No, she could tell he didn’t want her to know, full-stop. Yet wasn’t it obvious that if he had explained the real reason he wanted to win this election from the start she would have automatically wanted to help him succeed?
Yes, she thought, it probably was, but he clearly found the prospect of her staying because she felt sorry for him abhorrent. Just like the prospect of winning this election for the same reason, she realised suddenly. Spyros knew about Jason because of his father, but no one else did, did they? If they did, Rion would have no need to convince them of his commitment to family values, to Metameikos—but he’d chosen to avoid the sympathy vote.
‘You don’t have my pity,’ she whispered, needing him to believe that her support had nothing to do with that and everything to do with believing in justice, believing in him. The corners of her mouth turned downwards. ‘Are you telling me this kind of thing is still happening here now?’
He spoke through gritted teeth. ‘Spyros Junior has had to get more subtle about it, but the divide between rich and poor is as wide as it ever was.’
‘I had no idea.’ How naïve her idealistic view of the old town had been, how small-minded to think that indifference was responsible for his reticence. She shook her head, ashamed. ‘I thought that you just wanted the power…the success.’
‘And now you know it’s about the street urchin wanting his revenge?’
Libby stared at him. But it wasn’t that, was it? He could have exacted his vengeance on the doctors or on the Spyros family in any number of ways, but he’d decided to take the high road, to make things better for the next generation.
Suddenly they were interrupted by the sound of something metal being chinked against something glass on the other side of the wall, then a hushed silence, which was followed by a loud voice.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, Mayor Tsamis will be giving the traditional toast to the candidates in the main hall in five minutes.’
Immediately the shutters came up on Rion’s face. ‘I need to go.’
Of course he did. As Libby watched him turn on his heel, without even glancing back to see whether she had any intention of joining him, she knew she needed to go too. Not away from here, but inside, with him. Because the freedom he stood for was the very thing she’d spent her whole life fighting for.
And because she finally had the proof that he was the inherently good man she’d fallen in love with after all.
Rion stood at the front of the main hall beside Stephanos and stared bleakly into the glass of champagne he’d just been handed.
Libby was gone, long gone, he had no doubt about that. She’d known he was poor, that he had no connections, but the horror in her eyes when he’d told her the sordid details of his past had been palpable. If her plan earlier had been to walk away, she’d probably sprinted halfway back to Athens by now.
Anger burned in his throat. Anger at her—for leaving him. Twice. Anger at himself for believing deep down he might be able to seduce her into staying, for even wanting to try. Most of all for jeopardising everything by supposing this could ever have worked.
Stephanos stood beside him, anxiously leaning back to look for her through the crowd as Georgios ascended the podium. Out of the corner of his eye Rion could see Spyros’s fat stomach protruding from either side of his scarlet cummerbund as he did the same, only the expression he wore was one of glee.
Georgios tapped a fork against his wine glass and the room fell silent.
‘Good evening, ladies and gentleman, and thank you all for coming. It’s a great pleasure to see so many of you here on the eve of what is set to be the closest and without a doubt the most exciting election we have seen in Metameikos for many years.’
‘Hear, hear,’ Rion heard a female voice which sounded a lot like Eurycleia’s call out from the crowd. Spyros’s face turned to thunder.
‘Over the course of their campaigns both candidates and their teams have worked tirelessly in new and innovative ways to listen to your views and broadcast their policies, and I’m delighted to be able to say that when I stand before you tomorrow with the results I am sure that, no matter what the outcome, you will be guaranteed a leader who will give his all to Metameikos.’
But all of what? That was the question, Rion thought grimly.
‘Which leaves me, without further ado, to raise a toast to the candidates, and to their wive—’
Georgios looked down to pick them out in the crowd, and spotted immediately that Libby was missing. Rion’s heart stopped beating in his chest. Excuses hovered on his tongue—she’d been taken suddenly ill, there’d been a family emergency—but he couldn’t bring himself to utter any of them. Because he couldn’t stop recalling the accusation of dishonesty that Libby had levelled at him earlier. Wanting her by his side hadn’t been a lie, but saying any one of those excuses aloud, however well-intentioned, would be. And if he won the election based on deceit, wouldn’t that make him just as reprehensible as Spyros?
But just as Rion was about to open his mouth and declare the truth he noticed that the heads of the crowd were all turning towards the door. And then they parted.
Libby.
She looked so nymph-like as she floated in in her pale blue dress that for a moment Rion was convinced that what he was seeing was actually an apparition.
But then she spoke. ‘My apologies, Mr Tsamis. For a moment the events of this evening were a little overwhelming.’
‘Completely understandable, my dear.’ Georgios smiled as she went to stand beside her husband. ‘No need to apologise.’
Georgios turned his focus back to the crowd. ‘And now that we are all present and correct, it gives me great pleasure to raise a—’
‘You were busy forming an opinion on your husband’s policies, perhaps?’ Spyros suddenly interrupted, turning viciously on Libby. ‘For I hear that the last time you were asked you declared you needed more time to make up your mind. I’m sure I’m not the only one here who thinks you should be given a fresh opportunity to express your views.’
Libby was so startled by his breach of etiquette that it took a few seconds for his hypocrisy to hit home. But no longer than that. She took a deep breath, suppressed the urge to share with the crowd what she’d witnessed in the passageway earlier, and turned on her well-pefected, sickly-sweet voice instead.
‘Why, thank you, Spyros. Whilst I’m not sure that now is the time—’ she lowered her head respectfully towards Georgios ‘—I’m pleased you feel so strongly about people’s views being heard.’ She caught the eye of Eurycleia a few rows back. She clearly hadn’t missed the note of sarcasm in her voice and was grinning jubilantly.
‘You are correct that when I arrived just under two weeks ago I’d had little time to consider my feelings on any policies. What was more, I believed that no one could know what Metameikos needed better than its people themselves. I still believe that. But now I’m certain of one thing. Orion Delikaris is not the man you think he is.’ She paused, and heard him suck in a breath beside her. ‘Orion is one of the people. He hasn’t just flown in from Athens with a bunch of policies he’s plucked out of thin air because he thinks they’re the ones that will gain him the most votes; this is his home. His policies are born out of the same desire for a better, fairer Metameikos that everyone here—’ She stopped and looked directly at Spyros. ‘That almost everyone here shares. They’re more than just policies; they’re the promises he’s already made to himself.’
There weren’t the whoops and cheers she’d got at the meeting this time. Instead there was a kind of silent awe, a collective hope.
Georgios smiled at her and gently bowed his head. ‘Thank you, Mrs Delikaris. Now, lest we should all be quizzed—’ he glared at Spyros, whose expression was one of complete and utter horror ‘—I should like to finally raise that toast: to the candidates of this year’s election, and their wives.’
‘The candidates and their wives,’ the crowd repeated, raising their glasses.
‘And may the
best man win.’
As Georgios descended from the podium amidst a round of applause, Rion stared at Libby, dumbfounded. Yes, he knew precisely what she’d meant when she’d described him as one of the people, but she’d nevertheless done everything in her power to help him.
It was the last thing he’d expected, but now he thought about it—about her reaction when she’d overheard Spyros, the things she’d said before about witnessing injustice around the world—he supposed it did add up. She might not want to be married to a man of his background, but it seemed she had compassion for those who could hope for nothing more.
‘Thank you,’ he whispered stiltedly in her ear as the crowd began to disperse.
Libby inclined her head in gratitude as they headed back towards the garden, but she didn’t allow herself to feel glad until Stephanos and the other members of his team came over to rejoice in the good fortune of Spyros’s outburst and the quick-wittedness of her response. Not because she wanted their thanks—Rion’s meant far more—but because she knew that unless she kept her guard up when she was alone with him she was in serious danger of telling him that she was in love with him.
Which, she told herself as the party continued in a blur of introductions, small talk and sipped champagne, would be an exceptionally foolish thing to do. Because she might have proof that all along he had been motivated by good, but she had no evidence that he’d retained any of the feelings that had once prompted him to propose all those years ago, or that he was capable of understanding why she’d left and moved forward. On the contrary, if their original agreement still stood—and he’d given her no indication that it didn’t—then tomorrow he would sign the divorce papers and be done with her.
By the time the crowds began to thin, and Libby found herself alone with him again, she’d almost built her defences back up.
‘Come on,’ he whispered, inclining his head towards the house. ‘We’ve done everything we can.’
Libby was glad. Her feet were sore and the muscles in her cheeks had begun to ache. Whilst she’d genuinely enjoyed talking to many of the local people, the awareness that she was being scrutinised had induced a kind of facial fatigue she hadn’t experienced since those parties at Ashworth Manor.
Yet her relief was accompanied by trepidation. Georgios was bound to have reserved them a double room, and unless she wanted to undo all their hard work tonight she had no choice but to stay in it—with Rion. And, whilst she’d spent the evening schooling her heart against him, she knew that would do her about as much good as a map of Metameikos in Malaga if he came anywhere near her.
‘Ah, Mr and Mrs Delikaris.’ She heard Georgios’s voice behind them as they walked through the atrium. ‘You’re off to bed? Not a moment too soon. Tomorrow is going to be a long day for you both.’ He lowered his voice and came in between them, placing his arms around their shoulders. ‘Come. I would prefer it if you kept this to yourselves, but I have reserved you the best room in the house.’
So good it had two beds? Libby wondered optimistically.
Georgios pressed a key into Rion’s hand and guided them down the main corridor that led off of the hallway, and then along a narrower one to the right, where the high walls were covered from floor to ceiling in beautiful neoclassical paintings.
Libby spun around, her concerns temporarily forgotten as she looked up in awe. ‘Is this part of the residence open to the public?’ she asked, wondering if she’d reached her conclusion that the new part of the town had nothing worth visiting too quickly.
‘Yes, of course,’ Georgios answered. ‘The mayoral residence really belongs to the people of Metameikos. The Mayor has permission to add to it—this wing was built by a mayor named Leander back in the eighteenth century, whilst the one we are headed to now was constructed by my predecessor—but really we’re just its guardians.’
She nodded in appreciation. ‘I’m a tour guide,’ she explained. ‘I run excursions for small groups. I’d love to add a trip here to the itinerary I’m currently working on.’
Georgios looked delighted, but at the same time perplexed. ‘And you enjoy your work?’
‘Yes,’ Libby said sincerely. ‘I love it.’
He turned to Rion, rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air. ‘Just like my wife! All my life I do the honourable thing—work hard so that she doesn’t have to—and then she insists on getting a job! I never understood it.’
His words forced Libby to do a double-take. What had he just said?
That he’d always tried to do the honourable thing and support his wife, and that he’d never been able to understand her desire to work?
Rapidly, Georgios’s words seeped into her mind, changing the colour of the past. After she and Rion had married she’d thought that he wanted to make his own way in the world, buy a better house, without any contribution from her. When he’d refused to admit that, she’d been convinced he was in denial, but suddenly she thought she understood. It hadn’t been a question of ambition, it had been a question of honour. And what had she done? Walked away.
As a whole new wave of guilt washed over her, Libby failed to notice that they’d slowed right down and that Georgios had just hit a square gold button in the wall. Because it had just occurred to her where that code of honour came from. It wasn’t just that he was Greek, it was that he’d had to watch helplessly as his mother had had to work day and night to support him and his brother.
And suddenly she saw why he had never comprehended that working and living alone was what she needed to feel free. Because freedom to his mother would have been a home, a husband to support her. Her heart turned over. Everything he’d given her.
Suddenly a loud ping broke through her thoughts. ‘Here we are. It’s on the top floor, straight in front of you as you exit the lift.’
Lift? Libby felt her pulse-rate rocket.
‘Um, I’d really rather take the stairs, if you don’t mind,’ she shot out abruptly, desperately flicking her eyes past Georgios and around the new wing, looking for a stairwell. ‘Walk off all those delicious hors d’oeuvres.’
Rion eyed her quizzically, unable to fathom her expression. She was probably just worried about what she might do if she found herself in an enclosed space with him. Good.
Georgios shook his head and tutted. ‘My son married an English girl too—barely eats a lettuce leaf! Hasn’t Rion told you that Greek men don’t like their women too skinny? Particularly if it means a longer journey to the bedroom.’ He chuckled softly, ushering her forward as the doors opened and Rion thanked him for his hospitality.
She wanted to back away from the lift, to have Rion look at her, automatically understand, and endorse her suggestion that they take the stairs—but then he still didn’t know some fundamental things about her, did he? And what would it say about their marriage to Georgios if she suddenly blurted out something like that now?
‘Sleep well,’ Georgios called after them as the doors slowly closed.
The second they shut Libby’s heart began to thunder in her chest and her breaths became short, sharp and raspy.
‘Are you okay?’
‘I don’t do lifts,’ she choked, pushing her hand up against the doors, leaning her head into the crook of her elbow and focussing on the crack, willing it to open.
Instantly Rion saw her words were an understatement and put his hands on her shoulders. He spun her round. ‘You’re claustrophobic?’
She nodded.
Gamoto! He hit every button on the lift’s panel to try and make it stop—at any floor he could. Why hadn’t she told him downstairs? He bent his knees slightly, so that his eyes were level with hers. Because if she had Georgios would have known something was amiss, he realised suddenly. A wave of guilt coursed through him.
They both quickly realised it was one of those lifts which obeyed commands in order and was going all the way up to the top floor first.
Visions of the walls closing in around her began to flood Libby’s mind, her temperature
soared, and then the muscles in her neck went so weak that her chin lolled against her chest.
‘No,’ he said, firmly but gently. ‘I need you to keep looking at me.’
He placed his hands on either side of her face and guided her head upwards, so that her eyes were level with his again.
‘We’re not here,’ he said, very definitely, searching her face for inspiration, needing a memory he could use to transport her mind away from there. Somewhere open, out-of-doors, where they’d both been together. He was momentarily struck by how tragic it was that there was such a lack of options, even from the months of their marriage they’d spent together, but he didn’t have time to dwell on what that meant.
‘We’re in Athens,’ he said suddenly. ‘We’re in Athens and it’s snowing.’ All right, the options are limited, Delikaris, but surely you could have thought of something other than that?
The tension in Libby’s chest, the growing movement towards the black hole was immediately immobilised. Had he just said Athens? In the snow?
Rion couldn’t miss the way her whole body seemed to pull back from the brink just a fraction. Oh, what the hell? If it took her mind off this… Reminding her that even their wedding day had been a let-down was hardly going to make any difference after all that he’d been forced to reveal tonight.
‘We’re slowly making our way to the town hall—on foot, through the National Gardens, because the taxi can’t make it up the road.’
‘They haven’t got round to clearing it yet,’ she whispered, her words slurring into each other a little at first. ‘But a few people are just starting to come outside with shovels.’ The memories seemed to form a dam in her mind, holding back the rising panic.
‘And we manage to talk an old man and woman into coming with us to witness the ceremony—’
‘In exchange for the promise of hot chocolate.’
To Rion’s astonishment she smiled—and it wasn’t tinged with any of the distaste he would have expected. Only because she’d temporarily lost control of her faculties, he was sure, but for a second he allowed himself to forget that.
Greek Tycoon, Wayward Wife Page 11