by Julia James
There was a harsh urgency in his voice.
‘N—nothing,’ she made herself answer. She saw his face relax once more as he breathed out. He looked relieved. She wondered at it momentarily, then forgot it. Her heart was still racing.
There has to be a misunderstanding. He can’t understand what that word means in English. He just can’t!
‘So why are you so upset?’
She gazed at him. This was Markos, her own Markos, the man she loved absolutely, completely. She mustn’t be upset. It was just semantics, that was all—a word he didn’t understand in English. It probably didn’t translate properly from the Greek, that was all.
She mustn’t let it get to her!
Deliberately, she took a deep breath. What did a word matter? Nothing—nothing at all compared to what she had with Markos. And that was far too precious to risk by getting stupidly upset by something as irrelevant as a single word.
‘Vanessa?’
His voice had changed minutely. The slightest trace of an edge of impatience was back in it.
She swallowed. No, she wasn’t going to be upset. It was stupid of her, unnecessary, idiotic. And it was all the fault of that creepy friend of his and his repulsive proposition. Markos was nothing like that! He was totally different—affectionate and considerate and caring.
No wonder she loved him as much as she did.
Her voice choked as she answered, ‘I’m sorry. Oh, Markos, I’m sorry. I’m being an idiot! Making a fuss over nothing. Please forgive me.’
He opened his arms to her and she went into them, feeling them fold around her, safe and strong. The man she loved.
‘Foolish girl,’ he murmured, and started to kiss her. And in moments she had forgotten everything except her bliss in being in his embrace.
CHAPTER SIX
MARKOS STIRRED. He didn’t want to get up, but he knew he could not go on lying here with Vanessa in his arms any longer. The only reason he was at the apartment at this hour was to say goodbye to her. He was flying this evening to Melbourne on business, but only for two days, and the trip would be so gruelling he was not going to subject Vanessa to it for such a short time. When he had to, he could do without her.
Not that he wanted to. As she lay, head on his chest, hair streaming like a red-gold banner across him, her body soft and warm and exhausted from the delights they had both just experienced, it took a real effort of will to put her aside and get up.
She looked at him hazily.
‘Is it time already?’ she asked. He could hear the regret in her voice.
‘I won’t be gone for long,’ he told her reassuringly. ‘I’ll be back by the weekend.’ He twisted round to drop a last kiss on her mouth, before heading to the bathroom to shower.
When he emerged she had got out of bed, wrapping her body in a long peach-coloured peignoir, her long hair still tousled and sexy. A pang went through him. He did not want to leave her. For a moment he was on the verge of telling her to get dressed and packed and come with him, then sense prevailed. Not only was it a gruelling flight, but he would have to spend at least one evening with his aunt, Leo’s mother, who’d moved to Melbourne after she was widowed to be with relatives on her mother’s side. Obviously he wouldn’t be able to take Vanessa with him when he visited her.
On the other hand, he mused, his aunt was a bosom bow of Constantia Dimistris, even at such long distance. For his aunt to see that he had brought his mistress to Australia with him might feed back to Constantia and help convince her that he was not in the market for her daughter!
A familiar tide of irritation swept through him. Constantia had phoned his office twice already, once to invite him to escort her and Apollonia to the theatre, and then once again. He’d been grateful for a business dinner as an excuse. The woman was making herself far too obvious.
His frown deepened. As for Cosmo Dimistris… Cosmo had definitely overstepped the mark of what had never been more than a highly casual friendship, born of moving in the same circles in Athens and a host of internecine business connections that meshed around wealthy Greek families. Of course it was to be expected that Cosmo would lust after Vanessa—what red-blooded man wouldn’t?—but to make a move on her like that was totally out of order. It wasn’t just a question of trying to poach from a friend; it was that anyone who looked at Vanessa could see how devoted she was to the man she was already with, so Cosmo didn’t even have the excuse that Vanessa was looking restless, as if she wanted to move on herself.
His mouth tightened, a grim look entering his eye. He knew why Cosmo was acting as if Vanessa would soon become available—it was because he was assuming that it would not be long before he, Markos, became unavailable! Taking a wife would mean that a mistress would have to be put aside.
In ill humour, Markos strode to his closet to yank out a shirt. Loath as he was to have to be that blunt, maybe he was just going to have to spell out to Cosmo—and Constantia Dimistris for that matter!—that there was no way he was going to marry Apollonia.
Or any woman.
And if that meant a final showdown with his father, telling him once and for all to stay out of his life, then so be it!
His eyes went to Vanessa, who was busy remaking the bed—she never seemed to leave that to the maid service, Markos noted—and his expression softened. There was all the woman he wanted. Adoring, sensual, undemanding—the list of reasons why Vanessa was the perfect mistress for him went on and on.
He slid his arms down the sleeves, and shrugged the shirt over his shoulders, flexing their musculature as he did so. His body had the invigorating afterglow that sex with Vanessa always gave it. His eyes worked over her slender, graceful figure as she leant over the bed to plump the pillows. She really was an absolute gem of a mistress! Definitely his best ever.
He reached for his cufflinks and started to slip them on. A frown teased along his brow.
He still didn’t get why that bad scene had happened before he’d whisked her to bed. Cosmo had been way out of line sending her those emeralds, and, yes, for a moment he’d been sharp with her when he’d thought she might have been inviting Cosmo’s attentions. But as soon as she’d rejected that possibility he’d made it clear to her that he wasn’t blaming her in any way. Let alone, for heaven’s sake, encouraging her to leave him!
The frown deepened. Why had she flipped like that when he’d reassured her that she was his mistress for the foreseeable future? It didn’t make sense.
He gave a mental shrug and put the niggle aside. She was probably hormonal right now, or whatever, making her hypersensitive. The frown flashed again momentarily. Damn. If she were hormonal now, she’d probably be hors de combat right about the time he came back from Melbourne.
He cast his mind back. When had she last been out of action? He tried to remember, but failed. It seemed longer ago than usual…
‘Markos?’
Vanessa had finished tidying the bed and was coming up to him. His mind diverted instantly. God, she looked so good! Tall and glowing, that fantastic hair tumbling free over her shoulders, her beauty just so stunning…
‘Do you want to eat before you leave?’ she asked him. ‘Can I make you something? Or coffee?’
For answer, he scooped her up in his arms. She was soft and pliant and warm. So good to hold. He stood for a moment, just savouring the feeling of holding her.
He didn’t want to let her go.
But the flight to Melbourne would not wait, not even for first-class passengers, and he had to be on it. Reluctantly he stepped back.
‘Just coffee,’ he told her. Then, his hands still on her upper arms, he looked down into her eyes.
‘I’m going to miss you,’ he said softly.
Was there a sudden stricken look in her eyes? Something speared through him. He seriously did not want to go right now.
But business was business. He had meetings to go to, deals to set up. Only he could do that, not one of his managers. For a moment he wished the whole Makarios
On impulse he spoke.
‘When I get back there’ll be a few things I’ll need to sort here, then how would you like a holiday? Somewhere there’s no winter. We could sail the yacht from its Caribbean mooring, go island-hopping and catch some rays.’
The stricken look vanished, and it was like the sun coming out in her eyes.
‘That would be wonderful!’ Vanessa breathed. Her arms came around him and she laid her head on his chest, hugging him tightly. ‘Oh, Markos, you are so good to me. I do so love y—’ Her voice cut off, as if she had pressed a switch, then it resumed. ‘I do so love being on holiday with you. It’s just the best thing ever!’
He lifted her face from his chest and cupped it in his hands.
‘You’re the best thing ever, Vanessa,’ he said, and his voice was a caress.
Then, reluctantly, he put her aside, and went on getting ready to go.
‘…forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty!’ Vanessa breathed out in exhausted triumph and lay back on the exercise mat. Fifty sit-ups: she’d earned a breather. But not for too long. She was only halfway through her workout, and there were the weights machines still to do. Still, the cardiovascular session was over and she was glowing, with a light sheen of sweat over her whole body.
She limbered to her feet. If she had been putting on a few extra pounds, working out was the best way to shed them. With Markos away, exercising in the luxury gym in the apartment block basement was also a much better way to use her time than moping around like she’d done last time, when that bug had been coming on. Still, at least the bug hadn’t developed as badly as the nasty one she’d got when they’d come back from Mauritius in the New Year, when she’d had to take those ghastly antibiotics. But whatever it had been, she felt fine now—totally fine. She took a deep breath, got her body into balance, and went into some floor stretches. Her body was warmed and loose, and her stretching was effortless.
One of the instructors wandered across to her. ‘How’s it going today?’
Vanessa straightened up and smiled. ‘Great. I burned five hundred cals on the CV kit, I’ve just done fifty sit-ups without stopping, and my stretches are really good. I just seem so much more flexible—I must have really warmed my muscles.’
The instructor gave an answering smile. ‘Sounds good—keep going! Unless you’re pregnant, of course. If you are, we’ll need to modify your programme over the coming months.’
Vanessa gave an astonished laugh. ‘Pregnant? No, totally not.’
‘OK,’ the instructor returned easily, though he cast a quick professional glance at her midriff. ‘I just mention it because you said you were feeling so flexible. Pregnancy softens your ligaments—preparing for birth and all that—so, although stretching gets easier, you have to be careful not to overdo it when you’re pregnant.’
Vanessa gave another laugh and resumed her workout, not paying any more attention to the instructor’s comment. She swept down from her waist, hands closing around her ankles, and started to pull her torso in towards her thighs. Yes, she mused, as she exerted increasing pressure on her calves to pull herself in more, she’d definitely gained a few pounds—she could feel a discernible bulge across her middle as she doubled over. Not much, but definitely more than there usually was.
Low-cal lunch today, my girl, she thought to herself. That bulge has got to go.
So, instead of going back up to the apartment after her workout, she went up to the health bar that accompanied the gym. Sipping sparkling water and eking out a small bowl of freshly prepared salad without dressing, she picked up one of the glossy magazines that were stashed on a rack, and started to flick through it.
Ten minutes later she was sitting stock still, salad unfinished, staring down at an article open in front of her. Her eyes were blank with shock.
It was one of those true-life articles, about a woman who had gone into labour in the middle of a department store not even knowing she was pregnant. One of those stories that always seemed so absurd—how could pregnancy be so unnoticeable?
Very easily, it seemed.
Vanessa stared again at the article, re-reading yet again the paragraph that had made the blood stop in her veins.
‘I felt such a fool,’ the woman was quoted as saying. ‘I never knew antibiotics could mess up the Pill, and I assumed that because I went on having periods, even light ones, I obviously wasn’t pregnant. I put my weight gain down to eating more, and when I threw up in the mornings I just thought I had a bug. I missed all the signs and I just couldn’t believe it…’
Cold was snaking down Vanessa’s back. No, this was some other woman entirely. A stranger. Nothing to do with her. Nothing.
I missed all the signs…
The words danced in front of her eyes. Imprinting themselves on her retina.
I just couldn’t believe it…
And I don’t believe it either, she thought urgently. I don’t believe it because it isn’t true. It’s not true, and it can’t be, and it isn’t. I’m not pregnant, I don’t feel pregnant, I don’t look pregnant—
She shut her eyes. Fighting for sanity, for calm.
She would get a test, one of those kits from the chemist, and that would set her mind at rest. No point getting into a tizz over an article about a complete stranger. A test would show her she was being idiotic. She would buy one that afternoon—no, straight away. To prove that of course, of course, she wasn’t pregnant.
But what if you are?
The voice stabbed at her in her head. She crushed it instantly. She was not pregnant and that was all there was to it. She could not be pregnant. She just couldn’t be.
It was impossible.
Replete, Markos ran his hand along the silken surface of Vanessa’s bare thigh. He might be jet-lagged, he might be exhausted from a twenty-four-hour flight, landing him back in London at some ungodly hour of the morning, he might have a hectic schedule for the coming week and no chance of high-tailing it to the Caribbean for the next ten days at the earliest, but with Vanessa in his arms again he was not about to complain.
Christos, but she was good to come back to! Just knowing she was here, waiting for him, beautiful, sensual, adoring, had been compensation enough not just for the gruelling journey, but also for the excruciating evening he’d spent at his aunt’s. She’d clearly been fully primed both by his father and Constantia Dimistris, and he’d had to use all his considerable finesse to parry the increasingly heavy-handed manipulation to get him to admit that, yes, he was prepared to succumb and take Apollonia Dimistris to wife.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Markos, it will hardly be an ordeal!’ his aunt had informed him exasperatedly. ‘It’s an excellent move. An alliance between Makarios and Dimistris wealth would be formidable. I wouldn’t object to the girl for Leo, my own son, and if he won’t snap her up then you certainly should! Whichever of you two marries her, her money will come into the Makarios family, and that’s what counts.
‘And if,’ she’d challenged him, ‘you and my son think that a wife would cramp your style when it comes to philandering—and heaven knows I can’t decide which of you two is the worse!—then you can be sure it needn’t. Your uncle took a new mistress a month after our honeymoon and I never objected. Why should I have? I’d become a Makarios, and providing my husband ensured I had a Makarios heir, that was all I required of him! Your own mother was a fool, kicking up such an unseemly fuss the way she did, and disgracing herself by flaunting her own lovers all over the place. Discretion, Markos, that is all that is required. Discretion. So…’ Her eyes had rested on him knowingly. ‘All you would need to do is either retire your current mistress and take a new one when Apollonia is decently pregnant, or, if you prefer, park your photogenic redhead—yes, I’ve seen those fashion shots!—in an apartment of her own until you can resume visiting her.’
Her expression had hardened suddenly.
‘You’re not thinking of marrying her, are you? Is that why you are being so stubborn about Apollonia Dimistris?’
Her voice had been sharp. His own had been even sharper.
‘She’s a mistress, that’s all. And that is all, my dear aunt, that I require! Not a wife. Ever.’ He’d thrown her a jaundiced look. ‘With your marriage and my own parents’ as examples, I think you can see why I feel that way.’
‘Feelings?’ His aunt had made a contemptuous noise in her throat. ‘What on earth have feelings to do with it? We are talking about marriage, Markos, that is all. And it’s time you saw sense about it!’
Now, safely back with Vanessa, he need not either see sense, as his father and his aunt defined it, or even waste his time thinking about something that was not going to happen.
His marriage.
To any woman.
Besides—his hand stroked softly, enticingly along Vanessa’s silken flank—who needed marriage when there was such willing beauty to enjoy?
Slowly, savouringly, he caressed the soft swell of her abdomen. She was warm, and smooth, the contours of her body gently rounded. His hand travelled upwards, reaching the sweet swell of her breasts. He palmed them languorously. They felt full to his touch. Fuller than he remembered.
But all the more enticing for that.
Changing position, he shifted slightly and lowered his mouth. He heard her give a soft, helpless moan of pleasure. The sound, the sensual feel of her breasts beneath his grazing lips, aroused him more.
He felt his body respond, full and hard.
He moved over her.
Time to enjoy his homecoming.
‘Close your eyes.’
Vanessa gazed up at Markos. Her body was still glowing from the bliss he had elicited from her.
‘Go on, close them,’ he repeated, brushing her mouth with his.
She let them close. Her heart-rate was still subsiding, her limbs still exhausted. She had given herself to him completely, absolutely, with an intensity that had blotted out everything else in existence. Everything else on her mind.
-->