I should have done more homework in advance, she thought bitterly. If I’d been allowed to, of course.
However, she was here now, and her main concern was finding Millie, for which, galling as it might be, she probably needed the help of Alexis Constantinou.
It doesn’t matter, she told herself, gritting her teeth. After all, the sooner you trace Millie, the quicker you can leave.
Suddenly restless, she rose and wandered over to the glass doors, which ran the length of one side of the bar, and walked out on to the balcony beyond with its flight of marble steps leading down to another area of garden, bright with flowers and shrubs and surrounded by hibiscus hedges. And beyond that, hazy with heat, the infinite blue of the Aegean.
Apart from a faint sound of splashing from the pool area, it was very quiet.
If I was here for a different reason, just one guest among many, I’d probably not want to leave, either, she realised with a swift pang.
She remained where she was, letting the peace soak into her, until a sound from the bar behind her made her turn hurriedly in time to see a tall, thin man with a heavy black moustache place a tray with a pot of coffee and a plate of pastries on her table.
‘For you, thespinis,’ he announced. ‘Kyrios Alexis, he say it is long before dinner.’
‘Oh,’ Selena said disconcerted. ‘Thank you.’ Then remembering one of the words she’d learned on the plane, she added, ‘Efharisto.’
He inclined his head. ‘Parakalo,’ he returned politely. ‘I am Stelios and I manage the hotel for Kyrios Alexis. Anything you wish for, please ask me.’
Presumably that did not include a missing sister, Selena thought as he vanished.
The coffee was a strong filter brew, and the food turned out to be delicious little cheese tarts, still warm from the oven. Selena ate every scrap.
She had just drained her final cup when she was joined by a middle-aged woman wearing a neat black dress and an air of unmistakable authority.
She pointed to herself. ‘Androula, thespinis. Housekeeper. Your room waits for you.’
She picked up the satchel and waited for Selena to accompany her.
A lift at the side of the foyer whisked them to the third floor. Androula led the way along the corridor to a pair of double doors at the end, which she unlocked, then stood aside allowing Selena to precede her into a spacious sitting room, with comfortable sofas and chairs upholstered in deep blue linen grouped round a massive square coffee table, its surface tiled in cream and gold.
As she looked round her, two girls emerged from another room, one carrying an expensive leather suitcase, the other a linen laundry bag.
As they passed Selena, they smiled shyly, but their eyes were alive with curiosity.
They must be wondering why they’ve been asked to clear the decks, she thought drily. However, it seemed that their boss was a man of his word after all and she only wished she could feel more at ease with the situation.
The bedroom was uncompromisingly masculine, almost disturbingly so, with shutters at the windows instead of drapes, dark fitted furniture, and what seemed to Selena to be an ultra-wide bed, made up with immaculate white linen, and a brown and gold coverlet in a Greek key pattern folded at its foot.
A door in the corner led into a bathroom almost as big as the bedroom, with a large walk-in shower as well as a tub, and twin basins in the long mirrored vanity unit, indicating, perhaps, that the owner did not always lack for company.
As if, she reminded herself swiftly, it was any business of hers.
Nevertheless it seemed she would be maintained pretty much in the lap of luxury during her brief stay, although she would have to make it clear to Mr Constantinou at their next encounter that she’d come prepared to pay for her board and lodging.
At least Aunt Nora has allowed for that, she thought. So I won’t be obliged to be in his debt more than I can help.
She turned to Androula. ‘Thank you.’ She made an awkward gesture. ‘It’s lovely.’
The housekeeper inclined her head politely. ‘You rest now,’ she said. ‘I will send someone to bring you to dinner at eight o clock.’
And on that, she departed, closing the outer door behind her. And, Selena realised in horror, locking it, too.
She was just about to rush over and beat on the panels, shouting ‘Come back,’ when she saw, just in time, another key lying in the centre of the coffee table, and realised her host was probably not the floor’s sole occupant. And allowed herself a faint groan of relief that she hadn’t made an utter fool of herself twice in one hour.
She’s right, she thought. Maybe I do need to rest. Also—get a grip.
She retrieved her forlorn cotton robe from her bag and went to the bathroom, where she took a long, satisfying soak in the tub, then stretched out in the middle of that vast bed and gratefully closed her eyes. She was asleep within minutes.
It was already after seven when she awoke, and for a while she lay watching with languid pleasure how the evening sunlight slatted through the shutters across the marble tiles.
Yes, she had to get ready, but it wouldn’t take long. There weren’t any anxious choices to make over how to dress for dinner. There was her denim skirt with a white top, or her denim skirt and the other white top.
Travelling light has its advantages, Mr Constantinou, she addressed him silently as she wriggled off the bed.
It was the prettier of the two maids she’d seen earlier who came to collect her and escort her to the restaurant on the ground floor, and her sideways glance, although polite, conveyed she was not greatly impressed by either the denim skirt or the other white top, or by the fact that Selena, on some inexplicable impulse, had plaited her hair into the severe braid preferred by Aunt Nora.
But then, thought Selena, I’m here on business, not out to impress—anyone.
The dining room was a large, airy room, most of its tables already occupied, and Selena attracted little attention as a waiter conducted her to a secluded corner partly screened from the rest of the room by a trellis supporting foliage plants growing in terracotta pots.
As she sat down, Selena realised it was the first time she’d ever eaten alone in a hotel. What a sheltered life you’ve led, Miss Blake, she mocked herself.
It had only just dawned on her that the table was set for two when Alexis Constantinou appeared, sauntering across the dining room, exchanging smiling greetings with the other diners as he approached, and clearly heading straight for her corner.
Oh, please no, she begged under her breath as her tense fingers crumpled the linen napkin she was spreading on her lap.
‘Kalispera,’ he said as he took the chair opposite. ‘That means good evening.’
‘Yes,’ she said shortly. ‘I picked up a few words on the flight. That was one of them.’
No one would have mistaken him for a barman now, even someone with an Olympic gold for leaping to conclusions, she conceded ruefully.
He’d shaved, for one thing, and the elegant, pale grey suit he was wearing was offset by a charcoal shirt, carrying the unmistakable sheen of silk, and open at the neck, revealing several inches of bronzed, hair-darkened skin, which it would be safer to ignore.
No, not handsome, she thought in sudden bewilderment, but stunningly, mind-blowingly attractive in a way she’d never encountered before. Or never been aware of, at any rate.
By contrast, she must look like something the cat dragged in.
‘Excellent.’ He smiled at her. ‘Perhaps during our acquaintance, we will be able to extend your repertoire.’
‘I