The Greek Tycoon's Achilles Heel (13 page)

‘It was only what you said to me first,’ she said fervently. ‘I was glad to return it. I meant it every bit as much as you did. Nikator is lying. Yes, there was a book, years ago, but I told you about that myself, and about the reissue.’

‘And the new version?’

‘I knew they were thinking of bringing it out again, but not in detail. And it certainly isn’t going to be anything like Nikator said. Lysandros, you can’t believe all that stuff about my “working on Achilles” and pursuing you to make use of you. It isn’t true. I swear it isn’t.’

‘Of course it isn’t,’ he said quietly. ‘But—’

The silence was almost tangible, full of jagged pain.

‘But what?’ she asked, not daring to believe the suspicions rioting in her brain.

‘How did they discover what we said?’ he asked in a rasping, tortured voice. ‘That’s all I want to know.’

‘And I can’t tell you because I don’t know. It wasn’t me. Maybe someone was standing behind us at the Achilleion—’

‘Someone who knew who we were? And the grave? How do they know about that?’

‘I don’t know,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t know. I never repeated anything to anybody.
Lysandros, you have got to believe me.’

She looked up into his face and spoke with all the passion at her command.

‘Can’t you see that we’ve come to the crossroads? This is it. This is where we find out if it all meant anything. I am telling you the truth. Nobody in the world matters more to me than you, and I would never, ever lie to you. For pity’s sake, say that you believe me,
please
.’

The terrible silence was a thousand fathoms deep. Then he stammered, ‘Of course…I do believe you…’ But there was agony in his voice and she could hear the effort he put into forcing himself.

‘You don’t,’
she said explosively as the shattering truth hit her. ‘All that about trusting me—it was just words.’

‘No, I—
no!
’

‘Yes!’

‘I tried to mean them, I wanted to, but—’

Her heart almost failed her, for there on his face was the look she’d seen before, on the statue at the Achilleion, when Achilles tried to draw the arrow from his foot, his expression full of despair as he realised there was no way to escape his fate.

‘Yes—
but
,’ she said bitterly. ‘I should have known there’d be a “but”.’

‘Nobody else knows about that grave,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I can’t get past that.’

‘Perhaps Nikator does know. Perhaps he had someone following us—’

‘That wouldn’t help them find the grave. It’s deep in the grounds; you can’t see it from outside. I’ve never told anyone else. You’re the one person I’ve ever trusted enough to…to…’

As the words died he groaned and reached for her. It would have been simple to go into his arms and try to rediscover each other that way, but a spurt of anger made her step back, staring at him with hard eyes.

‘And that’s the worst thing you can do to anyone,’ she said emphatically. ‘The more you trust someone, the worse it is when they betray you.’

He stared at her like a man lost in a mist, vainly trying to understand distant echoes. ‘What did you say?’ he whispered.

‘Don’t you recognise your own words, Lysandros? Words you said to me in Las Vegas. I’ll remind you of some more. “Nobody is ever as good as you think they are, and sooner or later the truth is always there. Better to have no illusions, and be strong.” You really meant that, didn’t you? I didn’t realise until now just how much you meant it.’

‘Don’t remind me of that time,’ he shouted. ‘It’s over.’

‘It’ll never be over because you carry it with you, and all the hatred and suspicion that was in you then is there still. You just hide it better, but then something happens and it speaks, telling you to play safe and think the worst of everyone. Even me. Look into your heart and be honest. Suddenly I look just like all the others, don’t I? Lying, scheming—’

‘Shut up!’ he roared. ‘Don’t talk like that. I forbid it.’

‘Why, because it comes too close to the truth? And who are you to forbid me?’

If his mind had been clearer he could have told her that he was the man whose fate she held in her hands, but the clear-
headedness for which he was famed seemed to have deserted him now and everything was in a whirl of confusion.

‘I
want
to believe you; can’t you understand that?’ He gripped her shoulders tightly, almost shaking her. ‘But tell me how. Show me a way.
Tell me!’

His misery was desperate. If her own heart hadn’t been breaking, she would have been filled with pity for him.

‘I can’t tell you,’ she said. ‘That’s one thing you must find for yourself.’

‘Petra—please—try to understand—’

‘But I do. I only wish I didn’t. I understand that nothing has changed. We thought things could be different now. I love you and I hoped you loved me—’

‘But I do, you know that—’

‘No, even
you
don’t know that. The barriers are still there, shutting you off from the world, from me. I thought I could break them down, but I can’t.’

‘If you can’t, nobody can,’ he said despairingly. Then something seemed to happen to him. His hands fell, he stepped back, and when he spoke again it was with the calm of despair. ‘And perhaps that’s all there is to be said.’

There was a noise from the distance, lights; the party was breaking up. People streamed out into the garden and now the laughter could be clearly heard, rising on the night air.

And the derision would torture him as well as the loss of his faith in her. Bleakly she wondered which one troubled him more.

‘I’ll be in touch,’ he told her. ‘There are ways of getting to the bottom of this.’

‘Of course,’ she said formally, waiting for his kiss.

Briefly he rested his fingertips against her cheek, but apart from that he departed without touching her.

The detective work was relatively easy. It didn’t take long to establish that the ‘newspaper copies’ were forgeries, specially printed at Nikator’s orders, the text written to Nikator’s dictation.

But that helped little. It was the overheard conversations that were really damaging, the fact that they couldn’t be explained, and the fact that hundreds of people at the party had read them.

Calling her publishers, Petra told them to abandon plans for a reissue of her book. They were dismayed.

‘But we’ve heard such exciting stories—’

‘None of them are true,’ she snapped. ‘Forget it.’

She and Lysandros were still in touch, but only just. They exchanged polite text messages, and she understood. He was avoiding her and she knew why. If they had met face to face he wouldn’t have known what to say to her. He was back stranded again in the sea of desolation, unable to reach out to the one person who’d helped him in the past.

Or perhaps he just didn’t know how to tell her that the break was coming and there was no escape.

It might have been different, she knew. By quarrelling, they had done exactly what Nikator had wanted.

But it went deeper than that. However it looked, Nikator hadn’t really caused the chasm between them; he’d merely revealed its existence. Sooner or later the crack in their relationship would have come to light.

Sometimes she blamed herself for the anger that had made her attack him when he was wretched, but in her heart she knew it changed nothing. He was the man he was, and the hope she’d briefly glimpsed was no more than an illusion.

In her present bitter mood she wondered how much of her view of him had been real, and how much she’d shaped him to fit her own desires. Had he really needed her so much, or had she just refused to see that he was self-contained, needing
neither her nor anyone else? It was suddenly easy to believe that, and to feel alone and unwanted as never before in her life.

‘Surplus to requirements,’ she thought angrily as she lay in bed one night. ‘A silly woman who reshaped her image of a man to suit herself. And got her just deserts.’

In a fury of despair and frustration, she began to bang her head on the pillow and only stopped when she realised that she was mirroring his movements. She wished he were there so that she could share it with him.

But would he ever be with her again?

In Homer’s library she found her own volume, the one on which Nikator had built his attacks.

‘Now I know where he got the idea,’ she thought wryly, turning to the Achilles section and reading her own text.

In a further twist to the tale, Achilles’ ghost was reputed to have spoken from the grave, demanding that Polyxena be sacrificed and forced to join him in death. Whereupon she was dragged to the altar and slain.

And what happened after that? Petra wondered. Had he met
her in a boat on the River Styx, ready to convey her to the underworld? Had she told him that he couldn’t really have loved her or he would have behaved more generously? Or had he accused her of betraying him, giving that as his reason for condemning her to death? One way or another, it had ended badly, as many love affairs did.

Or was the story wrong? Had he not forced her to join him in death, but merely implored her, knowing that she would be glad to join him? When they met at the Styx had he held out his arms to her, and had she run to him?

I’m going crazy, she thought. I’ve got to stop thinking like this.

Stop thinking about him. That was all it would take.

It would never happen unless they could find some point of closure. And she could think of nothing that would provide a definite answer.

Unless…

Slowly she straightened up in her seat, staring into the distance, seeing nothing but the inspiration that had come to her.

That’s what it needs, she thought. Of course!
Why didn’t I think of that before?

T
HE
text message was simple and heartfelt.

I need to talk to you. Why have you stopped replying? L

He hesitated before sending it, afflicted by a feeling that the world had turned on its head. He’d received so many texts like this, but never before had he sent one. Would she reply to him as he had so often replied to the others? The thought sent him cold with alarm. But he must do this. He could no longer endure the silence between them. He pressed the button.

Her reply was quick.

I’m sorry. I needed to be alone to think. P

He answered,
I thought that, but it’s a mistake. We must do our thinking together. L

She texted back,
We only hurt each other.

This time he sent her only one word.
Please.

She called back and he heard her voice.

‘Please, Lysandros, it’s better if we don’t talk for a while.’

‘No,’ he said stubbornly. ‘It isn’t. There’s a way out of this—’

‘Not if you don’t believe me. And in your heart you don’t. Goodbye—my dearest.’

As she hung up he passed a hand over his eyes, troubled
by something he’d heard in the background, something he couldn’t quite place—something—

He bounded to his feet, swearing. A tannoy announcement. That was what he’d heard. She was at the airport.

Frantically he called back, but she’d switched off. Neither speech nor text could reach her now. She was on her way back to England.

The world was coming down about his ears. Once she was gone he’d lose her for ever; he knew that well. And then everything would end.

He moved like lightning, calling his private pilot. A moment later he was rushing through the grounds to the landing stage where his helicopter waited, and a few minutes after that they were in the air.

While the pilot radioed ahead to the airport, arranging for a landing and a car to meet them, he called Information to check the next flight to England. It would take off in half an hour. He groaned.

The pilot was skilful and made Athens Airport in the fastest possible time. The car was waiting, taking him to the main building. As he stared out of the window he prayed for a delay, something that would give him the chance to get her off the plane. But then he saw it, rising into the sky, higher and higher, taking his life with it.

Even so, he clung to hope until the last minute. Only the word
Departed
on the board forced him to accept the brutal truth. She had gone. He’d lost her. His life was over. He almost reeled away from the desk, blinded by misery, wanting to howl up to heaven.

He was pulled up short by a collision. Two arms went around him, supporting him as they had so often done before. He tried to pull himself together.

‘I’m sorry, I—
Petra
!’

She was clinging to him, staring up into his face, hardly able to believe what was happening.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked quickly. ‘Why are you here?’

‘To stop you leaving. I thought you’d be on that plane for England that just took off. You can’t go like this.’

‘Like this?’ she asked hopefully.

‘Not until we’ve settled things.’

She didn’t know what to make of that. It might almost have been business-speak, but he was trembling in her arms.

‘I’m not going back to England,’ she said. ‘That’s not why I’m here. Please calm down. You worry me.’

He was taking huge gulps of air as relief shuddered through him.

‘Let’s find somewhere to sit,’ she said, ‘and I’ll explain.’

Over a drink she said quietly, ‘I was going to Corfu. I’ve been thinking a lot about how Nikator knew what we said, and it seems to me that he must have known a lot more about Priam House than he’s ever let anyone know; enough to have bugged the place, even long ago. So I was going to see what I could find.’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That’s it. We’ll find the answer. But why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I wasn’t sure how you’d—well, anyway, I meant to go alone, but when I got here I realised I should tell you first. Because if I find bugs, I need you to be there, don’t I? Otherwise—’ she gave a wan smile ‘—otherwise, how will you know I didn’t plant them, to clear myself?’

‘Don’t,’ he whispered.

‘Anyway, I was just about to leave the airport. I was going to come to you and tell you what I was thinking, but here you are. What brought you here?’

‘You. I heard an announcement in the background and I thought you were leaving the country. I had to come and stop
you. Look, it doesn’t matter about all the other things. I can’t let you go.’

‘Even though you still doubt me?’ she asked wryly. ‘No, never mind. We’ll worry later. We can’t tell how this is going to work out.’

‘My helicopter’s here. It can take us straight on to Corfu, and we’ll find all the answers we need there.’

Petra didn’t reply. She knew that everything was far more complicated than he’d understood. They might find some answers, but not all and there were still obstacles to overcome. But this wasn’t the time to say so.

For the moment she would enjoy the happiness of seeing him again, even though that happiness was tinged with bitterness and the threat of future misery.

An hour later the helicopter set them down on Corfu. As they covered the last few miles she wondered if this was just a forlorn hope and they were chasing it to avoid facing the truth.

‘Does anyone know where Nikator is?’ he asked suddenly. ‘I’ve been looking for him, but he seems to have vanished.’

‘Nobody’s seen him for days.’

‘How wise of him to avoid me. It was always the way when he was in trouble,’ Lysandros said. ‘He never did stick around to face things.’

‘You do know that he did this, don’t you?’

‘I’ve been finding out. And when we know this last thing—’

Then you’ll trust me, she thought. But not until then.

Was she making too much of it? she wondered. He’d come looking for her, desperate to stop her leaving him. Wasn’t that enough?

But it wasn’t. What still lived in her mind was the look that had fleetingly been on his face when disaster had struck. It had been a look of appalled betrayal, saying that she was no
different from all the others. Now something must happen to wipe it out, but she had a terrible fear that nothing ever could.

The house was as they had left it, except that then it had been infused with joy. That had vanished now and its silence was the deadly silence of fear.

Lysandros wasted no time. Gathering tools from the shed, he strode out, through the grounds, under the trees, to the place where Brigitta and her child lay, incongruously at peace. Somehow Brigitta seemed a very real presence now, crying out to Lysandros to remember only her love and forget all else.

In the end he’d managed to do that. But too late.

‘Why is he doing this?’ Petra asked her spirit. ‘Can he really only love and trust me when he has something tangible to hold? Isn’t there anything deep inside him that tells him the truth? Those times when our hearts were so close that we were like one, do they count for nothing now?’

She thought she could hear Brigitta’s melancholy cry, echoing from Hades, the underworld, across the River Styx and down the centuries. There was no hope in that sound.

‘That’s it!’

Lysandros’s shout broke into her thoughts. He’d been hard at work, digging, scrabbling around the grave. Now there was a look of triumph in his eyes.

‘Got them,’ he said, holding something up.

‘What have you found?’ she asked.

‘Bugs. Tiny microphones powerful enough to pick up anything, including what we said to each other.’

So she was cleared. She waited for the surge of joy that this should have brought her, but nothing happened.

‘So this place was bugged,’ she said.

But her heart was still waiting for him to say that he would have believed in her anyway, even if he’d found nothing. Desperately hoping, she nudged him in the right direction.

‘But how do you know that I didn’t come here earlier and put them there?’

If only he would say,
Because I know you wouldn’t do that.

Instead, beaming and oblivious to the undercurrents, he said, ‘Of course you didn’t. Look at them, they’re old. They’ve been here for years. Nikator must have had spies that told him about this place and bugged it long ago. He’s just been waiting for his moment.’

‘Ah, I see. So the evidence clears me.’

‘Of course it does.’

He scrambled up out of the grave and seized her shoulders.

‘Darling, can’t you see how wonderful this is? It makes everything right.’

‘Does it?’ she whispered.

He barely heard her words and totally missed her meaning.

‘Come here,’ he said, pulling her to him, kissing her fiercely. ‘Now nothing can part us again.’

He seized her hand and began to run back to the house, his face shining with happiness. Upstairs, he kicked in the door of his bedroom and drew her swiftly down on the bed. She had a split second to make up her mind, whether or not to go through with this, for she knew that they were coming to the end. But for that very reason she would allow herself this one last time.

She made love to him as never before, giving him not just her body, but a heart infused with sorrow. Everything in her belonged to him. Soul and spirit were his, and there would never be anyone else. He had spoiled all other men for her, and she would live with that. But she could no longer live with him.

With every tender gesture, every whispered word, she bid him farewell. Each caress was a plea for him to remember always that she had loved him utterly and always would, even though their ways must now lie apart.

They reached their moment together and she saw him smiling down at her in triumph and relief, something that had always been her peak of joy. Afterwards he held her tenderly, protectively, and she had to struggle not to weep.

‘Thank goodness,’ he said fervently. ‘We so nearly lost each other.’

To him it was all so simple. He hadn’t faced the inevitable yet, but she must face it for both of them.

‘Lysandros—’

‘What is it, my darling?’

‘Don’t you realise that we
have
lost each other?’

‘No, how can we? We know how it was all done now. The whole newspaper thing was fake, he had us followed to the Achilleion by someone who eavesdropped on what we said, and now we’ve found the evidence that clears you.’

As soon as he said the last words he knew what he’d done. She saw it in the sudden dismay that swept over his face.

‘Yes,’ she said sadly, ‘you needed evidence to clear me because my word alone wasn’t enough.’

‘Don’t,’ he interrupted her hurriedly. ‘Don’t say it.’

‘I have to. I’m going away—at least for a little while.’

‘No. I won’t let you go. I’ll make you stay until you see sense—’ He heard himself and screwed up his eyes in dismay. ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’

‘It’s all right. I love it that you want me, but perhaps it isn’t right for us. If you only knew how much I’ve longed for you to believe in me anyway, in the face of all the evidence. Now it’s too late.’

‘But we’ve just made everything right.’

‘My dearest, we’ve made nothing right. Can’t you see that? We made love, and it was beautiful, but real love is so much more than passion. I know what to do when I’m in your arms. I know the caresses you can’t resist, just as you know the ones
that affect me. We know how to tempt each other on and on until we explode with desire, and for a while that seems enough. But it soon passes, and then we have to see the distance between us.’

‘It doesn’t have to be there,’ he said harshly. ‘We can overcome it.’

She loved him for his stubborn belief. She would have given anything to yield to it and it broke her heart to refuse, knowing that she was breaking his heart in the process.

She remembered how he’d raced to the airport to stop her leaving, caring nothing for her guilt or innocence as long as he kept her with him. Surely that was enough? But he was an acquisitive man. What was his had to remain his. There might be no more in his possessiveness than that. It wasn’t enough to build on.

If only, she thought desperately, there was still something that could happen—something that could give them hope for the future—but the last chance had gone. He had the evidence in his hands now, and evidence made blind trust unnecessary.

It was too late. Nothing could happen now.

‘You’re saying that I’ve failed you,’ he grated. ‘You can’t forgive me.’

‘There’s nothing to forgive,’ she said passionately. ‘What was done to you was terrible, and it’s not your fault that it’s scarred you. But it has. You can’t really believe in anyone now, even me. I thought I could help you but I can’t. Please try to understand.’

A dead look came into his eyes.

‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘Of course you must go, because I let you down, didn’t I? Get out while you can. Get out before I destroy you as I did her.’

He dressed hurriedly and walked out without looking back.
Shattered, she stared after him. This was what she’d planned, but now it was here it was terrible. Throwing on her clothes, she hurried out after him.

As soon as she reached the head of the stairs she knew that something had happened. The door to the cellar stood open. Through it she could see a light and hear voices.

She knew who would be there before she entered. Lysandros stood by the far wall, his eyes fixed on Nikator, who aimed a small pistol at him.

‘Get out,’ Lysandros shouted to her. ‘Go now.’

‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ Nikator said, pointing the pistol at her. ‘I’ve waited so long to get you both together. Come down, my dear, and let’s all three have a talk.’

She’d thought she knew the worst of Nikator. But now his eyes were bright as if he was high on something and his most dreadful side was on display. This man could kill, she was sure of it. And now only one thing mattered.

‘How do you come to be here, Nikki?’ she asked, trying to sound casual.

‘It wasn’t hard. I knew you’d both arrive soon.’