‘Are you okay?’
‘Fine.’
He was far from fine.
Nico was uncomfortable, unsettled, because that walk up the beach, to the stairs, the conversation, for the first time he had felt as if he was coming home—that feeling he had got as he had seen the view of his house had been, Nico now realised, relief.
But it did not soothe him now.
There could be no getting used to it.
He heard a murmur from her room as he walked past, a small wail of distress, and he ignored it. Constantine would get him if he awoke, would soothe him if he cried.
And then it came again and Nico stopped in the hallway.
He closed his eyes and tried to force himself to walk away, yet his feet moved toward her room, to the scent of her, layered with another scent, that sweet, milky, baby scent that was becoming familiar. He had never really looked at the infant, had deliberately tried to separate himself from him.
Because if he was his, what then?
And if he wasn’t?
He moved towards the crib and peered in, with no intention of doing anything, for Nico had never so much as held a baby. But on sight instinctively he knew what was wrong. Leo had lost his thumb. His little hand was caught in the cotton and with heart racing Nico took the baby’s hand and moved it back to his mouth. He smiled at Leo’s relief as he popped his thumb in. His finger pushed up his nose to a snub, his eyelashes so long that they met the curve of his cheek, and Nico’s heart stilled as Leo opened his eyes to his saviour. Huge black eyes stared at Nico, and a smile flitted across the baby’s face. Then, soothed by what he saw, Leo closed his eyes again.
Nico’s heart did beat again but with something that felt like fear, for he recognised him.
Of course he did, Nico told himself, for he was his.
He walked to the bathroom, his breathing hard as if he had been running, sweat beading on his forehead. He felt ill, dizzy, that perhaps he, all six feet two of him, might fall to the floor in a faint.
‘Ridiculous.’
He moved to the sink, ran the taps hard and splashed water on his grey face.
So, the child was his—it could hardly come as a shock. He looked in the mirror to scold himself, to tell himself to pull himself together, but the eyes that looked back, the reflection that stared, only confused him more.
He put his hand to the mirror, and his reflection did the same, which must mean it was him.
He wanted them gone.
He did not love.
And it was love Constantine wanted, not passion or romance or just the house and land and the trappings—it was everything she wanted, and love was the one thing he could not give. This would not last. He lived in the fast lane, he liked his freedom. How soon would he be bored, how soon would she leave?
She would leave. Nico intrinsically knew that, and quite simply he wanted it done. Wanted it over.
He would show her his life, show her firsthand the world he inhabited; he would push her away by her own choice.
Prove how incompatible they were.
She was slicing salad in the kitchen, so confident in her own skin now that she had not gone and dressed. He could see her breasts moving as she sliced, see her brown, sun-kissed stomach, and he could not do this for another night.
He could not let her think this was how he lived. He would show her instead just how impossible they were, push her out of her comfort zone as much as she pushed him out of his.
‘I’m bored eating in.’ He saw her eyes jerk up. ‘We should go out.’ Because that was what he did—he ate out, not home-made salads and jigsaws afterwards, not the walk on the beach she might suggest later tonight.
‘Sure.’ She hesitated for a moment, just surprised, that was all. ‘I’ll get Leo.’
‘Just us.’
She was about to give a smart retort for his abruptness, but conceded she had perhaps misinterpreted his words, and anyway the prospect of a night out was tempting.
‘I’ll see if Despina can babysit.’
When Connie walked over to her house and asked her, Despina said she would be delighted to, of course. Not that Nico seemed particularly pleased by the news when she returned. ‘I’ve rung Charlotte and she’s arranged a table and driver—we leave in half an hour.’
‘Why would we need a driver when you’ve got a car?’ Connie asked, for there there was a sports car in the garage that she’d never seen him take out.
‘I might want a drink.’
‘Then it’s a beautiful evening to walk.’
‘You want to walk to Ravels?’ He looked at where she stood in just a bikini and shirt, and threw her his impossible order, and made sure she understood. ‘It’s quite a distance and I assume you’ll be wearing heels—it’s very smart.’
He wasn’t, Constantine realised, trying to impress her with his choice of venue.
Quite the opposite. Perhaps he was hoping she would change her mind, find an excuse or reason not to go.
Well, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, she smiled to him.
‘Then I’d better get ready.’
Why she was putting herself through this? Connie wasn’t sure, except she would not be intimidated by Nico.
From the wrong side of Xanos she may be, and certainly wasn’t the sleek and groomed beauties he was used to dining with, but she refused to sit at home feeling not good enough.
She showered quickly and, realising there was no time to dry her hair as she usually would, she hung her head down and blasted it with a hairdryer. She would decide what to do with it later. She fled to her bedroom, wondering what on earth she should wear, because nothing Despina had brought her would be okay for the restaurant, and she’d worn everything so many times anyway.
It was hopeless. All her own clothes had been stretched out of shape by her pregnancy, except …
Connie pulled her suitcase from under her bed. There, still in the tissue paper, was the dress she should have worn as she was waved off for her honeymoon. Instead, that night had been spent telling Stavros and then her parents that a token wife she could not be.
Unwrapping the tissue paper, all Constantine could really remember of the dress was that it was purple, but as the paper parted she corrected herself. It was a very deep violet and made of the softest virgin cashmere and silk. It had cost a lot more than she had told her parents it had when she had come back from a day shopping with friends in Athens.
Her once guilty purchase was now her saviour, for her spending had been reckless that day, and Constantine blinked as she saw the forgotten underwear she had purchased. After months of being practical, it felt like heaven to pull on the delicate lace panties, and the bliss of a new bra gave Connie a boost in more ways than one.
Please fit.
She pulled the dress over her head and wriggled the soft fabric over curves that hadn’t been there the last time she had tried it on. As it fell over her hips she was almost scared to open her eyes at her own reflection, quite sure it would look terrible now, but as she looked into the mirror, it looked far from terrible. It looked so much better than she recalled—her bust filled out the dress. The bra made her cleavage look endless, and the wrap of the dress hid any last baby bulge.
It was a dress called confidence, and she felt hers return, felt something else, too, a shiver of excitement, an anticipation as to his response.
If he was expecting her to emerge from the bedroom to tell him she had changed her mind, then Nico was in for a shock.
For the first time since that terrible row with her parents, since she had found out she was pregnant and the desperate survival mode she had been plunged into, she opened her make-up bag, took out her hair tongs and plugged them in and then worked on her face. She applied some mineral foundation and rouge, and coaxed a rather dry mascara wand to please give her one last bat of her lashes, and it did. She ran serum through her thick dark hair and, instead of twisting it and putting it up, or tying it back as she always did, sh
e accentuated the curls by twirling them into ringlets. All she needed now was lipstick, her lips smiling as they were reacquainted with the soft, waxy feel. She stepped into heels that had never been worn, and felt as if she was stepping into herself.
‘Despina is here to watch Leo.’ She heard Nico’s sharp summons and looked at her reflection. A devilish smile appeared on her lips.
‘Just coming.’
God, but she’d have killed for some perfume, to waft out of her room in a sultry haze, or for a heavy necklace to accentuate her cleavage, but her only accessory was her smile.
It was a smile that greeted Despina and completely ignored Nico as she stepped into the lounge.
‘Beautiful.’ The old lady said everything Nico did not. He just stood there, completely rigid.
‘You know where everything is,’ Connie chatted, and then suddenly she remembered. ‘Your niece is ringing you tonight.’
‘Don’t worry.’ Despina dismissed it as if it didn’t matter, but Connie knew that it did. Despina had been talking today about how excited she was to speak with her niece, how much she looked forward to their weekly chat. ‘Do you want to look after him in your house?’ She knew how Despina adored Leo, how much care she would take, and how the elderly couple would love to have him in their own surroundings. They deserved their evening together after all.
‘Are you sure?’ Despina checked. Connie knew it was the right thing to do, but her stomach tightened into a knot when Despina suggested that Paulo bring over the crib and they keep him for the night. ‘Then you don’t have to worry about what time you come back.’
It made sense, it made perfect sense, rather than disturbing them at midnight, but as she nodded, as Paulo came over and she packed a bag of supplies, as she kissed her son goodnight and said goodbye to him at the door, the knot in her stomach was for different reason.
They were alone for the first time.
Somehow with Leo there, she felt safer. Not safer in the physical sense, but he gave her a reason, a topic, a diversion. Connie held her breath as she watched the trio go out of sight—Leo gave her an excuse to be here. Now it was just them.
Her smile didn’t come so readily now but she forced one and turned around.
‘I just saw the car.’ Still Nico said nothing. ‘I’ll get my purse.’
‘Why would you need a purse?’ Nico said. ‘I am taking you out.’
‘Because,’ Connie said, and walked past him. And, yes, her purse was a little faded and not particularly a match for her dress, but she would not leave without it. What would Nico know about the security it afforded, to know that she could leave anywhere at any time? That even through the most desperate of times, there was enough money to get a taxi for her and her child should she need it, though perhaps not enough to pick up the bill in this restaurant should Nico walk out, which, Connie realised, was a distinct possibility in his present mood.
‘Anyway …’ His next words bought her racing mind to calm decision. ‘I doubt you could afford to go halves.’
And she had promised she would not do this.
She could remember all too well the long, painful dinners with Stavros, the family affairs where she had gone home afterwards and to bed in tears. For no matter how she had tried to please him, it had never been enough. She remembered how badly Stavros had spoken to her at times, and she had sworn never again.
‘I’ve changed my mind,’ she said, what he had been expecting all along, but it was for very different reasons. ‘I don’t think I want to go.’
‘I thought you might change your mind.’ Nico said tartly. ‘Well, I need to get out. I’ve had enough of sitting in—’
‘So have I,’ Connie interrupted. ‘And I was looking forward to a night out with you, but I really don’t need to be reminded that I’m a charity case, and neither do I want to sit opposite someone who can’t be bothered to speak to me or doesn’t even tell me that I look nice.’
‘You need my opinion?’
‘I need manners!’ Connie said. ‘It shouldn’t matter what I’m wearing.’ She wasn’t about to explain herself to him. ‘I’m really not up to gauging your mood.’ She walked past him to the door. ‘I’ll tell the driver you’re coming.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘For a walk,’ Connie said. ‘I might go to and have dinner at the taverna.’
‘Alone?’
‘Of course.’ She frowned. ‘I haven’t had a night off since Leo was born. I intend to enjoy every moment of it—and I’m wasting several of them now.’
Her response was nothing like he had expected.
Nothing like he was used to.
She would, Nico knew then, she absolutely would go out without him.
Tonight was about pushing her away, showing her the impossibility of it—except far from pushing her away, instead his hand reached out and caught her wrist and pulled her towards him.
‘You can’t go alone.’
‘Why not?’ she challenged. ‘What, you think I need you to go out with? That I need an escort? I’m very happy with my own company. I know she won’t sulk, I know she’ll enjoy the evening.’
‘You look …’ He hesitated, because she looked far more than the word she had demanded. ‘Nice.’
‘I know,’ Connie answered. ‘Now, if you’ll let go of my wrist, I’ve got a date with me.’
‘You look beautiful.’
‘You don’t get it, do you? I’m not talking about compliments or the lack of them. I just refuse to sit and drag conversation out of you, to be grateful to you for taking me to a stunning place. You’ve been vile since you came home—and I don’t want your company.’
‘I’m sorry.’ It was possibly the first time he had ever said it and certainly to a woman. Normally it was they who were sorry, begging for a second chance, saying that they would change, if only he wouldn’t end things. ‘I’m sorry if I have been, as you say, vile. I didn’t intend …’ He could hardly tell her that he had never expected her to say yes and had certainly never expected the woman that had emerged from the bedroom. And more importantly, he had never intended this night to prove how much he wanted her, to confirm what his body already knew.
She felt the charge run through his fingers to her wrist like electricity, watched the surly man who’d come home slip into tempting lover as he pulled her in, heard the taut voice slip into caressing as the skilled seducer emerged. And she fought it, so hard she fought it. His lips apologised, this time to her mouth, and, God, it was bliss to be back there. To the mouth she’d missed for a year, to hands that roamed her body as if abstinence had been hell. His tongue prised her lips open before her mind was really aware of it. On contact they ignited, two mouths became one. He turned her so her back was to the wall and he kissed her harder.
Their one night had been a long lesson, a more tender guide to a place that was waiting. This was a run and he was chasing, his hands moving to the tie of her dress. He moaned into her mouth as he felt purple lace.
From so little experience, she thought it would take ages, that tenderness was required, but with hungry hands searching, with Nico’s passion contagious, she was a breath away from joining him, from tearing at his clothes, just to get them to that place.
And then she remembered the doctor’s words, which she had barely even registered at the time, because sex had seemed a million light years off. Given her success with the Pill, he had put in an IUD, but he had told her the first time afterwards to take things slowly, that her partner must be gentle.
As good as this was, gentle it was not.
What would Nico know about these things? How could he possibly understand the sudden nervousness and that had her quickly pull away?
‘The driver’s here.’ She turned her face from his hungry kisses and quickly tied up her dress.
‘He can wait,’ Nico said.
‘Well, I can’t.’ Connie almost ran to the bathroom to fix her face, calling over her shoulder as she went, ‘I’m starving.’
So fierce was his want, as she sat in the car Connie was nervous, she could feel the charge between them, felt like she was keeping a tiger at bay with a paltry stick. She knew sex was on the menu tonight, but how could she explain her nerves at making love after the baby—not at the changes to her body but the anticipation of pain?
As the car pulled up, Nico turned to her and she knew exactly what he was suggesting. ‘We could get them to deliver.’
‘I thought you were bored, eating in.’
His hand was hot and dry as it closed around hers, his thumb pressing into her palm as they walked in. And Connie could not have cared less about the other guests. Her mind was only on him, on tonight, on the thought of this beautiful man unleashed. And in a place where heads usually refused to turn because it meant someone was more interesting, when the two of them entered and were led through the restaurant to a balcony table, heads did turn, such was their energy, such was the pulse that throbbed between them.
She had always known that he was beautiful, but even here he stood out—and curious eyes looked at them, trying to place him, for certainly he was someone.
He ordered champagne.
‘Which is what you were drinking when I found you.’ And it was a curious choice of words, Connie thought, but that was exactly as it had been. That night, not only had Nico found her but she had started to find herself. ‘But I’ll treat you to a glass this time!’
She loved his humour, loved it that when she smiled at his words, then so, too, did he. Private memories wrapped around them at a small table and he was, for once, so unguarded, so delicious that when the waiter came over, she wanted to ask if rope was on the menu: she needed tethering to the chair, just so she wouldn’t go over to him.
The champagne was delicious. Unlike that first night, today she tasted it. Connie liked the taste, the cool and the bubbles and, with Nico opposite, his eyes making love to her already, every sense was heightened. She could smell the fragrant herbs from the kitchen, hear the chatter and laughter surrounding them and feel the breeze from the ocean cooling her cheeks. She was aware of her own breasts as she leant forward, saw him swallow as he glimpsed violet lace—and tonight he would have her, of that she was deliciously, albeit, terrifyingly certain.
A Shameful Consequence Page 11