The Greek's Ultimate Revenge

And then get rid of her from his life—and Stephanos’s life.

A line from Shakespeare snaked into his mind—‘I’ll have her, but I’ll not keep her long.’

It would do very well for Janine Fareham.

Janine carefully removed some bones from her fish and took a forkful of the delicious dish. It was weird. She seemed hyper-aware of every movement she made. Aware of everything.

Especially Nikos Kiriakis. In its own disturbing way, dining with him was nerve-racking. She wanted to do nothing more than just sit there and stare at him open-mouthed. But she knew she could not. Must not. Instead she had to make conversation, or rather let him make conversation, and she had to respond as if she had her brain in place, instead of just wanting to gaze and gaze at him. She had to chat away—talking about innocuous subjects, like what there was to see on Skarios, and what kind of villa he was interested in buying, and things like snorkelling and windsurfing.

Not that she wasn’t grateful for the ordinariness of the conversation. She didn’t think she could deal with anything more.

Windsurfing was nice and safe, and since it was something she knew nothing about it meant she didn’t really have to do anything other than prompt with a question and Nikos Kiriakis would do all the talking. So she could sit there, chin on her hand, and indulge herself wondering just what it was about his eyes that were so compelling, watching how his mouth moved when he talked, and how his dark, silky hair shaped his beautiful face…