Modern Romance December 2016 Books 1-4. Кейт Хьюит

an act to get what she wanted.

      A remote part of him insisted he was being unfair, judging Talia so harshly. He could understand why she’d be reluctant to speak up, and yet...

      She’d lied. And she would be leaving anyway. The night they’d shared together, and so much more than a single, simple night, had been a mistake. That much Angelos knew with leaden certainty.

      * * *

      Talia crept into her bed and lay there shivering despite the sultry night air. She’d ruined everything by not coming clean to Angelos. Why hadn’t she told him about her grandfather and the wretched book earlier? The answer was depressingly obvious. Because she’d been afraid. Afraid of Angelos’s anger, of losing what they had together. And so she’d waited, and now she’d lost so much more.

      But perhaps she’d never had it to begin with. She thought of the grief and pain she’d seen so nakedly on Angelos’s face. He’d loved his wife. Perhaps he still loved her. Perhaps she and Angelos had never had even a whisper of a chance of a future together.

      Eventually Talia drifted into a restless doze, only to wake as dawn’s pale grey light filtered through the shutters. She listened to the birdsong and the gentle shooshing of the waves on the beach and knew she had only one choice. She’d have to leave. Better to leave than be fired, which Angelos surely intended to do, and she couldn’t endure another week of being with Angelos and having him hate her. Knowing she’d wrecked any hope of a future together.

      Sofia’s new nanny would arrive in a matter of days, and Talia knew she would be leaving the girl in good hands. Perhaps Angelos could have a few days alone with his daughter, or Maria could manage. She wouldn’t be leaving anyone in the lurch if she went now, a thought that still managed to hurt her. She wasn’t needed, not really.

      With a leaden heart she showered and dressed and then packed her few possessions. The lovely silk Angelos had bought on Naxos she left, still in its paper wrappings. Perhaps he could have a dress made for Sofia.

      Downstairs she went directly to Angelos’s study and knocked on the door. His terse, ‘Enter,’ had her insides trembling but she lifted her chin, opened the door and walked in.

      ‘Yes?’ Angelos’s cold stare was unwelcoming, his lips compressed into a hard line. It seemed incredible to Talia that last night he’d held her in his arms, she’d drawn him into her body. She’d been happier than she’d ever been before.

      She blinked the images away and forced herself to speak. ‘I thought it best if I leave. Your new nanny is coming soon anyway, and I’m sure Maria can manage on her own for a little while, or perhaps you and Sofia can spend some more time together. But I think I’ll just be...in the way.’

      Angelos didn’t answer and Talia forced herself not to look away from the cold, assessing stare that reminded her so painfully of the man she’d first met, back in Athens.

      ‘Very well,’ he finally answered tonelessly. ‘I will arrange for the helicopter to pick you up this afternoon.’

      ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

      ‘You will manage?’ Angelos asked. ‘In the helicopter?’

      ‘Yes, I think so.’ Tears sprang to her eyes at the realisation that even now Angelos was concerned for her. It almost made her want to stay, to try... ‘Angelos...’ she began, and he looked up from his laptop screen.

      ‘There is nothing more to say.’ He cut her off in a clipped voice. ‘You may say your goodbyes to Sofia.’

      Swallowing hard she nodded and turned from the room.

      Her farewell to Sofia was awful, worse than anything Talia could have imagined.

      ‘But you stay,’ Sofia exclaimed as tears started in her eyes. ‘Stay. Parakalo.’ Not having the English to say more, the little girl simply stared at Talia, imploring her with her eyes just as she had back in Athens. This time Talia had to refuse.

      ‘I can write,’ she said, miming the action. ‘Emails and letters.’ Although she wondered if Angelos would allow it. ‘Take care, Sofia. S’agapo.’

      ‘I love you too,’ Sofia answered in English, and then broke down into noisy tears.

      Two hours later Talia walked alone from the villa, her suitcase in hand, to the waiting helicopter. She felt emotionless and empty now, and she clambered up into the helicopter without so much as a twinge of fear.

      Heartbreak trumped claustrophobia perhaps, she acknowledged as she sat down and buckled herself in. The helicopter lifted off, and no one came to a window or door to say goodbye. Talia watched the island of Kallos grow smaller and smaller and finally disappear over the endless blue horizon.

      * * *

      Twenty-four hours later she was back on her grandfather’s estate, the muggy warmth of a mid-August afternoon oppressive after Kallos’s dry heat and sea breezes.

      The house was quiet as she entered, the rooms seeming to echo with silence all around her. She let out a long sigh, feeling both emotional and physical exhaustion in every muscle and sinew.

      ‘Miss Talia!’ Alma, her grandfather’s housekeeper, came bustling towards her. ‘You’re back. You sent no word.’

      ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t have time.’

      ‘It’s all right, of course,’ Alma assured her. ‘Your grandfather will be so pleased to have you back home.’

      ‘How is he?’ Talia asked. She’d been in regular email contact with Giovanni, but she knew he would never mention any health concerns to her, especially when she was so far away.

      ‘Tired,’ Alma said with a small, sad smile. ‘But in good spirits. He’s upstairs in his usual room. He’s just woken up, if you’d like to see him. Dante and Willow are here as well.’

      Talia knew she’d have to tell Giovanni that she had been unsuccessful in retrieving his book, and she decided it would be better to get it over with sooner rather than later, and so with a nod she headed upstairs.

      Giovanni was in a small sitting room that adjoined his bedroom, a blanket over his legs despite the heat, frowning as he clicked the remote control of the TV.

      He glanced over as she opened the door, his wrinkled face breaking into a huge smile as he caught sight of her. ‘Talia, cara! You have returned.’ He held out his arms and Talia went to him, kissing his withered cheek and embracing him lightly before she sat down across from his chair. ‘You do not look happy, cara,’ Giovanni said. ‘What has happened?’

      ‘I wasn’t able to get your book, Nonno. I’m sorry.’

      Giovanni didn’t answer for a moment; he simply stared at her, his gaze almost as assessing as Angelos’s had been. ‘But you tried, yes?’ he finally said, and she nodded.

      ‘Yes. And I did find it. But the book is very special to its current owner. It belonged to his late wife.’

      ‘Did it?’ Giovanni nodded slowly and leaned back in his chair.

      ‘Apparently her grandmother was a lady’s maid to a duchess on some island. The duchess gave it to her as a parting gift.’

      ‘Ah. I see.’ Giovanni closed his eyes briefly, and Talia wondered what he wasn’t saying. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again.

      ‘It is no matter, Talia. But I don’t think this unhappiness I see in you comes simply from not being successful in the task I set you.’ He opened his eyes and gazed at her with kind shrewdness. ‘Does it?’

      ‘No,’ she confessed, and couldn’t manage any more. Her throat had gone tight and she blinked rapidly.

      ‘Ah, Talia. I wanted you to see more of the world, to kindle the spark I know still lives in you for adventure, for life. But I fear I quenched it instead.’

      ‘You didn’t, Nonno,’ Talia assured