Amy had spent seventeen years hoping that it had been shame which had kept Neysa away. That she’d acknowledged that what she’d done to the Green family had been so great a sin that she couldn’t bring herself to face Elaine and say sorry.
She couldn’t have been more wrong.
At least her father had been genuinely remorseful. Her mum had promised her that. He’d acknowledged the terrible deed he’d done and had spent twenty-seven years trying to make amends for it. One mad weekend alone, without his wife and with a hot young woman parading herself around the house before him... He’d been too weak not to take advantage and he’d paid the price every day of his life since.
Looking at her birth mother now, Amy couldn’t believe her mum had been able to love her the way she did. Amy was the image of Neysa. Every time her mum had looked at Amy’s face she must have seen the image of the woman who had betrayed her and the living proof of her husband’s infidelity.
How could Amy even be in the same room as this woman? Neysa hadn’t cared that she’d almost destroyed Amy’s mum—her real mum...the woman who had loved her every day of her life from the age of two weeks.
And she’d been scared that her mum secretly wanted to get rid of her? Never. Not her loving, generous mum.
The waiter returned to the table with their food.
Amy waited until he’d laid everything out before getting to her feet and hooking the strap of her handbag over her shoulder.
‘You have nothing to fear from me,’ she said slowly. ‘I want no part of your life. I wanted to see you. And now I have.’
‘You are going?’
‘I shouldn’t have come. Goodbye, Neysa.’
Leaving her birth mother open-mouthed in shock, Amy made her way out of the hotel and into the warm spring street brimming with tourists.
She stood for a moment, breathing in the sweet scent. She hadn’t found a single place in Agon where the air didn’t smell good. And yet an acrid odour lingered around her from her encounter.
Breathing heavily, Amy raised her eyes to the sky and thanked whatever benevolent being that was up there for allowing Neysa to abandon her.
Who would she be if she’d been raised on Agon under Neysa’s narcissistic hand? If she’d grown up with Leander? If she’d lived without Danny and Neil’s fierce protection, her mum’s loving guidance and her dad’s silent but constant presence?
And she thanked Helios too. His interference had allowed her to put to bed one of the biggest questions in her life: who had made her?
That ‘who’ was someone she had no wish to see again. But at least she knew that now. Thanks to Helios she could move on and stop wondering what if...?
As she thought his name her phone buzzed. It was a brief message from him, checking that everything was okay. Her darling Helios was on a state visit to America and had still found the time to think of her and send her a message.
But how could she be okay? she thought as she replied, saying that she was fine and that she would explain everything to him later, when he called. Which he would. He called her every night when he travelled abroad.
How could everything be okay when very soon she would have to say goodbye to the one person who did make everything okay?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AMY CARRIED ON as best she could over the next few days, never letting her smile drop or her shoulders slouch. She was determined that no one looking at her would have reason to suspect that she was suffering in any way.
The entire island was aflame with gossip following the confirmation of Helios’s engagement to the Princess. Naturally this enthusiasm was tripled in the palace itself. Everywhere she went she heard excited chatter. It had got to the stage where, even if she didn’t understand what was being said, she imagined it was all about the forthcoming wedding.
The date had been set. In six weeks and one day Helios would marry. It was going to happen sooner than she had thought. She had forgotten about all the work for the wedding that had been going on behind the scenes. Helios had wisely never mentioned it in any of their calls.
Other than in the privacy of her apartment, the only place she found any crumb of solace was amongst the staff in the museum. Whereas the visitors—whose numbers were daily in the thousands—kept up a non-stop commentary about the wedding, the staff took a different approach. They knew Amy had been Helios’s lover. Everyone had known. So when she was in the same room conversation was kept as far away from matrimony as it was possible to get. But she caught the pitying, often worried glances that were thrown her way.
Her colleagues were a good, kindly, close-knit bunch who supported and looked out for each other. It was in this vein that Claudia, one of the tour guides, approached her in the staff room during Amy’s break on the Friday after the Gala.
‘I’m sorry to disturb your lunch, but Princess Catalina is here.’
Amy immediately froze, as if a skewer of ice had been thrust into her central nervous system. Somehow she managed to swallow her mouthful of tomato and feta salad, the food clawing its way down her numbed throat.
The tour guide bit her lip. ‘She is asking for you.’
‘For me?’ she choked out.
Claudia nodded. ‘She wants a tour of the King’s exhibition and has asked for you personally.’
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if Helios was with her, but she stopped herself in time. If Helios was with the Princess they wouldn’t need Amy. Helios could do the tour himself.
She didn’t even know if he was back from his trip to America. She’d thought he was due back sometime that afternoon.
She’d spent five nights without him.
It had been much harder than any of their other separations. She’d missed him desperately, as a small child missed home.
It was a pain she would have to get used to.
Her main source of comfort had come from Benedict, who had stayed in her apartment during Helios’s absence. The lovable black Labrador had seemed to sense Amy’s despondency and had kept close to her. Their evenings together had been spent on the sofa, watching films, Benedict’s head on her lap.
When she returned to England she would get her own Labrador for company.
Blowing out a long breath of air, Amy closed the lid of her salad box and forced herself to her feet. She couldn’t manage another bite.
‘Where is she?’
‘In the entrance hall.’
‘Okay. Give me two minutes to use the bathroom.’
Concentrating on her breathing, Amy took her handbag and locked herself in the staff bathroom. She took stock of her reflection in the mirror and pulled a face. Hastily she loosened her hair from its ponytail, brushed it and then tied it back again. From her handbag she pulled her compressed face powder and a make-up brush and applied a light covering. She would have added eyeliner and lip gloss but her hands were shaking too much.
As a means of buying time for herself, her trip to the bathroom was wasted. The hopes she’d had of making it through the next few months without having to meet the Princess had been blown to pieces.
Why her? Why had the Princess asked for her by name? How did she even know who she was?
Terror gripped her, but she forced herself to straighten up and pushed air into her cramped lungs.
The Princess was an honoured guest, she reminded herself. It was natural she would ask for the exhibition’s curator to be her guide. Just be professional, she told herself as she left her sanctuary.
The Princess awaited her in the entrance hall, flanked by two huge bodyguards.
She was the epitome of glamour, wearing skintight white jeans, an off-the-shoulder rose-pink top, an elegant pale blue silk scarf and blue high heels. Her ebony hair was loose around her shoulders, and an expensive pair of sunglasses sat atop her head.
But there was more to her than mere glamour; a beautiful, almost ethereal aura she carried effortlessly. She was a princess in every sense of the word. If she slept on a hundred mattresses no do
ubt she would still feel the pea at the bottom.
Swallowing down the dread lodged like bile in her throat, Amy strode towards her with a welcoming smile. ‘Your Highness, I am Amy Green,’ she said, dropping into a curtsy. ‘It is an honour to meet you.’
The Princess smiled graciously. ‘Forgive me for disturbing your break, but I wanted a tour of the exhibition. I’ve been told you’re the curator and that you have a wealth of knowledge about my fiancé’s family. I couldn’t think of a better person to show me around.’ All of this was delivered in almost faultless English.
‘I am honoured.’ And it was an honour. A true honour.
They went slowly around the exhibition rooms, with Amy politely discussing the various artefacts and their context in the Kalliakis family’s history. She answered the Princess’s questions as best she could whilst all too aware of her constantly clammy hands.
Princess Catalina might look as if she would feel the pea through a hundred mattresses, but she was so much more than a princess from the realms of fairy tales.
She was a flesh and blood human.
It wasn’t until they entered The Wedding Room, with the bodyguards keeping a close but respectable distance, that the Princess showed any real animation. She was immediately drawn to Queen Rhea’s wedding dress, staring at it adoringly for long, excruciating seconds before she turned to Amy.
‘Isn’t this the most beautiful dress?’ she said with her gaze fixed on her, her eyes searching.
Amy nodded, the bile in her throat burning.
‘The dressmaker who made this has agreed to come out of retirement to make mine. I’m having my first fitting tomorrow—did Helios tell you I will be staying at the palace for the weekend?’
‘I’ve heard it mentioned,’ she whispered. She’d overheard a couple of the tour guides discussing the visit. They’d been wondering whether the Princess would bring her fabulous Vuitton bag with her. She had.
The Princess smiled. Despite her amiability, sadness lurked behind her eyes. It filled Amy with horror.
‘There isn’t much that happens within the palace that’s kept secret, is there?’
Flames licked her cheeks. It took all her willpower for her not to cover them with her hands.
The Princess seemed not to want a response of the verbal kind. Her sad, probing eyes never left Amy’s face, but she smiled. ‘I thank you for your time.’
‘Do you not want to see the other exhibition rooms?’ Caught off guard, Amy took the Princess’s hand; a major breach of protocol. She had the softest skin imaginable.
The Princess’s squeeze of her hand was gentle and...forgiving? The smile thrown at her was enigmatic. ‘I have seen what I came to see.’
Nodding at her bodyguards, she glided away, tall, lithe and poised.
Amy stared at the retreating figure and rubbed the nape of her neck, feeling as if all the wind had been knocked out of her.
The Princess knew.
Dear God, the Princess knew.
* * *
Her concentration lost, Amy wandered around the exhibition rooms, praying no one would ask her anything that required any thought to answer. Feeling nauseous to the bone, she eventually settled in the entrance hall, trying her hardest to keep herself together.
But all too soon the influx of guests had reduced and reality was given space to taunt her.
The marble sculptures of the four Kings kept drawing her attention, and as much as she knew she shouldn’t she went and stood before them.
King Astraeus the Third had been famed for his wisdom. She wished he could transmute some of it to herself. But it was King Astraeus the Second she couldn’t tear her eyes away from. His resemblance to Helios was so strong she could fool herself into thinking it was him.
One day, decades from now, a statue much like this would be made of him. If she closed her eyes she could see it, could envisage every inch of the ten-foot marble figure. If the sculptor were to show her the block of stone she would be able to tell him where every line and sinew should go.
It came to her then what she’d been doing that night after the Gala—or early morning—when she’d touched every part of him. She’d been committing him to memory. She hadn’t been able to face the truth at the time, but it hit her now. She’d imprinted him on her mind because her subconscious had known that it would be their last time.
Their time together was truly over.
The walls of the great exhibition room suddenly loomed large over her, swallowing her. The statues and the other exhibits blurred. She needed air. But to flee outside would mean risking seeing the Princess or, worse, Helios. She couldn’t face him with an audience watching. The next time she saw him she had to be alone with him.
Pulling her identity card from around her neck and stuffing it in her pocket, she walked into the main museum, hurrying through the crowds of visitors until she found Claudia.
‘I’ve got a migraine coming,’ she said. ‘I need to rest—can you give my apologies to Pedro?’
‘Sure.’ Claudia looked at her with concern Amy knew she didn’t deserve. ‘Can I get you anything?’
‘No, thank you. Please, I just need to get some sleep in a darkened room.’
Not waiting for a response, Amy wove her way through the remaining people to the private staff entrance to the palace, then hurried up the stairs to her apartment, kicked off her shoes and threw herself onto the bed.
She might not really have a migraine, but her head pounded as if a dozen church bells were ringing inside it. Let it pound. Let the bells clang as loudly as they could and the decibels increase.
She deserved nothing less.
* * *
Helios stood in the green stateroom, holding discussions with a group of German business people who wanted to invest considerable sums in Agon’s infrastructure and, naturally, recoup their investment with considerable profit. With them was Agon’s Transport Minister.
Agon had its own senate, and committees which decided on issues such as outside investors, but an endorsement from one of the royal Princes meant this would be as good as a done deal. Helios knew his opinions carried a great deal of weight and did his utmost to use his influence wisely.
When his phone rang he was tempted to ignore it, but it was his personal phone and only the most important people in his life had been given the number. He frowned when he saw Amy’s name on the screen.
He hadn’t had a chance to call her and let her know he was back from his trip to the US. In any case he’d assumed she would be busy at the museum... She hardly ever called him and never out of the blue.
‘Excuse me,’ he murmured to the delegation, stepping away from the group with an apologetic smile. He swiped the screen to answer. ‘Amy?’
‘I’m sorry to disturb you,’ she said, her usual soft tones sounding strangely muffled. ‘I know you’re busy, but I wondered if you’re coming to me tonight.’
Not only did she never call him, she never questioned his movements either. A dark sense of foreboding snaked up his spine. ‘Is something the matter?’
He heard her hesitation.
‘I just need to see you.’
He looked at his watch. ‘Where are you?’
‘In my apartment.’
‘Are you ill?’
‘No. Not really. Not ill, ill.’
He wanted to pump her for information but, aware of the delegation, Talia and all the courtiers eyeing him with curiosity, he resisted.
‘I’ll be with you as soon as I can,’ he said, before hanging up.
He’d be with her as soon as he could politely extricate himself. Something was wrong. The cold dread wedged in the marrow of his bones told him that.
It was half an hour before he was able to extract himself from the group, saying he had some personal business to catch up with and that he would see them at the dinner being held in their honour. He then told Talia that she could leave early. Talia didn’t argue the matter—in fact he would swear she left so quickly sh
e left a trail of dust in her wake. He didn’t blame her. It had been a long few weeks and she must be exhausted.
When he reached his office he cut through to his apartment and slipped through the passageway into Amy’s apartment. She answered his knock quickly, with a startled expression on her face.
‘I didn’t think I would see you until much later,’ she said wanly. ‘I hope I haven’t put you out.’
‘You could never put me out.’ He studied her carefully. Her face was grey, her eyes were bloodshot and her hair looked unkempt. ‘Have you been crying?’
She bit her lip and took a shuddery breath. Closing the door, she rested her hand on the handle. ‘The Princess knows.’
‘Catalina? What does she know?’
‘About us.’ She met his gaze. ‘She came to the museum. She wanted me, personally, to give her a tour of the exhibition.’
‘You’re the exhibition’s curator,’ he pointed out.
She shook her head. ‘It was more than that. She knows, Helios. I think... I think she’s heard rumours about us. Maybe someone saw me walking Benedict... I think she was looking for confirmation. Whatever I did, I don’t know, but I’m sure something confirmed her suspicions.’
He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Even assuming you’re right, there is nothing for you to worry about. Catalina isn’t stupid. She knows there will be other women.’
It was the wrong thing to say. Amy looked as if he’d slapped her.
‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ he added hastily. ‘All I meant was that Catalina has no illusions of fidelity. You know there is no love between us.’
There was nothing between them. Not the smallest twinge.
Shaking her head again, Amy sidestepped past him and went through to her kitchen. ‘You’re a fool if you believe that. She wants it to be a love match.’
‘No...’
‘Yes,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘She does. Whatever you think you know about her, you’ve got it wrong.’
‘She does not love me.’
Helios Crowns His Mistress Page 12