Modern Romance December 2016 Books 1-4. Кейт Хьюит

one hand to her stomach to soothe those sudden butterflies. Better for him not to tease. He was so much easier to resist that way.

      ‘Very well,’ he said stiffly. ‘I am happy to give you the details now. You are to be a companion to my daughter and provide her with stimulating conversation and activities when she is not at her lessons.’

      ‘And when is she at her lessons?’

      ‘Her tutor comes to the island every weekday morning, for a few hours until lunchtime.’

      ‘Could she not go to a school near here?’ Talia asked. ‘On Naxos, maybe? To be with other children?’

      ‘She prefers to be on the island.’ Angelos’s tone was final, and despite the iron warning she heard in his voice not to ask any more questions, Talia continued.

      ‘Is that because of her scarring?’ she asked quietly, and Angelos stilled.

      ‘What about her scarring?’

      ‘I noticed she seemed self-conscious about it,’ she explained carefully. ‘And it’s hard for any child to feel different.’

      Angelos hesitated, and in the ensuing silence Maria came in to clear the plates. Talia thanked her in clumsy Greek and the woman brusquely nodded her acceptance before turning away. Talia wondered if the housekeeper would ever thaw towards her. She’d seemed suspicious and unimpressed from the moment Talia had stepped into the villa. Someone else who’d judged her and found her wanting.

      ‘Sofia suffered burns in a fire when she was a baby,’ Angelos said abruptly. Talia opened her mouth to reply, but he cut her off before she could frame a syllable. ‘It is a very painful memory for her. We do not discuss it. Ever.’ He held her gaze for one long, taut moment, and Talia’s mouth dried at the implacable look in his eyes. Message received.

      Then Maria came in with the main course and Talia knew the chance, if there ever had been one, to say anything about the fire had passed. Angelos would clearly brook no more discussion of it, and she wasn’t brave enough to press.

      Still her mind whirled with this new information as Maria set plates of lamb souvlaki in front of them. Was it a house fire? Had Angelos been there? And what of his wife? She hadn’t even given the woman a thought, and she realised she hadn’t because it had been so glaringly obvious that no woman was around. She knew what a motherless home looked like, felt like. That had been another point of sympathy with Sofia, one that had been so innate Talia hadn’t even realised it until now.

      ‘Do you have any other questions?’ Angelos asked. ‘I will have my assistant in Athens draw up a contract and fax it to my office here. If you have any concerns while I am away, you can reach me by email, which Maria has.’

      ‘While you’re away?’ Talia repeated, remembering that he’d said he was leaving tomorrow. ‘How long will you be gone?’

      Angelos’s mouth thinned. ‘A few weeks. I can hardly work from an island in the middle of the Aegean.’

      ‘It seems like everyone is telecommuting these days,’ Talia answered. ‘Can’t you?’

      ‘I’m afraid not.’ He took a sip of water, effectively closing down the conversation.

      Talia stared at him, wondering how close he was to Sofia. She’d sensed a yearning in the girl, a desire to please her father even as she tensed when she was around him. But what did Angelos feel for Sofia? Didn’t he realise how important he was to her, especially with her mother gone? ‘Won’t you miss your daughter?’ she asked.

      He set his glass down with a firm clink. ‘That is hardly your concern.’

      ‘No, but it may be Sofia’s,’ Talia answered. ‘Surely she’d like to spend more time with her father. Especially considering—’

      ‘Your job,’ Angelos cut across her in a hard voice, ‘is to be her companion, not form an opinion on any aspect of her or my life.’

      Talia nodded and swallowed down her protests. She knew she’d been terribly outspoken. She was this man’s employee and she barely knew him. But she knew what it felt like to be without a mother or father, and she was incredibly thankful for Giovanni’s care and devotion during her childhood. But Sofia didn’t have a doting grandfather in her life, at least as far as Talia could tell.

      ‘So you have no other questions,’ Angelos said, a statement, and Talia merely shook her head.

      They ate in tense silence for a few moments; the souvlaki was delicious but Talia barely registered a mouthful. Finally she couldn’t stand the silence any longer and so she nodded towards the large portrait of a woman that hung in pride of place on the far wall.

      ‘That is a beautiful portrait. Is it of a relative?’ The portrait was of a young woman with dark hair pulled back in a loose bun, her heavy-lidded gaze full of secret amusement, her lips curved in a small, knowing smile. ‘She reminds me of the Mona Lisa.’

      Angelos didn’t look at the portrait as he answered. ‘It is of my late wife,’ he said, and after that Talia didn’t dare ask any more questions.

      * * *

      An hour later Angelos strode through his bedroom, shrugging out of his suit jacket and loosening his tie. Outside a silver sickle moon hung in an endless starlit sky, the sea like a smooth, dark plate underneath. Angelos braced a forearm against the window frame as he let the serene beauty of the scene wash over him.

      His dinner with Talia Di Sione had left him feeling unsettled, even angry; she’d been like a stick prodding the hornet’s nest of emotions he’d kept buried deep inside for the last seven years. He’d seen the judgement in her clear hazel eyes when he’d said he was leaving Sofia. He’d felt her censure at learning he would be away for several weeks.

      But Talia Di Sione had no idea how it felt to gaze at his daughter every day and know it was his fault, entirely his fault, that she felt more comfortable hidden away on an island than living the kind of life any young girl would want, with friends and school and a mother who loved her with all of her heart.

      The emotion Talia had stirred up rose within him, and resolutely, relentlessly, Angelos clamped it down. Now was not the time to indulge in self-pity, especially considering he was the last person who was deserving of any such sentiment.

      He let out a long, low breath and then turned from the window. He would work; work always made him focus, helped him to forget, at least for a little while.

      He moved through the villa to his study downstairs, turning on a lamp and powering up his laptop. Yet even as he reread the notes he’d made on the latest company he was helping to turn around, his mind wandered back upstairs to the woman occupying a bedroom only a few doors down from his own.

      Talia Di Sione was an impossible, aggravating mystery. He had never had someone speak to him with such flippant irreverence as she had, and he found himself, to his own irritation, to feel both appalled and reluctantly admiring of her spirit. And yet she’d seemed positively terrified when they’d boarded the helicopter, and she’d practically fainted in his office. The woman was an utter contradiction, and he still knew very little about her.

      He knew Maria would tell him if Talia was unsuitable in any way; she’d kept an eye on the previous nannies, most of them unfortunate young women who had taken the post in the hopes of becoming the next Kyria Mena. A few of those women Angelos had had no choice but to fire; others had left in a huff when their cringingly obvious seduction attempts had failed.

      Talia, at least, didn’t seem interested in him that way, if her snappy comebacks were anything to go by. Yet before he could keep himself from it, he imagined what a seduction attempt by Talia Di Sione would look like. Her hair loose and wavy about her face, her hazel eyes sparkling, her lips parted invitingly as she walked towards him, hips subtly swaying, that sundress sliding over her slight curves...

      Horrified by the nature of his thoughts and his body’s insistent and alarming response, Angelos quashed the provocative image immediately. He slammed the lid