and took a substantial sip of wine. ‘It belonged to Alexander the Great.’

  ‘Who’s been dead for several thousand years,’ Neil pointed out. ‘His horse too. So hardly a threat.’

  ‘Unless he has a present-day counterpart,’ Natasha said grimly. ‘Or someone who thinks he is.’

  ‘Even so.’ He looked faintly puzzled. ‘Why should that affect you? I mean, I’m sorry your family’s suffered this awful loss, but you’ve always given the impression you never really wanted to be that involved in their business affairs anyway.’

  ‘I didn’t,’ she said shortly. ‘And now I won’t be, except, I suppose, for another trip to Athens for more damned paperwork. Although I can’t just turn my back and walk away, even then, because the only one who really concerns me in all this is Thia Theodosia. She’s going to be absolutely devastated. I’ve been trying to call the house today, but there’s no answer.’

  ‘Phone unplugged?’ Neil suggested. ‘Keeping the world at bay? You can hardly blame them.’

  ‘Don’t you believe it,’ said Natasha bitterly, and sighed. ‘Ah, well, there’s nothing that can be done now. It’s over.’

  ‘Not quite—if you have to go back to Greece at some point.’ He paused, adding gently, ‘But when that’s done, maybe we’ll have some time for each other.’

  She realised how considerate he was trying to be, and how aloof she must have seemed recently, and made a conscious effort to shake away the troubling thoughts which had been crowding in on her—oppressing her—for weeks. Some of which she hadn’t dared consider too closely.

  ‘You can count on it,’ she said softly, and smiled at him.

  The e-mail summoning her arrived a week later. It came from a firm of lawyers she’d never heard of, and advised her that her presence was required in Athens in order for the transaction with Bucephalus Holdings to be completed. It added that, on receipt of her flight details, she would be met at the airport.

  Well, that was short and to the point, Natasha thought wryly, and quite unlike the other e-mails she’d been receiving from Stavros and Andonis, which were barrages of recrimination, accusation and self-justification. It took every scrap of patience she possessed to read them, let alone reply to them.

  Everyone else’s fault, as usual, she thought wearily as she pressed the delete button on the most recent outpouring.

  It was not lost on her either that her anxious queries about their mother were being totally ignored.

  But when I’m there, she thought, I’ll be able to see for myself how she is.

  ‘I’m sorry to leave you in the lurch like this when we’re so busy,’ she apologised to Molly as she filled her overnight bag. ‘But it won’t happen again. Any future visits will be solely to see Thia Theodosia, and I’ll be able to schedule those during my normal holidays. That’s why I’ve booked evening flights, so I’ll only be away for a day.’

  ‘It’s all right, so stop fussing,’ Molly ordained severely. ‘We can cope without you for twenty-four hours, no worries, so go and do what you have to.’ She paused. ‘I just hope it won’t be too awful.’

  Natasha shook her head. ‘Bound to be,’ she said wearily. ‘I—I just can’t believe it’s all collapsed so quickly. And what’s going to happen to the workforce? It’s a generational thing. Whole families are involved.’ Her voice was suddenly husky. ‘Thio Basilis was always so proud of that.’

  ‘Surely the new owners will keep them on,’ Molly suggested. ‘After all, the ships need to go on sailing.’

  ‘But not necessarily with Papadimos crews.’ Natasha zipped up her case. ‘Oh, God, why couldn’t those idiots make peace not war for once with Alex bloody Mandrakis? If they’d accepted his original offer, at least they’d have been left with something. But, no. They had to try and get the better of him.’

  ‘There was a picture of him in the paper the other day,’ Molly said idly. ‘Attending some film premiere with his latest squeeze. Admittedly gorgeous, but not someone I’d choose to mess with.’

  ‘You have wisdom beyond your years,’ Natasha said bitterly. ‘But—he’s done his worst, and all we can do now is try and pick up whatever pieces remain.’ She reached for the dark grey jacket that matched her skirt, and slipped it on over her crisp white shirt. Business clothes, she thought, for a business meeting, and sighed imperceptibly.

  She added, ‘I almost feel sorry for Maria and Christina. They never bargained for this at those lavish weddings a few years ago.’ A note of mischief entered her voice. ‘But I bet they’re not treating their husbands with quite such doting devotion these days. In fact, with any luck, they’re giving them hell.’

  And on that upbeat note, she grabbed her bag, and left for the airport.

  Neil had offered to see her off, but she’d refused on the grounds that parking would be a nightmare and that, anyway, it was no big deal.

  ‘I’ll be back before you know it,’ she’d promised.

  ‘And I’ll be counting the hours,’ he’d returned, and taken her in his arms, his parting kiss displaying an unaccustomed hunger.

  Something, she realised, that she’d found disturbing, and not altogether for the right reasons.

  In effect, she thought as she sipped at the orange juice she’d ordered from the drinks trolley, it had been a candid reminder that, on her return, he was confidently expecting that they would be moving their relationship on a stage and becoming lovers. That she’d pretty much promised him that would happen.

  ‘Oh, God,’ she groaned under her breath. Don’t chicken out. Not again. Not this time.

  You really like Neil. You may even be starting to fall in love with him. But how will you ever know—be sure—until you commit yourself, even in this most basic way?

  The problem was she hadn’t been jokin
g when she’d told Molly about the strictness of her upbringing. And it was difficult to shake off that kind of conditioning, even if you believed you might have met the right man.

  For Thia Theodosia, Mr Right came with a wedding ring in his pocket, and treated you with total respect, knowing that your virginity was part of the dowry you brought him, until the ring was on your finger and the priest had pronounced you man and wife.

  For her, it was that simple, and that iron-clad, and she would be distressed beyond measure if she thought that Natasha would ever consider a breach of that strict moral code.

  And the fact that Natasha had begun to regard herself as some kind of curious anachronism would be no valid excuse.

  But was it only the tradition in which she’d been raised that had held her back since she’d left Greece to live an independent life? Or was it more that she’d never been seriously tempted to break that unwritten sexual law?

  And was she deeply tempted now—with Neil?

  I wonder, she thought unhappily. I really wonder.

  She considered Molly and Craig, who’d met at a party, fallen into bed together within twenty-four hours, become engaged a few weeks later and were waiting impatiently for Craig’s contract in Seattle to end so they could be married.

  No one or nothing could have kept them out of each other’s arms, she acknowledged, their temporary separation being marked by letters, e-mails and nightly phone calls.

  But perhaps I’m a different temperament, she thought. The slow, steady type as opposed to Molly’s headlong certainty about what she wants from life, and how to get it. Maybe that’s why we’ve been friends since school, and why we work so well together now.

  So far Neil had seemed content to play by her rules, but that was not going to last much longer. She’d reached the same stage before, with other boyfriends, who’d got fed up when she kept backing off and had walked away.