The Enigmatic Greek (8 page)

Alex watched her go, already regretting he’d agreed to
this. He shrugged impatiently and reminded himself that Eleanor deserved her reward. But in return for the interview he had given no other journalist he deserved a reward too, of the kind that Ms Markham was supremely equipped to give him. He smiled as he checked the array of technology lining the room, had a brief conversation with Stefan and then placed a chair in front of the desk he’d had shipped from London. He transferred all paperwork to the drawers and sat back behind the desk to wait.

E
LEANOR
took a minute or two to tidy up then packed her bag, which looked very much the worse for wear after its use as a weapon. She went down in the lift to tap on the office door, and when bidden to enter halted on the threshold, deeply impressed.

‘What an amazing workplace,’ she commented, and smiled at Alex as he stood up. ‘I’m a bit early.’

‘Can’t wait to get to work?’ He waved a hand at the chair in front of the desk and seated himself behind it. ‘Let’s make a start.’

Eleanor pulled the chair close, took the tools of her trade from her bag and looked across at the man enthroned in his massive leather chair. ‘May I take a photograph?’

Alex nodded reluctantly. ‘But just of me, please, not the room.’

She focused on his face and took two shots, then opened her notebook and sat with pencil poised.

Eleanor had not expected the interview to be easy, but getting Alexei to talk about his achievements was uphill work. There was to be no mention of anything personal, including his family. He was willing to discuss the company he’d founded in his teens because it had given him the means for expansion into the other ventures which had brought him global success. He gave her concise information
about most of his interests, but on the subject of his philanthropy he was more guarded. His financial support was given to certain deserving causes only after careful research to make sure the funds went straight to those most in need, rather than into the pockets of administrators.

‘May I mention the work here on Kyrkiros?’ asked Eleanor.

‘Certainly—good PR for the project.’

‘What made you take on this particular island?’

‘I had good reason to be grateful to the inhabitants.’

‘May I ask why?’

Alex was silent for a moment then shrugged as though coming to a decision. ‘You can stop there for a minute.’

Eleanor frowned. ‘Can’t you explain why you’re grateful to them?’

He fixed her with a dark, warning eye. ‘I can, but only in confidence. Since I brought the subject up, I suppose it’s only fair to explain, but solely on the strict understanding that you write about the work being done here and not my personal reasons for developing Kyrkiros.’

She put her pencil down and closed the notebook, then sat back. ‘Off the record then.’

Alex was silent for a while as though picking and choosing how much information to give her, then began describing a holiday taken after graduation—a stay in the home of a university friend on Crete.

‘Sailing in the Aegean was a great way to de-stress after the hard graft of finals. I spent most of that last fortnight with Ari in the family dinghy,’ Alex told her. ‘But one day we went farther than usual and when a storm blew up it swept us God knows how far off-course. We both fought hard to keep her afloat but when the dinghy finally capsized the boom caught Ari’s head as we went overboard. I managed to hook an arm in Ari’s lifejacket and held on for what
felt like eternity until we were rescued.’ He smiled grimly. ‘Poseidon must have been watching over us.’

Eleanor gazed at him in sudden comprehension. ‘You were rescued by people here on Kyrkiros?’

‘
I
was, yes. I passed out at some point, so I was pretty much out of it for a while. When I finally woke up my broken arm was in a cast, I had the mother of all headaches, every bone in my body was throbbing in sympathy and I was lying on a bed here in the
Kastro
, in what is now the kitchen. I woke with total recall, wild with anxiety about Ari.’ Alex smiled grimly. ‘Sofia’s husband had hauled me into his boat, but Ari had been detached from me by Dion Aristides and taken to his place on nearby Naros.’

‘Wouldn’t it have been easier to take care of you both in the same place?’

‘Dion ordered the others to wait to find out exactly who we were and whether we were married.’

‘
Married
?’

Alex smiled. ‘My fellow castaway was Arianna Marinos. She was cared for by Dion’s female servants, while Sophia and Georg looked after me. Anxious parents soon arrived on the scene, but it was some time before Ari was well enough to travel. Her mother stayed with her at Dion’s place and after a visit to check on her I left with my parents. Ari and I both recovered, I got on with my life and eventually attended her wedding on Crete,’ he said wryly. ‘One look at Dion’s handsome face when she finally woke up, and Ari had no eyes for anyone else, including me.’

Wow
, thought Eleanor. ‘Does she live there with him now?’

‘When they’re there on the island, yes. Dion does great things with the vineyards there, and after I took over here he agreed to extend his expertise to our Kyrkiros vines. He also oversees those on part of the estate on Crete that
Arianna inherited from her father, the place where I’d holidayed with her before she deserted me for another man.’ He smiled crookedly. ‘It was bad news for this famous hubris of mine. I broke my arm in the process of saving her life, while she broke my heart.’

‘It obviously mended,’ said Eleanor briskly, secretly sympathetic. ‘Was she here for the festival?’

He shook his head. ‘Not this year. She’s expecting their second child soon, and Dion persuaded her to stay home on Naros.’

Alex’s face betrayed no hint of emotion at the mention of children, but something in his tone touched a chord in Eleanor. Or maybe she was attributing sensitivity where he merely felt indifference. ‘So what happened next?’

He told her he’d eventually liaised with the newly-wed couple as to the best way to show appreciation for the kindness shown to him by the people of Kyrkiros. At first Dion had been hostile, not only jealous of Alexei Drakos’ past relationship with his wife, but suspicious of the young entrepreneur’s motives where Kyrkiros was concerned. Alex had made it very clear that his sole aim was to provide steady income for the islanders, show them how to market their produce and thus free them from the financial vagaries that threaten a lifestyle based on fishing. Dion was quick to grasp the advantages of a wider market for the Kyrkiros olives and wine. The grapes grown on the island produced wine with a unique bouquet and flavour, and once marketed with the products of the Aristides and Marinos vineyards the new venture took off at speed after the festival was established as a PR exercise.

Alex had resolved to restore the
Kastro
the first time he returned to Kyrkiros with his mother to express his thanks to the inhabitants. When he eventually took over the island, Talia expressed her personal gratitude by contributing part
of the cost of creating an apartment in the
Kastro
for her son’s special retreat, with as much work as possible given to the islanders on restoration of the main building.

‘God knows when it will ever be finished,’ said Alex. ‘But the end result is less important than the security the work gives to the people here. Besides,’ he added, ‘I quite like the old place the way it is.’

‘Whose idea was the bull dance?’ asked Eleanor.

‘Arianna’s. The three of us talked over the best way to attract attention and, Cretan that she is, she suggested putting on some viable version of the bull dance depicted at Knossos. She did the research, devised the dance with a professional choreographer and with his help eventually found a team of dancers acrobatic enough to perform it. Stefan helped with the PR and advertising, and the very first performance was such a success we’ve never looked back. Though this year’s dancers surpassed all the others,’ he added. ‘You were impressed?’

‘An experience I’ll never forget,’ she assured him. She opened her laptop, pressed a few keys and turned the screen towards him. ‘See for yourself.’

Alex studied them then looked up at her with respect. ‘These are good—very good. You’ve captured the antiquity of the scene.’ His eyes gleamed as he scrolled to the Minotaur’s entrance. ‘Zeus! If I didn’t know he was flesh and blood I could swear he was the monster he’s portraying.’ He frowned. ‘Theseus is far too pretty, but you were clever to catch him with his axe poised for the kill.’ He pushed the laptop back to her. ‘So, Eleanor Markham, do you have enough information for this article you’ve worked so hard to achieve?’

‘I think so.’ She gathered her belongings together. ‘I’ll go back to my room now and work on it. I’ll give you the draft as soon as it’s ready.’

‘I thought you wanted to laze in the sun for a while.’

‘Work before pleasure,’ she said absently, her mind already busy. ‘Where will you be when I finish?’

‘Here probably, or I might go down and lift some weights for a while.’ He took a mobile phone from a drawer and handed it over as he saw her to the door. ‘I should have given you this before.’

‘I sent emails to my parents instead, but I’m glad of the phone.’ She smiled politely. ‘Thank you.’

‘My number’s keyed in on it. If I’m not here, just ring me when you want me. Or I’ll ring when I want
you.
’

Something in his tone sent the now-familiar streak of heat through Eleanor as she hurried back to her room, deeply conscious that he was watching her all the way. Shorts had been a risky choice. On the other hand her legs were good. Her
derrière
wasn’t bad, either and she was female—and human—enough to be glad of it in the circumstances. She closed the bedroom door behind her and settled down to concentrate on the task in hand as she plugged in her laptop to type up her notes. With only the official facts Alexei Drakos had given her, it would be no easy task to deliver the earth-shaking interview Ross McLean was salivating for, but at least she could describe this beautiful island and give a plug to the work going on here. To add colour she could weave in a little about the owner’s aspirations. She sighed. If she could write about the sailing accident and Alex’s personal reasons for taking over Kyrkiros, she’d have Ross dancing on his desk.

When she’d finished Eleanor worked up her notes into a first draft. She broke off for a tidying up session in the bathroom and then went back to the laptop. It was just a draft, she reminded herself irritably as she edited it. At last she saved her work, unplugged the laptop and took it down to the office. She knocked and put her head round the door,
but the room was empty. She ground her teeth. Now she’d stiffened her resolve enough to let him read the damned article, the man was missing. She left the laptop on the desk and turned to run smack into a hard male body.

Alex seized her by the waist to steady her. ‘Careful! Where are you going?’

‘To look for you.’ The contact sent Eleanor’s pulse so high into overdrive she said the first thing that came into her head as she saw his hair. ‘You’ve been swimming again?’

He shook his head as he let her go. ‘I’ve been working out and had a shower afterwards. I made one of the ground floor rooms into a gym. You’re welcome to use it.’

She shook her head, smiling ruefully as she backed away. ‘Not really my thing, thank you. I just do a bit of Pilates now and then to keep in shape.’

The dark eyes moved over her in a slow head-to-toe scrutiny as she sat down at the desk. ‘It works!’

Eleanor firmly ignored the sizzle of heat his comment sent streaking through her and booted up the laptop. She scrolled to the draft of the article and pushed the machine across the desk to him. ‘I kept to the letter of the law with your restrictions so it won’t take long to read.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Do I detect a note of censure, Eleanor? What additions would you make to it if I gave you free rein?’

‘Personally, I would put in the human interest of how you were rescued by the people of Kyrkiros and that your investment in their welfare is your way of thanking them.’

Alex shook his head with finality. ‘That would mean involving others who value their privacy.’ He drew the laptop nearer. ‘While I read it, go up and sit in the sun in the roof garden.’

‘I’d rather read in my room for a while. I’ll take to the roof as a reward after the article’s gone.’ She gave him Ross
McLean’s email address. ‘If you approve, contact my editor and read the riot act to him before I send it off.’

But back in her room there was no way she could concentrate on someone else’s written word. She sat at the window to look down on a view of boats, and a hot sun-baked beach edging ultramarine sea, feeling like a character in some novel herself, maybe in a fairy tale, looking down from her tower on the world below. Except that she was no princess, and the handsome prince was right here in the tower, probably cutting her article to ribbons as he read it.

When the expected knock came Eleanor braced herself as she opened the door.

Alex smiled. ‘It’s good. I’ve made a few minor adjustments, so come back to the office and sort out the final draft. Then send it off and you can relax in the sun at last.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, relieved. ‘Did you contact Ross?’

‘I did, and laid down the law about my requirements. His immediate reply gave assurances that no syllable would be changed.’

‘I wish I’d been there to see his face when he got the email!’

‘You could have waited to give him the piece until you got back.’

She shook her head. ‘Better this way.’

‘But you won’t be there to see the article in print.’

Eleanor grinned. ‘Knowing Ross, he’ll have it framed on his office wall of fame by the time I get back.’

Alex held out the chair in front of his desk for her, and pushed the laptop over, along with a page of notes. ‘These are my revisions. Shall I leave you to it?’

She cast her eyes over the list. ‘It won’t take long.’

He leaned back in his chair. ‘Then I’ll stay.’

She nodded absently and set to work.

Alexei watched the intent, sun-bronzed face with pleasure
which reinforced his plan of the night before. Strands of glossy dark hair had escaped their moorings to lie against Eleanor’s cheeks, but she seemed unaware of them, or of him or anything else, as she incorporated his alterations into her text. She finished very quickly, but then sat, teeth caught in her bottom lip as she read through the article twice before she was satisfied.

He felt a surprising pang of something very like tenderness at her total absorption. Eleanor Markham was no beauty, but there was something about her narrow, intelligent face that appealed to him as much as—even far more than—the glossy, highly finished ones he mixed with socially here in Athens and London, also in New York from time to time. He was certain that nature alone was responsible for the curves outlined by her shirt and, though she had worn make-up the night before, there was none in evidence today. He might dislike her profession, but he liked Eleanor.