The Power of the Legendary Greek(6)

'And how will you feed yourself?'

She'd been prepared for that. 'If Eleni will buy food for me before I  go, I'll manage very well until I can walk properly again. My ankle  feels better already,' she lied. 'In a day or so I'll be back to  normal.'

He eyed her in silence for a moment. 'Before you make your escape from  the Villa Medusa, please indulge my curiosity. Tell me something about  yourself. From your drawings, your interest obviously lies in art, Miss  James.'

'Yes. I have a Fine Art Degree.'

'You teach?'

'No. I manage an art gallery and live in the flat over it as part of a  deal which includes putting my work on sale at the gallery, as well as  the paintings I sell privately.'

'You live near your family?'

Isobel looked down at the hands she'd folded in her lap. 'No. My wonderful grandparents brought me up, but they're dead now.'

Luke leaned forward slightly. 'And your parents?'

'I never knew them. They were killed in a motorway pile-up in fog when I was a baby.'

'That is a sad story,' he said sombrely. 'But you were fortunate to have grandparents who cared for you.'                       
       
           



       

'True. They were the only parents I ever knew, and I couldn't have  wished for better. But, though I'm short on family, I'm blessed with  very good friends,' said Isobel, trying to ignore her headache. 'In the  past my holidays were spent with one of them but, since her marriage a  couple of years ago, I travel alone.'

Luke got up. 'Have you informed this friend of your accident?'

'I saw no point in worrying her. I'll be fine in a day or two.'

'But you are not fine now. Your headache is bad again, yes?'

'Afraid so,' she admitted.

He looked down at her, frowning. 'I shall send Eleni to help you to  bed.' He held up a peremptory hand. 'Yes, I know you can manage without  her, but she insisted. Is there anything you would like her to bring  you?'

Isobel smiled hopefully. 'I would really love some tea.'

'Of course. You shall have it immediately. Kalmychta-goodnight, Miss James.'

'Goodnight, Mr Andreadis.'

Isobel was very thoughtful after he'd gone, wondering why he'd asked so  many questions. It made her doubly wary of Lukas Andreadis, mainly  because her current opinion of his sex was at an all-time low. But,  looked at objectively, from an artistic point of view he was a  formidable specimen, with the physique and sculpted features of the  Greek statues she'd studied in college. Though more like the Renaissance  muscular versions than the androgynous Apollo Belvedere of Ancient  Greece. Similar curls, maybe, but Luke Andreadis was very obviously all  male, his impressive build a definite plus when it came to carrying her  about. His one concession to vanity seemed to be the hair he grew long  enough to brush his collar. But she would have expected those curls of  his to be black, like his eyes. Instead, they were bronze with lighter  streaks, courtesy of the sun. Her mouth tightened. Good-looking he might  be, but when she'd first seen him, down on his precious private beach,  he'd been so menacing he'd frightened her to death.

Isobel took more painkillers with the tea Eleni brought her, then  submitted to her yoghurt beauty treatment and let the kind little woman  help her to bed. Isobel thanked Eleni warmly, wished her goodnight, and  then settled down against banked pillows and, though fully expecting to  lie awake for hours with her aches and pains for company, eventually  drifted off into healing, dreamless sleep.





CHAPTER THREE




LUKE ANDREADIS asked Eleni to take tea up to their guest, then went to  his room, but felt too restless for sleep. He made for his balcony with a  glass of brandy and leaned against the rail, breathing in the heady  nocturnal scents of the garden. After the punishing campaign of the past  few weeks he felt anti-climactic, already missing the adrenaline rush  of corporate battle. His mouth curled in grim triumph as he relived the  victory over Melina Andreadis. She must be incandescent with fury now  she no longer controlled the airline acquired by the husband who had  once given it to his demanding second wife as if it were a toy to play  with. But now, Luke thought triumphantly, she had been rendered  powerless. Her ties with the airline had been severed without mercy by  the grandson Theo Andreadis refused to acknowledge.

Luke raised his glass to the stars in exultation at the memory of  Melina's fury, of her ageing face, scarlet and suffused with rage. It  had been worth every minute of his years of hard, unending work just to  see the harpy's face when the vote went against her. Whoever said  revenge was a dish best served cold was right on target. His long fight  to wreak revenge on Melina had left little room in his life for personal  relationships. But this mattered very little to him now he had finally  exacted his revenge. His only sorrow was that his mother had not lived  to share in his triumph. His face set in implacable lines. That she was  not was another sin to lay at his grandfather's door. Theo Andreadis had  brought up his motherless daughter so strictly her eventual rebellion  had been inevitable. The discovery that she was pregnant had enraged her  father so much he'd thrown her out on the street. The desperate girl  had fled from Athens to take refuge with her old nurse on Chyros, where  Olympia Andreadis, daughter of one of the richest men in Greece, had  supported herself by working in the kitchen of the taverna owned by  Basil Nicolaides, father of the present owner, Nikos.                       
       
           



       

Luke's eyes darkened at the thought of his frail, pretty mother, who had  escaped from her home in Athens with only the jewels inherited from her  mother. These had provided savings hoarded zealously for her child as  he grew into a clever, determined boy who soon outstripped his peers  academically at school. Young Lukas absorbed knowledge like a sponge  and, with the help of a young, enthusiastic teacher early on, became  fluent in English, which added to his prowess in all the other subjects  on the school curriculum. Fuelled by determination to help his mother,  he did odd jobs after school at the taverna to earn money, and at  weekends, much to Olympia's disapproval, went out with the local  fishermen for the same purpose. He would have done anything to protect  his mother from the blandishments of Costas Petrides, the wealthiest man  on the island. Costas had been so eager to marry the exquisite,  cultured Olympia he had even professed willingness to take her  illegitimate son as part of the deal. But she had politely and  relentlessly refused, secure in the protection of Spiro, son of her old  nurse, and the support of Basil Nicolaides and his son Nikos, who  jointly managed the taverna. But Luke well knew that to this day Costas  blamed Olympia's son for her refusal of such a good catch for a husband.

Luke grew up in a home where there was much love, but very little money.  As he grew to adulthood he became consumed with the desire to keep his  mother in luxury for the rest of her days, to repay Spiro and the  Nikolaides family for their kindness, and eventually to wreak merciless  revenge on those responsible for his mother's situation, with Melina  Andreadis at the top of his hit list.

And he had succeeded. He had rendered Melina powerless with the best  weapon of all, the loss of backing from her own board. He smiled with  grim satisfaction at the memory of her raging, impotent fury as the vote  went against her. For a moment it had seemed likely she would attack  him with her own red-taloned fingers as the truth struck home that she  was powerless to fight against fate when the airline was torn from her  grasp. And now Lukas Andreadis was the power behind Air Chyros, the new  name he'd given his grandfather's airline. In the future, instead of  making money with as many cheap flights as possible under the grasping  Melina's aegis, it would be run with the emphasis on safety, reliability  and luxury, the key elements Air Chyros would be offering once the new  planes were in operation.

Luke drank down the last of his brandy and turned back into his room,  wincing as the odd muscle protested. He smiled a little. He prided  himself on his fitness, which he swam daily to maintain, but it wasn't  every day he was required to rescue a damsel in distress. A very  appealing damsel, he admitted, though tumbling blonde curls and big blue  eyes were not female assets which normally appealed to him. He liked  his women dark, with fiery temperaments and ample curves-he laughed  shortly, giving thanks to the gods that he hadn't been obliged to carry a  woman of that description about, or he might have had more than just a  sore muscle or two to complain about. But, even though Miss Isobel James  looked the picture of innocence, he still harboured doubts about her  reasons for her presence on his beach this morning. Yet her stoicism and  independence-and the feel of her slender body in his arms-appealed  strongly to him. While she, very obviously, was finding it difficult to  be grateful to a man she regarded with suspicion, even dislike. A new  experience for him where women were concerned. He smiled slowly. Now he  was here for a few days it would be diverting to see how quickly he  could break down the barrier she'd erected against him. He must think up  ways of keeping her here until he achieved his usual success. His mouth  twisted in self-derision as he realised that a great part of the lady's  attraction was her immunity to his own-a challenge impossible to  resist.