you think your ego can take it?’ They’d reached the lodge. She smiled serenely and said airily, ‘Enjoy your evening, Theo. I’ll see you in the morning—in a professional capacity. I trust you’ll be able to find your professionalism then too.’

Theo let her go inside. His heart was thudding at the dawning realisation that Helena really had taken a lover in the intervening years. It had always been in the back of his mind that she had no reason to hold on to her virginity, but until that moment he’d never believed it had happened. Theo had been unable to move on, but Helena...

She had thrived without him.

She’d had lovers.

He couldn’t believe how heavy and twisted it made his guts feel.

CHAPTER SIX

THE OFFICE HELENA had been appointed by Theo was, she had to admit, perfect. He’d provided her with everything she’d requested and as a result she had a humungous rectangular table on which to spread out her plans and display 3D models of her designs, a ginormous desk with three brand-new desktop computers and two brand-new laptops, all with the specified software installed. She also had a 3D printer, an ordinary printer and enough of the specific stationery she used to keep her going for the next year.

She had no intention of being here for even a quarter of a year. Once the designs were approved, she was out of here. A Greek project manager would take over the day-to-day running of the build and liaise with officials. To get to that point, though, was going to take a lot of hard work. Greek planning law was a whole new area for her and, while she’d crammed the subject every spare minute this past month, she was quite sure there were many areas she could trip herself up on if she didn’t give it due diligence.

The five days she’d already spent here had gone much better than anticipated, mostly because Theo had stopped flirting with her. Her parting shot at the end of their first site visit must have worked, for he’d turned into the epitome of professionalism. Or had it been her insinuation that she’d had lovers? Whatever the cause, she was glad he’d stopped tormenting her. She was.

If it weren’t for the sparks that played beneath her skin, working with him would be easy. Theo, she was learning, had a keen but relaxed approach to business that stopped her second-guessing herself and tying herself in knots about meeting his approval. If she suggested something he didn’t agree with he would dismiss it, but not in a way that made her feel foolish for broaching the subject. The suggestions he did agree with, he had a way of approving them that made her feel as if she’d grown wings.

It was the nights she struggled with. Her five nights here had been spent with her own company. Theo disappeared the moment business hours finished, sailing away on his yacht to wherever he planned to enjoy his evening. He invited her to join him every time and every time she refused. Each refusal was met with a nonchalant shrug before he strolled off.

So much for him being available to her day and night, but she was in no position to complain, not when he’d complied with all her requests. Since that first day, he’d made sure to be back and ready to work by the time she’d finished breakfast. All their site visits had been done before the sun blazed hot enough to chargrill them.

Last night, for the first time, he’d arrived back before the sun rose. Helena hadn’t been listening out for him or anything, but sleep had been slow to arrive since she’d been on the peninsula. She could only have been dozing when she heard footsteps, then his bedroom door close. Whose bed had he crept out of before returning?

Every time she’d closed her eyes after that she’d been plagued by images of Theo and a faceless woman entwined.

It shouldn’t bother her whom he spent his time with or what they did together. Theo was never going to live like a monk and it was unreasonable for her to expect him to curb his lust just because she was working for him. It was unreasonable for her to feel irritated by Theo being Theo.

And the definition of feeling irritated shouldn’t need to be changed to mean the flares of burning, twisting violence in Helena’s chest and stomach whenever the images taunted her. She’d spent three years seeing real-life images of Theo and his conveyor belt of women without feeling anything apart from the occasional flash of fury that ended the moment she’d scrunched the offending picture into a ball or shredded it into tiny pieces.

In the early hours of the morning, afraid to close her eyes, waiting for the sun to rise and announce the new day, she felt a violence in her stomach that had made her feel capable of ripping someone’s head from their shoulders.

It was a violence of emotion that frightened her and that not even an extra-long shower had washed out of her.

To make her frazzled nerves worse, her cumulative lack of sleep had left her looking awful. It was one thing to look dreadful deliberately, but when it came naturally and involved puffy eyes, lank hair and dry skin as side-effects, her vanity cringed every time she caught her reflection. The icing on the cake had come in the form of Theo strolling into the dining room for breakfast with a spring in his step, looking as if he’d had a full eight hours of sleep. Again, he was dressed for the sun in shorts and polo shirt while Helena was dressed in her uniform of skirt and blouse. He hadn’t shaved but still looked and smelled as fresh as the morning sun.

It wasn’t fair. Theo had everything. He’d always had everything—a life of luxury, his choice of women, unlimited funds...

But he’d known tragedy. His mother’s death from cancer, followed three months

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