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She didn’t see Leonidas again that evening. She swam, gently pulling herself through the water, enjoying the lapping of cool against her sun-warmed skin, and then she ate the dinner Mrs Chrisohoidis had prepared—a small pasta dish with some fruit and ice water.
She contemplated going in search of Leonidas afterwards, but the revelations of their conversation from that morning were still sharp inside her.
She slept heavily, which surprised her. When Hannah woke, the sun was up, the sky was bright, and everything felt calmer. Better. Just as her mother had always said it would.
She had a feeling she could handle anything.
She showered, luxuriating in the sensation of the water on her body, lathering herself in the luxury coconut-fragranced products before towelling dry and slipping on a pair of shorts and a loose shirt.
Her stomach rumbled and she put a hand on it unconsciously, smiling as she felt their baby inside her. She looked down, her eyes catching the glinting of her engagement ring and her heart twisted, because she’d worn another man’s ring, once upon a time, and she’d become used to seeing that on her finger. Then she’d become used to her hand being empty and bare—she’d been grateful. Grateful she’d found out what Angus was really like before she’d married him.
And now, she was to marry Leonidas. It was a gamble, and she wasn’t sure she had the nerves to gamble any more, but here she was, closing her eyes and hoping for the best—all for their daughter’s sake. This was all for her.
She had a coffee and some pastries for breakfast and was contemplating a walk on the beach when Leonidas appeared, wearing a similar outfit to the day before.
He wasn’t alone.
‘Hannah.’ He nodded and she wondered if the man behind Leonidas thought the stiff formality of Leonidas’s greeting unusual.
‘This is Greg Hassan.’
T
he man in question didn’t look anything like what Hannah had imagined. For some reason, ‘head of security’ conjured images of some kind of black belt muscleman in her mind, someone more like Leonidas, who looked as if they could snap someone with their little finger.
Greg Hassan was on the short side, and slim, with fair skin and bright blue eyes. Hair that had at one time been blond was now balding on top. Hannah was lost in her own thoughts so didn’t notice the way he startled a little at the sight of Hannah. But then, he smiled, moving towards her with one hand extended. She met it, belatedly forcing a smile to her own face.
‘Miss May, this won’t take long.’
In fact, it took hours.
Greg Hassan left some time after noon, and Hannah’s head was back to feeling as if it had been through a washing machine.
The island itself had state-of-the-art monitoring, there were panic buttons in each room, and alarms that were activated by unexpected air activity, including drones—the paparazzi had occasionally tried to send drones into the airspace to capture images but the new detection methods effectively made that impossible.
‘As for when you travel,’ Greg had continued, ‘you’ll have a team of four bodyguards. One of them will be with you at all times, and another with your child.’ He’d smiled reassuringly, as if this were good news, but Hannah had felt as if she were having her head held under water.
She was drowning and it hurt.
‘As much as possible, we’ll coordinate your movements in advance. If you wish to travel to Australia, for example, to see family, we’ll send a team out ahead to set up and prepare for your arrival. When your daughter starts school, I presume you’ll move to the mainland—’ At which point Leonidas had interrupted and said that had not yet been decided. Greg had continued that in the event of their daughter attending a school in Athens, or a major city, the campus would be vetted, and their daughter would wear a watch with an inbuilt panic alarm.
Questions mushroomed inside Hannah’s brain, but she hadn’t wanted to ask them in front of the security chief.
Leonidas had escorted Greg Hassan from the building and then disappeared to work, leaving Hannah with a million uncertainties scrambling around her brain.
She kept busy, calling her boss, Fergus, and informing him of her decision, and sending a polite, carefully worded email to her aunt, advising her, as a courtesy, that she was pregnant and getting married. She didn’t even want to think what the reaction would be. Hannah was careful to leave out any other details—particularly who the groom was.
She texted her flatmates and let them know she wouldn’t be coming back, but saying she’d pay rent until they found someone else and she could get back to pack up her room.
It all felt so official, and officially terrifying, but also bizarrely right.
She didn’t see Leonidas again until that evening. Hannah stood on the terrace, watching the sun set, her heart lifting as the golden orb dropped, already feeling some kind of soul-deep connection to this land.
She heard his approach, and then she felt his proximity, even though he didn’t touch her. It was as simple as the air around her growing thick, sparking with an electrical charge that fired her blood.
She turned slowly to find him there, his eyes locked to her as though he couldn’t help himself. But the minute Hannah looked at him, he blinked and looked away, turning his attention to the ocean.
They stood there in silence for a moment, Hannah trying not to react to the throb of awareness low in her abdomen, trying not to act on an impulse to throw herself at him.
