Greek Affairs: In His Bed: Sleeping with a Stranger / Blackmailed into the Greek Tycoon's Bed / Bedded by the Greek Billionaire

She walked towards a chest of drawers where one of the maids had left a tray of coffee and some fresh lemonade. ‘D’you want a drink?’

‘I guess.’ Melissa regarded her wearily now, pushing herself away from the door and slouching across the room. ‘What’s up?’

‘You have to ask?’ Helen shook her head. ‘Well, let’s see, my daughter—my delightful daughter—has done her best to humiliate me; I discover the father I haven’t seen for sixteen years has been lying to me; and his wife has made it clear she doesn’t want us here. Need I go on?’

Melissa shrugged. ‘Do I look like I care?’

‘Oh, right.’ Helen took off her jacket and pulled the hem of her cream silk top out of the waistband of her skirt and used it to fan her midriff. ‘So, you’d stay?’

‘Sure. Why not?’

‘I’ve just told you that we’re not wanted here.’

‘So?’

‘So—unlike you, I don’t like confrontation.’

‘Get over it, Mum.’ Melissa helped herself to a glass of lemonade before continuing, ‘In any case, I thought you were pretty hard on Milos. If it wasn’t for him, we’d prob’ly still be standing outside in the blazing sun. Maya was in no hurry to invite us in, was she?’

‘I don’t need Milos Stephanides’s help,’ said Helen tensely, and then struggled to control herself. But the last thing she needed right now was to get into a discussion with Melissa about Milos. She was too nervous, too on edge. She might easily say something she’d regret.

Cradling the cup of coffee she’d poured herself between her palms, she moved back to the windows. Meeting him again had proved far harder than she’d ever imagined. She should have got over him by now, but she was no longer so sure she had.

And how pathetic was that?

‘D’you think he and Maya are, like, doing it?’ asked Melissa suddenly, her reflection appearing in the glass of the window beside her mother’s, and Helen turned to give her a horrified look.

‘Doing what?’ she exclaimed, but she was very much afraid she knew what the child meant. Maya had been fulsomely glad to see him.

‘Hey, do I need to draw you a picture?’ Melissa grimaced. ‘You know what I mean.’

‘No.’ Helen wouldn’t make it easy for her. ‘No, I don’t.’

‘Well, duh—I don’t mean her and your old man, do I?’

Helen stared at her. ‘You’re suggesting that Milos—that Milos and Maya might be—’

‘Getting it on?’ finished Melissa helpfully, when her mother faltered. ‘Yeah. Why not? Didn’t you see the way she was all over him? Like a rash! And he’s not married. He said so.’

‘She is.’

‘And your point is?’

Helen was emphatic. ‘No.’

‘Hello? Don’t tell me you think your queen of a stepmother wouldn’t do such a thing.’ Melissa shook her head. ‘Get real, Helen. It wouldn’t be the first time she broke up a relationship.’

Her mother was aghast, but all she could say was, ‘Don’t call me Helen.’

‘What do I call you, then? Dumb?’ Melissa groaned. ‘Mum, this guy’s a babe magnet. Just ‘cos Maya’s already got a husband doesn’t mean she can’t have a bit on the side as well.’

‘Melissa!’ Helen nearly choked on her coffee. ‘You appal me, you really do.’

The girl shrugged. ‘Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

Helen gasped. ‘She was pleased to see him, that’s all.’

‘Wasn’t she just?’ Melissa snorted. ‘Whatever. The guy’s hot. Even you must have noticed. Or have you forgotten what it’s like to—?’

‘That will do.’ Helen couldn’t listen to any more. She took a steadying breath and changed the subject. ‘Is your room nice?’

‘Nice?’ Melissa finished the lemonade in her glass and returned it to the tray. ‘You’re determined not to treat me like an adult, aren’t you?’

‘Because you’re not an adult, Melissa. You’re thirteen, not twenty-three.’

‘I’ll be fourteen soon. Why can’t you remember that?’

‘Oh, I remember exactly how old you are,’ said Helen with feeling. Did she ever? Then in a spirit of compromise, ‘So you think we should stay?’

‘Do kids have a vote?’

‘Of course, you do.’ Helen sighed. ‘I thought you might want to meet your grandfather.’

Melissa pulled a face. ‘Like I need another old man in my life!’

‘So what are you saying?’

‘Well, we’re here, aren’t we? And this place isn’t bad. And our staying will definitely get up Maya’s nose.’

Helen couldn’t prevent the smile that tugged at her lips. ‘You’re impossible!’

‘But you love me anyway,’ said Melissa, dodging her mother’s playful nudge. Then as the sound of a car accelerating up the villa reached their ears she arched a mocking brow. ‘Hey, is that who I think it is?’

Helen’s stomach contracted. She had no doubt that the car belonged to her father. Someone, Maya probably, had informed him of their arrival, and he’d evidently dropped whatever it was he’d been doing to return to the house.

Immediately, the prospect of unpacking, of doing as Melissa had suggested and staying here, lost its appeal. Dear God, what was she going to say to him? How many more lies was he planning to tell her? What excuse could he possibly make for hinting that he only had a short time to live?

Melissa, who had dashed out onto the balcony to try and see the new arrival, returned with a disappointed face. ‘You can’t see the drive from here,’ she said. ‘Do you think it’s him?’

‘If you mean, do I think it’s your grandfather, then, yes, I think so,’ said Helen tersely. And, as if just noticing her daughter’s appearance, she added, ‘Don’t you have anything more suitable to wear? Shorts, for example?’

‘Yeah, right. Like I’m going to dress like a dork!’ Melissa was disgusted. ‘And don’t take your bad temper out on me. It’s not my fault.’

Helen’s anger subsided as quickly as it had appeared. ‘I just wish you didn’t always wear black!’

‘It’s a fashion statement,’ said Melissa airily, making for the door. ‘Anyway, I’m going to see what’s going on downstairs. I don’t want that evil bitch queering the pitch.’

‘Stay where you are.’ Helen moved quickly to intercept her. ‘You are not leaving this room on your own.’ She took a deep breath. ‘And watch your language where your grandfather’s wife is concerned. Stop trying to be a poor imitation of your grandmother.’