7: In Which She Wants to Play a Game

********************************

“How did you sleep?” were the first words out of Yaya’s mouth at breakfast the next day.

A blush instantly heated my cheeks. I was just thankful that I wasn’t pasty anymore. If I was lucky, she wouldn’t notice the heat on my face on account of how brown I was now.

“Very well, thank you,” I delicately replied, taking my seat across her. The aroma of rich coffee beans drifted into my nostrils and I eagerly reached out and poured myself a large mug. “And you? How did you sleep?”

“My back was killing me but I slept like Couscous over here,” she purred, regarding me over her morning cigarette. The dog barked, as if recognising his name. “I’m sorry I wasn’t awake when you returned from the beach. I trust Christos went to fetch you?”

The knowing look she gave me told me that she sure as hell knew what had happened when Christos came to “fetch me”. And again, afterwards, in my bedroom.

“He did,” I mumbled, looking away from the other woman’s knowing eyes, “although it wasn’t necessary.”

I smelled him before I heard him.

“Good morning,” Konstantin said from behind me. The chair beside me was pulled out and he sat down, his cologne overpowering every delicious scent in the dining room.

“Kalimera, Christos. Sleep well?” Yaya looked like the cat that got all the cream and then some.

I felt Konstantin’s eyes on me and resisted the urge to look at him. “I did, Yaya. Best sleep I’ve had in quite a while.”

“Good.” She clapped her hands together, getting to her feet. “Well, I need to take care of a few personal things, make a few phone calls. I’ll be busy the entire morning. Christos, you’ll entertain Francesca, won’t you?” She gave me an apologetic look that wasn’t all that apologetic. “I’m sorry, my dear.”

“Of course, Yaya,” said Konstantin.

“No, that’s all right,” I said quickly. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

Yaya flashed me a smile. “I’ll see you later.” She shuffled out the dining room without a backward glance.

“Look, don’t feel like you have to babysit me,” I muttered, spearing a rind of bacon onto my plate. “I saw your laptop. You must have work to do. And I honestly don’t feel like pretending to...”

I felt his fingers run across my lips and tasted the sweet stickiness of honey. Without warning, his hand was on the back of my head and he pulled me to his lips, his tongue delighting in the honey. My eyes were closed when he pulled away.

“Work can wait. Everything can wait,” he said gently, pushing stray strands of my hair away from my face. “Do you remember how you loved the cove behind Kástro?”

I slapped his hand away, furrowing my brow. “Don’t. Don’t reminisce about things like that.” I pushed the chair back as I got to my feet.

Konstantin was quicker than me. Grabbing my wrists, he yanked me to him. “One minute you’re purring my name like a kitten and the next, you’re throwing hot water over me. It’s becoming infuriating.”

“Let go of me,” I spat, trying to jerk myself away.

“Fine.” He released me, his voice thunderous. “Stay out of my way.”

“With pleasure,” I retorted.

Konstantin gave me one final glare before storming out the room, his breakfast almost untouched. It was amazing how much could happen in twenty minutes.

***

“Hello, Francesca.”

I sat up on my towel, shielding my eyes from the sun. “Petro, hi. Did Yaya send you? Is everything all right?”

He shook his head, collapsing to the ground beside me. “I simply came to catch up with you. How have you been?”

“Oh.” I gave him a weak smile. “I was much better off far away from the Kouriakis family. Does that answer your question?”

Petro laughed. “I take it you’re not exactly referring to Mrs. Kouriakis, correct?”

“How can you stand Konstantin’s presence? How have you worked for him all these years?” I was genuinely curious. Despite his harsh appearance, I knew that Petro was a gentle, sweet man – everything his “boss” was not.

“May I show you something?” Petro suddenly jumped to his feet, reaching out for my hand.

“What is it?” I let him pull me to my feet, taking my towel with me.

“Ssh. Konstantin is right. You do talk too much.”

I hit his arm lightly. “Where are you taking me?”

The tar landing strip was behind us and, as Petro led me to the car, I realised that the absence of the jet meant that I was well and truly stranded on a horrible emotional version of Survivor: Greece.

“You ask far too many questions.”

“We can walk, you know,” I muttered, settling into the passenger seat and rolling the window down.

Petro glanced at me while he put the car into gear. “Remember the cove?”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

“I live there. There’s a cottage that was built over a decade ago,” said Petro, turning on the AC. “I get to keep an eye on things. It’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever lived.”

The cove, which was behind the craggy precipices of the castle, was breathtaking when you first saw it. Russet-brown sand and weathered rocks and sheer azure water made up the landscape. Yaya had had trees planted a few years back and the leafy branches belly-danced in the wind to music only they could hear. Petro’s red-brick bungalow was charming and quite spacious for someone who lived alone. He parked the car outside it and got out, rounding the car to open my door.

“I agree,” I said, stepping out. The hot sand scorched my bare feet. “It’s beautiful.”

Petro stuck his hands into the pockets of his tan chinos. “Do you miss it?”

My eyes narrowed when I looked at him. “Was that the point of this adventure? To show me what I’m missing out on without Konstantin, without his money?”

He instantly held his hands up defensively. “No, Francesca. It was just a question.”

My attention was caught by something out on the wharf behind him. “What’s that?”

Petro turned, following my gaze. “Oh, that’s Konstantin’s yacht.”

I was already heading toward it. I’d had no idea Konstantin had actually gone and bought a yacht. He’d once mentioned that the idea of owning one was appealing. He’d obviously turned that idea into something solid.

I stopped in my tracks when I saw the golden calligraphy on one side.

Francesca.

“You brought me here on purpose,” I whined, spinning round to fix Petro with a glare. “Did you think I’d suddenly forgive him for cheating on me because he named a boat after me?”

“Cheating on you?” Petro’s eyes widened in shock. “Is that why you –”

“Shut up. Just shut up and take me back.” I shoved past him, muttering a string of curses to myself. The sooner I left this godforsaken island, the better.

“Francesca!” Petro called after me. “Talk to me.”

I got to the car and cursed again when I saw that he hadn’t left the key in the ignition. “Petro, get here now.”

“I’m here, I’m here,” he muttered, getting inside. There was a long moment of silence before he said, “Francesca, have you asked yourself why Konstantin would commit adultery when you’re everything he’s ever wanted?”

***

The nightmare started like a flashback.

First, I got to watch my parents die in the car crash that claimed their lives when I was eighteen. I knew it was nothing but a dream but their faces were so tangible, their screams so real. I was probably screaming, too, but in my dream, I was mutely rooted to the spot, my eyes glued to the horror movie that was my life.

And then there was Liliana.

‘Dear Frankie, What’s the best way to tell you this? You and I both know that I’m a failure when it comes to conveying any written form of emotion but every second we spend together, I feel the overwhelming guilt that is eating away at me for not telling you the truth. Is it selfish for me to think that ignorance is bliss? Liliana and I...’

That was where the letter cut off. After two years of knowing it off by heart, I still recalled where his neatly-penned words trailed off, where his confession of betrayal stopped short.

“So tell me – what are you and my husband hiding?”

“Your husband? You think he’s still yours? Why would he settle for a Toyota when he can have a Maserati?”

“Are you supposed to be the Maserati? Bitch, please. Don’t make me laugh. You’re nothing.”

“But who do you think warms his bed when he’s away from you?”

 It wasn’t Liliana’s trivial sniping that got to me; it was showing up at The Kouriakis Group in New York and finding her sashaying across reception with a stack of papers and a dinky nametag across her voluptuous chest. It was discovering that she’d been working there for God-knows-how-long when she’d been his employee at the London office the last time we’d faced off.

“Oh, I’m his PA. Didn’t you know, sweetie?”

No, I hadn’t know. Because Konstantin hadn’t thought it important to tell me that that wench was working for him, working with him.

“Is there something you want to tell me about your personal assistant?”

“What?”

“I know you heard me, Konstantin.”

“I did. I’m just not sure what you’re talking about or where this is coming for. She’s...efficient.”

Efficient. I was absolutely positive that she efficiently sucked his dick. I was sure that she efficiently rode him until lunchtime...

Why would he cheat on you when you’re all he’s ever wanted?

I woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air, panicking because I couldn’t get any. Movement in the dark caused the scream in my throat to die.

“Frankie,” Konstantin said softly, and I felt a depression in the mattress as he sank beside me. “You were having a bad dream.” He took me in his arms and I pressed my brow into his bare chest while he gently stroked my hair.

“Did I wake you?” I whispered.

“I was still awake so –”

“I wish you’d just admit it,” I interrupted in a hoarse voice, pushing away from him.

“What are you talking about? Admit what?”

“What you did. What you did with that...that woman!” I hissed.

I could barely see his face in the dark but I knew that he was frowning. “I’m having a hard time keeping track of all these accusations, Frankie. Please elaborate.”

“No. I’m going back to sleep.”

He reached out and flicked on the lamp. Light illuminated his face. “No, I think it’s time we discussed what basis you had and still have to call me such a vulgar thing.” His voice was thunderous. “An adulterer.”

“You’ll wake Yaya,” I said weakly.

“She sleeps like a log. You, on the other hand, do not. Come on, Frankie. Don’t you think I at least deserve to know what goes on in that head of yours?”

What if you were wrong?

The thought popped into my head in a flash and I felt my heart clench in fear.

I couldn’t meet his eye. “While you’re here, I think we should play Truth.”

“I’ve been the only truthful adult in this room. Just ask Colin.”

It felt like I’d been slapped. “That’s not fair.”

“Fair?” Konstantin’s voice was strangled. “What’s fair about what you did to me?”

“I’ll ask the first question,” I said through gritted teeth, averting my eyes from his legs when he swung them onto the bed, sitting cross-legged across from me.

“I have nothing to hide.”

I took a deep breath. “Did you or did you not cheat on me two years ago?”

“I thought you were convinced I did,” he said bitterly. “I thought you knew without a shadow of doubt that I was a dirty cheater.”

“Yes, or no?”

His eyes bored into mine. “No. The thought had never crossed my mind. You were mine. I was yours.”

I swallowed. “Say whatever you want.”

He glared at me. “My turn,” he muttered. “Did you ever regret your senseless decision to leave me?”

“Senseless?” I snapped, then collected myself, sucking in a calming breath. “Truthfully? Yes. There have been moments when I...when I miss you.”

His face softened and his silver eyes stared into mine. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” I said quietly, unable to tear my eyes from his.

“I miss you, too.”

“Have you slept with anyone else over the course of these past two years?” The words rushed out of my mouth.

A shadow fell across Konstantin’s face. “Did you expect me to become celibate? Turn into a choirboy?”

“Oh, go fúck yourself.”

“Oh, I have, Frankie,” he snarled, lunging at me. “Don’t get me started on that topic.”

I fell back onto the pillows, my heart pumping double time what with his hard body pressed against mine. “I couldn’t enjoy sex after you and all this time you were running around and –”

His mouth shut me up. “Running around and turning myself into a laughingstock when I suddenly became turned off by my conquests?”

“Don’t lie to me,” I pleaded, closing my eyes.

He heaved himself off me and fell beside me. “You still haven’t told me what you think happened, Frankie,” he said in a low voice.

“Just ask Liliana,” I whispered, turning the light off.

“What?” Konstantin said after an interminable silence.

I turned away from him and tried to get some sleep. Sometime later, I felt him get up and leave the room, gently closing the door behind him. The tang of salt was in my mouth.

***

“Do you think that Angelina woman simply gets a map, closes her eyes and points to a country – then decides to adopt a child from there?” asked Yaya, stubbing her cigarette out in an ashtray and simultaneously turning the page of her People magazine.

I smiled at her. “You never know.” I glanced over my shoulder. Wind was making the muslin curtains in front of the open glass door dance in the wind. “Yaya, do you know where Konstantin is?” I hadn’t seen him in two days, which was something. He was clearly avoiding me – and doing a good job of it.

The eyes that Yay had passed down to her grandson were now trained on me. “Haven’t seen him all morning. Which reminds me – I do have to speak with him. Perhaps you could be so kind as to go look for him?”

Yaya was a bloody liar. Manipulation simply got easier for her as she aged.

“Of course,” I told her, pushing myself off the chair and standing.

The conniving woman blinked up at me sweetly. “If he’s working, just tell him it’s important. Or simply use your female charm.”

Right. Konstantin probably found me as charming as a boa now.

Back inside, the air was chilly. Only the bedroom wing had central heating; the rest of the castle was a freezer made out of granite. Konstantin’s study was in the bedroom wing upstairs and it took me longer than necessary to shuffle to the large wooden door and knock. After a long silence, Konstantin’s voice rumbled out, “Come in.”

If Yaya was looking for him all morning, surely the study would’ve been the first place she’d try.

I reluctantly pushed open the door and went in. Konstantin was sitting at his desk, his laptop before him. Sunlight poured into the room from the open French windows, casting a radiant glow around him. With the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows and his tousled dark hair, he looked more at peace than I was after our night-time encounter two nights before.

“What do you want?” His eyes were fixed on his laptop screen.

“I don’t want a thing. Your gran’s asking for you.” My gaze wandered to the many photographs on the wall, most of them of Kon’s late parents and of Yaya. There was one of Kon and Petro on some sort of fishing expedition. A smiling and younger Yaya graced the space high above everyone else.

And then there was our wedding photo.

“You still have that?” I said aloud, and saw his eyes slowly travel to the photograph.

“Oh, that. I haven’t had time to do any spring-cleaning,” he muttered, his gaze drifting back to his laptop. “Is there a point to your hanging about? I’m busy.”

“Have a super day, then,” I said through clenched teeth, turning to leave.

His hard voice stopped me. “The next time you decide to listen to someone’s outlandish accusations about me, make sure she’s not a disgruntled employee with everything to gain by your disappearance,” he said severely, making me freeze in my footsteps. “Now, excuse me, I have investments to make. Yaya can wait.”

I walked out of his study, my head swimming.