THE helicopter slammed against the rocky incline of the mountain thick with drifts of snow.
Glass shattered, metal crunched and red flames shot from the engine, turning what Kristian Koumantaros knew was glacial white into a shimmering dance of fire and ice.
Unable to see, he struggled with his seatbelt. The helicopter tilted, sliding a few feet. Fire burned everywhere as the heat surged, surrounding him. Kristian tugged his seatbelt again. The clip was jammed.
The smoke seared his lungs, blistering each breath.
Life and death, he thought woozily. Life and death came down to this. And life-and-death decisions were often no different than any other decisions. You did what you had to do and the consequences be damned.
Kristian had done what he had to do and the consequences damned him.
As the roar of the fire grew louder, the helicopter shifted again, the snow giving way.
My God. Kristian threw his arms out, and yet there was nothing to grab, and they were sent tumbling down the mountain face. Another avalanche, he thought, deafened by the endless roarâ
And then nothing.
âOHI. No.â The deep rough voice could be none other than Kristian Koumantaros himself. âNot interested. Tell her to go away.â
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 Koumantarosâs 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 Londonâa 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 couldnât walk and couldnât 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 wasnât going to go away.
âKyrios.â Another voice sounded from within the library and Elizabeth recognized the voice as the Greek servant whoâd met her at the door. âSheâs traveled a long wayââ
âIâve had it with the bloody help from First Class Rehab. First Class, my ass.â
Elizabeth closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, counting to ten as she did so.
Sheâd been told by her Athens staff that it was a long trip to the former monastery.
Sheâd 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 sheâd been prepared. Sheâd thought she knew what she was getting into.
Just like sheâd thought she knew what she was getting into when she agreed to provide Mr. Koumantarosâs 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, heâd nearly bankrupted her company.
Elizabeth tensed at the sound of glass breaking, followed by a string of select and exceptionally colorful Greek curses.
âKyrios, itâs just a glass. It can be replaced.â
âI hate this, Pano. Hate everything about thisââ
âI know, kyrios.â Panoâs voice dropped low, and Elizabeth couldnât hear much of what was said, but apparently it had the effect of calming Mr. Koumantaros.
Elizabeth wasnât soothed.
Kristian Koumantaros might be fabulously wealthy and able to afford an eccentric and reclusive lifestyle in the Peloponnese, but that didnât excuse his behavior. And his behavior was nothing short of self-absorbed and self-destructive.
She was here because Kristian Koumantaros couldnât keep a nurse, and he couldnât keep a nurse because he couldnât keep his temper.
The voices in the library were growing louder again. Elizabeth, fluent in Greek, listened as they discussed her.
Mr. Koumantaros didnât want her here.
Pano, the elderly butler, was attempting to convince that Mr. Koumantaros it wouldnât be polite to send the nurse away without seeing her.
Mr. Koumantaros said he didnât care about being polite.
Elizabethâs 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.