Greek Tycoon, Wayward Wife

by Sabrina Philips

  Once the play had started—an adaptation of Homer’s Odyssey by the local drama group—and the hubbub of the audience had been replaced with tranquillity, she couldn’t go on denying what that meant. She’d wanted evidence that he was for real, that he did want to give their marriage another shot, that recapturing what they’d once had before everything had changed might be possible. And, even though she’d thought the chances of that were minuscule, he’d given it to her. He’d given her hope.

  And it was both exhilarating and terrifying. Because she wanted to open her heart to it, to revel in it, but there was still so much they didn’t know about each other, so many ways they might not be compatible, and deep down she knew it was too soon, too dangerous, too easy to be seduced by the romance of it all. The sky growing dark, the stars beginning to twinkle above them. The stars of Orion’s belt, which always reminded her of him no matter where in the world she was, even though until yesterday she’d been convinced that looking up at the constellation which bore his name was the closest she’d ever get to him again.

  Just as it was too easy to be seduced by the way he’d placed a blanket around her shoulders and left his hand lingering there as the players re-enacted the moment at the end of Odysseus’s adventures when he and his wife Penelope were reunited after many years apart.

  But not until they had each tested one another and banished their doubts, Libby thought, the play’s pertinence far from lost on her. If she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn that it was no accident. But hadn’t he been planning on coming here alone before she’d even arrived in his office yesterday? Yes, Eurycleia’s reaction when he’d mentioned the play tonight had proved that he had.

  It had to be a coincidence, then, or simply that the ancient epic was full of such universal truths that it resonated in one way or another with everyone, as stories that stood the test of time always did. Yes, Rion was probably sitting beside her identifying with a totally different part. Like Odysseus’s need to make his journey alone, or something.

  Like Odysseus’s need to make his journey alone? she repeated in her mind. Before being reunited with his wife?

  Libby stole a sideways glance at his profile. Could it be possible that was what he was thinking? That when they’d married he’d been too young, that what he’d needed then was the space to make his own way in the world first, just as she had? And could he be thinking that he was ready for marriage now, and that the feelings which had drawn them together in the first place had never really gone away?

  Suddenly the audience broke into rapturous applause. Libby’s mind had been so far away that the sound made her jump, but she quickly recomposed herself and joined in enthusiastically, afraid that if he noticed her distractedness he might start asking questions she wasn’t ready to answer. Not yet.

  As the actors took their bows and filed off the stage, Rion stood and led the way down the stone steps. The street outside, which had contained just a few people carrying tables when they’d arrived, was now full of stalls, selling every kind of food and drink imaginable.

  ‘The performance is just the first part of the local panigiria,’ he explained. ‘The rest of the celebrations will go on into the early hours of the morning.’ He walked up to one of the stalls, exchanged pleasantries with the old man serving, and then ordered them two small glasses of golden liquid. ‘This is the local liquor, sweetened with honey. Try it.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Libby accepted the glass and took a sip. Trying local food and drink had always been one of her favourite parts of travelling. Guidebooks filled with photos had given her an idea about the way different places looked ever since she’d begun devouring them in her childhood, but discovering how a place tasted was something you could never know until you’d been.

  ‘It’s delicious.’

  He nodded. ‘Come, I’d very much like to introduce you to someone.’

  Would he? Her heart blossomed ridiculously in her chest.

  ‘His name is Georgios,’ he said, surveying the crowd. ‘He’s the Mayor.’

  For a moment Libby felt staggered that he should know someone so prominent—until it occurred to her that he was now probably the most famous resident of Metameikos himself. But just as Rion appeared to spot Georgios in the crowd, and moved his hand to her elbow to guide her forward, a loud voice thundered behind them.

  ‘Ah, Delikaris. I might have known you wouldn’t pass up this opportunity.’

  Libby turned round to see that the voice belonged to a large man with a balding head and an incongruously thick moustache.

  ‘Spyros.’ Rion inclined his head civilly, but Libby could hear the hostility in his voice. If Spyros heard it too, he didn’t take the hint.

  ‘I’m glad to see you’re making use of the stalls I granted permission for this evening.’ He dropped his eyes to their glasses.

  ‘You mean the stalls belonging to men who have traded here every year for decades, but who now have to line your pockets for the privilege?’ Rion ground out bitterly.

  Spyros gave an unpleasant laugh. ‘For the good of the community at large. I only grant permission to those whose produce meets health and safety standards.’

  ‘Which all of them did before, because they don’t sell anything they wouldn’t feed to their own families.’

  ‘Well, we’d all like that to be the case, but you can never be too careful these days. It’s important to know exactly who you’re dealing with. Talking of which…’ Spyros ran his eyes lecherously over Libby. ‘I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.’

  The tops of Libby’s arms broke out into goose pimples and she stroked her hands over them, wishing she hadn’t had to leave the blanket that Rion had placed around her shoulders in the amphitheatre.

  ‘This is Libby,’ Rion said reluctantly.

  ‘Libby,’ Spyros repeated, so lewdly that for the first time in her life she hated the shortened form of her name even more than the extended version.

  He turned back to Rion. ‘Decided on a change of tack, eh? Why keep your lovers behind closed doors when everyone knows you have a different one for every day of the week? Your honesty is gutsy, I’ll give you that. Or is it just a sign that you’ve already accepted defeat?’

  Libby frowned, wondering what the hell he was talking about, but her mind was too full of the nauseating image of seven scantily clad women labelled Monday through to Sunday to even hazard a guess.

  ‘I’m afraid not—for your sake,’ Rion said between gritted teeth. ‘As it happens, Libby is my wife.’

  To Libby’s surprise, Spyros looked from her to Rion and then let out a guffaw of laughter. ‘It’s imaginative, I’ll give you that. But surely you don’t think even this lot will fall for it?’ He signalled to the crowds of people enjoying the festivities and then turned to Libby. ‘So, tell me, how much does it pay, playing the part of his wife? Handsomely, I hope. Sex and politics are the two oldest professions in the world, after all.’

  The cords in Rion’s neck went taut, and he raised himself to his full height, but before he could take another step forward Libby cut in front of him. She didn’t know what the hell was going on, but Spyros’s condescension and disrespect was such an unpleasantly vivid reminder of her father that she couldn’t remain silent.

  ‘I’m not sure what business it is of yours, but I can assure you that we are married.’

  Rion looked at her, and she saw something flare in his eyes. She wasn’t sure whether it was pride or horror.

  ‘Don’t tell me he actually convinced you to go through with it? Do you really think people are stupid enough to believe that he’s capable of some whirlwind romance, that overnight he’s become a family man? All it screams is rashness and irresponsibility.’

  ‘You think so?’ Rion said, pretending to ponder the concept. ‘Lucky, then, that Libby and I married five years ago.’

  He paused to watch Spyros’s face drop before continuing, ‘We have been apart for a period of time, yes, but what marriage doesn’t go t
hrough bad patches?’ He looked critically at him. ‘I’d say those that seem not to are the ones which invite suspicion.’

  Spyros’s conceited expression turned to one of pure malevolence. ‘You will not win this, Delikaris—’ he twisted his head and glowered at the crowd ‘— You’re no better than they are.’

  ‘No, I don’t believe I am,’ Rion replied. ‘And that’s the difference between us.’

  Rion fought the urge to show Spyros that wasn’t the only difference between them, that if he ever insulted his wife again he would pay, but he knew that would only be living up to the creep’s preconceptions. Instead he placed his hand on Libby’s arm, momentarily wished he could repress his rudimentary urges with such ease when it came to her, then encouraged her forward and smiled with intentionally nauseating civility. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse us, we were just off to see Georgios.’

  Libby watched as Spyros angrily pushed his way back through the crowd to a small, grubby-looking man and a large woman in a gaudy peacock-print dress whom she presumed must be his wife. Her nose was turned up at two young boys acting out the fight between Odysseus and the Cyclops, one with one eye tightly shut, the other brandishing a rolled-up theatre programme, creating clouds of dust.

  Libby would have cheered them on if she hadn’t felt as if she’d just been engulfed by a dust cloud herself. A dust cloud which, once settled, she had a horrible feeling might reveal a truth she didn’t want to see. She turned her head back to face Rion, who had the audacity to be scanning the crowd for the Mayor again.

  ‘Would you care to tell me what just happened?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘That man—Spyros, or whatever his name is—who is he?’ And who are you?

  ‘He’s the current leader of Metameikos,’ Rion replied through gritted teeth.

  As he spoke she pieced together the bits of information she’d gleaned from their conversation. ‘And what? You’re standing against him in some sort of election?’

  As she said the words aloud, she knew she’d hit the nail on the head before he even had the chance to nod. That was why Eurycleia had been so reverential when he’d mentioned coming here tonight—that was why he wanted her to meet the Mayor—that was why—

  Libby felt as if the fragile threads keeping her heart suspended in her chest had just been cut.

  That was the real reason why he’d refused to sign the divorce petition and invited her here. Not because he wanted to give their marriage another shot. But because he thought that playing the family man in the local community for a couple of weeks might win him a few extra votes.

  ‘And you just didn’t think you’d bother mentioning it?’ Libby exploded, almost as angry at herself for thinking he might have changed as at the concrete proof that he didn’t give a damn about anyone but himself.

  ‘Do you mind if we don’t do this in front of the whole of Metameikos?’ he said under his breath, steering her away from the throng of people who had started to turn around.

  Libby shook him off angrily. ‘Oh, no, it wouldn’t do for your wife to make a scene, would it?’

  ‘Not over nothing, no,’ he said matter-of-factly, as if she was the one who was being unreasonable. ‘This isn’t a secret, it’s a public election, gineka mou. I’m sorry if you didn’t realise I was running but, given that you’ve been gone for five years, unfortunately there will be some things we don’t know about each other.’

  She raised her head to look at him, standing so righteously with the amphitheatre behind him. He looked like Alexander the Great, and in that instant she hated him. ‘I don’t care if there are a million things I don’t know about you, Rion. I care about being lied to, about being used as an accomplice to deceive others without even knowing about it.’

  He gave a sceptical laugh. ‘Are you protesting for the innocent people of Metameikos, or for yourself?’

  ‘Both.’

  ‘Spyros is corruption personified, as his father was before him. He runs this province on lies. I hardly think I’m doing the people of Metameikos a disservice by turning up to a play with my wife.’

  ‘You still deceived me. You told me you didn’t want to sign the divorce papers because you wanted to see whether now there could be a second chance for us.’

  He shook his head. ‘Indeed—and I do. That this fortnight happens to coincide with the election is irrelevant.’

  Fury almost choked her. ‘Then it won’t affect your plans if I leave, will it?’

  ‘Affect my plans? Not in the least.’ He smiled disparagingly. ‘But I’m afraid it may affect yours, since I won’t be signing the divorce papers unless you stay.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘YOU blackmailing bastard,’ she breathed, flinging out her arms in disgust and walking back along the dusty road which led to the house.

  Much as she would have liked to lead him back to the growing frivolity of the panigiria, so that the whole of Metameikos could hear how emotionally backward he was, she needed the open space.

  ‘There’s no need to be upset, gineka mou,’ he said, catching up with her in two easy strides. ‘The agreement was that we would spend two weeks finding out whether our marriage could work, and I still have every intention of proving to you that it can.’

  Good God, the lies tripped off his tongue so easily. ‘So you’re just going to go on pretending that you want me because keeping me here is beneficial to your campaign?’

  ‘Don’t lecture me about pretending,’ he growled, catching her wrist in his hand and spinning her round to face him. ‘You can tell yourself whatever you want—that I don’t want you, that you don’t want me, that you’re being faithful to this lover you’ve got waiting in the wings—but we both know what’s happening between us…that if we hadn’t been interrupted it would have happened already.’

  He gave her no time to assemble her defences. The instant she realised what was happening his lips were already on hers, hungry, demanding, urgent. And, before she could even think about whether it was wise or not, her body had already kicked into its natural response: to kiss him with the same intensity right back.

  It wasn’t the least bit wise, of course, but by the time she’d reached that conclusion the voice of reason in her mind was inaudible, obscured by the heady release of five years of deeply buried need. Desire exploded in her belly as he crushed her to him, as he tangled his hand in her hair and angled her face upwards so that he could explore her mouth even more thoroughly. And she let it, because just for one moment she wanted to believe that at least something about the last twenty-four hours had been real.

  For a nanosecond, as she compared the force of his passion now with that of her memories, she actually gave headroom to the possibility that it could be—that, yes, he did want to rule half the world as well as owning it, but maybe he wanted her too.

  Yet just as that thought echoed through her mind, so too did his words: you can tell yourself whatever you want…that you’re being faithful to this lover you’ve got waiting in the wings…And immediately the bubble burst.

  Oh, Rion wanted her, all right, but not because he’d suddenly realised she was what he wanted. He’d carried on believing she wanted this divorce in order to marry another man, and the thought of someone else having her was like a red rag to a bull. Not out of genuine jealousy, but because the chance to prove he could turn her on more than any other man turned him on. It was a challenge, another contest to be won.

  Libby wrenched herself out of his embrace, the realisation like being doused with cold water.

  ‘I have no lover,’ she shot out suddenly.

  She knew it was bound to invite a thousand questions, but it was the only way to eradicate this danger.

  Rion eyed her skeptically, and looked down at the space she’d created between them. ‘Do you think that if you start pretending he doesn’t exist now, you can avoid the possibility of him finding out about this?’

  Libby shook her head in vain. ‘Do you think that if I did have a lover I�
�d betray him by coming here in the first place?’

  Rion didn’t know what the hell to think, but he did know her use of the word betray was the admission he had been waiting for. ‘So you’re confessing that your thoughts about me have been lustful ever since you walked into my office, gineka mou?’

  ‘The only thing I’m confessing is that I would never have allowed myself to be seen in public as your wife if doing so humiliated anyone other than me.’

  Rage flared in his eyes. ‘Oh, yes, if only you’d married someone less humiliating, someone as refined and morally seamless as you are—oh, no, wait a minute. Haven’t you, who has just spent the last ten minutes accusing me of omitting the truth, been lying about this other man all along?’

  Libby’s cheeks started to burn. ‘You assumed—’

  ‘In the same way that you assumed my business here had to do with Delikaris Experiences. Only you went one step further by perpetuating your lie.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Why?’

  She dropped her head. ‘I thought it would make you see the logic in signing the divorce papers. You seemed sure that all I wanted was money, and I needed you to see that it wasn’t.’

  ‘Even though all the time it was?’ he bellowed.

  ‘No, I told you—’

  ‘Oh, yes, you told me—getting a divorce now is logical. But you’ve already lived with the humiliation of being my wife for five years, so why did remaining married suddenly become illogical? Has Ashworth Motors folded? Is that it?’ he went on. ‘Are you here because you hope a hefty divorce pay-out will restore your family’s fortunes, prevent you from having to work a day more?’