Talos Claims His Virgin. Michelle Smart

you lied about being busy on the gala weekend.’

      ‘It was a lie of necessity.’

      ‘No lie is necessary. If you can’t handle eyes on you when you play, how were you able to join the orchestra in the first place?’

      ‘It was a blind audition. Everyone who applied had to play behind a screen so there could be no bias. And, before you ask, of course I practise and rehearse amongst my colleagues, But that is a world away from standing up on a stage and feeling hundreds of eyes staring at you.’

      He shook his head slowly, his light brown eyes unreadable. ‘I am in two minds here. Either you are speaking the truth or you are telling another lie.’

      ‘I am speaking the truth. You need to find another soloist.’

      ‘I think not. Nerves and stage fright are things that can be overcome, but finding another soloist who can do justice to my grandmother’s final composition is a different matter.’

      Never mind that time had almost run out. He could spend the rest of his life searching and not find anyone whose playing touched him the way Amalie’s had in those few minutes he had listened to her.

      Talos had never settled for second best in his life and he wasn’t about to start now.

      ‘What do you know about my island?’ he asked her.

      She looked confused at the change of direction. ‘Not much. It’s near Crete, isn’t it?’

      ‘Crete is our nearest neighbour. Like the Cretans, we are descended from the Minoans. Throughout the centuries Agon has been attacked by the Romans, the Ottomans and the Venetians—to name a few. We repelled them all. Only the Venetians managed to occupy us, and just for a short period. My people, under the leadership of the warrior Ares Patakis, of whom I am a direct descendent, rose against the occupiers and expelled them from our land. No other nation has occupied our shores since. History tells our story. Agonites will not be oppressed or repressed. We will fight until our last breath for our freedom.’

      He paused to take a sip of his coffee. He had to hand it to her: she had excellent taste.

      ‘You are probably wondering why I am telling you all this,’ he said.

      ‘I am trying to understand the relevance,’ she admitted thoughtfully.

      ‘It is to give you an awareness of the stock that I, my family and our people come from. We are fighters. There isn’t an Agonite alive who would back down in the face of adversity. Stage fright? Nerves? Those are issues to be fought and conquered. And with my help you will conquer them.’

      Amalie could imagine it only too well. Talos Kalliakis ready for battle, stripped to nothing but iron battle gear, spear in hand. He would be at the front of any fight.

      It was her bad fortune that he had chosen to fight her.

      But her stage fright wasn’t a fight. It was just a part of her, something she had long ago accepted.

      Her life was nice and cosy. Simple. No drama, no histrionics. She refused to allow the tempestuousness of her childhood seep its way into her adult life.

      ‘I have arranged with your directors for you to come to Agon in a couple of days and to stay until the gala. Your orchestra will start rehearsals immediately and fly out a week before the gala so you can rehearse with them.’

      Her pledge to be amiable evaporated. ‘Excuse me, but you’ve done what?’

      ‘It will give you a month in Agon to acclimatise...’

      ‘I don’t need to acclimatise. Agon is hardly the middle of a desert.’

      ‘It will also give you a month to prepare yourself perfectly for the solo,’ he continued, ignoring her interruption, although his eyes flashed another warning at her. ‘No distractions.’

      ‘But...’

      ‘Your stage fright is something that will be overcome,’ he said, with all the assurance of a man who had never been struck with anything as weak as nerves. ‘I will see to it personally.’

      He stopped speaking, leaving a pause she knew she was supposed to fill, but all she could think was how badly she wanted to throw something at him, to curse this hateful man who was attempting to destroy the comfortable, quiet life she had made for herself away from the spotlight.

       ‘Despinis?’

      She looked up to find those laser eyes striking through her again, as if he could reach right in and see what she was thinking.

      ‘Do you accept the solo?’ His voice hardened to granite. ‘Or do I have to make one hundred musicians redundant? Do I have to destroy one hundred careers, including your own? Have no doubt—I will do it. I will destroy you all.’

      She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to extinguish the panic clawing at her throat.

      She believed him. This was no idle threat. He could destroy her career. She had no idea how he would do it, she knew only that he could.

      If she didn’t loathe him so much she would wonder why he was prepared to take such dark measures to get her agreement. As it was, she couldn’t give a flying viola as to his reasons.

      If she didn’t comply he would take away the only thing she could do.

      But how could she agree to do it? The last time she’d performed solo she’d been surrounded by her parents’ arty friends—musicians, actors, writers, singers. She’d humiliated herself and her mother in front of every one of them. How could she stand on a stage with dignitaries and heads of state watching her and not be shredded by the same nerves? That was if she even made it on to the stage.

      The one time she’d tried after the awful incident had left her hospitalised. And what she remembered most clearly about that dreadful time was her father’s fury at her mother for forcing her. He’d accused her of selfishness and of using their only child as a toy.

      A lump formed in Amalie’s throat as she recalled them separating mere weeks later, her father gaining primary custody of her.

      She was lucky, though. If times got really hard she knew she could rely on both her parents to bail her out. She would never go hungry. She would never lose her home. Her colleagues weren’t all so fortunate. Not many of them were blessed with wealthy parents.

      She thought of kindly Juliette, who was seven months pregnant with her third child. Of Louis, who only last week had booked a bank-breaking holiday with his family to Australia. Grumbling Giles, who moaned every month when his mortgage payment was taken from his account...

      All those musicians, all those office workers...

      All unaware that their jobs, security and reputations hung in the balance.

      She stared at Talos, willing him to feel every ounce of her hate.

      ‘Yes, I’ll come. But the consequences are something you will have to live with.’

      * * *

      Amalie gazed out of the window and got her first glimpse of Agon. As the plane made its descent she stared transfixed as golden beaches emerged alongside swathes of green, high mountains and built-up areas of pristine white buildings... And then they touched down, bouncing along the runway before coming to a final smooth stop.

      Keeping a firm grip on her violin, she followed her fellow business-class passengers out and down the metal stairs. After the slushy iciness of Paris in March, the temperate heat was a welcome delight.

      From the economy section bounded excited children and frazzled parents, there to take advantage of the sunshine Agon was blessed with, where spring and summer came earlier than to its nearest neighbour, Crete. She hadn’t considered that she would be going to an island famed as a holiday destination for families and historical buffs alike. In her head she’d thought of Agon as a prison—as dark and dangerous as the man