The Kyriakos Virgin Bride / The Billionaire's Bidding: The Kyriakos Virgin Bride

Until…what? He shook his head and another wave of nausea swirled around him. Hell, he couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t think what to do next. The sheer lack of clarity shocked him. With a wretched sigh, Zac reached for his glass—then remembered he’d tossed the contents over the edge of the deck and groaned. Collapsing sideways, he slid full length onto the couch and closed his eyes.

And wished that the room would stop spinning around him.

Five

The following day, a tentative knock roused Pandora from the doze she’d floated in for ages since dawn. Instantly awake, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, intensely aware of the slither of the pale gold satin nightgown against her legs.

Could it be Zac? Her pulse picked up. Could he be coming to apologise for not loving her, for misleading her, for all the grief he’d caused her?

“Who is it?”

Her query was overridden by another—louder—knock.

Annoyed, she called, “Go away, Zac.”

But the knocking continued to staccato against the door. Pandora leaped across the room, her heartbeat racing in anticipation of the battle to come. She turned the key in the lock and yanked the door open.

But it wasn’t Zac who stood there. Instead, Pandora found herself facing an elderly woman balancing a breakfast tray on one hand, the other poised to knock again. Pandora recognised the bag and scarf slung over the woman’s shoulder as her own.

This must be Maria, Georgios’s wife. Pandora hid her exasperation and the twinge of disappointment that it wasn’t Zac. “Oh, thank you. I must have left them downstairs last night.”

Maria said nothing. Pandora tried not to let the woman’s lack of welcome get to her. Instead, she scanned the teapot and cup, the bunch of dark purple grapes, the toast and conserve prettily arranged on the tray and said, “That looks delicious,” before reaching for the tray.

Maria held on to it. For a moment Pandora thought the old woman intended to keep possession of it, then unexpectedly she relinquished it. Backing into the room clasping the tray, Pandora smiled her thanks.

Setting the tray on the chest of drawers beside the window, Pandora turned to find Maria in the room. The handbag had been set down on the bed. Pandora’s silk scarf lay across Maria’s hands, and the old woman’s crooked fingers moved in little circles against the brightly hand-dyed silk.

Pandora warmed to her. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? My favourite scarf.”

Maria ignored her, her fingertips continuing to caress the fabric.

“Did Zac instruct you to give me the silent treatment? Is this another part of his kidnap plan? Isolate me? So that I fall into his arms?”

Nothing. Not even a glance from the other woman.

Pandora gave a sigh of impatience. “You know, a little politeness goes a long way.”

At last Maria looked at her.

Pandora shook her head in disgust. “You’re very rude,” she said clearly. Shrugging when she didn’t get a response, Pandora stalked to the door and pointedly opened it fully. There was no mistaking the message, and Maria’s expression clouded over. She gave the scarf one last stroke before draping it on the post at the bottom of the bed. Then she shuffled past Pandora, her dark eyes veiled.

“Have a nice day.” Pandora pinned on a wide smile.

But Maria didn’t look at her again—nor did she deign to reply.

Shutting the door behind the rude old crone, Pandora locked it for good measure. Only then did she unzip her bag and realise that her cell phone was missing. She remembered Zac suggesting seductively that she spend her time on the island making love. She’d dropped the phone and he’d picked it up. The frustration simmering inside her notched up another degree.

Zac had kept her cell phone.

Seething, Pandora pushed open the curtains and blinked against the bright September sunlight. The absence of shadows made her glance at her watch. It was already midday, so she hastened to the en suite to wash and afterward pulled a floaty white sundress from the wardrobe where someone—Maria perhaps?—had hung her clothes.

Once dressed, she dragged an armchair from the corner of the room and placed it squarely in front of the window and settled down to tackle the fruit Maria had brought. She had just finished the grapes when a new volley of knocking thundered against the door. A moment later the doorknob rattled, but the lock held.

“Unlock the door.” Zac’s voice held a dangerous edge.

“Go away, Zac.”

“Open it now,” he demanded.

She stared mutinously at the door. A heavy thud rocked the door. But the wood held. His shoulder? Probably. She hoped it hurt like blazes. “Stop it, Zac.”

“Open the damned door or I’ll break it down.”

At the thought of Zac’s breaking the door down a forbidden flare of excitement stirred. God, what was she becoming? “If you use any force on that door, I’ll lose the last tiny shred of respect I have for you.”

There was silence. Then she heard him heave a heavy sigh. “You’ve hurt Maria’s feelings.”

The totally unexpected attack took her aback. “I’ve hurt Maria’s feelings?” What about her feelings? Slowly she rose from the chair and went to unlock the door.

Her eyes widened as she took in Zac’s appearance. He looked haggard. His normally tanned skin held an unhealthy yellow tinge, and his eyes were red-rimmed.

“Are you ill?” The words burst from her.

“Why?” he asked guardedly.

“You look terrible.”

His gaze slid away from hers and he muttered something that sounded like, “I feel terrible.”

“What?” she asked, frowning at him.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that Maria is offended.”

“I’m offended! That woman is rude.”

“Don’t talk so loudly.” He flinched and half closed his eyes.

“You’re hungover!” she accused.

He blinked but didn’t deny it.

“You didn’t see her. She was rude and insolent and ignored everything I said to her. She didn’t even greet me.”

“It’s not her fault—”

“Of course it’s her fault,” Pandora cut in heatedly. She raised an eyebrow. “Unless you put her up to it?”

“I didn’t put Maria up to anything. But I should’ve told—”