Page 18 of Billion-Dollar Baby Shock

But of course it had, and Tara was still trying to get her own head around it all, together with the fact that she and Dion were…conducting this…affair? Co-parenting with benefits? She didn’t know what it was, but she did know that she was fast becoming obsessed with the man.

He was outside on the patio of the villa now, near the pool.

Wearing the same jeans as earlier and a fresh polo shirt, in cream, that showed off his olive skin and defined musculature.

He was holding his phone to his ear and the muscles bunching in his arm were more suited to a prize fighter than an industrialist.

His success was all the more remarkable now that she knew of his adverse upbringing. To go from being on the streets, totally abandoned by any family, to where he was today, was so impressive. And she could understand why he was such a lone wolf.

As if he could hear her thinking about him, he turned around. He was wearing shades and they made him look like a movie star. He took the phone down from his ear. It was too late to try and pretend she hadn’t been ogling him so Tara just kept looking at him as he walked into the living area.

He asked, ‘Where’s Maria and Niko?’

‘She’s changing him and unpacking his things in the nursery.’ When they’d arrived, the housekeeper, a friendly older woman called Daphne, had been supervising a team of people who had set up a nursery in one of the spare rooms.

‘Can I take you for lunch?’

‘What about Maria and Niko?’

At that moment Daphne appeared and Dion spoke to her in rapid Greek.

Tara realised then she’d have to start taking lessons, especially if her life was now going to be in Greece.

Her insides lurched a little at that. Her whole life had been sent spinning off its axis but she had to admit it wasn’t fear or resentment she was feeling, it was something more like excitement.

He turned back to Tara. ‘Daphne is going to relieve Maria and give her a break while we’re out.’

Daphne said something to Dion and smiled at Tara. She could only smile back without having a clue what had just been said. Dion translated helpfully, ‘Daphne has seven grandchildren so Niko will be in good hands.’

Tara nodded and smiled and tried to convey her gratitude before Dion put his hand on her elbow and urged her out of the villa and down the steps to an open-top four-wheel drive.

He stopped and looked at her for a second. ‘Do you have sunscreen on?’

Tara was still wearing the same shirt and shorts as she’d worn earlier.

She felt unkempt now next to Dion’s suave gorgeousness.

But it wasn’t as if this were a date really…

was it? There was nothing remotely conventional about what was happening here.

She pushed aside the dangerously tempting daydream of what it might have been like to be properly seduced and wooed by someone like Dion.

She put out her arms. ‘Yes, factor fifty.’ As a pale redhead from Ireland, she knew the importance of sunscreen.

‘Good. You’ll need a hat. We’ll make a stop.’

But before Tara could ask Stop where? he was opening her door and she had to get in. He got behind the wheel and they were driving down the driveway, lush plants either side, and through a set of gates.

It was only as they drove along a winding coastal road with spectacular views of the sea and other islands in the distance that Tara realised she hadn’t really taken a breath since she’d got to Athens. So much had happened.

The air was salty from the ocean and the scents of fresh flowers and herbs tickled her nostrils. ‘It’s beautiful here,’ she couldn’t help observing.

‘Yes, it is.’

Dion drove with confident assurance. Not showy. Relaxed.

‘Why this island?’ Tara asked.

Dion kept his gaze on the road. He took a while to answer, which made Tara curious. She could see the tension in his shoulders and jaw. ‘If it’s too personal—’

‘It’s where my father’s family came from. He owned some land here and his business hadn’t been doing well, so I bought it for a knock-off price. Under a company name he wouldn’t recognise. It wasn’t as if I wanted to gloat over his misfortune.’

‘But it would have been understandable.’ Who could have resisted crowing over their success with a father who had rejected them? Not many.

He glanced at her and then back to the road.

‘Maybe. But the truth is that a part of me was tempted by something I can’t even explain…

to own the land that was a link to my ancestors, even though they’re all gone.

There are no people belonging to my father’s family here any more.

They all went to the mainland for work and didn’t return. Probably after the Second World War.’

‘We’re all pretty tribal when it comes down to it.’

‘Yes, but I hate my father. I hate that I felt compelled to take ownership of something that should have been mine by right.’

‘You’re human, Dion. We behave in ways that aren’t always logical. And now you own a piece of this island where maybe you had ancestors who wouldn’t have shut you out.’

He slid her another look but his eyes were hidden behind shades. ‘You believe in fairy tales.’

Tara’s insides clenched. ‘I stopped believing in fairy tales when my parents died and left a whole family orphaned. I believe we make our own luck and fortune.’

‘So do I.’

They were silent for a long moment, and Tara absorbed this unexpected sense of affinity. Even though, deep down, she knew guiltily that she had just been harbouring a little fairy-tale dream of being seduced by Dion.

She could see a town in the distance, and the harbour.

Dion’s voice broke into her thoughts. ‘This is the main town…the only town at the moment. Nisos. That’s the name of the island too.’

Tara was glad of the diversion. Maybe she was getting sunstroke—she could feel it beating down on her head. The town was very pretty. A big main square with an old church. Dion parked and they got out.

She followed him into cobbled streets, white buildings with bright blue painted trim. Profusions of flowers bursting out of boxes on window sills. There were lots of artisanal shops with crafts and art.

People saw him and called out greetings. Tara realised he must be something of a celebrity with his impressive villa and buying up land on the island.

He stopped outside a boutique. Tara looked in the window where a mannequin was wearing a glittering iridescent midnight-blue sheath of an evening gown.

To her shock, Dion caught her hand and tugged her towards the shop. She didn’t have time to ask what he was doing before he was bringing her inside the cool interior and a very elegant woman looked up and greeted Dion as warmly as everyone else had.

He was speaking in Greek to the woman, who was looking at Tara with a critical expression, taking her in from head to toe. Tara’s toes curled inwards in her scuffed sneakers. Now she felt even more dusty and unkempt and self-conscious. Why hadn’t she changed earlier?

Into what? Another pair of shorts, or jeans?

The woman stepped forward, impossibly cool-looking in cream trousers and a matching silk shirt.

In accentless English she said, ‘Hello, Tara. My name is Michaela. Please, come with me, let’s see what we have.’

Tara shot Dion an expressive look as she was led into the back of the fragrant boutique but he just said, ‘I’ll book us a table for lunch and come back for you.’

A very bemused Tara found herself being measured and then given a stack of clothes and shown into a dressing room.

* * *

‘Was I embarrassing you, or something? I know I’m not the most put-together person on the planet but I didn’t look too out of place, did I?’

Dion sat on the other side of the table in the restaurant they’d come to after he’d collected her from the boutique just a short while before.

She had to admit though that the loose linen trousers and matching waistcoat, worn as a top, together with the wedge espadrille sandals and simple gold jewellery, did help her to feel a little less conspicuous among the very well-heeled clientele of the restaurant.

When Tara had asked Michaela where her own clothes were, after trying on a seemingly endless array of clothes—including evening wear, which Tara had had no choice but to try on because Michaela would disappear before she could object—the woman had given her an arch look and said, ‘I’ll bag them up for you if you really think you want to keep them. ’

Tara had muttered something like, No, that’s okay. She imagined they were already on a bonfire for sub-par clothes.

Dion said now, ‘No, you weren’t embarrassing me, at all. But I’m aware that you only came to Greece with limited supplies and I’m simply making sure you have enough clothes to get by.’

‘She made me try on evening dresses. She wouldn’t listen when I tried to tell her they weren’t necessary.’

‘Was it really that traumatic?’

Tara rolled her eyes. ‘No, of course not, but I can buy my own clothes. These must have cost a fortune. I’ll pay you back.’

He waved a hand. ‘No, you won’t. You’re the mother of my child, Tara. You’ve been helping to care for him since you arrived. It’s the least I can do. When was the last time someone took care of you?’

Those last words impacted her like a soft punch to the gut. ‘What do you mean?’

Dion shrugged, his eyes hidden behind his shades. ‘Just that…when was the last time someone checked if you had all you needed? Took you for lunch?’

A slew of images kaleidoscoped through Tara’s head of times when she’d made a fuss over her siblings’ birthdays or cheered one or another up with a trip to the cinema or made their favourite food when they were down.

And it wasn’t as if they’d not done nice things for her, but they hadn’t had to worry about her…

They’d taken her for granted, not that she’d ever admit it, or admit that sometimes it had hurt.