One Summer Night. Carol Marinelli

intensity of his gaze, back to his mouth, but she could not concentrate by looking there, so she looked downwards—to clothes that could never be described as casual, for there was luxury in every thread. The silk and cashmere black jumper billowed in the wind to give a blatant outline of his chest, the charcoal grey linen trousers rested low on narrow hips—there was no escape from his beauty. Even as she searched lower she was met with naked feet, the olive of his skin a contrast to the pale sand, and she wanted to get away from him, wanted the beach to be empty, wanted to get back to the safety of her thoughts and a walk that was gentle and aimless, instead of the confrontation with him.

      ‘Neither does Nico,’ Zander said. ‘On Monday I plan to surprise him.’ He must have seen the flare of worry in her eyes, for he moved swiftly to assure her, ‘I am hoping that the surprise will be a pleasant one …’ He sensed her doubt, knew that her instinct was to flee, and he did not want her spoiling all he had planned, did not want her running to Nico with her tales, but also … He looked down at the pale cream shift dress and the long slender arm he had a moment ago been holding, then up to the face that was just as pleasing as the voice he had dealt with in recent times, to the blonde hair that the wind whipped around her face and, yes, he wanted time with her, wanted to meet the voice that had entranced him, for on Monday, when he had said his piece, when he had wreaked his revenge, for sure, Charlotte would want nothing to do with him.

      ‘I can’t believe this.’ She was completely stunned. ‘Does this mean Nico has found his …?’ She stopped herself from asking further. It was certainly not her business to probe into her boss’s private life, and Nico gave little away. He had told her, more than a year ago, his suspicions that he was, in fact, adopted, but only so that she could be of assistance in researching his history. Though Nico was actively looking for his birth mother, not once had he mentioned that he had a twin—and an identical one too. She knew she had to speak with him, to get away from Zander and speak with Nico, but there was something that needed to be addressed.

      ‘You knew when you spoke to me.’ Her voice was accusing, which was ridiculous perhaps for he owed her nothing, but somehow she felt betrayed. ‘I should go back …’ There were so many questions and she must not look to him for answers. She plastered on a smile, pretended she was not perturbed, and tried to walk nonchalantly away from him.

      ‘Stay,’ Zander said.

      ‘I have things to prepare, I have work to do …’

      ‘Surely you have questions?’

      She did, so very many, but surely the answers should come from Nico. Perhaps Zander sensed where her loyalties lay, and in that moment the battle was on—he wanted her loyalty, wanted to take everything from his brother, and Charlotte seemed a very good place to start.

      ‘Let us just enjoy the evening,’ he said. ‘There is no harm surely in walking. Perhaps we could have a seat at the beach café and watch the sunset.’

      Would it be rude to refuse?

      Would Nico scold her on Monday for snubbing his brother?

      ‘Or …’ he sensed an opening ‘… we could just walk?’

      She gave a hesitant nod. Her guard firmly up, she walked tentatively alongside him, determined to say nothing that might compromise Nico until she was sure what was going on.

      ‘Are you enjoying the hotel?’ Zander asked, and she remembered he owned it, that the man beside her owned the very ground they were walking on. She knew then the true might of this man.

      ‘It’s wonderful.’

      ‘He was a hard man to find.’ It was Zander who broke the tense silence; it was he who spoke of his brother. ‘His name is the one that is different.’

      She said nothing to that.

      ‘You like your job?’ Zander changed track.

      ‘Of course.’ He heard her terse response and could only admire her restraint, for surely she must have a thousand questions, but he watched as she kept them in. He wanted her to speak of his brother, so he paved the way and spoke first about himself.

      ‘I love it here.’ The words choked in his throat, for he could not loathe the place more, but when she glanced up at him, Zander made sure he was smiling. ‘Always it was my dream to come back …’ He looked at the luxurious properties he’d had carved into the cliffs and hills of Xanos and she followed his gaze.

      ‘Where was your house?’ She could not help but ask, wondered for a mad moment if it was the house Nico lived in now, but he motioned vaguely to the middle of the development. ‘Where is the one you grew up in?’

      ‘Where the hotel is.’ He saw her tiny frown. ‘It was unsalvageable.’ He chose not to tell her it had been the first property he had had knocked down, that he had stood with the best champagne in his hand in his office in Australia, and cheered silently as the bulldozer had set to work. Knowing that his family home was being destroyed had been the only moment of pleasure Xanos had given him.

      ‘You like the beach?’

      He saw that she relaxed a little at the less loaded question. ‘I love it,’ Charlotte admitted. ‘Not swimming or anything …’ She smiled, a real smile, the first since she had realised who she was speaking to, and he watched her blue eyes brighten, her mouth spread, and he wanted to see more of the same. ‘Just walking, thinking …’ Her eyes roamed the horizon. ‘Remembering …’ He wondered what. Perhaps romantic walks with Nico before he’d taken a wife, but her voice broke into his thoughts. ‘We always holidayed at the beach,’ Charlotte said. ‘When I was younger.’

      He heard her pensive pause and let it be, had learnt so very well how to deal with women, how to get them to unbend, how to win their trust. There was none more skilled at it than he. So brilliant was his technique that it left every woman stunned and breathless when his true nature was revealed, when the man who had listened so intently, had supposedly cared, just dismissed all they had briefly shared.

      He was at his dangerous best now, a small question here, an insightful observation there, and as they strolled with seemingly little purpose Charlotte spoke more easily. As a seagull ducked and swooped at a piece of paper, she laughed. Another bird joined it and then another, furious screeches of protest when there was no food to be found.

      ‘Poor things.’

      ‘Poor things?’ Zander gave a wry laugh. ‘I can ensure for my guests many things, but a seagull-free beach would be the icing on the cake.’

      ‘I love them.’ And she laughed and then, because it was safer than talking about Nico, she told him about her long-ago walks with her mother on their holidays, how they had fed the gulls, how it had been a great end to their days.

      They walked, five, maybe ten minutes more. The beach café was serving cocktails but they walked past all that to a place more secluded, away from the sand of the beach to the rocky coves around it. Charlotte, calm beside him, was forced to concentrate more on her step than her words.

      ‘How long have you worked for Nico?’

      ‘Nearly two years now,’ Charlotte said, and he saw her tense, saw that she sensed perhaps he was fishing, but he worked carefully around that.

      ‘And before that?’ He tried to guess at her age, mid-twenties he gauged, which was very young to be an assistant to a man like Nico Eliades, but he was quite sure his brother had not hired her purely for her business skills. ‘Did you do business studies?’

      ‘Oh, no …’ She shook her head. ‘I never intended to be a PA—I was a flight attendant. International.’ She added. ‘That’s how I met him.’

      It galled Zander, but he did not show it.

      ‘On a flight?’

      Charlotte nodded. ‘I recognised him back at the hotel I was booked into—he was having trouble being understood.

      We were in Japan and, unusually for that hotel, the staff member he was