Playing by the Greek's Rules(64)

By: Sarah Morgan

‘Carry on with your call—I’ll grab a cab,’ she said hastily, and then proceeded to walk as fast as she could back up his drive in the baking heat.

Why did his drive have to be so long?

She told herself it was for the best. It wasn’t his fault that her feelings had changed, and his hadn’t. Their deal had been rebound sex without emotion. She was the one who’d brought emotion into it. And she’d take those emotions home with her, as she always did, and heal them herself.

Her eyes stung. She told herself it was because the sun was bright and scrabbled in her bag for sunglasses as a car came towards her down the drive. She recognised the sleek lines of the car that had driven her and Nik to the museum opening that night. It slowed down and Vassilis rolled down the window.

He took one look at her face and the suitcase and his mouth tightened. ‘It’s too hot to walk in this heat, kyria. Get in the car. I’ll take you home.’

Too choked to argue, Lily slid into the back of the car. The air conditioning cooled her heated skin and she tried not to think about the last time she’d been in this car.

She was about to give Vassilis the address of her apartment, when her phone beeped.

It was a text from Brittany.

Fell on site, broke my stupid wrist and knocked myself out. In hospital. Can you bring clothes?

Horrified, Lily leaned forward. ‘Vassilis, could you take me straight to the hospital please? It’s urgent.’

Without asking questions, he turned the car and drove fast in the direction of the hospital, glancing at her in his mirror.

‘Can I do anything?’

She gave him a watery smile and shook her head. At least worrying about Brittany gave her something else to think about. ‘You’re already doing it, thank you.’

‘Where do you want me to drop you?’

‘Emergency Department.’

‘Does the boss know you’re here?’

‘No. And he doesn’t need to.’ She was glad she’d kept the sunglasses on. ‘It was a bit of fun, Vassilis, that’s all.’ Impulsively she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Thank you for the lift. You’re a sweetheart.’

Scarlet, he handed her a card. ‘My number. Call me when you’re ready for a lift home.’

Lily located Brittany in a ward attached to the emergency department. She was sitting, pale and disconsolate, in a room where she was the only occupant. Her face was bruised and her wrist was in plaster and she had a smear of mud on her cheek.

Putting aside her own misery, Lily gave a murmur of sympathy. ‘Can I hug you?’

‘No, because I’m dangerous. I’m in a filthy mood. It’s my right hand, Lil! The hand I dig with, type with, write with, feed myself with, punch with— Ugh. I’m so mad with myself. And I’m mad with Spy.’

‘Why? What did he do?’

‘He made me laugh! I was laughing so hard I wasn’t looking where I was putting my feet. I tripped and fell down the damn hole, put my hand out to save myself and smashed my head on a pot we’d dug up earlier. It would be funny if it wasn’t so tragic.’

‘Why isn’t Spy here with you?’

‘He was. I sent him away.’ Brittany slumped. ‘I’m not good company and I couldn’t exactly send him to pack my underwear.’

‘What’s going to happen? Are they keeping you in?’

‘Yes, because I banged my head and they’re worried my brain might be damaged.’ Brittany looked so frustrated Lily almost felt like smiling.

‘Your brain seems fine to me, but I’m glad they’re treating you with care.’

‘I want to go home!’

‘To our cramped, airless apartment? Brittany, it will be horribly uncomfortable.’

‘I don’t mean home to the apartment. I mean home to Puffin Island. There is no point in being here now I can’t dig. If I’ve got to sit and brood somewhere, I’d rather do it at Castaway Cottage.’

‘I thought you said a friend was using the cottage.’

‘Emily is there, but there’s room for two. In fact it will be three, because—’ She broke off and shook her head dismissively, as if realising she’d said something she shouldn’t. ‘Long story. My friends and I lurch from one crisis to another and it looks as if it’s my turn. Can you do me a favour, Lil?’


‘Can you book me a flight to Boston? I’ll sort out the transfer from there, but if you could get me back home, that would be great. The doctor said I can fly tomorrow if I feel well enough. My credit card is back in the apartment.’ She lay back and closed her eyes, her cheeks pale against the polished oak of her hair.