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He needed to get himself under control, get dressed, and then figure out just what the hell he was going to do with her. Because he hadn’t lied when he’d told her about the storm front coming. Although the weather was perfect now, it wouldn’t be for long, and there was no time to get his own boat out and take her back to the mainland.
‘Atticus!’ Elena shouted after him from the water, still sounding furious. ‘Why did you do that? Where are you going?’
‘There’s a towel beside the shower,’ he called back, without turning around. ‘Leave your wet clothes there and once you’ve washed yourself off, come into the house.’
‘What?’ He could hear splashing behind him. ‘Atticus, wait!’
But he didn’t wait, striding across the hot sand and into the cool shade of the palms. He needed to get away from her and find his control again.
Inside, his house was beautifully cool—as he’d designed it to be—and the smooth dark wood of the floors was soothing after the hot sand. The ceilings were high, with exposed beams, the walls plain white. The living area featured large, louvred doors opened onto a wide deck that overlooked the lagoon. Today he had all the doors open, sunlight flooding in.
The peace and the familiarity of his home settled his frayed temper somewhat, and by the time he walked down the glass-walled corridor that led from the main living area and kitchen of the house down to another, smaller structure that was his bedroom and bathroom, he was feeling calmer.
Rinsing off in the shower, he then pulled on some clothes—worn jeans and a black T-shirt. The same louvred doors were in the bedroom too and they were also standing open, letting in the sun from the beach. He could see the outdoor shower from where he stood and Elena approaching and staring at it before glancing towards the house.
He turned away. She hadn’t bothered with his privacy, but he would give her hers. God knew he didn’t need any more temptation anyway.
On his way back to the living area, he made a detour down another glass-walled hallway that led to his office. It faced the jungle and the doors in this room opened onto a cool, shady deck. This was his head of operations, where he ran Eleos. There were computer screens and bookcases, one desk to work at, another that functioned as a workbench where he fixed electronics and anything else that needed fixing. Living on the ocean where the salt got into everything, there was always something that needed to be repaired.
He ran as much as he could off solar power, but he did have a back-up generator, his Internet coming from a satellite link.
Reflexively he checked the screens that were streaming news channels and social media to see if anything was happening globally that he needed to know about, but all was as usual so he directed his attention to the most reliable weather site.
The storm front would hit in about an hour, not enough time for him to get rid of Elena, and it was slow moving too, which meant she’d likely have to stay the night.
He bit off a curse. Perhaps he should just get the boat out and take her anyway. He could navigate through a storm. He’d done it before. Then again, he didn’t want to risk her, and besides, why was he allowing himself to get so hot under the collar about her? She was a pretty woman, but he’d been around pretty women before without getting so wound up. And why did it matter that she stayed? He’d already told her he wasn’t going back to Greece and he certainly wanted nothing whatsoever to do with his father, dying or not.
Are you sure about that?
He ignored the tug of doubt. Of course he was sure. The old man had burned so many bridges there was nothing left of them, not even a structure, and Atticus had no interest in building more.
Elena had been the last bridge he’d tried to build. She’d been an atonement of sorts for Dorian’s death, not a replacement but a second chance. She’d also been something of a goodbye, since he hadn’t been back to Greece since.
He’d checked in every so often with Kalathes staff to see how she was getting on, that his father was looking after her and that she was happy. And indeed, the reports had all come back that Elena was thriving on Kalifos, getting a decent education and Aristeidis was taking an interest in her.
He’d been satisfied, pleased that the girl he’d rescued was finding happiness somehow. Then word had come a few years later that Aristeidis would be formally adopting her, and he’d been surprised by the jolt that had given him. It hadn’t been pain precisely, but he’d decided he wasn’t interested in finding out exactly what it was or why, so he’d ignored it.
Elena was safe and now she had a family and that was all that mattered.
It was all that mattered still.
She could stay, it wouldn’t be a problem. If she kept going on about his father then he’d just tell her the subject was done and he wasn’t interested in hearing any more.
His temper easing now he had a plan, Atticus turned from his screen.
He had a guest bedroom. She could sleep there and then he’d send her on her way come morning.
She wouldn’t get under his skin any more than she already had.
He wouldn’t let her.
CHAPTER THREE
ELENA GLANCED ONCE again towards the house then, muttering curses under her breath, she began to peel off her wet clothes.
She was furious, utterly and completely furious.
How dared he dump her in the sea? There had been absolutely no call for that kind of behaviour, none at all, and now her lovely new suit and silk blouse were ruined. She’d also lost both shoes, as well as a good portion of her dignity.
