‘Goodbye, Serena.’
She could hardly speak, the lump in her throat was so large, but somehow she managed to push two words out. Two strong words.
‘Goodbye, Nikos.’
* * *
Every day for two weeks Nikos had sat at his desk trying to work, but that morning it hadn’t been figures for his new company that had glared accusingly back at him but tabloid headlines—and they had opened up just about every door he’d hidden his past behind.
He’d kept a low profile since Serena had left. Their engagement had been so public, and he hadn’t wanted the humiliation of seeing her absence commented on in the papers. He’d thought back to the brief conversation they’d had about his mother, just as he and Serena had arrived at his grandmother’s house, recalling her surprise that she was half-English. Had that really been enough for her to dig a story up? To expose his humiliating past and of course their broken engagement?
As the sun had streamed in through his office windows he’d looked again at the words, and at the photo of a woman he barely remembered—his mother. Intermittently she’d tried to contact him, but he’d always ignored her, preferring to keep her in the past—something he could no longer do.
According to what he’d read, his mother blamed not only herself but his father for his unhappy childhood and she wanted to make amends. And he had a good idea just who’d given her the opportunity to put her words into the hands of the press.
Now, with the sky over London heavy and grey, he sat in the back of one of the city’s black cabs as it negotiated the early-evening traffic. The newspaper he’d looked at this morning in his office was rolled tightly in his hand and anger was making adrenalin flow through him.
Could Serena be responsible?
He recalled the moment she’d left, a vividly played out scene in his mind. She’d been distant and cold to the point of icy, making him wonder if the hot passion they’d shared only a short time before had been nothing more than an act—a smokescreen to hide her true motives behind.
He could still feel the edges of the emerald digging into his palm as he’d crushed her engagement ring in his hand after she’d calmly taken it off, leaving it on the table. It had all been a mistake—that was what she’d said. But he’d been deafened by the thud of his heart as fury had forced it to pump harder.
The taxi stopped and he looked up at the white townhouse nestled in a quiet and affluent street. He’d never given a thought to where she lived, knowing only that he wanted it to be with him in Santorini, but this grand house was not what he’d expected and it only added to the notion that she’d sold his story.
He inhaled burning disappointment. He would have given her all he could. Hadn’t he honoured his side of their deal, sending her sister ample funds for further IVF treatment?
‘This is it?’ he queried of the taxi driver, hoping that it wasn’t.
‘Yes. This is it.’
Nikos paid the fare and stepped out onto the pavement, still damp from earlier rain. He looked up at the building as the taxi pulled away. He clutched the newspaper tightly in one hand and climbed the steps towards the imposing black door of what must have once been a very majestic home but was now several flats.
Would she let him in? He stood debating what to do. Indecisiveness was a new experience. One he didn’t like. He took in a deep breath and let it go, then pressed the buzzer for her flat.
‘Hello?’
He hadn’t prepared himself for his reaction when he heard her voice, and he certainly hadn’t expected her to sound so tired and weary. Concern flooded him, overtaking the rage that had bubbled continuously on the flight from Greece. Surely the woman who’d whispered those words of love wouldn’t want to ruin him?
But the doubts that had plagued him constantly, the erosion of his instinct to trust her and his initial reaction to the headlines surfaced once more. They blended with the taste of what might have been, if only she hadn’t admitted her feelings to him. But could he believe those words of love she’d murmured at him? He wanted to.
‘Serena, we need to talk.’
He had thought they needed to talk about the article, about the way she’d sold his past to the highest bidder. But all that got pushed aside just at hearing her voice as emotions he’d refused to acknowledge tumbled over him. Right at this moment he just needed to see her, to reassure himself she was well.
The door hummed, then clicked, and he pushed it open, disappointed that she hadn’t said anything else. Not even an acknowledgement that it was him. Was he so easily dismissed from her life?
He took the stairs two at a time, following the signs for her flat’s number. At the top of the stairs he saw her front door ajar, knocked, then walked in, closing it behind him and finding himself in a long hallway. As he walked down it, his shoes tapping on varnished wooden floorboards, she came from a door at the end of the hallway, light haloed around her, forcing him to stop.
The cream jumper and black skirt she wore couldn’t disguise the bump of his baby. He hardly registered her frosty reception, unable to take his gaze from her—until he looked into her face. Her green eyes were unfriendly, and glittering like the emerald ring she had given him back.
‘I expected correspondence from your solicitor,’ she said, her voice firm and decisive. ‘I didn’t expect you.’
He walked towards her, trying to ignore the dark circles under her eyes and the powerful burst of lust that hurtled through him faster than the plane he had just been on. He had to remember the article—how she’d sold him for her own gains. It was what had prompted him to come here. Or was it?
‘I am the father of your child—you can’t just write me out of your existence.’
She glanced at the rolled paper he had firmly in his hand, then looked back at him before walking into the room she’d come from without saying a word.
He followed quickly, taking in a spacious room, half given over to a kitchen and dining area and half to a comfortable living space. Large sash windows let in the grey light of the afternoon. Shopping bags littered the floor and partially unpacked baby garments were laid out on the sofa. He looked at them. His child would wear those. Would he ever see it in them? Not if Serena had her way.
He looked back at Serena. She remained resolutely silent, but a blush was creeping over her pale face as she realised what he’d been looking at.
* * *
Serena’s heart was pounding so hard she almost couldn’t breathe, and she certainly couldn’t say anything. Nikos looked again at the baby clothes she’d just begun to unpack after a day of shopping with her sister. Sally had been trying to lift her spirits, the whole sorry tale of her last visit to Greece having been splurged out amidst tears as soon as she’d returned from Santorini.
She had been unable to hide the truth of Nikos’s deal from Sally, but still reeled at the shock of being told that Nikos had already sent money to her sister, with strict instructions not to tell her. She couldn’t believe he’d done that—not after she’d backed out of their deal.
Was he here now to ask for it back? She’d never be able to pay it all—not now Sally had already used a considerable amount.
‘I have come about this.’ He unrolled the paper and handed it to her.
She took it from him, her fingers brushing his, sending a short-circuit of hot need rushing through her. She ignored it. She couldn’t act on that any more. It was too painful.
‘It’s all in Greek. I have no idea what this is.’
She handed it back to him, still unsure what this was all about, but certain it had nothing to do with visiting or custody rights.
She watched as he walked to the table and smoothed the paper out, his large hands pressing it flat. The signet ring she’d only seen him wear as Nikos the businessman caught the light. She pushed away just how those hands had felt ca
ressing her body and how much pleasure and passion they had evoked. It was too late to think back to those times now.
He straightened and looked at her. ‘I told you my mother was half-English and you have come back here and dragged her out into the open and well and truly back into my life.’
‘What?’
Of all the things she’d expected or hoped he might say this was not it. She looked at the image of a woman who could only be Nikos’s mother, judging by the blue eyes she’d passed on to her son. She remembered that moment outside his grandmother’s house, when he’d told her his mother was half-English. The dismissive way he’d spoken of her suggested that there wasn’t an ounce of love between them.
‘You calmly walked away from me because you had found something better—my story to sell to the highest bidder.’ He stood resolutely with his back to the window, his arms folded and the crumpled newspaper spread out between them on the table. ‘You came to Greece looking for whatever you could so that you could return to England and raise my child.’
‘That’s not true!’ She gasped the words at him, shaking her head in denial.
‘You said you wanted to tell me face-to-face, that you didn’t want anything else from me—but you did.’ His accent had deepened and his voice had become gruff with pent-up anger.
She rubbed the pads of her fingers across her eyes, forgetting the make-up she’d applied that morning, for the first time since she’d returned from Greece. She let her hand fall to her stomach. The movement snagged his attention and his expression changed to a glower.
‘I’m sorry, Nikos, but you are going to have to explain this. I have no idea what you are referring to.’
She needed to sit. Her legs felt weak and the temptation to pull out a chair was great. But with his dominating presence filling her flat she had to remain standing.
‘You were looking for an alternative to marrying me ever since you arrived back on the island. You made up a story about your sister, goading me into making a deal, then accepted my offer of marriage not because you wanted to bring up the child with me but because you didn’t have a better option. But as soon as a hint of scandal presented itself as something that would give you a big payout, you left.’
‘That’s not how it happened at all. How can you think such a thing?’ She stood and blinked against the anger of his outburst, even knowing that some of it was true.
He pointed to the paper. ‘These are your words, Serena. “Nikos and I met several months ago, in Santorini.”’
Involuntarily she moved towards him, sensing the pain behind his anger. He moved to pace across the room like a caged animal and she dragged out a chair, not able to stand any longer.
‘I shouldn’t have said anything about my sister, but that wasn’t the reason I said yes to you.’
‘Why did you say yes, Serena?’ He folded his arms across his chest, looking more territorial by the minute.
What should she say? Should she tell him it was because she’d loved him? No, she couldn’t do that—not after his reaction to those words two weeks ago.
‘I hoped we could make it work—for the baby’s sake. I didn’t want to be a single parent, Nikos. And I felt guilty for having what Sally most wanted. All I knew was that I couldn’t let my child grow up with the same guilt I had known as a girl.’ She heard the passion in her voice, saw his questioning expression, but continued. ‘I am obviously not your first choice for mother of your baby, because I’m English, but whatever has happened between you and your mother I have not breathed a word of it to anyone. Why would I?’
‘Why would you?’ He repeated her question and moved towards the table, pulling out the other chair and sitting down.
His knee touched hers and fire leapt within her. ‘What could I gain—even if I knew what the story was?’
‘A big payment, to start with.’
She gasped in surprise. How could he think that of her? ‘You think I’ve used my contacts to dig this up?’ She pushed the paper away from her, hurt at his accusation.
‘I told you’d I’d support you—this wasn’t needed.’
He placed his hand on the newspaper, the movement bringing him closer to her, and she fought hard not to inhale the heady masculine scent that was Nikos.
‘I haven’t written this, and I haven’t had anything to do with it—but I will use my contacts to prove that if you can’t take my word. The only piece I’ve written that is remotely connected with you is about holidaying in Santorini...about the restaurants and the sights.’
She pointed to the printed copy of her article on her small desk, awaiting a final reading before being submitted. He looked at it, then straight back at her, and she saw his guard slip, saw the pain in his eyes. Pain carried through childhood—the kind she too knew about.
He glared at the newspaper, a deep and heavy scowl on his face. Then realisation hit her hard. She had spoken to one person—and said those exact words.
‘I did say that to someone...’ she whispered softly.
He looked at her slowly, disappointment washing over his face. ‘Who?’
‘At the party—I said that to Christos.’
Suspicion filled her mind. Could he be the source of this story?
She put her hand over his as it lay on the paper and, emboldened when he didn’t withdraw it, asked quietly, ‘What happened, Nikos? Please tell me?’
‘As far I am concerned it’s in the past—and that’s where it should stay.’
He pulled his hand back and she felt the moment being lost—especially when he got up and walked to the window and stood looking out at the street.
She moved quietly and walked over to him, leaning against the other side of the window. His profile was set in firm lines and everything about his stance was defensive.
‘I need to know, Nikos. Whoever sold this story, and whatever the outcome for us, that woman is your mother—your child’s grandmother.’
He looked at her, and she inhaled deeply as she saw the naked emotions in his eyes.
‘When I was six she told me she was going away, that she didn’t love my father—or me. She told me I was unlovable.’
Serena’s heart filled with pity for the little boy she imagined him as. How could any woman leave her young son? No wonder he’d been so angry, so against fatherhood. She looked deep into his eyes, offering comfort with hers but not saying anything.
* * *
Nikos was numb. He didn’t see the tall white houses on the opposite side of the street. That image was replaced by the sea and the empty horizon on Santorini as he’d stood and waited each day in the hope that the next boat in to the island would have his mother on it—that she would return saying she’d made a mistake and of course she loved him.
‘If my father had loved her more she would never have left.’
He felt Serena touch his arm, her hand warm through his suit jacket, but it wasn’t enough to pull him from the past. Even the question of who had exposed the story wasn’t important now. All he could see was his mother walking away. All he could feel was the agony of knowing he wasn’t loved.
‘Sometimes it’s better if parents don’t stay together. Maybe that’s what happened with your parents.’
He looked at her, remembering all she’d told him about her childhood. How she felt she was the mistake that had forced her parents to stay together. Was he the mistake that had forced his apart?
‘I have never seen her since.’ The admission made him press his jaw firmly together. It was the first time he’d wanted to talk about her for a very long time. ‘I gave up wishing she’d come back for me. Accepted she didn’t love me.’
‘Nikos...’
She breathed his name and he finally looked at her. Those big green eyes were filling with undisguised tears and he wanted to kiss her, to feel her lips
on his, bringing him to life once more with her love. A love he’d rejected. A love he didn’t deserve.
He moved away from her—away from temptation—and as he did so saw again the baby clothes neatly laid out on the sofa. Not only did he not deserve Serena’s love, he didn’t deserve his child’s love either.
‘I wanted to be a better father to my child.’
He spoke harshly, glad of the anger that filled him as he thought of how cold and distant his own father had been and how Serena’s walking away had deprived him of that chance to right the past.
‘And you will be—once we sort things out between us. I may not be able to pay you back the money you gave my sister, but I will never stop you seeing your baby grow up, Nikos. It will be difficult, given that I’m here in London and you are in Greece, but we have to make it work.’
He turned and looked at her. The firm tone of her voice brooked no argument. He knew there and then that his being there wasn’t serving any purpose. If anything it was making things worse.
She hadn’t written that article, or instigated it in any way. Christos had betrayed him, exploiting his weakness for all to see. Deep down he’d known Serena wasn’t behind it, but he had used the excuse of confronting her to fly to London. He’d needed to see her, to hear her voice.
He didn’t understand this burning need. Lust and passion were involved—and, yes, she was having his baby—but it was more than that. It was so much more than he deserved.
‘I want the baby to have my name.’
When she’d left the bedroom after their last night of passion he’d decided that they would have to marry, no matter where they lived, and that still stood. His child must legitimately have his name.
‘That can be arranged,’ she said with a hint of suspicion in her voice. ‘You can be named on the birth certificate as the father.’
‘That’s not enough,’ he said, and found himself moving towards her.
He wanted to touch her, to place his hand over his baby. Then he paused, remembering what his grandmother had said to Serena. He’d been distracted with lunch preparations that day, but he could still hear himself translating what she’d said.
From One Night to Wife Page 15