‘So why don’t you tell me how you got the job, which I understand surprised a lot of people in the industry, since you had zero modelling experience?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Did you sleep with the boss?’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ she snapped, before she could stop herself. ‘He was a man in his sixties.’
‘Otherwise you might have been tempted?’ He leaned back in his chair and smiled, as if he was pleased to have got some kind of reaction from her at last. ‘I know from my own experience that sportswomen have particularly voracious sexual appetites. You in particular were pretty spectacular in bed, Jess. And out of it. You could never get enough of me, could you?’
Jessica willed herself not to respond to the taunt, even though it was true. She felt as if he was toying with her, the way a cat sometimes toyed with a dragonfly just before its sheathed paw finally stilled the chattering wings. But for the time being she would play along. What choice did she have when the balance of power was so unevenly divided? Flouncing out of here wasn’t an option, because this wasn’t just about survival—it was about pride. She might have got the job by chance, but she’d grown into the unexpected career which fate had provided by way of compensation for her shattered dreams. She was proud of what she’d achieved and she wasn’t going to toss it all away in a heated moment of retaliation, just because the man asking the questions was the man she’d never been able to forget.
‘Do you want an answer to your question?’ she asked quietly. ‘Or are you just going to sit there insulting me?’
A hint of a smile tugged at the edges of his lips, but just as quickly it was gone. ‘Carry on,’ he said.
She drew in a deep breath, like one which used to fire her up just before she began a service game. ‘You know I tore a ligament, which effectively ended my career?’ She stared into his face, but any sympathy she might have been hoping for was absent. His cursory nod was an acknowledgment, not a condolence. There was no understanding in the cold gleam of his eyes. She wondered if he knew that her father had died.
‘I heard you pulled out on the eve of a big tournament,’ he said.
‘I did.’ She nodded. ‘Obviously, there was a lot of publicity. I was...’
‘You were poised on the brink of international success,’ he interjected softly. ‘Expected to win at least one Grand Slam, despite your precocious age.’
‘That’s right,’ she said, and this time no amount of training could keep the faint crack of emotion from her voice. Didn’t matter how many times she told herself that worse things had happened to people than having to pull out of a career before it had really begun—it still hurt. She thought of all the pain and practice. Of the friends and relationships she’d lost along the way. Of the disapproving silences at home and the way her father had pushed her and pushed her until she’d felt she couldn’t be pushed any more. The endless sacrifices and the sense that she was never quite good enough. All ended with the sickening snap of her ligament as she ran across the court for a ball she was never going to reach.
She swallowed. ‘The papers ran a photo of me leaving the press conference after I’d been discharged from hospital.’ It had become an iconic image, which had been splashed all over the tabloids. Her face had been pale and edged with strain. Her trademark blonde plait falling over the narrow shoulders on which a nation’s hopes had been resting.
‘And?
His bullet-like interjection snapped Jessica back to the present and she looked into the rugged beauty of his olive-skinned face. And wasn’t it a mark of her own weakness that she found herself aching to touch it again? To whisper her fingertips all over its hard angles and hollows and feel the shadowed roughness of his jaw. Couldn’t he blot out the uncomfortable way she was feeling with the power of one of his incredible kisses and make everything seem all right? She swallowed as she met the answering gleam in his eyes. As if he had guessed what she was thinking. And that was a mistake. It was the most important lesson drummed into her since childhood, that she could never afford to show weakness, not to anyone—but especially not to Loukas. Because hadn’t he been trained to leap on any such weakness, and exploit it?
‘Lulu noticed in the photo that I was wearing a plastic wristwatch,’ she continued. ‘And it just so happened that they were launching a sporty new watch aimed at teenagers and thought I had the ideal image to front their advertising campaign.’
‘Yet you are not conventionally beautiful,’ he observed.
She met the dark ice of his gaze, determined not to show her hurt, but you couldn’t really blame someone for telling the truth, could you? ‘I know I’m not. But I’m photogenic. I have that curious alchemy of high cheekbones and widely spaced eyes, which makes the camera like me—at least, that’s what the photographer told me. I realised a long time ago that I look better in photos than in real life. That’s why they took me on. I think they were just capitalising on all the publicity of my stalled career to begin with, but the campaign was a surprise success. And then when my father and stepmother were killed in the avalanche, I think they felt sorry for me—and of course, there was more publicity, which was good for the brand.’
‘I’m sorry about your father and stepmother,’ he said, almost as an afterthought. ‘But these things happen.’
‘Yes, I know they do.’ She looked into his hard eyes and it was difficult not to feel defensive. ‘But they wouldn’t have kept me on all these years unless I was helping the watches to sell. That’s why they keep renewing my contract.’
‘But they aren’t selling any more, because you are no longer a teenager,’ he said slowly. ‘And you no longer represent that age group.’
She felt a beat of disquiet. She told herself to forget they’d been lovers and to forget that it had ended so badly. She needed to treat him the way she would any other executive—male or female. Be nice to him. He’s your sponsor. Charm him. ‘I’m twenty-six, Loukas. That’s hardly over the hill,’ she said, managing to produce a smile from somewhere. The kind of smile a woman might use on a passing car mechanic, if she discovered her car had developed a puncture on a badly lit road. ‘Even in these youth-obsessed times.’
She saw the flicker of a nerve at his temple—as if he was aware of her charm offensive. As if he didn’t approve of it very much. She wondered if she came over as manipulative but suddenly she didn’t care, because she was fighting for her livelihood. And Hannah’s, too.
‘I don’t think you understand what I’m saying, Jess.’
Jessica felt her future flash before her as it suddenly occurred to her why she was here. Why she’d received that terse email demanding her presence. Of course he had her contract on his desk. He now owned the company and could do anything he pleased. He was about to tell her that her contract wouldn’t be renewed—that it only operated on a year-to-year basis. And then what would she do—a burnt-out tennis player with no real qualifications? She thought about Hannah and her college fees. About the little house she’d bought after she’d paid off all her father’s debts. The house that had become their only security. About all the difficulties and heartbreak along the way, and the slow breaking down of barriers to arrive at the workable and loving relationship she had with her half-sister today.
A shiver whispered its way down her spine and she prayed Loukas wouldn’t notice—even though he’d been trained to notice every little thing about other people. Especially their weaknesses.
‘How can I understand what you’re saying when you’ve been nothing but enigmatic?’ she said. ‘When you’ve sat there for the entire time