"Why did you let her leave the house?" Constantin Demiris demanded.
"I'm sorry, sir," the butler replied. "You didn't say anything about her not leaving, so..."
Demiris forced himself to appear calm. "It's not important. She'll probably be back soon."
"Is there anything else, sir?"
"No."
He watched the butler go. Demiris walked over to a window and stared out at the impeccably manicured garden. It was dangerous for Catherine Alexander to appear in the streets of Athens, where someone might recognize her. It's too bad I can't afford to let her live. But first - my vengeance. She'll stay alive until I take my revenge. I'm going to enjoy myself with her. I'll send her away from here, somewhere where no one will know her.London will be safe. We can keep an eye on her. I'll give her a job at my offices there.
An hour later, when Catherine returned to the house, Constantin Demiris could sense instantly the change in her. It was as though some dark curtain had been lifted and Catherine had suddenly come alive. She was wearing an attractive white silk suit, with a white blouse - and Demiris was taken aback by how much her appearance had changed. Nostimi, he thought. Sexy.
"Mr. Demiris..."
"Costa."
"I...I know who I am, and - and what happened."
His face revealed nothing. "Really? Sit down, my dear, and tell me."
Catherine was too excited to sit. She began to pace jerkily on the carpet, back and forth, the words tumbling out of her. "My husband and his - his mistress, Noelle, tried to kill me." She stopped, looking at him anxiously. "Does that sound crazy? I - I don't know. Maybe it is."
"Go on, my dear," he said soothingly.
"Some nuns from the convent saved me. My husband worked for you, didn't he?" she blurted out.
Demiris hesitated, carefully weighing his answer. "Yes." How much should he tell her? "He was one of my pilots. I felt a sense of responsibility toward you. That's only..."
She faced him. "But you knew who I was. Why didn't you tell me this morning?"
"I was afraid of the shock," Demiris said smoothly. "I thought it better to let you discover things for yourself."
"Do you know what happened to my husband and that - that woman? Where are they?"
Demiris looked into Catherine's eyes. "They were executed."
He watched the blood drain from her face. She made a small sound. She suddenly felt too weak to stand and sank into a chair.
"I don't..."
"They were executed by the state, Catherine."
"But...why?"
Careful. Danger. "Because they tried to murder you."
Catherine frowned. "I don't understand. Why would the state execute them? I'm alive..."
He broke in. "Catherine, Greek laws are very strict. And justice here is swift. They had a public trial. A number of witnesses testified that your husband and Noelle Page attempted to kill you. They were convicted, and sentenced to death."
"It's hard to believe," Catherine sat there, dazed. "The trial..."
Constantin Demiris walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "You must put the past out of your mind. They tried to do an evil thing to you, and they paid for it." He struck a more buoyant tone. "I think you and I should discuss the future. Do you have any plans?"
She did not hear him. Larry, she thought. Larry's handsome face, laughing. Larry's arms, his voice...
"Catherine..."
She looked up. "I'm sorry?"
"Have you had any thoughts about your future?"
"No, I...I don't know what I'm going to do. I suppose I could stay in Athens..."
"No," Demiris said firmly. "That wouldn't be a good idea. It would bring back too many unpleasant memories. I would suggest that you leave Greece."
"But I have nowhere to go."
"I've given it some thought," Demiris told her. "I have offices in London. You once worked for a man named William Fraser in Washington. Do you remember that?"
"William...?" And suddenly she did remember it. That had been one of the happiest times of her life.
"You were his administrative assistant, I believe."
"Yes, I..."
"You could do the same job for me in London."
She hesitated. "I don't know. I don't want to seem ungrateful, but..."
"I understand. I know everything seems to be happening very quickly," Demiris said sympathetically. "You need some time to think about all this. Why don't you have a nice quiet dinner in your room, and in the morning we'll discuss it further."
Asking her to have dinner in her room was a last-minute inspiration. He could not afford to have his wife run into her.
"You're very thoughtful," Catherine said. "And very generous. The clothes are..."
He patted her hand and held it a fraction longer than necessary. "It's my pleasure."
She sat in her bedroom watching the blazing sun set over the blue Aegean in an explosion of color. There is no point in reliving the past. There is the future to think about. Thank God for Constantin Demiris. He was her lifeline. Without him, she would have had no one to turn to. And he had offered her a job in London. Am Igoing to take it? Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. "We've brought your dinner, miss."
Long after Catherine had gone, Constantin Demiris sat in the library thinking about their conversation. Noelle. Only once in his life had Demiris permitted himself to lose control of his emotions. He had fallen deeply in love with Noelle Page, and she had become his mistress. He had never known a woman like her. She was knowledgeable about art, and music, and business, and she had become indispensable. Nothing about Noelle surprised him. Everything about Noelle surprised him. He was obsessed with her. She was the most beautiful, the most sensual woman Demiris had ever known. She had given up stardom to be at his side. Noelle had stirred emotions in him that he had never felt before. She was his lover, his confidante, his friend. Demiris had trusted her completely and she had betrayed him with Larry Douglas. It was a mistake Noelle had paid for with her life. Constantin Demiris had arranged with the authorities for her body to be buried on the grounds of the cemetery on Psara, his private island in the Aegean. Everyone had remarked on what a beautiful, sentimental gesture it was. In fact, Demiris had arranged for the burial plot to be there so that he could have the exquisite pleasure of walking over the bitch's grave. At Demiris's bedside in his own bedroom was a photograph of Noelle at her loveliest, looking up at him and smiling. Forever smiling, frozen in time.
Even now, more than a year later, Demiris was unable to stop thinking about her. She was an open wound that no doctor could ever heal.
Why, Noelle, why? I gave you everything. I loved you, you bitch. I loved you. I love you.
And then there was Larry Douglas. He had paid with his life. But that was not enough for Demiris. He had another vengeance in mind. A perfect one. He was going to take his pleasure with Douglas's wife as Douglas had done with Noelle. Then he would send Catherine to join her husband.
"Costa..."
It was his wife's voice.
Melina walked into the library.
Constantin Demiris was married to Melina Lambrou, an attractive woman from an old, aristocratic Greek family. She was tall and regal looking, with an innate dignity.
"Costa, who is the woman I saw in the hall?" Her voice was tense.
The question caught him off guard. "What? Oh. She's a friend of a business associate," Demiris said. "She's going to work for me in London."
"I caught a glimpse of her. She reminds me of someone."
"Really?"
"Yes." Melina hesitated. "She reminds me of the wife of the pilot who used to work for you. But that's impossible, of course. They murdered her."
"Yes," Constantin Demiris agreed. "They murdered her."
He watched Melina as she walked away. He would have to be careful. Melina was no fool. I never should have married her, Demiris thought. It was a bad mistake...
Ten years earlier, the wedding of Melina Lambrou and Constantin Demiris had sent shock waves through business and social circles from Athens to the Riviera to Newport. What had made it so titillating was that only one month before the wedding the bride had been engaged to marry another man.
As a child, Melina Lambrou had dismayed her family by her willfulness. When she was ten, she decided she wanted to be a sailor. The family chauffeur found her at the harbor, trying to sneak aboard a ship, and brought her home in disgrace. At twelve, she tried to run away with a traveling circus.
By the time Melina was seventeen, she was resigned to her fate - she was beautiful, fabulously wealthy, and the daughter of Mihalis Lambrou. The newspapers loved to write about her. She was a fairy-tale figure whose playmates were princesses and princes, and through it all, by some miracle, Melina had managed to remain unspoiled. Melina had one brother, Spyros, who was ten years older than she, and they adored each other. Their parents had died in a boating accident when Melina was thirteen, and it was Spyros who had reared her.
Spyros was extremely protective of her - too much so, Melina thought. As Melina reached her late teens, Spyros became even more wary about Melina's suitors, and he carefully examined each candidate for his sister's hand. Not one of them proved to be good enough.
"You have to be careful," he constantly counseled Melina. "You're a target for every fortune hunter in the world. You're young and rich and beautiful, and you bear a famous name."
"Bravo, my dear brother. That will be of immense comfort to me when I'm eighty years old and die an old maid."
"Don't worry, Melina. The right man will come along."
His name was Count Vassilis Manos and he was in his middle forties, a successful businessman from an old and distinguished Greek family. The count had fallen in love instantly with the beautiful young Melina. His proposal came only a few weeks after they met.
"He's perfect for you," Spyros said happily. "Manos has his feet on the ground, and he's crazy about you."
Melina was less enthusiastic. "He's not exciting, Spyros. When we're together, all he talks about is business, business, business. I wish he were more - more romantic."
Her brother said firmly, "There's more to marriage than romance. You want a husband who is solid and stable, someone who will devote himself to you."
And finally Melina was persuaded to accept Count Manos's proposal.
The count was thrilled. "You've made me the happiest man in the world," he declared. "I've just formed a new company. I'm going to name it Melina International."
She would have preferred a dozen roses. The wedding date was set, one thousand invitations were sent out, and elaborate plans were made.
It was then that Constantin Demiris entered Melina Lambrou's life.
They met at one of the dozen or so engagement parties that were being given for the betrothed pair.
The hostess introduced them. "This is Melina Lambrou - Constantin Demiris."
Demiris stared at her with his brooding black eyes. "How long will they let you stay?" he asked.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Surely you've been sent from the heavens to teach us mortals what beauty is."
Melina laughed. "You're very flattering, Mr. Demiris."
He shook his head. "You're beyond flattery. Nothing I could say would do you justice."
At that moment Count Manos approached and interrupted the conversation.
That night, just before falling asleep, Melina thought about Demiris. She had heard about him, of course. He was wealthy, he was a widower, and he had the reputation of being a ruthless businessman and a compulsive womanizer. I'm glad I'm not involved with him, Melina thought.
The gods were laughing.
The morning after the party, Melina's butler walked into the breakfast room. "A package has arrived for you, Miss Lambrou. It was delivered by Mr. Demiris's chauffeur."
"Bring it in, please."
So Constantin Demiris thinks he's going to impress me with his wealth. Well, he's in for a big disappointment. Whatever he's sent...whether it's an expensive piece of jewelry, or some priceless antique...I'm going to send it right back to him.
The package was small and oblong, and beautifully wrapped. Curious, Melina opened it. The card read, simply: "I thought you might enjoy this. Constantin."
It was a leather-bound copy of Toda Raba by Nikos Kazantzakis, her favorite author. How could he have known?
Melina wrote a polite thank-you note, and thought: That's that.
The following morning another package arrived. This time it was a recording by Delius, her favorite composer. The note read: "You might enjoy listening to this while reading Toda Raba."
From that day on there were gifts every day. Her favorite flowers, and perfume, and music, and books. Constantin Demiris had taken the trouble to find out what Melina's tastes were, and she could not help but be flattered by his attention.
When Melina telephoned to thank Demiris, he said: "There's nothing I could ever give you that would do you justice."
How many women had he said that to before?
"Will you have lunch with me, Melina?"
She started to say no, and then thought: It can't hurt to have lunch with the man. He's been very thoughtful.
"Very well."
When she mentioned to Count Manos that she was having lunch with Constantin Demiris, he objected.
"What's the point, my dear? You have nothing in common with that terrible man. Why are you going to see him?"
"Vassilis, he's been sending me little gifts every day. I'm going to tell him to stop." And even as Melina said it, she thought: I could have told him that over the telephone.
Constantin Demiris had made reservations at the popular Floca restaurant on Panepistimiou Street and he was waiting for Melina when she arrived.
He rose. "You're here. I was so afraid you might change your mind."
"I always keep my word."
He looked at her and said solemnly: "And I keep mine. I'm going to marry you."
Melina shook her head, half amused, half annoyed. "Mr. Demiris, I'm engaged to many someone else."
"Manos?" He waved a hand in dismissal. "He's not right for you."
"Oh, really? And why is that?"
"I've checked on him. Insanity runs in his family, he's a hemophiliac, he's wanted by the police on a sex charge in Brussels, and he plays a dreadful game of tennis."
Melina could not help laughing. "And you?"
"I don't play tennis."
"I see. And that's why I should marry you?"
"No. You'll marry me because I'm going to make you the happiest woman who ever lived."
"Mr. Demiris..."
He covered her hand with his. "Costa."
She withdrew her hand. "Mr. Demiris, I came here today to tell you that I want you to stop sending me gifts. I don't intend to see you again."
He studied her for a long moment. "I'm sure you are not a cruel person."
"I hope not."
He smiled. "Good. Then you won't want to break my heart."
"I doubt if your heart is that easily broken. You have quite a reputation."
"Ah, that was before I met you. I've dreamed about you for a long time."
Melina laughed.
"I'm serious. When I was a very young man, I used to read about the Lambrou family. You were very rich and I was very poor. I had nothing. We lived from hand to mouth. My father was a stevedore who worked on the docks of Piraeus. I had fourteen brothers and sisters, and we had to fight for everything we wanted."
In spite of herself, she was touched. "But now you are rich."
"Yes. Not as rich as I am going to be."
"What made you rich?"
"Hunger. I was always hungry. I'm still hungry."
She could read the truth in his eyes. "How did you...how did you get started?"
"Do you really want to know?"
And Melina found herself saying, "I really want to know."
"When I was seventeen, I went to work for a small oil company in the Middle East. I was not doing very well. One night I had dinner with a young geologist who worked for a large oil company. I ordered a steak that night, and he ordered only soup. I asked him why he didn't have a steak, and he said it was because he had no back teeth and he couldn't afford to buy dentures. I gave him fifty dollars to buy new teeth. A month later he telephoned me in the middle of the night to tell me he had just discovered a new oil deposit. He hadn't told his employer about it yet. In the morning, I started borrowing every cent I could, and by evening I had bought options on all the land around the new discovery. It turned out to be one of the biggest oil deposits in the world."
Melina was hanging on his every word, fascinated.
"That was the beginning. I needed tankers to ship my oil in, so in time I acquired a fleet. Then a refinery. Then an airline." He shrugged. "It went on from there."
It was not until long after they were married that Melina learned that the story about the steak was pure fiction.
Melina Lambrou had had no intention of seeing Constantin Demiris again. But, by a series of carefully arranged coincidences, Demiris invariably managed to appear at the same party, or theater, or charity event, that Melina was attending. And each time, she felt his overpowering magnetism. Beside him, Vassilis Manos seemed - she hated to admit it, even to herself - boring.
Melina Lambrou was fond of the Flemish painters, and when Bruegel's "Hunters in the Snow" came on the market, before she could purchase it, Constantin Demiris sent it to her as a gift.
Melina was fascinated by his uncanny knowledge of her tastes. "I can't accept such an expensive gift from you," she protested.
"Ah, but it's not a gift. You must pay for it. Dinner with me tonight."
And she finally agreed. The man was irresistible.
A week later Melina broke off her engagement to Count Manos.
When Melina told her brother the news he was stunned.
"Why, in heaven's name?" Spyros asked. "Why?"
"Because I'm going to marry Constantin Demiris."
He was aghast. "You must be crazy. You can't marry Demiris. He's a monster. He'll destroy you. If..."
"You're wrong about him, Spyros. He's wonderful. And we're in love. It's..."
"You're in love," he snapped. "I don't know what he's after, but it has nothing to do with love. Do you know what his reputation is with women? He..."
"That's all in the past, Spyros. I'm going to be his wife."
And there was nothing he could do to talk his sister out of the wedding.
A month later Melina Lambrou and Constantin Demiris were married.
In the beginning it seemed to be a perfect marriage. Constantin was amusing and attentive. He was an exciting and passionate lover, and he constantly surprised Melina with lavish gifts and trips to exotic places.
On the first night of their honeymoon, he said, "My first wife was never able to give me a child. Now we'll have many sons."
"No daughters?" Melina teased.
"If you wish. But a son first."
The day Melina learned she was pregnant, Constantin was ecstatic.
"He will take over my empire," he declared happily.
In her third month, Melina miscarried. Constantin Demiris was out of the country when it happened. When he returned and heard the news he reacted like a madman.
"What did you do?" he screamed. "How could it happen?"
"Costa, I..."
"You were careless!"
"No, I swear..."
He took a deep breath. "All right. What's done is done. We'll have another son."
"I...I can't." She could not meet his eyes.
"What are you saying?"
"They had to perform an operation. I can't have another child."
He stood there, frozen, then turned and stalked out without a word.
From that moment on, Melina's life became a hell. Constantin Demiris carried on as though his wife had deliberately killed his son. He ignored her, and began to see other women.
Melina could have borne that, but what made the humiliation so painful was the pleasure he took in publicly flaunting his liaisons. He openly had affairs with movie stars, opera singers, and the wives of some of his friends. He took his lovers to Psara, and on cruises on his yacht, and to public functions. The press gleefully chronicled Constantin Demiris's romantic adventures.
They were at a dinner party at the house of a prominent banker.
"You and Melina must come," the banker had said. "I have a new Oriental chef who makes the best Chinese food in the world."
The guest list was prestigious. At the dinner table was a fascinating collection of artists, politicians, and industrialists. The food was indeed wonderful. The chef had prepared shark fin soup, shrimp rolls, mu shu pork, Peking duck, spareribs, Canton noodles, and a dozen other dishes.
Melina was seated near the host at one end of the table, her husband next to the hostess at the other end. To Demiris's right was a pretty, young film star. Demiris was concentrating on her, ignoring everyone else at the table. Melina could hear snatches of his conversation.
"When you finish your picture, you must come on my yacht. It will be a lovely vacation for you. We'll cruise along the Dalmatian coast..."
Melina tried not to listen, but it was impossible. Demiris made no effort to keep his voice down. "You've never been to Psara, have you? It's a lovely little island, completely isolated. You'll enjoy it." Melina wanted to crawl under the table. But the worst was yet to come.
They had just finished the sparerib course, and the butlers were bringing silver finger bowls.
As a finger bowl was placed in front of the young star, Demiris said, "You won't need that." And, grinning, he lifted her hands in his and began slowly to lick the sauce from her fingers, one by one. The other guests averted their eyes.
Melina rose to her feet and turned to her host. "If you'll excuse me, I - I have a headache."
The guests watched as she fled from the room. Demiris did not come home that night, or the next.
When Spyros heard about the incident, he was livid. "Just give me the word," Melina's brother fumed, "and I'll kill the son of a bitch."
"He can't help it," Melina defended him. "It's his nature."
"His nature? He's an animal! He should be put away. Why don't you divorce him?"
It was a question Melina Demiris had asked herself often in the still of the long, lonely nights she spent by herself. And it always came down to the same answer: I love him.
At five-thirty in the morning, Catherine was awakened by an apologetic maid.
"Good morning, miss..."
Catherine opened her eyes and looked around in confusion. Instead of her tiny cell at the convent, she was in a beautiful bedroom in...Her memory came flooding back. The trip into Athens...You're Catherine Douglas...They were executed by the state...
"Miss..."
"Yes?"
"Mr. Demiris asked if you would join him for breakfast on the terrace."
Catherine stared up at her sleepily. She had been awake until four o'clock, her mind in a turmoil.
"Thank you. Tell Mr. Demiris I'll be right there."
Twenty minutes later a butler escorted Catherine to an enormous terrace facing the sea. There was a low stone wall that overlooked the gardens twenty feet below. Constantin Demiris was seated at a table, waiting. He studied Catherine as she walked toward him. There was an exciting innocence about her. He was going to take it, possess it, make it his. He imagined her naked in his bed, helping him punish Noelle and Larry again. Demiris rose.
"Good morning. Forgive me for awakening you so early, but I must leave for my office in a few minutes, and I wanted the opportunity for us to have a little chat first."
"Yes, of course," Catherine said.
She sat down at the large marble table opposite him, facing the sea. The sun was just rising, showering the sea with a thousand sparkles.
"What would you like for breakfast?"
She shook her head. "I'm not hungry."
"Some coffee perhaps?"
"Thank you."
The butler was pouring hot coffee into a Belleek cup.
"Well, Catherine," Demiris began. "Have you thought about our conversation?"
Catherine had thought of nothing else all night. There was nothing left for her in Athens, and she had nowhere else to go. I won't go back to the convent, she vowed. The invitation to work for Constantin Demiris in London sounded intriguing. In fact, Catherine admitted to herself, it sounds exciting. It could be the beginning of a new life.
"Yes," Catherine said, "I have."
"And?"
"I - I think I would like to try it."
Constantin Demiris managed to conceal his relief. "I'm delighted. Have you ever been to London?"
"No. That is - I don't think so." Why don't I know for sure? There were still so many frightening gaps in her memory. How many more surprises am I going to get?
"It's one of the few civilized cities left in the world. I'm sure you'll enjoy it very much."
Catherine hesitated. "Mr. Demiris, why are you going to all this trouble for me?"
"Let's just say it's because I feel a sense of responsibility." He paused. "I introduced your husband to Noelle Page."
"Ah," Catherine said slowly. Noelle Page. The name sent a small shiver through her. The two of them had died for each other. Larry must have loved her so much.
Catherine forced herself to ask a question that had been tormenting her all night long. "How...how were they executed?"
There was a small pause. "They were shot by a firing squad."
"Oh." She could feel the bullets tearing into Larry's flesh, ripping apart the body of the man she had once loved so much. She was sorry she had asked.
"Let me give you some advice. Don't think about the past. It can only be hurtful. You must put all that behind you."
Catherine said slowly, "You're right. I'll try."
"Good. I happen to have a plane flying to London this morning, Catherine. Can you be ready to leave in a little while?"
Catherine thought of all the trips she had taken with Larry, the excited preparations, the packing, the anticipation.
This time, there would be no one to go with, little to pack, and nothing to prepare for. "Yes. I can be ready."
"Excellent. By the way," Demiris said casually, "now that your memory has returned, perhaps there's someone you'd like to get in touch with, someone from your past whom you would like to let know that you're all right."
The name that instantly sprang to her mind was William Fraser. He was the only one in the world who remained from her past. But she knew she was not ready to face him yet. When I get settled, Catherine thought. When I start working again, I'll get in touch with him.
Constantin Demiris was watching her, waiting for her answer.
"No," Catherine said finally. "There's no one."
She had no idea that she had just saved William Fraser's life.
"I'll arrange a passport for you." He handed her an envelope. "This is an advance on your salary. You won't have to worry about a place to live. The company has a flat in London. You'll stay there."
It was overwhelming. "You're much too generous."
He took her hand in his. "You'll find that I'm..." He changed what he was going to say. Handle her carefully, he thought. Slowly. You don't want to scare her away. "...that I can be a very good friend."
"You are a very good friend."
Demiris smiled. Wait.
Two hours later, Constantin Demiris helped Catherine into the backseat of the Rolls-Royce that was to take her to the airport.
"Enjoy London," he said. "I'll be in touch with you."
Five minutes after the car departed, Demiris was on the telephone to London. "She's on her way."