The Power of the Legendary Greek - By Catherine George Page 0,60
of her backpack and picked up her tote, but Jo insisted on making two trips to carry the shopping and the rest of the luggage up to the flat. She even took over the unpacking while Isobel first sent a text message to Luke to announce her arrival, and then sat down at the kitchen table to make sandwiches. When they were ready Jo planted herself in the chair opposite and fixed Isobel with a steely eye.
‘Right. Talk,’ she ordered.
Isobel told her tale as dispassionately as possible. Other than the occasional exclamation, Joanna heard her out in silence, then sat staring at her friend, stupefied.
‘What a story,’ she said faintly and reached out a hand to touch the ragged lock of hair beside her friend’s ear. ‘Thank God I didn’t know what was happening.’ She looked Isobel in the eye. ‘And this man—’
‘Lukas Andreadis.’
‘Yes, him. He wants you to be his mistress?’
‘Don’t sound so shocked!’
‘Well, it’s a hell of a cheek,’ said Jo impatiently. ‘I thought only married men had mistresses. So what was your reaction?’
Isobel smiled ruefully. ‘When he first brought it up I turned him down flat, and he stormed off in a temper. Luke is used to women throwing themselves at him, so to have one say no to him was quite a shock.’
‘That type, is he! So is your answer still no now you’ve had time to get used to the idea?’
‘He’s given me six weeks. After which I am to overcome my qualms about leaving everything familiar and dear to me, and let him install me in some love-nest in Athens or Thessaloniki, my choice. There I am to paint my pictures and wait around until he has time to visit me.’
Joanna’s jaw dropped. ‘Which century is he living in? So what happens if you say no again?’
Isobel heaved a sigh. ‘He has this Greek thing about fate. Because he found me stranded on his beach he believes fate handed me to him on a platter, so to speak. He’s so certain of this he swears he’ll never give up on me.’
‘Wild!’ said Jo, impressed. ‘So, if women throw themselves at him, I take it the man’s no turn-off in the looks department?’
Isobel smiled as she took the portrait of Luke from her luggage. ‘There he is. Like no other man I’ve ever met. And I’m so much in love with him it’s going to be hell to say no when he wants his answer.’
The weeks that followed Isobel’s return home were taxing in multiple ways, over and above the almost physical pain of missing Luke. Working in the busy gallery was tiring enough normally, even with the help of the art student who came in part-time, but with a weak ankle still in the mix she was exhausted by the end of her working day. And before her holiday she had thought nothing of living in a flat over a gallery full of valuable paintings. But now, even though the high-end security system was allegedly burglar-proof, she was nervous at night and found it hard to sleep. Even when she did she sometimes woke in fright from a new nightmare, fighting to remove an imaginary cloth from her face. With no Luke in the flesh to keep her safe in the night, his phone calls were the high points of her life. And, as he never ceased to remind her, the six weeks he had given her would soon be up.
Luke passed on messages from Alyssa, who ordered him to give Isobel all the news of the island and to do his utmost to persuade her to come back there for her wedding. Strange, thought Isobel, how she could be homesick for a place where she’d spent such a short time. She gave Luke messages to pass back to Alyssa and felt a pang when she heard that he was returning to Chyros for Eleni’s birthday, which, he said with significance, would also mark the end of the six weeks.
Isobel posted off a cashmere shawl to Eleni as a birthday gift. Then, after spending hours over composing a painful letter to Luke, she sent it off, got rid of her mobile phone and bought a new one.
‘Why on earth have you done that?’ demanded Joanna.
‘My time’s up, but I just couldn’t face telling Luke my answer’s no, so I wrote to him instead. I left the address off the letter and then ditched the phone so he can’t contact me,’ she said wearily.