better, and he refused to have his mother’s reputation smeared in some sleazy rag.
‘I thought you are Greek?’ Kitty murmured, eager to learn more about him.
‘My mother was born and grew up on Aristo. She came from around the bay, at a place called
Varna.’
Kitty knew every part of Aristo, and she frowned as she thought of the tiny fishing village where
Nikos had said his mother had lived. There were a few big estates on the hills above Varna, and
she supposed his family owned one of them. ‘I know you said your mother died some years ago,
but do you visit her family often?’
‘No.’ Nikos’s jaw hardened as he thought of the relatives he had never met—his mother’s
family who had thrown her out when she had fallen pregnant with him. None of them were left
now. According to the private detective he had employed to trace them, his grandmother had
died years ago, and his grandfather had passed away at the ripe age of eighty-six—without ever
knowing that he had a grandson, and taking the identity of Nikos’s father with him to the grave.
Nikos’s mother had steadfastly refused to tell him the name of the man who had made her
pregnant and then abandoned her—revealing only that he had been a Greek fisherman. It wasn’t
a lot to go on, Nikos acknowledged grimly. Realistically he accepted that there was no chance he
would ever know who had sired him, but that didn’t stop him wondering whose blood ran
through his veins.
‘My mother’s family are all dead,’ he told Kitty, his tone warning her that he did not want to
continue the discussion. He rolled onto his back once more, suddenly feeling dog-tired. God
knew how many hours it had been since he had boarded a plane at Dubai International Airport,
but jet lag was catching up with him and his eyelids felt heavy. He wouldn’t go to sleep, he
promised himself. He would just rest his eyes for a couple of minutes…
Kitty listened to the rhythmic sound of Nikos breathing and carefully inched away from him. He
looked curiously vulnerable in sleep and she longed to brush the lock of black hair back from his
brow. He was so gorgeous; she could sit and look at him for ever, but what would happen when
he woke up? Her face burned as she imagined them casually pulling on their clothes and strolling
back to the palace. She supposed he would bid her goodnight—maybe even kiss her again? She
had been trained in the rules of etiquette but she had no knowledge of the rules of lovers.
Would Nikos ask to see her again or ask for her phone number? At what point would she tell
himthat she was Princess Katarina, his best friend’ssister—and not a waitress called Rina?
She should never have lied to him, she thought desperately. But when she had met him at the
ball and allowed him to think she was a servant she’d had no idea that they would be lovers
before the night was out. The enormity of what she had done struck her with the force of a tidal
wave and she held her hand against her mouth to hold back her cry of despair. She had to go
now, before Nikos woke up.
Heart racing, she scrambled to her feet and groped for her glasses. Nikos had placed her clothes
on a rock and she quickly slipped off his jacket and folded it neatly next to him before she
dragged her dress over her head, not daring to waste precious time fumbling with her underwear.
She realised that her shoes must still be down by the shore, but Nikos could stir at any minute,
and so she ran barefoot to the back of the cave, out through the narrow hole in the rocks and up
the path leading back to the palace. Heart pounding, she fled through the dark, thankful that she
knew every twist and turn and half expecting to hear Nikos coming after her. But there was no
sound of his footfall and she flew across the garden and into the palace through the now empty
kitchens.
The party was over and the guests had gone. The caterers had left, and the palace staff had all
retired for the night. No one saw her on her way up to her bedroom but her heart felt as though it
would burst when she locked her door and staggered over to the mirror to stare at the reflection
of the woman she barely recognised as herself, with her swollen mouth and her hair tumbling in
wild disarray over her shoulders.
What had she done? She must have been out of her mind. Nikos had invited her to drink
champagne with him but she’d barely had a sip and couldn’t blame alcohol for her appalling
behaviour. Kitty buried her face in her hands, as if she could somehow blot out the memories of
the wild passion she had shared with Nikos in the cave. God knew what he must think of her. But
it couldn’t be any worse than her opinion of herself. She was just thankful she was never likely