The Innocent's Shameful Secret

No wonder Millie, released from the kind of purdah existing at Meade House Cottage, had been such easy game for an unscrupulous local, she thought.

Daisy and Fiona, with obvious reluctance, had volunteered a few details—his full name, Kostas Papoulis, young, good-looking, full of himself, and—with a shrug—sexy.

Besides, Daisy had added with faint malice, she hadn’t thought that he was that interested in Millie. Just—playing around.

Selena wanted to slap her. Hard.

On the other hand, if this had also occurred to Millie by now, it might make her own task much easier.

The short walk up to the hotel was blisteringly hot, and she began to think longingly of iced water.

From the road, a path led up through borders bright with flowers to a terrace running the length of the frontage, and a pair of glass doors.

The foyer was light and airy, with a marble floor and a polished reception desk, currently unattended.

But Selena headed straight for the door labelled ‘Bar’, immediately opposite, and, drawing a deep breath, she walked in.

Once again, it seemed entirely deserted. Where was everyone? she wondered, as she looked about her. It was as if the entire establishment had been abducted by aliens.

Which the aliens could have done with her good wishes, she thought, just as long as they hadn’t taken Millie.

But as she hesitated, she heard above the hiss and bubble of the coffee machine on the end of the counter, an unmistakable chink of bottles coming from behind a curtained doorway at the rear of the bar itself.

She walked to the counter, sliding her bag from her shoulder to the floor, and coughed loudly. When there was no immediate response, she followed it up with an imperative, ‘Hello.’

The curtain was swept back, and a man appeared, clipboard in hand, his frowning gaze scanning her impatiently.

Selena found she was staring back, hoping she didn’t look as shocked as she felt because he bore little resemblance to the arrogant young stud described by Daisy, or any of the grinning lads she’d encountered at the harbour.

For one thing he was clearly older, probably in his late twenties, tall, swarthy, and in need of both a haircut and a shave, with a lean muscular body clad in jeans and a faded red polo shirt that emphasised the easy strength of his chest and shoulders.

Not conventionally handsome, she thought, aware her throat had suddenly tightened, his dark eyes brilliant, the nose and chin strongly marked, the mouth cool and sculpted with a firmness that suggested he was very much in charge of himself and his surroundings. Someone with—presence. And more.

She thought, Oh, God, Millie, you stupid, stupid girl. He’s miles out of your league. What have you done?

He broke the silence, his voice deep and resonant as he addressed her in what was apparently German.

She said, ‘I don’t understand,’ and saw his scrutiny sharpen and become more searching.

If you’re thinking I could be trouble, you’ve got it in one, she informed him silently.

His English was excellent, with only a faint trace of an accent. ‘I apologise for my mistake, thespinis. I was misled by your hair.’ His gaze rested on the gleaming pale blonde mass tumbling over her shoulders, and for a startling moment, it was as if he’d touched it. Run his fingers through the length of it.

‘But I was telling you that the bar is closed at this time of day, unless, of course, you wish for coffee.’

She lifted her chin. ‘No thank you. I’ve only come for my sister.’

‘Then I am afraid you must look elsewhere.’ He glanced pointedly past her at the unoccupied array of glass-topped tables and small easy chairs, set in comfortable groups. ‘Most of our guests are by the pool at the back of the hotel, or on the beach. Is she a resident?’

‘You tell me. After all you’re the only one likely to know her exact whereabouts.’ She glanced at her watch.

‘So shall we stop playing games? Just take me to her and she’ll be off your hands and on the way back to Mykonos and the airport on the next ferry.’

‘An excellent plan.’ His voice was crisper. ‘But there is a problem. I do not know either your sister’s identity or where she may be found. Except it is plainly not here.’

Selena gasped. ‘You mean she’s already left? She’s on her way home?’ She glared at him. ‘I suppose I should be grateful to you, but I’m finding it difficult.’

‘It is also unnecessary. I was not aware of her presence here, or her departure. I suggest you conduct your enquiries elsewhere,’ he added with cold finality and turned as if to go back to the store room.

‘And I suggest you answer my questions,’ she flung after him, aware that she was trembling inside, and not simply with temper at being so summarily dismissed. ‘Otherwise I shall go to the police and tell them you’ve taken advantage of a vulnerable seventeen-year-old. That you’ve kept her here to have sex with her, forcing her friends to return to the UK without her, and causing endless worry to her family.’

She added contemptuously, ‘I thought the Greeks were supposed to respect foreign travellers.’

‘We do,’ he said. ‘Although your female compatriots do not always make it easy.’ The contempt was echoed and the frown was back in force. ‘She was staying here, your sister and her friends? Their names?’

‘Raymond, Marsden and—and Blake.’ She heard her voice quiver slightly and snatched at her self-command.

‘Ah, yes.’ He nodded. ‘I remember some of the staff speaking of them.’ His tone suggested the comments were not to their credit.

Well, he was the last person with any right to pass judgement.

‘Whatever their opinions, nothing justifies your behaviour, Mr Papoulis.’ She was about to say ‘And I insist you bring Millie here immediately,’ when she was stopped in her tracks by the realisation that he’d started to laugh.

‘I’m glad you’re amused,’ she said scornfully. ‘However, the police may not share your sense of humour.’

‘They may,’ he said, still grinning. ‘When they hear I have been mistaken for my own barman. And they would undoubtedly tell you that, when you burst in, all guns blazing, thespinis, you should make sure they are aimed at the right target.’

He put down the clipboard and held out his hand. ‘Allow me to introduce myself. I am Alexis Constantinou and I own this hotel. Kostas is merely employed here, when he can take the trouble to work,’ he added sardonically. ‘But at least I know the reason for his absence this time, and that he cannot use the excuse that he is ill.’

Numb with embarrassment, and bitterly aware of the mockery in his dark eyes, Selena allowed her fingers to be gripped briefly in his.

‘So Kostas has sweet-talked your young sister into his bed,’ he went on musingly. ‘Strange. He usually confines his attentions to rather older women—the single, the divorced, so...’ He paused, his gaze once more drifting down her hair. ‘So—she must have made quite an impression.’

Her skin warming, she said tautly, ‘I don’t find that particularly reassuring.’

‘Nor would I,’ he said unexpectedly, ‘if she was my sister.’

He turned to the shelf of bottles behind him. ‘I think you need a drink, thespinis, and so do I.’ He poured something amber into two glasses and gave her one. ‘Five-star Metaxa,’ he said. ‘A universal remedy. Especially for shock.’

She said tautly, ‘You don’t seem particularly shocked over your employee’s behaviour.’

‘No,’ he agreed. ‘However, it is an irritation.’

He came round the bar and took the drinks to a table, motioning her to join him. She obeyed reluctantly, bringing her satchel with her.

Alexis Constantinou eyed it with faint amusement. ‘You travel light, Kyria Blake.’

‘It’s going to be a brief visit, Mr Constantinou. I intend to find my sister and persuade her to leave this—this cut-price Casanova she’s involved with and come home.’