Free The Kyriakos Virgin Bride by Tessa Radley Page B

even his failure of a father had committed that sin. Zac rubbed a hand over his face, mentally recoiling at the idea of all that ugliness.
    His head ached thinking about the choice. A sullied bride? Never! The scandal of a divorce? He could not let Pandora go.
    If he flew her to the airport tomorrow, he’d never see her again. Never hold her, never touch her. He closed his eyes at the wave of nausea that swept him at that thought. Pandora was not going anywhere. Not until…
    Until…what? He shook his head and another wave of nausea swirled around him. Hell, he couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t think what to do next. The sheer lack of clarity shocked him. With a wretched sigh, Zac reached for his glass—then remembered he’d tossed the contents over the edge of the deck and groaned. Collapsing sideways, he slid full length onto the couch and closed his eyes.
    And wished that the room would stop spinning around him.

Five
    T he following day, a tentative knock roused Pandora from the doze she’d floated in for ages since dawn. Instantly awake, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, intensely aware of the slither of the pale gold satin nightgown against her legs.
    Could it be Zac? Her pulse picked up. Could he be coming to apologise for not loving her, for misleading her, for all the grief he’d caused her?
    â€œWho is it?”
    Her query was overridden by another—louder—knock.
    Annoyed, she called, “Go away, Zac.”
    But the knocking continued to staccato against the door. Pandora leaped across the room, her heartbeat racing in anticipation of the battle to come. She turned the key in the lock and yanked the door open.
    But it wasn’t Zac who stood there. Instead, Pandora found herself facing an elderly woman balancing a breakfast tray on one hand, the other poised to knock again. Pandora recognised the bag and scarf slung over the woman’s shoulder as her own.
    This must be Maria, Georgios’s wife. Pandora hid her exasperation and the twinge of disappointment that it wasn’t Zac. “Oh, thank you. I must have left them downstairs last night.”
    Maria said nothing. Pandora tried not to let the woman’s lack of welcome get to her. Instead, she scanned the teapot and cup, the bunch of dark purple grapes, the toast and conserve prettily arranged on the tray and said, “That looks delicious,” before reaching for the tray.
    Maria held on to it. For a moment Pandora thought the old woman intended to keep possession of it, then unexpectedly she relinquished it. Backing into the room clasping the tray, Pandora smiled her thanks.
    Setting the tray on the chest of drawers beside the window, Pandora turned to find Maria in the room. The handbag had been set down on the bed. Pandora’s silk scarf lay across Maria’s hands, and the old woman’s crooked fingers moved in little circles against the brightly hand-dyed silk.
    Pandora warmed to her. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? My favourite scarf.”
    Maria ignored her, her fingertips continuing to caress the fabric.
    â€œDid Zac instruct you to give me the silent treatment? Is this another part of his kidnap plan? Isolate me? So that I fall into his arms?”
    Nothing. Not even a glance from the other woman.
    Pandora gave a sigh of impatience. “You know, a little politeness goes a long way.”
    At last Maria looked at her.
    Pandora shook her head in disgust. “You’re very rude,” she said clearly. Shrugging when she didn’t get a response, Pandora stalked to the door and pointedly opened it fully. There was no mistaking the message, and Maria’s expression clouded over. She gave the scarf one last stroke before draping it on the post at the bottom of the bed. Then she shuffled past Pandora, her dark eyes veiled.
    â€œHave a nice day.” Pandora pinned on a wide smile.
    But Maria didn’t look at her again—nor did she deign