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“It’s late.” Scowling, he reached for his shirt, then the bag. “I’ll take you back to the hotel.”
She felt somehow embarrassed, ashamed, as if she’d been rude and nosy, as if she were the one to blame for the sudden chill between them. She tried to keep up with her husband’s long stride, carrying the sagging blanket in her arms as they hurried up the long, winding road back to the village. But how was it her fault? He was clearly keeping secrets from her—and not very well. With so many dark hints, it was almost as if he were goading her to ask questions!
Whatever the reason, Emmie didn’t like to be at odds. As they reached the tiny hotel room, she turned to him and said quietly, “Maybe we should talk.”
“No time.” Yanking off his beach clothes, he didn’t even bother to hide his naked body from her as he pulled on a sleek long-sleeved black shirt and tailored black trousers. “I’m already running late. I’ll be back in a few hours. Pack your things. I’ll escort you to the yacht when I return.”
“Okay,” she said falteringly. “Have a good—”
But he’d already left, the door slamming closed behind him.
Emmie showered alone in the tiny en suite. When she came out into the bedroom, wrapped in a white towel, the tiny bedroom, which had previously seemed so cozy and tight, seemed cavernous in its emptiness.
Where had Theo gone? What was his errand?
Who was Sofia?
All her earlier happiness had evaporated like mist in sun. Slowly, she pulled on cotton panties and bra and a floral sundress she’d bought at the tourist shop in the village. Brushing her long damp hair, she pulled it back in a ponytail. In the small mirror, she noticed her skin had a healthy glow from the sun.
Or maybe it was from her sudden surge of rage.
How dare Theo treat her like this? Emmie was not his secretary anymore, paid to serve his interests, at his pleasure. She was his wife. She deserved to know these secrets he kept hinting at!
Setting her jaw, she pulled on sandals, grabbed her straw bag and stomped out of the hotel room to look for him.
Ten minutes later, her anger had turned to despair. She would not find him—of course she wouldn’t, not if he didn’t want her to. It was so unfair. How could Theo make her so miserable, even though she wasn’t even sleeping with him? What was the point of denying them both the pleasure, if she was just going to end up miserable anyway?
Walking up the cobblestoned street, she felt a lump in her throat. She put on cheap sunglasses from her bag to hide the tears in her eyes.
Her lips parted when she saw a tall, broad-shouldered man, in a black shirt and trousers which seemed much too formal for the island, walking down a narrow alley with a pretty young black-haired woman. They walked side by side, not touching, but something about the way they spoke quietly insinuated a certain...intimacy.
Emmie ducked back behind a corner, then peeked around it, watching as they continued down the hill toward the marina. Furtively, a little guiltily, she followed the couple down the paths to the docks.
Theo and the unknown girl—Sofia?—walked down the largest wooden dock toward a vintage wooden speedboat waiting with a uniformed crew member at the steering wheel. Farther out in the harbor, Emmie saw her husband’s gleaming, modern yacht, namedFuture 2, replacing Theo’s starter yachtFutureof a decade before. She’d never been on either yacht as his secretary.
Emmie watched as he helped the girl climb into the waiting speedboat. On impulse, she bolted toward the marina.
“No!” she cried, running down the wooden dock. “Wait!”
Theo stared back at her with shock. Turning, he spoke in a low voice to the black-haired girl, who shrugged.
As Emmie reached the end, she threw herself into the small speedboat, still panting from her sprint. Theo caught her as she fell. Setting her aright, he glared at her, then let her go, folding his arms.
“I gave you specific instructions. To remain at the hotel.”
“I’m not your secretary. You can’t give me orders.” Emmie’s cheeks burned as she turned to the pretty brunette. Sticking out her hand, she said politely, “Hi, I’m Emmie. I assume you’re Sofia?”
The girl glanced briefly at Theo, then said, “Yes?”
Was that a question or answer? Emmie couldn’t tell if she even understood English. As they shook hands, the brunette raised her eyebrow at Theo, who gave a small, disgusted shake of his head.
“Go,” he ordered the boat’s driver. The crewman pressed on the gas, whirling the speedboat from the docks toward the yacht in the bay. Other than the loud engine, there was silence. No one tried to explain anything to Emmie.
“So.” Emmie licked her lips, feeling awkward and foolish. “What’s this all about?”
The girl just looked out at the water.
“Français?”Emmie tried hopefully in her schoolgirl French. Still nothing. And the only Greek word she knew wasefaristo, which seemed highly inappropriate for her current feelings.
