"OHI. No." The deep rough voice could be none other than
Kristian Koumantaros himself. "Not interested. Tell her to
go away."
Standing in the hall outside the library, Elizabeth Hatchet
drew a deep breath, strengthening her resolve. This was not
going to be easy, but then nothing about Kristian
Koumantaros's case had been easy. Not the accident, not the
rehab, not the location of his estate.
It had taken her two days to get here from Londonโa flight
from London to Athens, an endless drive from Athens to
Sparta, and finally a bone-jarring cart and donkey trip
halfway up the ridiculously inaccessible mountain.
Why anybody, much less a man who couldn't walk and couldn't
see, would want to live in a former monastery built on a
rocky crag on a slope of Taygetos, the highest mountain in
the Peloponnese, was beyond her. But now that she was here,
she wasn't going to go away. "Kyrios." Another voice
sounded from within the library and Elizabeth recognized
the voice as the Greek servant who'd met her at the door.
"She's traveled a long wayโ"
"I've had it with the bloody help from First Class Rehab.
First Class, my ass."
Elizabeth closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, counting to
ten as she did so.
She'd been told by her Athens staff that it was a long trip
to the former monastery.
She'd been warned that reaching rugged Taygetos, with its
severe landscape but breathtaking vistas, was nearly as
exhausting as caring for Mr. Koumantaros.
Her staff had counseled that traveling up this spectacular
mountain with its ancient Byzantine ruins would seem at
turns mythical as well as impossible, but Elizabeth,
climbing into the donkey cart, had thought she'd been
prepared. She'd thought she knew what she was getting into.
Just like she'd thought she knew what she was getting into
when she agreed to provide Mr. Koumantaros's home health
care after he was released from the French hospital.
In both cases she had been wrong.
The painfully slow, bumpy ride had left her woozy, with a
queasy stomach and a pounding headache.
Attempting to rehabilitate Mr. Koumantaros had made her
suffer far worse. Quite bluntly, he'd nearly bankrupted her
company.
Elizabeth tensed at the sound of glass breaking, followed
by a string of select and exceptionally colorful Greek
curses.
"Kyrios, it's just a glass. It can be replaced."
"I hate this, Pano. Hate everything about thisโ"
"I know, kyrios." Pano's voice dropped low, and Elizabeth
couldn't hear much of what was said, but apparently it had
the effect of calming Mr. Koumantaros.
Elizabeth wasn't soothed. Kristian Koumantaros might be
fabulously wealthy and able to afford an eccentric and
reclusive lifestyle in the Peloponnese, but that didn't
excuse his behavior.And his behavior was nothing short of
self-absorbed and self-destructive.
She was here because Kristian Koumantaros couldn't keep a
nurse, and he couldn't keep a nurse because he couldn't
keep his temper.
The voices in the library were growing louder again.
Elizabeth, fluent in Greek, listened as they discussed her.
Mr. Koumantaros didn't want her here.
Pano, the elderly butler, was attempting to convince that
Mr. Koumantaros it wouldn't be polite to send the nurse
away without seeing her.
Mr. Koumantaros said he didn't care about being polite.
Elizabeth's mouth curved wryly as the butler urged Mr.
Koumantaros to at least offer her some refreshment.
Her wry smile disappeared as she heard Mr. Koumantaros
answer that as most nurses from First Class Rehab were
large women Ms. Hatchet could probably benefit from passing
on an afternoon snack.
"Kyrios," Pano persisted, " she's brought a suitcase.
Luggage. Ms. Hatchet intends to stay."
"Stay?, Koumantaros roared.
"Yes, kyrios." The elderly Greek's tone couldn't have been
any more apologetic, but his words had the effect of
sending Kristian into another litany of curses.
"For God's sake, Pano, leave the damn glass alone and
dispense with her. Throw her a bone. Get her a donkey. I
don't care. Just do it. Now."
"But she's traveled from Londonโ"
"I don't care if she flew from the moon. She had no
business coming here. I left a message two weeks ago with
the service. That woman knows perfectly well I've fired
them. I didn't ask her to come. And it's not my problem she
wasted her time."
Speaking of which, Elizabeth thought, rubbing at the back
of her neck to ease the pinch of pain, she was wasting time
standing here. It was time to introduce herself, get the
meeting underway.
Shoulders squared, Elizabeth took a deep breath and pushed
the tall door open. As she entered the room, her low heels
made a faint clicking sound on the hardwood floor.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Koumantaros," she said. Her narrowed
gaze flashed across the shuttered windows, cluttered coffee
table, newspapers stacked computer-high on a corner desk.
Had to be a month's newspapers piled there, unread.
"You're trespassing, and eavesdropping." Kristian jerked
upright in his wheelchair, his deep voice vibrating with
fury.
She barely glanced his way, heading instead for the small
table filled with prescription bottles. "You were shouting,
Mr. Koumantaros. I didn't need to eavesdrop. And I'd be
trespassing if your care weren't my responsibility, but it
is, so you're going to have to deal with me."
At the table, Elizabeth picked up one of the medicine
bottles to check the label, and then the others. It was an
old habit, an automatic habit. The first thing a medical
professional needed to know was what, if anything, the
patient was taking.
Kristian's hunched figure in the wheelchair shuddered as he
tried to follow the sound of her movements, his eyes
shielded by a white gauze bandage wrapped around his head,
the white gauze a brilliant contrast to his thick onyx
hair. "Your services have already been terminated," he said
tersely.
"You've been overruled," Elizabeth answered, returning the
bottles to the table to study him. The bandages swathing
his eyes exposed the hard, carved contours of his face. He
had chiseled cheekbones, a firm chin and strong jaw
shadowed with a rough black beard. From the look of it, he
hadn't shaved since the last nurse had been sent packing.
"By whom?, he demanded, leaning crookedly in his chair.
"Your physicians."
"My physicians?"
"Yes, indeed. We're in daily contact with them, Mr.
Koumantaros, and these past several months have made them
question your mental soundness."
"You must be joking."
"Not at all. There is a discussion that perhaps you'd be
better cared for in a facilityโ"
"Get out!" he demanded, pointing at the door.
"Get out now."
Elizabeth didn't move. Instead she cocked her head, coolly
examining him. He looked impossibly unkempt, nothing like
the sophisticated powerful tycoon he'd reportedly been,
with castles and estates scattered all over the world and a
gorgeous mistress tucked enticingly in each.
"They fear for you, Mr. Koumantaros," she added quietly, "
and so do I. You need help."
"That's absurd. If my doctors were so concerned, they'd be
here. And youโyou don't know me. You can't drop in here and
make assessments based on two minutes of observation."
"I can, because I've managed your case from day one, when
you were released from the hospital. No one knows more
about you and your day-to-day care than I do. And if you'd
always been this despondent we'd see it as a personality
issue, but your despair is newโ"
"There's no despair. I'm just tired."
"Then let's address that, shall we?, Elizabeth flipped open
her leather portfolio and scribbled some notes. One
couldn't be too careful these days. She had to protect the
agency, not to mention her staff. She'd learned early to
document everything. "It's tragic you're still in your
present conditionโtragic to isolate yourself here on
Taygetos when there are people waiting for you in Athens,
people wanting you to come home."
"I live here permanently now."
She glanced up at him. "You've no intention of returning?"
"I spent years renovating this monastery, updating and
converting it into a modern home to meet my needs."
"That was before you were injured. It's not practical for
you to live here now. You can't flyโ"
"Don't tell me what I can't do."
She swallowed, tried again. "It's not easy for your friends
or family to see you. You're absolutely secluded hereโ"
"As I wish to be."
"But how can you fully recover when you're so alone in what
is undoubtedly one of the most remote places in Greece?"
He averted his head, giving her a glimpse of a very strong,
very proud profile. "This is my home," he repeated
stubbornly, his tone colder, flintier.
"And what of your company? The businesses? Have you given
those up along with your friends and family?"
"If this is your bedside mannerโ"
"Oh, it is," she assured him unapologetically.
"Mr. Koumantaros, I'm not here to coddle you. Nor to say
pretty things and try to make you laugh. I'm here to get
you on your feet again."
"It's not going to happen."
"Because you like being helpless, or because you're afraid
of pain?"
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