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Except he was clearly never going to. No, what she needed was a bit more time and a better moment to broach the topic. Rushing him into this while he was catching and preparing his dinner, and then insisting when he was already in a bad temper, had been foolish.
Certainly the way she’d learned to endear herself to Aristeidis in those first few difficult months after she’d arrived on Kalifos was to approach him when he was in a good mood, after he’d just had a delicious meal or after a long sleep. Or in the evenings as he relaxed in the salon with his favourite brandy.
She’d kept her grief and her fear, her anger and her pain buried, letting not a hint of them show, sitting beside him quietly like a good little girl instead. And eventually, after a week of silence and her learning as much Greek as she could, he’d asked her what her name was.
He hadn’t ignored her after that. He’d needed someone to take care of, she’d gradually realised, and, since she’d needed someone to take care of her, she’d turned herself into his perfect daughter.
Not that she was going to do that for Atticus, but perhaps a little neediness wouldn’t go astray in the right context. First, though, she needed to give him time to finish preparing his fish, get dressed, and maybe when he was done he’d be more amenable. Especially if she got rid of her means of transport to the island. He could hardly put her on a boat back to the mainland if there wasn’t a boat to put her on. And if there was a storm front coming, he wouldn’t be able to take her back in any boat he might have either.
‘Fine,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ll go.’ Without waiting for his response, she turned and strode off in the direction of the jetty. The skipper was sitting in the boat, casually smoking, and when Elena told him that she wasn’t going to need his services for a return trip after all, he nodded and began the business of untying the boat.
It was a risk she was taking and she had no idea what Atticus was going to do when he found she’d sent her ride back to Kingston away, but it would buy her some time, that was for certain.
How she was going to convince him to return to Greece, she still had no idea, but somehow she’d find a way. She’d drag him back kicking and screaming if she had to. Though given he was at least six four and she was five two that probably wasn’t going to work, but still.
Aristeidis wanted him home and she’d do anything for Aristeidis.
Elena waited until the boat had left and was on its way back to Port Antonio, then she waited a bit, giving Atticus some time to finish with his stupid fish and get some clothes on. He’d no doubt see the boat and think she was on her way back, so wouldn’t be best pleased to find out she wasn’t.
But that was too bad. She had a stubborn streak a mile wide and she had a sense she might need it when it came to him. In fact, she had a sense that he might equal her in stubbornness.
That should have made her wary, but it didn’t. For some reason it excited her instead, which was worrying. She didn’t want to be excited by him. While he was beautiful, his attitude towards his dying father—however Aristeidis had earned it in the past—still left a lot to be desired and she did not like that, not one bit.
After she’d waited what she hoped was a sufficient amount of time, she set off purposefully down the shell path again, following it back around the side of the house to the clearing and the bench where he’d cut up his fish.
Atticus wasn’t there.
The path led on, however, wending through palms and shrubs, and around another of the boxes connected by glass corridors that were part of the house, following on to the beach.
She went along it until she was almost at the beach and then she saw him, standing under an outdoor shower situated beneath a shady palm.
Her mouth dried.
The water cascaded down over him, outlining the hard ridges of every cut muscle, his body honed to perfection, his olive skin tanned and smooth, with a sprinkle of dark hair over his chest and following down his sculptured stomach and then further down...
She swallowed, but this time she couldn’t stop herself from staring.
He was beautiful. He was beautiful everywhere. She almost couldn’t believe he was real.
He stood for a moment, outlined in sun and water, then, obviously becoming aware of her, he shut the shower off, his black gaze colliding with hers, unmistakable anger lighting in it. His expression hardened.
Elena felt something in her harden too. Well, she knew he wouldn’t be happy, but that didn’t mean she’d let him intimidate her. In the first couple of months of being on Kalifos, Aristeidis would sometimes go into black moods, which were frightening. But she’d survived an earthquake that had killed everyone in her town, lived for a week on her own, facing off against looters, before being dumped on a Greek island in the care of a complete stranger. She was a survivor and she wasn’t going to let one old man scare her. So she hadn’t. And he’d respected her for it.
She suspected, however, that Atticus wouldn’t, so she let her eyes get all big and dark and wounded, spreading her hands in a helpless gesture. ‘I’m sorry, the boat wasn’t there. Seemed the captain got tired of waiting and took off.’ She fluttered her eyelashes, trying to be a bit pathetic. ‘I’m so sorry, but... Well. It looks like I’m stuck here.’
Atticus didn’t move for one long endless moment, his magnificent body gleaming like dark amber in the sun. Then abruptly he started towards her, intent in every line of him.
Alarm arrowed down her spine, all her threat senses going on high alert.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked, dropping the pathetic act instantly.
He didn’t answer, striding towards her, the expression on his face utterly unreadable. But there was no mistaking the anger in his eyes.
Elena took a step back, her alarm increasing. ‘Wait,’ she began, except by then it was much too late. He took one last step and then she was swept up into his arms, his wet skin soaking her lovely cream suit.
‘Atticus, what are you doing?’ she repeated, too shocked to even struggle.
‘I told you what would happen if you didn’t leave,’ he said in a hard voice.
