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Authors: Helen Harper

BOOK: Eros
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Coop, returning from the last of his mother’s tasks, took one look at her dejected frame and reached out for her without thinking.
He only just managed to draw back his hand in time before it connected with her cheek.
The list he’d given her had been intended to occupy her time and make her feel needed, not to upset her.
He was so absorbed in watching her and wondering what he could do to make her feel better that he almost jumped out of his skin when the phone in his pocket began to ring.

Skye, hearing the ring from right behind her, jerked her head up and banged it painfully on the roof of the fridge. Yelling in pain, she twisted around, assuming that the mysterious Mr Kamadeva was there.
But when she looked, the kitchen was empty and the ringing had stopped abruptly.
An oddly appealing smell of earthy cedar lingered in the atmosphere.

‘Mr Kamadeva?’ she called out.
‘Hello?’

There was a thump from another room.
Skye followed the noise, her eyes narrowing.
It wasn’t possible that the billionaire had run away because she was about to turn around and see him, was it?
Skye was shy – but even she wasn’t as bad as that.
Was anyone?

She felt an uncomfortable prickle across her shoulders and down her spine.
Everything about this just felt wrong.
Perhaps she’d made a huge mistake by coming here.
She wandered through every room, peering into each one, until all that was left was the large door leading to the forbidden East Wing.
Skye pressed her ear against it, but whatever – or rather whoever – had been making those noises and owned that phone had fallen completely silent.

Coop watched her warily, wondering what she was thinking.
Her usually smooth forehead was furrowed and his hand itched to lean over and massage away the creases.
Thank goodness he’d managed to turn the phone off before she’d turned around.
After twenty-four hours, he didn’t think Ms Sawyer was quite ready to believe she was living with an invisible god.

When she gave up, and walked back off to the kitchen, he quietly opened the door to the east wing, walked inside and pressed re-dial.

‘Hey,’ complained Hermes when he answered, ‘what gives?
You hung up on me!’

‘I was with Skye,’ Coop said.

‘Who?’

He shook his head slightly.
‘Sorry, Ms Sawyer.
I was with Ms Sawyer.
She heard the phone and obviously realised someone was there.’

‘So she knows you’re invisible?’ asked Hermes, aghast.

‘No, she was turned the other way,’ Coop explained.
‘Look, just don’t call me in the future, okay?
I’ll call you.’

‘Fine,’ his friend said, with an obvious note of hurt in his voice.

‘I just don’t want her to think she’s going crazy, that’s all.’

‘You know the easiest way to manage that would be for you not to live with her.
She’s going to catch on sooner or later, Coop.’

‘How on earth is she going to do that?
Who would believe they’re living with the Invisible Man?’

Hermes sighed.
‘I’m just saying I think this is a bad idea.’

‘You’ve already said that,’ Coop responded, ‘several times.
Anyway, what were you calling about?’

‘I thought you’d want to know what was going on with Mr Sunshine.’

‘Apollo?’

‘Who else?
He went round to your girl’s house this morning and pretty much went crazy when she wasn’t there.
He’s got half of his minions out looking for her.
They’ll trace her to that flight sooner or later.’

‘Yeah, that doesn’t mean he’ll work out she’s with me, though.
I want him to enjoy the feeling of desperation that she might have disappeared before I move on to phase two.’

‘Do I want to know what phase two is?’

‘Probably not,’ said Coop cheerfully.
‘One more thing before you go, though, Herm.’

‘What?’

‘She’s not my girl.
She’s just a means to an end.’
And with that, Coop hung up.

 

 

Chapter Ten

 

The next day, Skye prepared her own breakfast and sat eating it at the large kitchen table rather than taking it down to the pool.
She was here to work, she told herself firmly, not enjoy the Greek weather and laze around as if she were on holiday.
Mr Kamadeva had left her a new list of things to do, which she glanced over as she ate.

To begin with, there was a pile of yellowing handwritten letters in some incomprehensible language which he had asked her to type up.
They sat on the table, at least an inch thick.
Skye wasn’t bad at touch-typing but it would take her at least the entire morning to complete the lot.
After that, she was to bid for an ancient samurai sword which was going under the hammer at Sotheby’s in England. Finally, she had to purchase a plot of land in Sicily.

Deciding to prioritise, Skye figured she could work on the typing at any time and that the auction wouldn’t take place for at least another three hours, so the land purchase would probably be the best starting point.
When she opened up her laptop and searched for it, however, she discovered it was an area of particular historical significance.
There wasn’t much visible on the land now, other than some very old stones marking out the site of an ancient temple, but the Italian government were trying to buy it themselves to preserve it for future generations.

She wrote out a note for her employer, detailing what she’d found out about the place and advised him that it might be worth reconsidering his purchase.
Then she took the laptop into another room which was set up as a study and started on the typing.

A few hours later, her fingers starting to cramp, she took a break and returned to the kitchen to make a coffee. She saw immediately that her employer had written further instructions underneath her own note.
Skye was confused.
The study looked out onto the corridor which led from the east wing to the kitchen and she could have sworn there hadn’t been so much as a shadow pass by.
It was possible she’d been so engrossed in her work that he’d walked past and she’d not noticed but still…

Shrugging to herself, Skye read his latest words.

 

The land is interesting to me.
I think it would be a good site for a new resort to encourage more tourists into the area.
This will help boost the local economy.
Please proceed with the purchase.

 

She frowned.
Did he mean he was going to bulldoze what was left of the temple ruins in order to build a hotel?
Unimpressed at his lack of social responsibility, she scribbled:

 

I agree the land is interesting and the local area could do with some investment in order to boost the economy.
However, as a site of historical significance, perhaps it would be best to find an alternative location for your plans.

 

Back in the study, she did some research and came up with a number of places ripe for development.
They’d probably be better alternatives because they had improved transportation links and were more picturesque – and therefore more appealing to the tourist market. She wrote out a list and put it back in the kitchen.

When Coop came back and read her words, he grinned.
He was only interested in buying the land because it used to house a temple which had been dedicated to his mother.
Buying it would make her furious and he felt it was time he got a little of his own back on her for ganging up against him with Zeus.
Not that being invisible was proving to be any hardship, of course.
And he had to admit, he was slightly taken back that his apparently shy and mousy little house guest was taking him on and arguing the toss.
Perhaps she wasn’t as meek as he’d initially thought.
Deciding to see how far he could push her, and have a little fun himself, he wrote down some more notes.

 

No. Much as I appreciate your research, this site is by far best suited to my plans.
It will be an easy matter to have the old rocks pushed into the sea so that the land is cleared to build on.
I think a casino would work well.
We can create the Las Vegas of Europe!

 

Skye was horrified when she read that last part.
The Las Vegas of Europe?
On that quiet, pretty little plot of land?
Instead of the last remnants of an ancient building which had stood there for centuries?
She didn’t stop to think before she scrawled down her next words.

 

Monte Carlo has that area covered already.
You simply cannot destroy Italian heritage in that way.
It’s completely irresponsible.
As a forward-thinking and respected businessman, you need to take a step back and consider the bigger picture.

 

When she read over what she’d written, she blushed.
She’d only just started working for this man.
She’d not even met him.
And yet here she was, admonishing him as if he were a child.
She considered scoring everything out and simply agreeing to his demands, but then decided the issue was important enough to make a stand.
At least writing down her argument was easier than doing it in person, even if it did seem incredibly strange.

The next time she went back to see his response, all there was to read was a terse
Fine.
She gnawed at her lip, wondering whether she’d burnt all her boats and he’d decided she wasn’t suitable as a personal assistant after all.
Thinking about how strange the last forty-eight hours had been, Skye figured that wouldn’t be a bad thing entirely, even if getting fired from two jobs in less than three days would have to be some kind of record.
The elusive Mr Kamadeva, however, made no further reference to the altercation in any other missives.

It was later in the day, when she’d almost finished the typing, that the doorbell chimed, a long, loud sound that reverberated through the house.
Skye scurried to open it.
After not having spoken to anyone all day, it would almost be a relief to have another human being to talk to.
When she managed to pull open the heavy wooden doors, she saw a slight man flanked by two younger women standing on the threshold.

‘Ms Sawyer,’ he said, bowing with a flourish.
‘I have been sent here by a Mr Kamadeva to help you organise your wardrobe.’

Flummoxed, she gazed at him.

He explained further.
‘We are to measure you up for some new outfits so that you can better meet the needs of your employer.
He has suggested some lovely material which you may want to consider and a range of dresses that may suit you.’

The man waved a swatch of floaty, chiffon-like fabric in front of her.
Skye gaped. ‘I don’t need any clothes,’ she said.

He smiled at her patiently. ‘Ms Sawyer, your employer wishes to help you become more,’ he paused and looked her up and down, ‘stylish.
You should take advantage of this opportunity.’

Skye found her voice.
‘Are you suggesting there’s something wrong with what I’m wearing?’
There was the slightest hint of a screech to her voice.
She looked down at her functional black skirt and blouse.
What the hell was wrong with what she was wearing?

‘Absolutely not.
Just that perhaps you might be more comfortable with more of a,’ he licked his lips, ‘range of clothing.’

Skye felt a flame of rage building up inside her.
How dare he?
There was nothing wrong with what she was wearing.
She was damned if she was going to flounce around in something which not only wasn’t appropriate to her position as a personal assistant but which was paid for by her boss.
It made her feel like some kind of chattel.
She firmly declined the man’s offer, with as much politeness as she could possibly manage, then closed the door and marched off to her room.

Halfway there, she abruptly halted.
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
How did her employer know what she was wearing?
They’d never met face to face.
Skye glanced up at the high ceiling.
Were there hidden cameras placed around the entire mansion?
Were they in her room?
The idea that she was constantly being watched sent trickles of fear down her spine.
This was not good.

Coop’s eyes followed her as she stomped off.
The set of her back and the tight line around her mouth indicated that she wasn’t best pleased.
He was confused.
All the women he’d had round before would have been thrilled to have a new wardrobe.
Why she was so angry?
She could wear whatever she pleased, but she looked uncomfortable in that cheap formal suit and he knew from the size of her suitcase that she’d not brought much with her.
It was most curious. Eventually, deciding that the ways of women were a mystery, he let it go without pursuing it further.
He didn’t even mention it to Hermes when he phoned later on to find out what was going on with Apollo.
It was a private incident between him and Ms Sawyer, not one which should be aired to others.

‘I do have work of my own to do, you know,’ Hermes grumbled.
‘I can’t spend all day trailing around after the bloody God of Sun and Light.
Sooner or later he’s going to notice me.
He’s already in a foul enough mood as it is because he can’t find the girl.’

‘Come on, mate,’ Coop had replied. ‘I’m either out making more fools fall in love, or I’m making sure Ms Sawyer is being kept occupied.
She zipped through all those tasks I left her yesterday so I had to come up with more today just to make it seem like I really need her around.’

‘You mean Kamadeva needs her around.
I can’t believe you picked that as a name.
What if she looks you up?’

‘What if she does?
She’s hardly going to believe the truth, is she?’

‘You’re playing with fire, Coop.
Anyway, how long is all this going to take?
You can’t keep her with you indefinitely.’

‘It’s only been two days.
If I’m to make Apollo pay for being a prick, it’s going to take a lot longer than that.’

‘A week?
Two weeks?’

Coop shrugged.
‘Maybe a couple of months.’

‘Months?’ Hermes shrieked.
‘You can’t do that to her.’

‘I’m not doing anything to her,’ he answered calmly.
‘She’s got a job, she’s happy, she gets to enjoy some sunshine for a change…’

‘How do you know she’s happy if you’re not even speaking to her?’

There was a moment of silence then Coop changed the subject.
‘Tell me what Apollo is doing.’

Hermes sighed.
‘Oh, storming about and generally being a grumpy bastard.
As I suspected, it took his guys all of about five minutes to work out she’d got on a plane to Greece.
That’s completely discombobulated him, you know, that she’s wandered off to the motherland and he doesn’t know where.
I’m told he’s barely slept since he found out she’d left.
He even tore a strip off Helios for giving her the push from Nemesis.
The man is well and truly head over heels and going completely nuts trying to track her down.’

An invisible smile of smug satisfaction crossed Coop’s face.
‘Excellent.’

 

 

 

 

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