Read Online The Enigmatic Greek by Catherine George - Free Book Online
Authors: Catherine George
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account of my private life by one Christina Mavros!’
‘Yes, but I dismissed that as sheer “woman scorned” invective. I also read about your parents’ divorce and that your mother was one of the most beautiful photographic models of her generation. But other than Miss Mavros’s nasty little piece I found very little, except that you were a boy genius who achieved success very young.’
‘Oh, I was clever enough,’ he said harshly. ‘But my first taste of British public school was hell—’ He broke off with a curse. ‘That’s strictly off the record. I’ll give you a formal interview tomorrow. In the meantime, have a rest or bath or whatever before dinner, which will be in an hour or so. I’ll knock when it arrives.’
‘Thank you.’ Eleanor’s eyes were thoughtful as she closed the door behind him. He need have no worries about her discretion. Having achieved the impossible dream of an interview with Alexei Drakos, there was no way she would risk having him set lawyers on her by writing anything he would object to seeing in print.
After a shower, Eleanor rolled her dress in a ball and stuffed it in one of her bags. Sophia’s careful laundering had done wonders but she would never wear it again. She shrugged. Alex might be accustomed to women in designer finery at his dinner table, but tonight he would have to put up with a guest in jeans and one of a dwindling supply of clean T-shirts. On the bright side, a touch of make-up and a spritz of perfume was a definite improvement on the drowned-rat look of the night before, especially if she left her hair down. No curls, but there was a lot of it—shinyas chocolate sauce, according to one old flame—and her shoulder-skimming bob was still in good shape, courtesy of the haircut she had splashed out on before leaving home.
She sent a message to her parents via her laptop, but took a paperback out of her holdall instead of getting down to work. She climbed up on the pretty white bed to settle against the pillows, and sighed with pleasure at the thought of reading something that wasn’t research. And, after days of hopping on and off ferries to go in search of various accommodations she’d organised herself, it was rather good to feel all responsibility had now been taken out of her hands until she flew home.
When she heard the expected knock, Eleanor put a bookmark in her novel and got off the bed to thrust her feet into yellow canvas espadrilles in place of the shrunken navy flats. ‘Come in.’
Alex put his head round the door. ‘I thought we’d have a drink before the meal.’
‘Thank you.’
He smiled briefly as she joined him in the hall. ‘I see we both had the same idea about dressing down tonight.’
‘Not much choice for me. I packed only two dresses.’
‘You look just as good in jeans,’ he said casually, with a look which sent a jolt of unwelcome heat through her. ‘We have no one here to impress, so after all the drama yesterday the priority tonight is comfort. I hope you
are
comfortable with me, Eleanor?’
She sat down in a corner of the sofa, thinking it over. ‘I will be eventually.’
‘But not yet?’
‘I hardly know you,’ she pointed out. ‘We’re strangers, after all.’
‘Yet you were at ease with my mother right from the first.’
Eleanor smiled. ‘She’s a very special lady.’
‘True.’ His eyes softened. ‘I was the envy of my friends when she came to prize days and cricket matches. She bought a house in Berkshire within easy travelling distance of the school when I first started there, and my grandfather flew over to accompany her as often as he could so I wouldn’t feel out of it when other boys had fathers to cheer them on.’ He eyed her quizzically. ‘Your research didn’t turn up mention of Cyrus Kazan?’
‘No.’ Eleanor held her breath, astonished that she was hearing personal details of Alexei Drakos’ life.
‘What would you like to drink?’ he asked. ‘A cocktail or some of
‘Yes, but I dismissed that as sheer “woman scorned” invective. I also read about your parents’ divorce and that your mother was one of the most beautiful photographic models of her generation. But other than Miss Mavros’s nasty little piece I found very little, except that you were a boy genius who achieved success very young.’
‘Oh, I was clever enough,’ he said harshly. ‘But my first taste of British public school was hell—’ He broke off with a curse. ‘That’s strictly off the record. I’ll give you a formal interview tomorrow. In the meantime, have a rest or bath or whatever before dinner, which will be in an hour or so. I’ll knock when it arrives.’
‘Thank you.’ Eleanor’s eyes were thoughtful as she closed the door behind him. He need have no worries about her discretion. Having achieved the impossible dream of an interview with Alexei Drakos, there was no way she would risk having him set lawyers on her by writing anything he would object to seeing in print.
After a shower, Eleanor rolled her dress in a ball and stuffed it in one of her bags. Sophia’s careful laundering had done wonders but she would never wear it again. She shrugged. Alex might be accustomed to women in designer finery at his dinner table, but tonight he would have to put up with a guest in jeans and one of a dwindling supply of clean T-shirts. On the bright side, a touch of make-up and a spritz of perfume was a definite improvement on the drowned-rat look of the night before, especially if she left her hair down. No curls, but there was a lot of it—shinyas chocolate sauce, according to one old flame—and her shoulder-skimming bob was still in good shape, courtesy of the haircut she had splashed out on before leaving home.
She sent a message to her parents via her laptop, but took a paperback out of her holdall instead of getting down to work. She climbed up on the pretty white bed to settle against the pillows, and sighed with pleasure at the thought of reading something that wasn’t research. And, after days of hopping on and off ferries to go in search of various accommodations she’d organised herself, it was rather good to feel all responsibility had now been taken out of her hands until she flew home.
When she heard the expected knock, Eleanor put a bookmark in her novel and got off the bed to thrust her feet into yellow canvas espadrilles in place of the shrunken navy flats. ‘Come in.’
Alex put his head round the door. ‘I thought we’d have a drink before the meal.’
‘Thank you.’
He smiled briefly as she joined him in the hall. ‘I see we both had the same idea about dressing down tonight.’
‘Not much choice for me. I packed only two dresses.’
‘You look just as good in jeans,’ he said casually, with a look which sent a jolt of unwelcome heat through her. ‘We have no one here to impress, so after all the drama yesterday the priority tonight is comfort. I hope you
are
comfortable with me, Eleanor?’
She sat down in a corner of the sofa, thinking it over. ‘I will be eventually.’
‘But not yet?’
‘I hardly know you,’ she pointed out. ‘We’re strangers, after all.’
‘Yet you were at ease with my mother right from the first.’
Eleanor smiled. ‘She’s a very special lady.’
‘True.’ His eyes softened. ‘I was the envy of my friends when she came to prize days and cricket matches. She bought a house in Berkshire within easy travelling distance of the school when I first started there, and my grandfather flew over to accompany her as often as he could so I wouldn’t feel out of it when other boys had fathers to cheer them on.’ He eyed her quizzically. ‘Your research didn’t turn up mention of Cyrus Kazan?’
‘No.’ Eleanor held her breath, astonished that she was hearing personal details of Alexei Drakos’ life.
‘What would you like to drink?’ he asked. ‘A cocktail or some of
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