by Lynne Graham
'Have you gone mad?' Betsy screeched in horror at the scene before her and hauled unavailingly at Cristos' suit jacket. 'Let go of him!'
'Drop me… preferably all in one piece,' Rory advised drily, but his complexion was as colourless as the white painted wall behind him.
'Cristos!' Betsy exclaimed fiercely.
Cristos lowered the smaller man to the floor again, backed off a step, twitched his cuffs straight while hoping that his target would do the manly thing and take a swing at him.
'I could have you charged with assault,' Rory informed him instead, straightening his tie.
Disappointed, Cristos thrust the door wider. 'Get out…'
Trembling, Betsy gulped in a sustaining breath. She was appalled by Cristos' conduct. Rory hovered, visibly keen to be gone but reluctant to back down in front of another man.
'I'll be fine… it'll be better if you leave.' She was quick to give Rory his escape clause.
Cristos stood at the window. He was thrown by his own loss of control and shaken by his very sincere desire to hammer Rory to a pulp. He prided himself on his self-discipline. He could not understand what was wrong with him. Nothing had felt right since he'd returned home and all too many things roused him to impatience and annoyance.
His grandfather, Patras, had been blunt. 'You're like an angry bear looking for a fight. When you walk into a room, 1 feel 1 should take cover. What happened to you on that island?'
'I want you to leave… I'm not talking to you,' Betsy said doggedly, breaking into his ruminations.
Cristos devoured her in a long, lingering scrutiny.
She had lost weight. Her eyes looked too big for her pale face. Her jeans and shirt were downright drab. But she was one of those rare women whose pure nattural beauty would always outshine any frame and any physical flaw. Her unhappiness was also as apparent to him as his own seething frustration. 'What was Mr Sad doing here with you?'
An embarrassed flush lit Betsy's cheeks. On the island, Cristos had got chapter and verse on Rory's transfer of affections to Gemma out of her. It was, when she thought about it, the only personal topic he had pursued with the slightest interest.
'Rory and Gemma are having problems… he wanted someone to talk to-'
'I shouldn't think their problems will be solved by your personal intervention,' Cristos spelt out with contemptuous clarity.
'You're misjudging me,' Betsy murmured tightly, but ironically she was content for him to continue believing that she was still keen on Rory. While he believed that, he was unlikely to suspect the much more humiliating truth. 'And if you won't leave, I'm going out.'
'I want you to give me five minutes… that's all.' Cristos sought and held her evasive gaze and finally she jerked her chin in grudging agreement.
Restive as a jungle cat on the prowl, he paced across the room and, while he wasn't looking at her, she took the opportunity to feast her eyes on him. No. matter how angry and bitter she was, she still craved him with every wretched fibre of her being.
Cristos spread fluid hands in a fatalistic arc. 'We're good together, pethi mou. 1 have missed you-'
'The sex… that's what you missed. You'll survive,' Betsy countered stonily.
'I miss your company almost as much. I have never said that to a woman before.' Cristos surveyed her as though he was expecting her to be so impressed she would pass out at his feet.
'You're engaged. You're not free to miss me.' Snatching up her fleece jacket and her keys, Betsy opened the door.
Cristos caught her hand in his. 'I won't quit…1 can't quit. 1 want you. As my mistress, you would have everything.'
'Except the right to call you mine-' 'No woman has that privilege-'
'Except the right to walk down the street with you and be introduced to your friends as an equal.' Her voice had got thin and shrill and she was ashamed that she was actually answering him as if he had offered her a normal relationship.
What was normal about a guy who in all seriousness offered you the hallowed position of mistress in his life? And not in a tone of apology? He was spoilt rotten, she thought with fierce bitterness. So many women must have said yes to Cristos. His fiancée was equally to blame for giving him the freedom to do as he liked. He was rich, successful, breathtakingly handsome and fantastic in bed. Lots of women would bend the rules for him. A good few of those same women must have been as foolish as Betsy had been at the outset of their affair: quietly hopeful that his anti-love and -commitment warning was just defensive whitewash. She had learned the hard way that she was dealing with a cool and ruthless womaniser.
'Betsy… '
Betsy trailed her fingers free of his hold. 'Stop saying my name like it's something special because you treated me as if my feelings were of no account. 1 wasn't a person to you-'
Hard golden eyes challenged hers. 'That's untrue-' 'Then explain why you never even asked what type of business 1 was planning to set up? Classic car restoration, by the way! Or why I'm in the job I'm in. You cheated me too,' she condemned in fiery addition. 'I had the right to know that you were engaged to another woman. I would never have got mixed up with you if I'd known that-'
'Theos mou… ' The merest hint of discomfited colour emphasising the sculpted slant of his superb cheekbones, Cristos vented an angry laugh of disagreement. 'Neither of us was able to fight the desire we felt for each other-'
'You didn't even try-'
'For your information, 1 walked away the first time 1 saw you,' Cristos reminded her furiously" lean, strong face taut. 'You were a chauffeur… do you really think 1 was keen to pull you when I realised that?'
'Oh, you patronising, snobbish jerk!' Enraged by that admission, Betsy stalked out onto the landing and headed down the stairs. 'Pull the door after you!' she called over her shoulder.
Above her the bedsit door slammed and Cristos strode in pursuit. 'I was not patronising you, I was being honest. Since when has it been a crime to be honest?' he demanded, following her out onto the street.
'It's a hanging offence when you've got no diplomacy and an exaggerated idea of your own importance!' Betsy launched back at full volume. 'And how dare you refer to yourself as honest? You were deliberately, sneakily, calculatingly secretive about the fact that you were engaged!'
Impervious to the fact that his bodyguards were open-mouthed with astonishment at the spectacle being acted out in front of them,. Cristos drew level with Betsy. He was in a black fury that consumed all awareness of his surroundings. 'I won't phone you again,' he bit out.
'Promises… promises… ' Betsy shot him a gleaming look of catlike provocation.
'I won't come here again either,' he gritted in a wrathful undertone. 'Next time you will come to me-'
'Only in your dreams!' she swore, stalking round the comer into the next street.
He was a step ahead of her. He splayed one hand against the wall to prevent her moving on and the other behind her. With an exaggerated sigh belied by the brightness of her gaze, she slumped back against the bricks. 'Haven't you had enough yet?' she asked, shamelessly, helplessly exhilarated by the cut and thrust of fighting with him.
'Nowhere near enough… ' Scorching golden eyes assailed hers and the equivalent of an electric shock triggered inside her.,
'Meaning?' Furious as she was with him, she was mesmerised.
Hands braced either side of her, he lowered his arrogant dark head and pried her lips apart in a kiss so hot she saw flames and sparks and inwardly burned.
Cristos lifted his head again, his stunning gaze radiating primal male satisfaction. 'I can wait, pethi mou. You'll come to me…'
Betsy walked on down the street on legs that were threatening to fold under her. She felt as if she were leaving part of herself behind. She also felt almost dizzy with rage. He was turning her into a split personality. She hated him but at the same time she craved him like an addictive drug. Furious tears prickled behind her eyes and she blinked them back, angry with herself for being so weak. She would get over
him, she told herself. After all, she had managed to get over Rory without even noticing her achievement.
The following day when Betsy finished work, she found Gemma waiting for her outside Imperial Limousines. Her sister had a tight defensive set to her pretty face that made Betsy's heart sink.
'Have you seen Rory?' Gemma asked stiffly. Betsy very rarely told a lie but her backbone crumbled at the prospect of confessing that Rory had called round the night before. 'Why would 1 have?' she asked with what she hoped was a convincing show of surrprise.
Gemma looked so relieved that Betsy knew that lying had been the right thing to do. Her sibling dragged her across the road into a bar and proceeded to tell all about her big bust-up with Rory. Unaccustomed to such a sisterly confessional, Betsy was nonetheless very pleased.
'I wanted to make him jealous because he's been taking me for granted. But of course 1 haven't been having an affair.' Gemma tossed her blonde head. 'I just wanted to light a fire under Rory.'
'Well, you've certainly done that.'
'He wasn't supposed to pack his bags and move out!' Gemma snapped. 'I got fed up with the evening class and started going off for a quick drink with a mate instead. Rory's had a thing about my boss ever since he saw me flirting with him at last year's Christmas do. We had a fight and 1 wanted to hurt him, so I let him think the worst.'
Betsy was feeling a little nauseous and preoccupied. 'Do you smell that perfume?' she whispered across the table. 'Isn't it overpowering? I swear it's making me feel sick.'
'It's not bothering me. But I was very sensitive to certain smells when I was carrying Sophie,' Gemma confided. 'Anyway, as I was saying, I was testing Rory-'
Betsy had paled at that casual reference to Gemma's pregnancy. 'Testing him?'
Gemma gave her a defiant look. 'He's never told me he loves me. But then he probably got fed up telling you and being treated like a doormat-'
Tired of being attacked, Betsy said, 'For goodness' sake-'
'You walked all over Rory! First you gave up that terrific job you had without even consulting him, then you signed up as a limo driver and then you told him you needed time to think about whether or not you wanted to marry him. You were much too bossy for him,' Gemma informed her smugly.
Betsy compressed her lips. It was an unfamiliar view of her relationship with Rory and, even if it did contain glimmerings of truth, Betsy was weary of the past being constantly rehashed. 'Haven't we moved on from all that yet?' she asked quietly. 'It is a long time ago.'
The rebuke made Gemma colour angrily. 'It's been no picnic for me following in your footsteps. Always feeling second-best, always wondering if he's only with me because of Sophie-'
'But Rory loves you,' Betsy countered levelly. 'He's never said so.'
'You can see it,' Betsy assured her.
'Honestly?' Her sister's face lit up and Betsy. was surprised to appreciate just how insecure the younger woman still felt. Insecure and jealous, she saw for the first time. 'I think I'll ask him round to talk tonight…'
Soon after that, Gemma was about to take her leave when she began rustling in her handbag. 'I almost forgot. I thought you'd be interested in seeing this…' 'Seeing what?'
Gemma handed Betsy a magazine clipping that carried a photograph of Cristos dancing with a blonde woman. The blood drained from Betsy's face.
'I can't get over the fact that you never even mentioned that Cristos Stephanides is a mega-sexy
hunk…' her sister was scolding. "-
Her stomach churning, Betsy read the inscription below the photo: 'Greek tycoon, Cristos Stephanides, with his fiancée, heiress Petrina Rhodias, opening the Stephanides charity ball in Athens.
"He's very good-Iooking-'
'Yeah,' Betsy cut in tightly, staring fixedly at Petrina, a stunning Nordic blonde in a fabulous white ball gown, diamonds sparkling at her throat. Talk about being outclassed! The photo really said it all! Petrina was Cristos' equal in looks, status and wealth. Betsy's throat closed over and she snatched in a great gulping breath in an effort to contain her agony.
'Are you… Betsy?' Gemma gasped.
'It's very warm in here,' Betsy mumbled and she hurried outside where the cold breeze cooled the perspiration beading her brow.
'I didn't know you and he… I swear I didn't!' her sister muttered uncomfortably. 'I'd never have given you that photo if I'd had the least idea-'
'I don't want to talk about this,' Betsy interposed flatly, mastering her tempestuous emotions.
'It's hard not to… I mean, you don't seem to have much luck with men,' Gemma pointed out. 'Rory and that thug, Joe… and then-'
'Rat of the century, Cristos Stephanides? Let's not go there either,' Betsy advised curtly and, for once, her sister was silenced.
On the way home to her bedsit, Betsy bought herself a pregnancy test. That evening the packet containing her purchase sat in solitary state on the table. It was the last thing she looked at before she switched out the light and the first thing she noticed in the morning. She did not sleep well. Telling herself to act like a grown-up instead of a scared teenager, Betsy did the test. It came up positive and the shock was so great she burst into floods of tears.
How on earth was she going to cope as an unmarried mother? She didn't earn enough to pay for fulltime childcare. There was no way she could juggle a new baby and restore classic cars either. She would not be in a position to live on a shoestring and put in the long hours that any new business demanded. In short, her goose had been well and truly cooked and who had thrown her independent, perfectly free and happy life to the lions? Cristos Stephanides!
Why was it that the one time she had decided to take a risk on a guy she had been well and truly punished? It had taken Cristos little more than twenty-four hours to talk her into bed. She had been a very easy conquest. Shame made her squirm. At the time it had seemed so brave to throwaway all caution and follow her feelings. Now she just felt plain stupid. She had acted like a slut, she thought painfully. Was it any wonder that Cristos had had no respect for her and the neck to offer her a place in his life as his mistress?
But what about all those fine promises he had made to her? About how he would be with her every step of the way if she fell pregnant? About how she could trust and depend on him… oh, yeah, and all the time he had been engaged to another woman! How could he have done that to her? From where had he got the nerve to approach her again? Had Cristos no sense of shame? Tears blinding her, she rocked back and forth on the side of her bed.
Why had she had to find Cristos so irresistibly attractive? Every time he'd smiled, she had carried on like a teenager. She had cooked for him and hand washed his shirts. Without effort, he had turned her into a domestic slave. Poor Rory had been told that if they got married he would have to do his own washing and that it was about time he learned to cook so that he could take a turn. Had she made Cristos take a turn on the domestic front?
No, having fallen in love, she had been all sweetness and light. She had wanted everything to be perfect for him. Now she was going to have a baby, his baby. She imagined that that news would be one of the biggest shocks that Cristos had ever had. At their last meeting, he had been so blithely unconcerned by the possibility of consequences that he had not even bothered to ask her if she was all right. Cristos exuded the cool expectation and confidence of a male who had always led a charmed life. The kidnapping had been a major shock to his equilibrium. However, she thought it painfully typical of Cristos' charmed existence that when he was kidnapped he had been put on an idyllic island in luxury accommodation with good food and a willing bed partner thrown in.
On the other hand it seemed that his luck had ended there, Betsy conceded unhappily. Evidently her luck had been at its lowest ebb too. Cristos would not find it easy to handle her news. It would not be any easier for her to tell him. After all, how pleasant could it be to inform a guy who was engaged to someone else that you were carrying his baby? A baby he couldn't possibly want? A baby that would
only be a source of annoyance and an embarrassment to him?
Betsy breathed in deep and scolded herself for getting so upset. After all, she could not afford to be oversensitive. Cristos would have to be told. She had to be sensible and consider the baby's needs and her own. Furthermore, it took two to make a baby, which meant that he was as much to blame as she was…
CHAPTER SIX
FEELING stiff and uncomfortable in the sober dark brown skirt suit she had dug out of the back of her wardrobe, Betsy sat down in the elegant waiting area on the executive floor of the Stephanides office block.
With an unsteady hand, she lifted an architectural digest adorned with a picture of the strikingly contemporary and comparatively new building. She opened it up, was confronted by a photo of Cristos smiling and hastily returned the magazine to the coffee-table.
'Miss Mitchell?' A svelte older woman approached her with a cordless phone. 'Mr. Stephanides asked me to offer you his apologies. He's in an important meeting but he would like to speak to you.'
Bemused, Betsy accepted the proffered receiver. 'I'm so pleased you're here. We'll have lunch together,' Cristos murmured huskily and somewhere in the background she could hear the dulled drone of male voices talking.
Betsy tensed, for she had not viewed her visit as being in the light of a social occasion. 'But-'
'I'd love to chat but I can't. Listen, I've already arranged transport for you and Dolius will take you downstairs. I'll wrap up things here within the hour and join you.'
Before she could catch her breath, Cristos had terminated the call. She should have told him in advance that she was coming to see him or at least made an appointment, Betsy reflected uncomfortably. The bodyguard whom she had crossed swords with on the day of the kidnapping stepped out of the lift.
'Will you come this way, please?' Dolius enquired, his craggy features as expressionless as though he had never met her before.