Zoe watched in frank bewilderment as he produced a fine leather document-case, set it down then fed back the zip. Sliding out the contents, he sifted through pieces of paper until he came across one bearing the official stamp of a UK government department which he passed across the table to her. Her eyelashes flickered as she looked down at it.
‘Your brother is travelling on an emergency visa,’ he explained. ‘I applied for it on the grounds of your grandfather’s ill health.’
While Zoe sat trying to absorb this information, two more pieces of paper arrived beside the first one.
‘This one is a letter from your general practitioner saying that Toby is fit to travel, and this one is from Social Services giving you permission to take your brother out of the UK. We—’
‘You—you arranged all of this without any of these people applying to me to check if I was OK with it?’ Zoe interrupted.
He nodded. ‘Mainly as a precaution because of the complications due to probate and your pending legal rights over Toby,’ he enlightened her. ‘A full passport for Toby will be couriered to you from the British Embassy in Athens in the next few days.’
Zoe was still staring at the accumulation of formal letters lined up in front of her. ‘You need a photograph for a passport,’ she murmured.
‘I took one on my phone and texted it over to the appropriate government body.’
‘When did you do that?’ she demanded, beginning to simmer inside.
‘While you were upstairs packing your things,’ was the beautifully modulated response she received. ‘With all the press you have been receiving, it needed little explanation for everyone to sympathise with your plight and be eager to fast-track the process. And I know a few useful people.’
He knew a few useful people, Zoe echoed, feeling a nice fresh wave of anger flush up from her chest until it mottled her cheeks. ‘Wealth and power have their uses, then.’
He must have heard something in her voice because he turned his dark head. There was a moment of stillness in which he tapped the tips of his fingers against the table and Zoe glared at them as the pressure inside her built and built.
‘I’m in trouble again,’ he sighed out.
‘Where is my input?’ she responded tautly.
‘I did not need it.’ His tone had turned very dry now. ‘I put myself up as your attorney, you see.’
‘And nobody thought to contact me to check your credibility?’
‘As I said—’ one of those hands made a rolling gesture ‘—everyone was very sympathetic and understood that you already had enough on your plate.’
Zoe released a little choked laugh. ‘And you are so darned charming and clever at manipulating people, aren’t you?’
‘I am told it is one of my most annoying traits.’
At last she turned her head to look at him. He was wearing a hint of a smile on his lips and a hint of a rueful apology in his eyes. Sitting back in her seat, she gave a helpless shake of her head. Charm did not even begin to cover what this man was capable of, she thought as she felt her anger die beneath the weight of her incredulity, then felt her own lips being tugged at the corners, wanting to grin.
Sensing an easing in the threatened resurgence of hostilities, Anton caught the eye of his flight steward and brought him striding down the aisle. ‘Tea for my guest,’ he ordered smoothly. ‘And ask Kostas if he will check on the baby. I heard a sound from that direction.’
Nodding, the steward went back down the aisle again. Zoe went to stand up so she could go and check Toby for herself but he covered her hand with his. ‘Stay and talk to me,’ he said huskily.
She hesitated, which was probably her undoing. It wasn’t that she wanted to stay and talk to him—he was the enemy, after all—but those fingers resting on her fingers were gentle, requesting not insisting. She looked down them, saw the difference in his skin, warm and dark against the cool paleness of her own. A now familiar heat flared in her belly, locking her into an argument with herself. She either hated him or she fancied him, but she was sure she couldn’t feel both things.
‘I am not your enemy, Zoe,’ Anton murmured as if he knew exactly what was going on in her head. ‘I know I have given you little cause to believe me, but if you will give me the chance I will try my best to amend that.’
She could feel herself wanting to give in. Was it a mild version of Stockholm syndrome? Was she being very stupid here by wanting to believe him again?
Kostas strode past them on his way to check Toby. In a lightning-flash decision, she stopped him. ‘I will go,’ she told the security guard, and without allowing herself to glance at Anton she slid her hand out from beneath his, got up and walked away.
They landed as the sun floated low above the glistening sea she’d glimpsed as they’d rushed towards the ground. Kostas, who seemed to have put himself up as her protector, took control of Toby’s disembarkation. Zoe didn’t brother to argue with him over it.
Everyone was standing up and gathering their things together, including Anton Pallis, who stood with his back towards her between the table and his seat. He had the most disturbingly beautiful long, muscular back, Zoe found herself noticing, then blinked and made herself stop looking.
The moment the plane shut down its engines he picked up his mobile phone and clamped it to his ear. Zoe heard him start firing out orders like soft bullets, the low growl of his voice a very good substitute to the engines’ roar, she thought with a dry smile.
As she was about to draw on her jacket, Kostas said, ‘You won’t need that, thespinis. It is twenty-seven degrees outside.’
Zoe was happy to take the jacket off again since it was now sadly creased after she’d slept in it. A movement just ahead of her in the cabin made her glance up to find that Anton had turned and was looking at her through low hooded eyes. Her chin went up—she didn’t know why—like she didn’t know why her cheeks started to heat.
They filed out of the plane as if it was any ordinary scheduled flight. Anton was ahead of her and he clearly was not concerned about the heat outside because he’d pulled on his jacket again; the creaseless, elegant businessman was back, she saw as she followed him. Kostas brought up the rear with Toby’s seat secure in his big-handed grasp.
At first she paused at the top of the steps to allow the heat to envelope her. It was filled with the most evocative aromas of what she recognised as jasmine, citrus and thyme. Ahead of her on the other side of the shimmering tarmac runway, a line of vehicles waited: two silver limousines, a people carrier and a dusty sedan with an official type standing beside it.
Anton’s staff was heading towards him with what she recognised as passports in their hands. Anton followed, with a laptop bag swinging from one broad shoulder. He still had his phone clamped to his ear, his other hand making expressive gestures of irritation as he walked.
Behind Zoe, the hard edge of Toby’s seat gave the base of her spine a gentle nudge. She started walking down the shallow flight of steps but there was a strange sensation beginning to swirl inside her legs. She didn’t recognise it for what it was until she had taken two strides across the tarmac then she pulled to a trembling stop.
She was in Greece.
Looking down the length of her legs to her shoes, she thought, I’m standing on the land of my father’s birth for the first time in my life.
Of all the reasons she had been fighting against coming here, this one had never once entered her head, this strange, prickly, stirring sensation which began at her toes and was slowly spreading up her body until it encompassed all of her in the heart-clutching revelation that this moment was the most profound one she’d ever had.
Closing