The Greek Tycoon's Achilles Heel

‘Get out,’ Lysandros shouted to her. ‘Go now.’

‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ Nikator said, pointing the pistol at her. ‘I’ve waited so long to get you both together. Come down, my dear, and let’s all three have a talk.’

She’d thought she knew the worst of Nikator. But now his eyes were bright as if he was high on something and his most dreadful side was on display. This man could kill, she was sure of it. And now only one thing mattered.

‘How do you come to be here, Nikki?’ she asked, trying to sound casual.

‘It wasn’t hard. I knew you’d both arrive soon.’

‘Let her go,’ Lysandros said. ‘I’m the one you want.’

‘But she’s also the one I want. She always has been. And now I’m tired of waiting. If not one way, then another. Isn’t that so?’

‘Then you can have me,’ Petra said. ‘Let Lysandros go and I’m all yours, Nikki.’

‘No!’ Lysandros’s howl of rage and despair seemed to hit the ceiling, causing some dust and wood flakes to float down.

‘It makes no difference to you,’ she told him, smiling. ‘We’d decided to part anyway. I never stay with any man for long. What do you say, Nikki?’

She was still on the stairs and he reached up to take her hand and draw her down beside him.

‘You mean you’d stay with me-?’

‘If you let Lysandros go.’

Nikator laughed softly, horribly.

‘Oh, darling, I so much want to believe you, but you’re lying. You’re still in love with him. After all the things I’ve heard you say to him-’

‘You mean-?’

‘Yes, I heard it all. It’s not just the gardens that are bugged. Everywhere. I bugged it years ago. Years and years I’ve been waiting. I’ve been with the two of you all the time.’

Lysandros’s roar filled the air. The next moment he’d launched himself onto Nikator. There was an explosion as the pistol went off and the next moment the whole place was shaking as the bullet hit the old ceiling, which began to disintegrate.

‘It’s coming down,’ Lysandros said hoarsely. ‘Get out fast.’

But the wooden stairs were collapsing and the next moment the ceiling began to descend on them. She saw it getting closer, then it was blocked out by Lysandros’s head, and then there was darkness.

He was in the place that had always been waiting for him. Before him stretched the Styx, the river that ran between the living and the dead. He’d known in his heart that the final choice was out of his hands, and now that he was here he would go wherever the river took him.

Had there ever been a choice? He’d seen the roof coming down on the woman he loved, and he’d lunged forward to put himself between her and danger. There had been no time to think, only the knowledge that without her life was unbearable. He would die with her, or instead of her. Either way, he was content.

He ached all over from the weight of the ceiling on his back, pinning him against her as she lay beneath him, so frighteningly still that he feared the worst.

‘Not yet,’ he whispered. ‘Wait for me, and we’ll cross the river together.’

Incredibly, he sensed a tremor beneath him. Then a soft breath broke from her.

‘Petra, Petra,’ he said urgently. ‘Are you alive? Speak to me.’

‘Aaaah-’ The word was so soft he hardly heard it.

‘Can you hear me?’

Her eyes opened a little way, fixed on him. ‘What happened?’

‘The roof fell on us. We’re trapped here. There’s no way out unless someone up there sees what’s happened.’

And nobody would, they both realised. They were underground, in a part of the house not visible from the road. They could stay here, undiscovered, for days, perhaps longer.

‘You saved me,’ she murmured.

‘I only wish I had.’

‘You took the weight of the rafters to protect me. You could have got out-’

‘And live without you? Do you think I want that? It’s together or nothing.’

She managed to turn her head. There were tears in her eyes. ‘Darling, are you very much hurt?’

‘No, but I can’t move, and I can’t get you out.’

They both knew that if he tried to move he would bring the rest of the place down on them both.

‘Together or nothing,’ she murmured.

‘There’s just one thing I could try,’ he said.

Taking a deep breath, he gave a shout, but immediately there was an ominous sound overhead and plaster began to pour down. They clung together, seeking refuge in each other.

‘Dear God!’ he said. ‘I neglected this place and let it get in such bad condition. This is my fault.’

‘Or maybe it’s my fault,’ she said softly. ‘I came excavating here without thinking of safety. Who knows what damage I might have done?’

‘Don’t try to spare me,’ he said savagely. ‘I did this. I harmed you. I killed you.’

‘Darling, it doesn’t matter now. Just hold me.’

‘For ever,’ he said fiercely, managing to get his arms about her. ‘And perhaps help will come in time. We must hold on to that, Petra-Petra?’

Her eyes had closed and her breathing had become faint.

‘Petra! Listen to me. For pity’s sake, wake up.’

But she didn’t open her eyes, and he knew that the boat was waiting for her; she was embarking on the last journey, leaving him behind.

‘Not yet,’ he begged. ‘Not until you’ve heard me-forgiven me. I shouldn’t have doubted you-say that you understand-that it won’t part us for ever-’

Once before he’d implored forgiveness from a woman as she’d begun the journey across the river, but she hadn’t heard him. Her face had been implacable as she’d climbed into the boat with her child in her arms, not seeing or hearing him, never knowing of his grief and contrition.

Now it was happening a second time, unless he could find a way to prevent it.

‘Forgive me,’ he whispered. ‘Make some sign that you forgive me-’

For he knew that without her forgiveness they could not make the final journey together. He’d betrayed their love with his mistrust; a crime that would keep them apart for all eternity and only her blessing could wipe that out.

But she was drifting beyond him, to a place he couldn’t follow.

Now he understood the face of the statue, raised in despair, calling on the gods of Olympus to grant his last request, helpless, hopeless.

‘Wake up,’ he begged. ‘Just for a moment, please.’

But there was only stillness and the sound of her breathing, growing fainter.

As he saw her slipping away Achilles lifted his face to the heavens, silently imploring,

‘Take me, not her! Let her live! Take me!’

She was in another world. There was the Styx, the river that led to the underworld and from which there was no return, save as a spirit. She looked back at the earth from which she’d come, but it was too late. She had left it for ever.

Then, coming towards her across the water, she saw a boat, with a man standing in the prow. He was tall and magnificent and all the lesser creatures fell away before him, but he had no eyes for them. He was searching for something, and when he saw her his eyes brightened and his hands reached out, imploring.

Now she knew him. He was the man who had chosen to die for her, and was asking if she was ready to follow him.