Modern Romance December 2016 Books 1-4. Кейт Хьюит

and one she thankfully hadn’t done for a while.

      ‘What is it?’ she burst out. ‘Surely whatever Sofia wants to do, we can manage...’ Sofia hardly seemed the type of girl to ask for something unreasonable.

      ‘She wants to go sailing,’ Angelos said tightly. ‘To Naxos. I told her it was not possible.’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘Because she wants to go with you,’ Angelos explained. ‘I don’t think you want to be on a small boat in the middle of the sea.’

      ‘Oh.’ For a moment all Talia could do was gape. He was thinking of her, and her fear of being confined. She was so surprised and touched that it took her a few seconds to gather her composure. She turned to Sofia with a smile. ‘I think sailing sounds like a lot of fun.’

      ‘Talia,’ Angelos protested. ‘You don’t have to—’

      ‘But I do,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s Sofia’s birthday. If this is how she wants to celebrate, then I want it too.’ And she just wouldn’t think about how long she’d be on a small boat. ‘Besides,’ she told Angelos with more conviction than she actually felt, ‘it’s not as bad as a helicopter. The sides are open, and we’ll be out on the sea. It’ll be fine.’

      Angelos was still frowning. ‘I don’t like it,’ he said, and Talia saw Sofia’s hopeful smile slide off her face once more.

      ‘It’ll be fine,’ she said again. She’d make sure it was.

      She was still telling herself that three days later, as she and Sofia stood on the beach while Angelos readied the sailboat. It was a very small boat, barely big enough for all three of them to sit in. Nerves coiled tightly in her belly and she tried to keep her fists from clenching. She could do this. It wasn’t as if she had four walls bearing down on her. There was no reason to feel trapped.

      Except once she was out on the water, she would be trapped. And Angelos had told her it would take an hour to sail to Naxos, which felt like an incredibly long time.

      ‘Ready, Papa?’ Sofia called. She was jumping up and down in her excitement and the sight of the little girl looking so happy was enough to calm Talia’s fears for a moment. They’d started the day with a special birthday breakfast and Sofia had opened presents from everyone.

      Talia hadn’t known what to get for Sofia’s birthday; she hadn’t left Kallos since she’d arrived two weeks ago and she hadn’t brought anything remotely suitable to give her as a present. In the end she’d painted Sofia a picture of the villa and the beach, remembering how Sofia had sketched it when they were back in Athens. The little girl had been incredibly pleased with the picture, and Talia had promised to look for a frame for it when they went to Naxos.

      ‘All right, I think we’re just about there,’ Angelos called. He looked amazing and remarkably at ease, wearing board shorts and a T-shirt that the wind pressed to his well-muscled chest. Over the last few days he’d spent a fair amount of time with Sofia and Talia, coming in as soon as Sofia’s lessons were finished. At first he’d merely watched and smiled as Talia and Sofia played a game or did some sketching, but in the last day or two he’d started, at Talia’s gentle urging, to join in. It made her heart ache with bittersweet joy to see how clumsily yet sincerely Angelos tried with his daughter, how hard these simple interactions were for him, and yet he tried. And that, just as he’d told her, was important.

      Now he extended a hand towards Sofia, and helped her to clamber into the boat. Once Sofia was seated he turned to Talia, who was still rooted on the shore, unable to keep from eyeing the boat nervously.

      His eyebrows snapped together as he held out his hand. ‘Are you all right?’

      ‘Yes...’ Her voice wavered and she tried to smile. ‘It’s just...it is a pretty small boat. I thought you’d have a yacht or something.’

      ‘I do have a yacht,’ Angelos answered. ‘It’s docked in Piraeus. Sofia prefers the sailboat.’

      ‘Oh. Right.’ Of course he had a yacht. No matter how humble his beginnings, Angelos was a millionaire now. He exuded power from every pore. Masculine power. Over the last few days Talia had tried to hide her attraction to Angelos, but at times she felt overwhelmed with the desire, the need, to touch him. To feel his heart beating against her cheek once more, to taste his lips...

      At night she lay in bed, restless and aching, amazed at how many new desires this man had awoken in her. She’d never felt this way about anyone before, hadn’t even known such strong feelings existed.

      And Angelos, as far as she could tell, seemed utterly unmoved.

      ‘Talia?’ he prompted, and taking a deep breath, she reached for his hand. The feel of his fingers closing over hers was enough to send her heart rate skittering and she tried to hide how uneven her breathing was, but the flush to her face was unavoidable. Maybe Angelos would chalk it up to the sun, or maybe he knew she found him irresistible and was being polite by ignoring it.

      He guided Talia to her seat by the tiller, one arm around her shoulders, which only made it worse, and yet also wonderfully, achingly better. She loved it when he touched her. She just wished he’d touch her more.

      ‘Everyone ready?’ Angelos asked as Talia buckled her life vest. She managed a sunny smile and a nod.

      ‘Totally.’

      Angelos pushed out, and as the boat bobbed into the deeper waters, the wind caught and filled the sails.

      It felt like flying. Talia had been out on a sailboat as a child, although not since the kidnapping, for the obvious reason. Now she knelt by the tiller, her face tilted to the wind and sun, enjoying the way the boat skimmed across the glinting water. She could hardly credit, but she was actually enjoying this, and it reminded her of how much she’d used to enjoy, how adventurous she’d been. Seven years ago she’d lost a big part of herself and it had taken coming to Greece to begin to find it again. It had taken her grandfather to push her gently. Without Giovanni, she never would have left the safety of the estate.

      Thinking of her grandfather made Talia flinch inwardly with guilt. She’d emailed him several times over the course of the last few weeks, reassuring him she was looking for the book...which was a lie. Beyond looking in the villa’s library, she hadn’t done anything. She hadn’t wanted to risk this fragile peace and happiness she’d found here, with Angelos.

      Who you are kidding? You don’t have anything with him.

      Angelos was a powerful, attractive, worldly man. Who knew how many women he had in Athens, or indeed around the world? He’d never be interested in someone like her, who cringed at her own shadow, who had no experience in anything.

      And in any case, in a month’s time she’d never see him again. She had no reason whatsoever not to ask about her grandfather’s book.

      Angelos had come to sit beside her, one hand on the tiller, the other shading his eyes from the sun. Sofia was on the other side of the small craft, gazing down at the shimmering water speeding by, the wake from the boat as white as whipped cream.

      ‘Do you like poetry?’ Talia blurted, and then winced inwardly at the abrupt absurdity of the question.

      Angelos stared at her for a moment, bemused. ‘Now where did that question come from?’

      ‘I was just curious.’ She bit her lip, misery and indecision swamping her. She knew of no good way to come clean to Angelos and admit why she’d come here in the first place. But maybe he wouldn’t be angry. Maybe he’d understand. And even if he didn’t, she knew she had to say something. She had to find a way to mention her grandfather’s book.

      ‘I can’t say I’m particularly well-versed,’ Angelos answered, ‘if that isn’t too terrible a pun.’

      ‘I only wondered, because my grandfather mentioned a Mediterranean poet that he liked,’ Talia said, and Angelos’s forehead furrowed. Clearly he didn’t see the connection, and that’s because there wasn’t