Modern Romance December 2016 Books 1-4. Кейт Хьюит

the bright sunshine of a summer morning.

      ‘Yes, Theo?’

      Theo waved towards the tarmac surrounding the helipad, raising his voice over the loud whirring of the helicopter’s propeller. ‘There is a woman...’

      Angelos leaned forward, stiffening in surprise at the sight of Talia, wearing nothing but one of her huge T-shirts and a pair of skimpy boy shorts, striding towards the helicopter, a look of fury on her face.

      ‘Cut the engine,’ Angelos said tersely. The last thing he wanted was for Talia to be hurt. The wind generated from the propeller’s blades was whipping her hair about her face in golden tangles, and her T-shirt to her body so Angelos could see every perfect, slender contour—and so could his pilot.

      A jealousy so primal and fierce it would have shocked him had he possessed the sangfroid to consider it rose up inside him, making him leap out of the helicopter and swallow the space between him and Talia in two giant steps.

      ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

      ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ she challenged. Her eyes glittered with golden-green fury and she jutted her chin at a proud, stubborn angle. ‘Running away?’

      ‘I am returning to Athens,’ Angelos bit out. ‘For business.’

      ‘Liar. Liar and coward.’

      ‘How dare you insult me in such a way,’ he snapped. ‘I am your employer—’

      ‘As you reminded me last night. You bring that one out whenever it suits you—’

      ‘This is not the place for such a conversation. Anyone can see you are barely dressed.’

      She arched an eyebrow, magnificent even in a pair of pyjamas. ‘Anyone? I don’t see a crowd of bystanders.’

      ‘My pilot, Theo.’ Angelos gestured to the helicopter. ‘I don’t particularly want him to see what—’ He stopped, swallowing the words he’d been going to say. What is mine.

      Talia wasn’t his. Not remotely. And she never could be.

      ‘Fine, I’ll go back to the house. But only if you’ll come with me.’ She folded her arms, chin still tilted proudly. ‘Will you?’

      ‘Fine,’ Angelos answered. And when they were back in the house he would make it abundantly clear that they had no relationship, and that her place in his household was only as his daughter’s nanny. Clearly last night had given Talia the presumption to take liberties with her position.

      Suppressing the urge to drape his jacket over her, he strode back to the villa as Talia followed.

      ‘Go change,’ he instructed as they came into the house. ‘And then you will meet me in my study.’

      He didn’t so much as look at her as he slammed into his study. It was time to put things back the way they were. Last night had been a moment of weakness and need that he intended never to show again.

      Five minutes later a knock sounded on the door, and before Angelos could bid enter, Talia came in. She was wearing a pair of shorts that showcased her long gold legs and a T-shirt that was positively skimpy. Angelos could see the high, small breasts that he’d touched last night and, irritated, he yanked his gaze away.

      ‘Don’t you have any suitable clothes?’

      ‘I’ve been wearing these clothes since I arrived,’ Talia answered. Her voice was even but he sensed the tension and anger underneath, cracks in her calm surface. ‘Why are you harping on about my clothes anyway? They hardly matter—’

      ‘What matters,’ Angelos cut across her, ‘is the appalling liberties you’ve taken in your position as nanny.’

      ‘What?’ The word was expelled in an incredulous rush of air, Talia’s jaw slackening and her eyes going wide as she stared at him in angry shock.

      Angelos stood behind his desk, one hand resting on the back of his chair. ‘I made it clear when I hired you what your position was to be. To supervise my daughter—’

      ‘Are you implying I have been negligent in my duties?’ Talia asked, her eyes now narrowing to golden-green slits.

      ‘I’m implying that you have allowed your relationship with my daughter to give you the presumption to take liberties with me—’

      ‘I take liberties with you?’ Talia gasped in outrage. ‘Correct me if my memory is faulty, but you’re the one who kissed me last night.’

      Angelos felt heat rush into his face and he stiffened his stance. ‘I am not talking about that. In that instance I was at fault and I can assure you it will never happen again. I’m talking about your position in my family, Miss Di Sione, and the way you think you can—’

      ‘We’re back to Miss Di Sione?’ she interjected with a sharp laugh. ‘You really do feel backed into a corner, don’t you?’

      ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

      ‘I don’t think I am.’ She took a step towards him. ‘What is this really about, Angelos? Why were you leaving this morning?’

      ‘I have business in Athens.’

      ‘Did you even say goodbye to Sofia?’

      ‘That is none of your concern—’

      ‘Yes, it is, because I’m the one taking care of her. Did you?’ Her question rang through the room and Angelos met her accusing stare unflinchingly.

      ‘I wrote her a letter, which suffices.’

      ‘You really believe that?’

      ‘It is not for you to question my actions.’

      She shook her head slowly, disbelievingly. ‘You’re scared,’ she stated, and he stared at her coldly.

      ‘Scared? Of what?’

      Too late he realised he shouldn’t have asked the question. He should have shut down this conversation before it had begun. Talia had no right—

      ‘Scared of getting close to people. To Sofia, to me—’

      ‘A single kiss does not mean we’re close,’ he informed her, knowing he was hurting her—and that he was a liar.

      ‘I’m not talking about the kiss,’ Talia answered quietly. Her face was flushed and humiliation sparkled in her eyes but she still stood straight and tall, holding his gaze, and it made Angelos feel a reluctant admiration for her. She was proud and beautiful and, considering all she’d endured, so very strong.

      He wasn’t worthy of her, not remotely.

      ‘I’m talking about the conversations we had yesterday,’ she continued, her voice trembling slightly. ‘The things you admitted to me about your childhood, and how you feel you aren’t a good father to Sofia. You feel threatened because I know all that, and you’re wishing you hadn’t said those things.’

      She was utterly right, and his sense of honour forced him to admit as much. ‘I am wishing it,’ he told her. ‘I never should have allowed us to have such...a connection.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Because nothing can happen between us.’

      She took a deep breath as she held his stare. ‘Why not?’

      He stared at her, flummoxed by her tenacity. ‘Why not? Because...because it is simply not possible.’

      ‘Do I have to say it again?’

      ‘Why not?’ he filled in for her, irritation creeping into his voice. ‘Are you a glutton for punishment, Talia? Do you want me to spell it out for you?’

      ‘I don’t consider myself a glutton for punishment,’ she answered, her voice wobbling a little, ‘but yes, I do. Tell me why—why