How long since she’d indulged in something this full of calories? They tasted fantastic.
‘You’re not a model,’ Nikos said, halfway through his crêpes and finally pausing for breath. ‘Why starve?’
‘It’s expected,’ she said. ‘You can never be too rich or too thin.’
‘Yeah, I’ve heard that, too,’ he growled. ‘So, they’ll fire you if you gain a pound or six?’
‘That party we were at tonight…If I’d turned up as a size fourteen, you think I’d get a foot in the door?’
‘You’re invited to write about it. Not be it.’
‘I’m part of the scene. They like their scene perfect.’
‘And this is a career you like?’
‘It beats pulling craypots.’
More silence. But he wasn’t angry, she thought. He kept on eating, as if she’d just commented on the weather. She’d never been able to needle him.
Oh, she’d missed him. For ten long years it had felt like an ache, a limb missing, phantom pains shooting when she least expected. Watching him now, it felt as if she was suddenly whole again. He was intent on his pancake, maybe giving her space-who knew with Nikos?
He’d fitted right in with the people at the party, she thought. But then she thought, no. She’d got that wrong.
Nikos was an embodiment of what the people she worked with wanted to be. They went to gyms and solariums and plastic surgeons and every other expensive way to get their bodies to where Nikos had his.
All they had to do was haul fifty or so craypots a day for life, she thought, and found she was smiling.
‘What?’ he said, and she was suddenly smiling straight at him, almost pleading for him to return the smile.
And he did. In force. His smile had the capacity to knock her sideways.
The waiter, about to descend to take away their plates, paused with the strength of it. This was a classy establishment. Their waiter knew enough not to intrude on such a smile.
‘I’ve missed you, Thene,’ Nikos said, and his hand was reaching over the table for hers.
No. She found enough sense to tug her hands off the table and put them sensibly in her lap. But she couldn’t stop herself saying the automatic reply. ‘I’ve missed you, too.’
‘So come home.’
‘Because I’ve missed you?’
‘Because the country needs you.’
Here it was again. Duty. Guilt.
‘No.’
She closed her eyes and the waiter decided it was safe to come close. He cleared the plates and set them again, ready for soufflé. Maybe Nikos was watching her. She didn’t know.
Duty.
It had torn her in two ten years ago. To go back now…
“You know Demos wants to open the diamond mines again?” he said, almost conversationally, and her eyes flew open.
‘What the…Why?’
“He’s wanted to for years. It was only Giorgos’s greed that stopped him. Giorgos wasn’t fussed about mining them-he had more money than he knew what to do with, thankfully. But the royal money chests have gone to Alexandros on Sappheiros. There’s little money in the Argyros exchequer.”
“Which mines does he want to open?” She shouldn’t care, she thought. She shouldn’t!
‘All of them.’
‘All? The island will be ripped apart.’
‘You think Demos cares?’
She stared at him, but she was no longer seeing him. Argyros…The Diamond Isles. Three magic island nations in the Mediterranean. All whitewashed stone, steep cliffs, sapphire seas. Three diamonds glittering in the sun.
Home.
Once upon a time the Isles had been three separate nations-Sappheiros, Argyros and Khryseis, but for the last two hundred years they’d been ruled as a Kingdom. Now, however, with the death of King Giorgos without an heir, the islands were Principalities again.
And she was Crown Princess Athena.
Ha. She’d walked away from the royal title when she’d walked away from the island, but it always had been a hollow tag.
Nikos had more right to rule than she, she thought. He’d lived and worked on Argyros all his life. He loved it.
And Demos?
Demos was the son of Athena’s uncle. Because his father was younger than Athena’s mother, he was second in the ancient lineage where she was first. But neither of them had expected to rule.
From time to time she’d read about Demos in the society pages. Whereas she’d left her title of Princess on the island, Demos still valued the title Prince and he used it.
He’d phoned her a week ago and asked that she abdicate and leave the Crown to him. She’d tentatively agreed, because what was the alternative? Going home…going back herself was impossible.
‘Demos arrived back on the island the day after we learned the King’s rule was ended,’ Nikos said, and she realised he’d been following her thoughts. ‘He wants it so badly he’ll do whatever it takes to get it. He’s assuming you don’t want it. Do you know why?’
‘He rang and asked.’
‘Alexandros rang you as well.’
‘Yes.’ Alexandros, the new crown Prince of Sappheiros, was trying to untangle the mess that was the succession.
‘And you told him you were confused.’
‘I was,’ she said. ‘Until Demos phoned.’
‘So you’d let Demos have it?’
‘It’s an empty title anyway. Demos will enjoy it. And how can I come home now?’ she demanded.
‘It’s not an empty title. Not if he opens the diamond mines.’
‘It doesn’t matter. It can’t matter. My life is here.’
‘It’s not much of a life if it doesn’t include crêpes. Or soufflé. Hey, look at this!’
The house speciality was arriving. The soufflé. This dish was famous. How had Nikos manoeuvred his way in here?
‘Who do you think you are?’ she demanded, and he grinned.
‘A fisherman from Argyros. A kid in a lolly shop. Wow! Shut up and eat, Thene. This food needs serious respect.’
She opened her mouth to deny it. She so did not need another sweet.
Her raspberry soufflé was exploding upward and outward, crusty, dusted with sugar, irresistible. While she thought weakly about denial, the waiter produced a jug and poured a thin, hot trickle of blood-red juice down into the soufflé. The crust burst at the centre, the soufflé swallowed the juice and Athena conceded that maybe Nikos was right. This demanded serious respect.
She shut up and ate.
Heaven. Right here on the plate. Seriously wonderful food…
Missing out on such treats was the price she paid for being where she was. If she got up at five tomorrow and jogged double her normal distance…Maybe…
‘Let it go, Thene,’ Nick said. He was wiping the inside of his bowl with his forefinger and licking in deep appreciation. ‘You had a bigger butt when you were eleven. It’s not natural.’
‘It’s what I do.’ She finished and set down her spoon. Who licked their fingers?
She had a sudden blast of memory. Nikos’s mother, Annia, standing at her kitchen table, endlessly baking. She remembered a plum pie that was to die for…
Before she could help herself, she let her finger drop into the bowl, ran it round the edges and licked. Not sure whether she was tasting soufflé now, or pie from the past.
‘How’s your mother?’ she asked.
“Great,” Nikos said. “She sends her love. She says come home-though if I take you home looking like this she’ll have forty fits.’
‘I loved your mother.’
It was said without thinking. She hadn’t meant it. Or…she hadn’t meant to say it.
‘She hated it when you went away, Thene.’
‘Yeah. Well.’ Suddenly she’d had enough. More than enough. Emotion was threatening to overwhelm her. She stood up, too fast. It made her feel dizzy. Disoriented. Nikos was beside her in a flash, gripping her elbow, supporting her.
She
should wrench away. He made her…melt.
‘I need to go home.’
‘My car’s close.’
‘You have a car? Here? In Manhattan?’
‘Borrowed from Stefanos.’
Stefanos. Of course. The third member of the guardians.
Stefanos, Alexandros and Nikos had been friends from childhood. Three intelligent boys, bound by one common goal. To free their respective islands.
They’d run together as a pack. Only, of course, while Giorgos was alive they could do nothing. But now…
‘Stefanos is still in New York?’ she asked. She’d seen him once, when she’d walked into a city hospital to visit a friend. She’d turned and walked out before he’d seen her. She’d even thought of moving to another city because he was here. But that was ridiculous. It was a big city.
‘Stefanos is in Australia trying to find the heir to the throne of Khryseis. He’s Prince Regent of that island. Like you, he doesn’t have a choice.’
‘I do have a choice,’ she snapped. ‘And one of them is to make my own way home. To my home. To where I live now.’
‘How do you get home from here?’ he asked, as if mildly interested, not taking up her nuances. ‘A cab? I’ll drive you.’
‘I ride the subway.’
‘The subway…’
‘This is my neighbourhood, Nikos,’ she said, and made her voice sound sure and mature and…determined. ‘This is where I live. But I need to go. Oscar and Nicholas are expecting me.’
‘Who are Oscar and Nicholas?’
‘My family,’ she said, and the thought of Nicholas brought fear flooding back. ‘So…so, if you’ll excuse me…Oh, you need to pay? Sorry if I don’t wait. Goodnight.’
And she turned and walked from the restaurant.
When she reached the pavement she slipped off her shoes and she started to run.
CHAPTER TWO
CARRIE was watching TV when she let herself into her apartment. Lovely, comforting Carrie, middle-aged and buxom, knitting endless squares to turn into endless blankets for the homeless. She closed the door, leant on it as if to lock the world out and let herself be comforted by the domesticity in front of her.
Oscar was lying draped over Carrie’s feet. The big basset hound looked up at her with soulful reproach, as if to say, You expect me to get up at this time of night? You need to be kidding.
She smiled. Oscar helped as well.
‘Hey, great jacket,’ Carrie said equably from the couch. ‘You swap jackets with a boy?’
Whoops. She’d forgotten she was wearing it. Or maybe subconsciously she’d known, and she liked it. She fingered the soft, worn leather and found comfort there as well.
‘Yep,’ she said.
‘A good-looking one?’
‘Yep to that as well. Really good-looking.’
‘Excellent,’ Carrie said and dumped her knitting into her carrier bag. ‘He ask you out?’
‘We did already. We ate soufflé and crêpes.’
‘And crêpes? Wow. You going to see him again?’
‘Once is enough.’ Once in one lifetime.
Carrie’s face puckered into disappointment. ‘Why the heck?’ she demanded, seriously displeased. ‘You know I can take Nicky whenever you want. You need a love life.’
‘I’ve had one.’
‘But you’ve kept his jacket,’ Carrie said, thoughtful. ‘Smart girl. A guy’s going to miss a jacket like that. Does he know where you live?’
‘No. I’ll post it to him.’
‘Don’t post it for a couple of days,’ Carrie said. ‘Give the man a challenge.’ She pushed her more than ample self to her feet, made her way across the room and gave Athena a hug. ‘You deserve some excitement. And Nicky needs a dad.’
‘Carrie…’
‘Just saying,’ Carrie said placidly. ‘Just going.’
And she went. Leaving silence.
She sat, on cushions still warm from Carrie. She stared mindlessly at the soap Carrie had been watching. Oscar sighed, heaved himself sideways and redraped himself over her feet.
She needed comfort.
She needed to stop being angry.
Why the anger? After ten years, surely she had no right to still be angry with Nikos.
Or maybe she had. Ten years ago she’d ached for him to follow her. Just one word…something…a message to find out if she was okay. Her aunt had known her address. Nikos had known her aunt.
But it was as if the moment she’d walked off the island she’d walked out of Nikos’s life. And now…here he was, demanding she take a part in the island’s future. Demanding she think about Argyros.
And all she could think was that she hadn’t told him he had a son.
He was here. The time to tell him was now.
The time to tell him was ten years ago. For him to find out now…
It had to happen. She had to find the courage.
Maybe he’d leave without trying to see her again. Maybe she’d have to go to Argyros to tell him.
He was in New York right now. She had to get over her anger and tell him.
And then say goodbye. For to go back to Argyros…Even if Demos were to destroy the island with his greed for diamonds…
No. It couldn’t happen. She’d have to do something.
What?
Nothing, she told herself, but there was desperation behind the word.
It had to be nothing. She’d left Argyros behind. That first dreadful year, she’d coped with homesickness, isolation, fear, and the birth of Nicky, and she’d faced it alone. She’d fought to make herself a living, knowing she was all her baby had. That which doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. The often used platitude had become her mantra.
She’d never again let herself need anyone as she’d needed Nikos. She no longer loved Nikos and she no longer called Argyros home.
Her head hurt. Thinking hurt.
She needed to sleep, but sleep wasn’t going to come easily tonight. If she filed her story now…That’d mean tomorrow was free. Saturday-Nicky had the day off school. They could go to the park…something, anything, just to get her away from here, buy her a little time.
She should take off Nikos’s jacket.
Not yet. For just a little bit longer she’d allow herself that one small comfort.
Who the hell were Oscar and Nicholas?
Husband? Son? Sons? He was going nuts not knowing.
He’d hired someone to find her. The firm he’d hired had given him the magazine she worked for and a brief summary of her career. It was hardly personal.
Why had he never thought she could be married?
She wasn’t wearing a ring.
That could mean anything. Rings weren’t compulsory. Nor was marriage; its lack didn’t necessarily mean you were without a long-term partner.
Why had she responded to him with anger?
He’d hardly expected her to fall into his arms as her long lost friend. He’d married someone else.
Marika…He thought of his ex-wife now and fought back anger that stayed with him still. But you needed to move on. He needed to move on.
He had.
Or he thought he had until he’d seen Athena tonight. She was every bit the girl he remembered-but now she was a woman. Her eyes had tiny creases-smile lines. Did she smile often? Did the unknown Oscar and Nicholas make her smile?
He’d forgotten how she’d made him feel-or maybe he’d blocked it out. Looking at her across the restaurant table tonight…it had taken all the power he had to keep his voice neutral, to keep his feelings in check.
She was still Athena-the girl he’d loved to the point of madness-and then she’d chosen her career over him. The woman he’d held in a corner of his heart for ten long years.
Oh, there’d been other women-of course there had. As the owner of the biggest fishing fleet in the Diamond Isles he was considered more than eligible. He was never lost for…companionship, only every woman he dated compared with Athena.
&nbs
p; Even the woman he’d married.
Especially the woman he’d married.
The old anger gripped him, tore at him. The old hunger…
Only it wasn’t an old hunger. It was as real and as raw tonight as it had ever been.
He opened the door to the adjoining hotel room. The woman from the hotel sitting service rose to leave.
‘She’s been very good, sir. I read her the book like you said. She even undressed herself. I didn’t think…’
‘That’s great,’ he said. He didn’t want to hear what she didn’t think.
‘Goodnight, then,’ the woman said and slipped away into the night.
He stood for a moment gazing down at Christa. His daughter was sucking her thumb, even in sleep. She shouldn’t-but who cared?
He crossed to the bed and sat down beside his sleeping child. He stroked her pretty dark hair. She opened her eyes and smiled sleepily at him. ‘Papa.’
‘Go to sleep, kitten,’ he said softly.
‘N…nice.’ She closed her eyes again and was instantly asleep.
How could he still be angry? Athena had moved away but now, in his heart, in her stead, he had his little daughter.
For years he’d tried to think that. It didn’t work. It never had.
For years he’d envisaged Athena in a barren, lonely existence in a strange land. He’d almost hoped for it.
She’d left him. He should have cut off all thoughts of her. He shouldn’t care.
But it wasn’t possible. Not then and not now.
Athena…or his daughter.
Athena and the unknown Oscar and Nicholas.
So she had a family, too. Well, so be it, he thought, trying to be rational. He had his Christa and he was content. What he was feeling now was the echoes of the past. From now on the personal had to be set aside for the good of the island.
Tomorrow he had to find her again. She had to face her duty. She must.
He’d take Christa sightseeing tomorrow morning. Maybe they could take a buggy ride round Central Park. She’d enjoy that. Then, in the afternoon, he’d go to see Athena again.
And get his jacket back.
He thought of his jacket as he’d last seen it, draped round Athena’s shoulders as she’d fled the restaurant. Maybe he should have followed her.
But…and it was a big but. There had been fear in her eyes as she’d fled. Real fear.
Betrothed: To the People’s Prince Page 2