Charlotte felt her face flame as a host of memories were unleashed by his use of that crude one-word description of what he had felt for her. The vision of the configuration of their bodies rocking in passion made her toes curl inside her high-heeled shoes. Her inner thighs quivered as she remembered how he had taken her to the heights of intimate pleasure time and time again on that two-month long study holiday on the Greek island of Santorini. The fiery heat of the summer sun and the blistering scorch of his passion had burned her to the core of her being.
Lust.
Damon had lusted after her while she had loved him—unreservedly and irreversibly.
‘Excuse me, Mr Latousakis.’ Diane Perry, one of the museum staff, approached with a nervous smile. ‘I hate to interrupt, but may I have a quick word with Charlotte?’
Damon gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘But of course, ’he said and stepped back. ‘I have finished with her.’
Charlotte watched as he turned and walked away, her stomach feeling as if someone had just kicked it with a lead boot.
‘What was that all about?’ Diane asked with a puzzled frown.
Charlotte forced her features into casual indifference. ‘You know what Greek billionaires are like. They have arrogance down to a fine art.’
‘Yes, well, arrogant or not, you’d better be careful with Damon Latousakis,’ Diane warned her. ‘I just got a phone call from Julian’s wife, Gaye. Julian’s been admitted to hospital with a suspected heart attack.’
‘Oh, no!’
‘He’s going to be fine,’ Diane assured her. ‘But he is expecting you to keep Mr Latousakis sweet about this exhibition, especially as it now looks as if he will be out of action for a few weeks.’
‘A few weeks?’ Charlotte gulped.
Diane shook her head gravely. ‘The doctors are suggesting he has angioplasty in a day or two. He will probably ring you himself and fill you in on what needs to be done, but in the meantime you’ll have to take over the reins.’
‘Me?’ she squeaked.
‘Of course you,’ Diane said. ‘You’re the one with the most experience in Greek miniature sculptures. Besides, it was your idea in the first place to bring together contemporary artists and ancient works. This is the break you’ve been waiting for, Charlotte. It normally takes years working as an under-curator to get a chance like this. This will show everyone what a talent you have for set design and display.’
Charlotte felt her chest crumple with doubt. ‘I don’t think I can do this on my own…Julian was the driving force behind all this. He was in contact with the sponsors. I had nothing to do with that side of things.’
‘Rubbish. You’ll be brilliant. You always underestimate yourself. You’re one of the most talented people we have working in the museum.’
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence, but aren’t you forgetting something? I’m a single mum. I can’t work the hours Julian was putting in.’
‘Most of the work has already been done,’ Diane said. ‘But you’ll have to make the welcome speech tonight. It’s important you impress the sponsors, otherwise the exhibition might fall through. You know how competitive this industry is. Everyone wants a bite at the cherry.’
‘I hate speaking in public…’ Charlotte bit her lip. ‘What if I stutter or have a mental blank or something? I always do when I’m nervous.’
‘You’ll be fine,’ Diane said. ‘Just have a glass of champagne before you start to calm your nerves. But remember to be especially nice to Damon Latousakis. He’s the major sponsor as head of the Eleni Foundation. Without Mr Latousakis’s funds and loan of artefacts from his family’s private collection, this baby won’t get off the ground.’
‘It will be fine, Diane,’ Charlotte said, her confident tone belying the fragile state of her emotions. ‘I can handle men like Damon Latousakis.’
‘Good,’ Diane said. ‘You’ve got about ten minutes to showtime. Why not go and sit in your office, away from the hubbub, to collect your thoughts?’
Charlotte opened her office door a short time later, her eyes widening in shock when she saw her younger sister in the process of making a bed with a threadbare coat on the floor.
‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’ she asked, closing the door with a little snap.
Stacey turned and gave her a vacuous smile. ‘Hi, Charlie,’ she said. ‘I’m just having a little rest between jobs.’
Charlotte gritted her teeth, her brows snapping together crossly. ‘I told you never to come here when you’re in this state.’
‘I’m not drunk.’ Stacey pouted as she swayed on her feet. ‘Just a little relaxed, that’s all.’
‘Where did you get it this time?’
‘Get what?’ Her sister’s gaze tried to focus on Charlotte’s but failed. ‘You’re such a strait-laced prig, you know that, Charlie? You ought to live a little. Get yourself a little buzz from time to time.’
Charlotte felt the cold hard fingers of despair claw at her stomach as she watched her sister’s unsteady progress towards the nearest chair, her bottle-blonde head slipping sideways as she flopped down.
‘Why are you here?’ she asked.
Stacey looked at her through bloodshot eyes. ‘I came to ask for a loan, but don’t worry, I’ve sorted it out now for myself.’
Charlotte felt apprehension creep along her skin like the long thin legs of a stick insect. ‘What do you mean?’
Stacey gave her a smug look. ‘I ran into a rich Greek guy outside the toilets downstairs a few minutes ago,’ she said. ‘I offered him a quickie but he turned up his nose. He was such an arrogant bastard. I thought I’d teach him a lesson, so I pinched his wallet from his jacket as I brushed past.’
Charlotte swallowed the lump of dread that was suddenly threatening to choke her. ‘H-have you still got it?’
‘Got what?’ Stacey’s head rolled sideways again.
‘His wallet,’ Charlotte asked. ‘Have you still got it or did you throw it away once you took out the money?’
Stacey squeezed her fingers into the back pocket of her leopard-skin print jeans and tossed the wallet to her. ‘I was going to give it to my mate Brian for his birthday. It looks like an expensive one.’
Charlotte’s fingertips sank into the soft leather as she caught the wallet. She looked down at it for a moment before she opened it, her eyes going wide with horror when she saw the identification photograph it contained.
‘Oh, no!’ she gasped, her heart starting to clang against her ribcage.
Stacey lifted her head groggily. ‘What’s up? Do you know him or something?’
Charlotte closed her eyes for a second. Surely she had imagined it. She did this all the time, imagining she was seeing Damon Latousakis’s face in every newspaper or magazine she opened. As soon as she saw jet-black hair, darker-than-night eyes and handsomely chiselled features her heart would leap to her throat. It was probably because she had just seen him, she reasoned—his features were fresh in her mind.
She opened her eyes and looked again, her stomach turning to liquid, her heart thumping so heavily she could barely inflate her lungs to breathe.
It was him.
She closed the wallet and put it in her evening bag with shaking fingers. ‘How did you get into the building?’ she asked.
‘I told the guy at the front I was your