Catherine’s head began to throb.
Finally, she rose and slowly walked toward the street where she was to meet the driver who would take her back to Constantin Demiris, where she would be safe.
“Why did you let her leave the house?” Constantin Demiris demanded.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the butler replied. “You didn’t say anything about her not leaving, so …”
Demiris forced himself to appear calm. “It’s not important. She’ll probably be back soon.”
“Is there anything else, sir?”
“No.”
He watched the butler go. Demiris walked over to a window and stared out at the impeccably manicured garden. It was dangerous for Catherine Alexander to appear in the streets of Athens, where someone might recognize her. It’s too bad I can’t afford to let her live. But first—my vengeance. She’ll stay alive until I take my revenge. I’m going to enjoy myself with her. I’ll send her away from here, somewhere where no one will know her. London will be safe. We can keep an eye on her. I’ll give her a job at my offices there.
An hour later, when Catherine returned to the house, Constantin Demiris could sense instantly the change in her. It was as though some dark curtain had been lifted and Catherine had suddenly come alive. She was wearing an attractive white silk suit, with a white blouse—and Demiris was taken aback by how much her appearance had changed. Nostimi, he thought. Sexy.
“Mr. Demiris …”
“Costa.”
“I … I know who I am, and—and what happened.”
His face revealed nothing. “Really? Sit down, my dear, and tell me.”
Catherine was too excited to sit. She began to pace jerkily on the carpet, back and forth, the words tumbling out of her. “My husband and his—his mistress, Noelle, tried to kill me.” She stopped, looking at him anxiously. “Does that sound crazy? I—I don’t know. Maybe it is.”
“Go on, my dear,” he said soothingly.
“Some nuns from the convent saved me. My husband worked for you, didn’t he?” she blurted out.
Demiris hesitated, carefully weighing his answer. “Yes.” How much should he tell her? “He was one of my pilots. I felt a sense of responsibility toward you. That’s only …”
She faced him. “But you knew who I was. Why didn’t you tell me this morning?”
“I was afraid of the shock,” Demiris said smoothly. “I thought it better to let you discover things for yourself.”
“Do you know what happened to my husband and that—that woman? Where are they?”
Demiris looked into Catherine’s eyes. “They were executed.”
He watched the blood drain from her face. She made a small sound. She suddenly felt too weak to stand and sank into a chair.
“I don’t …”
“They were executed by the state, Catherine.”
“But … why?”
Careful. Danger. “Because they tried to murder you.”
Catherine frowned. “I don’t understand. Why would the state execute them? I’m alive …”
He broke in. “Catherine, Greek laws are very strict. And justice here is swift. They had a public trial. A number of witnesses testified that your husband and Noelle Page attempted to kill you. They were convicted, and sentenced to death.”
“It’s hard to believe,” Catherine sat there, dazed. “The trial …”
Constantin Demiris walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. “You must put the past out of your mind. They tried to do an evil thing to you, and they paid for it.” He struck a more buoyant tone. “I think you and I should discuss the future. Do you have any plans?”
She did not hear him. Larry, she thought. Larry’s handsome face, laughing. Larry’s arms, his voice …
“Catherine …”
She looked up. “I’m sorry?”
“Have you had any thoughts about your future?”
“No, I … I don’t know what I’m going to do. I suppose I could stay in Athens …”
“No,” Demiris said firmly. “That wouldn’t be a good idea. It would bring back too many unpleasant memories. I would suggest that you leave Greece.”
“But I have nowhere to go.”
“I’ve given it some thought,” Demiris told her. “I have offices in London. You once worked for a man named William Fraser in Washington. Do you remember that?”
“William … ?” And suddenly she did remember it. That had been one of the happiest times of her life.
“You were his administrative assistant, I believe.”
“Yes, I …”
“You could do the same job for me in London.”
She hesitated. “I don’t know. I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but …”
“I understand. I know everything seems to be happening very quickly,” Demiris said sympathetically. “You need some time to think about all this. Why don’t you have a nice quiet dinner in your room, and in the morning we’ll discuss it further.”
Asking her to have dinner in her room was a last-minute inspiration. He could not afford to have his wife run into her.
“You’re very thoughtful,” Catherine said. “And very generous. The clothes are …”
He patted her hand and held it a fraction longer than necessary. “It’s my pleasure.”
She sat in her bedroom watching the blazing sun set over the blue Aegean in an explosion of color. There is no point in reliving the past. There is the future to think about. Thank God for Constantin Demiris. He was her lifeline. Without him, she would have had no one to turn to. And he had offered her a job in London. Am I going to take it? Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. “We’ve brought your dinner, miss.”
Long after Catherine had gone, Constantin Demiris sat in the library thinking about their conversation. Noelle. Only once in his life had Demiris permitted himself to lose control of his emotions. He had fallen deeply in love with Noelle Page, and she had become his mistress. He had never known a woman like her. She was knowledgeable about art, and music, and business, and she had become indispensable. Nothing about Noelle surprised him. Everything about Noelle surprised him. He was obsessed with her. She was the most beautiful, the most sensual woman Demiris had ever known. She had given up stardom to be at his side. Noelle had stirred emotions in him that he had never felt before. She was his lover, his confidante, his friend. Demiris had trusted her completely and she had betrayed him with Larry Douglas. It was a mistake Noelle had paid for with her life. Constantin Demiris had arranged with the authorities for her body to be buried on the grounds of the cemetery on Psara, his private island in the Aegean. Everyone had remarked on what a beautiful, sentimental gesture it was. In fact, Demiris had arranged for the burial plot to be there so that he could have the exquisite pleasure of walking over the bitch’s grave. At Demiris’s bedside in his own bedroom was a photograph