by Julia James
‘When my mother told him she was pregnant he was furious. But he married her all the same. Because he felt that would be less dangerous to him than having an illegitimate child touted around by a woman who wouldn’t hesitate to use the gutter press to bring him into disrepute. But the moment he’d married her, under duress, he mounted another woman as his mistress. He did it deliberately, to show my mother how much he resented having to marry her. It was my mother’s turn to be furious. She stormed off to England to have me, and the moment I was born she started divorce proceedings. She wanted a fortune in alimony. My father contested it, demanding custody. It raged for years. Sometimes my father came to England, to see me, but always with my mother and her lawyer present. Because she was convinced that otherwise he’d whisk me back to Greece.
‘They rowed all the time. I remember them rowing. My father hurling insults at her over my head, and my mother yelling back at him, telling him he’d never get me, not unless she got the settlement she wanted. My father demanded blood tests, asking how he could be sure I was his when she was such a slut. She called him a libertine, who’d been unfaithful from their wedding day. It went on all the time, one accusation after another, vicious and angry. I hated it. When I was young I didn’t know what they were arguing about, but I knew I hated it. Hated it. When I was older I understood more of the words, more of the accusations. My mother tried to convince me it was all my father’s fault, my father that it was all my mother’s fault. It went on and on. Finally, when I was nine, my father’s wealth won out. My mother had to make do with less money than she wanted, and I got taken away from her.’
For a moment he was silent again. Vanessa held very still. Then he continued.
‘Even though my father had battled for me all my life, when he got me he sent me off to boarding school in Switzerland. He didn’t actually want me—he just didn’t want my mother to have me. He didn’t want her to win. And when she’d lost the battle she didn’t want me either. I wasn’t any use to her after that. I don’t think I was much use to my father, either. He still wondered whether I was actually his son or not. I think he felt that if I weren’t, then keeping me away would make it less obvious to other people, because I wouldn’t be around for comparison. I found it odd, because I knew I looked a lot like my cousin Leo. Then, as I grew older, I realised that that was another thing my father had been suspicious about—that maybe my mother had slept with Leo’s father as well.
‘When I was even older, and DNA testing had become viable, he had me tested. It showed that I was his genetic son, but it didn’t make him any fonder of me. All it did was make him start going on at me to get married. He was feeling his age, feeling his mortality. He wanted to be sure of the Makarios dynasty continuing. Leo never showed any signs of marrying, not even after his father died, and that made my father even more obsessed about me getting married and having children—lots of little Makarios children—so he could be a dynast over them all. He wanted me to marry a good Greek girl, as he had never had the chance to do, thanks to my mother’s machinations. He kept picking women out for me, trying to get me interested in them—like poor, wretched Apollonia Dimistris. It didn’t matter that I told him I had no intention of marrying, let alone Apollonia, whom I scarcely knew except in passing. I kept mistresses, and I kept them in their place—the way he’d failed to do with his mistress, my mother. He didn’t care what I said. He just went on and on at me every time he summoned me back to Greece—the way he did when we were at Leo’s schloss. And that last choice of his was disastrous—Apollonia’s mother is as bad as he is—totally ruthless about getting her daughter married off successfully. But of course—’ his voice sounded hollow ‘—you know exactly how ruthless she is. Just as you know how ruthless I was prepared to be to make sure I never repeated my father’s mistake when he was my age, with the mistress he ended up marrying.’
He fell silent again. Vanessa lay still, cradled against him. But his arms were very tight around her now. Too tight. Too tense.
And inside her was a heaviness that was far worse than the one she had known till now.
‘Is your mother still alive?’ she asked, lifting her head slightly.
She felt Markos tense again.
‘No. She died when I was nineteen. It was an accident. She was at some party on a yacht in the South of France—the divorce settlement might not have been up to her expectations, but it was still a massive enough pay-off to allow her to be Tracey Makarios, socialite. She never remarried, you know; she liked the cachet of the Makarios name, and of course she could irritate the hell out of my father by dragging it through one scandal after another. She was found floating in the water, dead, in the early hours of the morning. She was drunk, and high, and naked. No one was very surprised. My father phoned me at university to tell me the news. He was elated. She was finally out of his hair.’
He fell silent again, and then Vanessa spoke.
‘I’m glad she’s dead. She’s had the justice she deserved.’ Her voice was quiet, but with something in it that had never been there before in all her life. ‘And your father will have his own punishment now, and I’m glad for that too. Knowing that his son’s mistress has repeated his own history.’ She lifted her head to look at Markos. ‘I never thought I’d be glad to have been your mistress, but I’m glad now. So very, very glad!’ The fierceness in her face blazed from her eyes.
Reaching up with her hand, she slid it behind his neck and drew his mouth to hers, kissing it powerfully, possessively.
‘They won’t hurt you again, Markos. Neither of them. Alive or dead. I won’t allow it! They did so much damage to you, and I can’t bear it!’ Her expression changed. ‘You said you would look after me, but I’m going to look after you. I’m going to take care of you and look after you and love you—but not blindly, adoringly, like some kind of infatuated teenage crush. This time I’m going to love you properly. Keep you safe from everything that has hurt you. And you’re going to be the best father in the world. The very best. You’ll never be like your ghastly father—never! You’re strong and loving and brave and kind—’
‘Kind? After the way I treated you?’
She brushed that aside.
‘You were scared. Scared of history repeating itself. It was a knee-jerk reaction—not the real you.’ She gazed up at him, lovelight in her eyes. ‘This is the real you, Markos. Brave enough to come down a third time, after everything. Brave enough to regret what you’d done and make amends. Brave enough to walk away from what your shameful parents did to you and not let it poison you any more. Brave enough to take on a baby you didn’t plan—and brave enough,’ she added lovingly, ‘to think you could manage without Taki and Stelios to wait on you hand and foot.’
He smiled ruefully. ‘It was the prospect of doing my own laundry that really put the frighteners on me!’
She gave a soft laugh, and then, abruptly, her expression arrested.
‘Vanessa, what is it?’ Alarm was naked in his voice.
She half sat up.
‘It’s all right. It’s just Bump moving. I was at an awkward angle.’
She levered herself up properly, resting back against the cushions of the sofa. Markos was staring at her in fascination and amazement.
‘The baby moves?’ he said, in a drawn voice.
‘From side to side,’ said Vanessa. ‘Basically the head is downwards, and the feet are under my stomach. Look—there’s one.’
She smoothed the material of her top taut. There was a discernible small extra bulge, protruding slightly.
‘Thee mou,’ said Markos faintly. Tentatively his hand reached out, hovering over the bulge, a look of stupefied wonder on his face. ‘Can I—? May I? Would—will I hurt you—the baby?’
She smiled fondly. ‘Of course you can, and of course you won’t,’ she said, and took his hand and lowered it to her, till it was pressed between her hand and his child.
‘Hello, Bump,’ said Markos softly, his voice strange.
; For answer, his baby kicked hard. Vanessa winced, and said breathlessly, ‘With a kick like that he has to be a boy—and a footballer as well, I think.’
‘Do you know? Whether it’s a girl or a boy?’ Markos asked, his hand lifting away.
She shook her head. ‘I didn’t want to know. Would—would you prefer a boy?’
For answer, he leant across and kissed her softly.
‘This one can be anything it wants,’ he said. ‘And, whichever it is, we’ll get a second chance to get whatever it isn’t with our next child.’
‘Next child?’ Her eyes were uncertain.
‘Only is lonely,’ he said. ‘Leo was the closest I ever got to a brother. If you are willing, I would fill our house with children. And every one of them…’ his eyes looked deep into hers ‘…every one would be blessed by the best mother in the world. As I—’he kissed her softly again ‘—would be blessed by the best wife in the world—if she will have me. Vanessa, you set me afire in the first moment I saw you, fighting off those pests in Paris. I wanted you then, and I went on wanting you, even when I was so arrogant and took you for granted; even when I was so stupid and drove you away. I went on wanting you even when you’d left me and didn’t want me near you or our baby. Even when you threw me out, I just went on wanting you. And it isn’t just your beauty, even though it still sets me afire, and it isn’t just my desire for you, though it consumes me. It’s you, Vanessa, and your loving heart, you that I love so much I don’t know what else to do except beg you to marry me, if you will. And if you won’t, then please let me just be with you. As close as you will let me come.’
Her eyes filled with tears again.
‘Oh, Markos—you’re here already, in my heart. You’ll always be there. Nothing can take you out. It hurt so much to leave you, but I knew I had to do it, that there could be no future. You didn’t want to marry me, or to have a baby, and you didn’t even think it was yours—’
‘Don’t. Oh, God, if I could unsay those words—’
‘But even then I went on loving you, Markos. I knew I shouldn’t. I had to tear you out of my heart. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t.’
He drew her to him, sliding his arm around her shoulders..
‘I’m so glad you couldn’t.’ He rested her head against him, one hand holding hers in his lap. ‘Will you marry me before Bump arrives?’
‘We’ve only got a few weeks,’ she said.
He dropped a kiss on her nose.
‘I’ll get Taki and Stelios on to it straight away. I’m sure they can get it sorted.’
‘Or,’ she retorted dryly, ‘we could just organise it ourselves.’
He kissed her nose again. ‘If you insist. It might even be fun, organising a wedding.’
‘Just a little wedding,’ said Vanessa. ‘A very quiet one. With just the two of us.’
Carefully, Vanessa swung her legs out of the low-slung car and let Markos draw her to her feet.
‘A taxi might have been easier,’ she remarked.
Markos glanced ruefully at his low, long red monster, growling at the kerb.
‘I’m making the most of this car,’ he replied. ‘Once Bump is out and about we’ll need something bigger. Probably one of those SUVs, with its own trailer for all the nappies!’
He went back to the driver’s seat to park the car, then came back to his bride, waiting for him by the entrance to the town’s register office. A few passers-by glanced at her—she was difficult to miss now, especially in a cream silk tent—but Markos’s car got most of the attention.
Until, that was, as Markos was about to lead his bride into the register office, the sound of rotors distracted them. They both looked up, and so did the people on the pavements.
The noise increased, and a brisk breeze started to blow that was not the prevailing sea wind.
‘What—?’
Markos’s words were drowned as something swarmed over the top of the building like a giant, angry wasp, sweeping over the roof and heading for the town park on to which the register office faced. At the same time a policeman on a motorcycle pulled up, dismounted, and strode into the park, gesturing with his arms for the central grassy patch to be cleared.
People duly scattered, everyone craning their necks to the buzzing, hovering helicopter.
At her side, Markos said something foreboding in Greek.
‘What’s happening?’ asked Vanessa, a look of anxiety on her face. ‘Is it the air ambulance?’
‘Worse,’ said her bridegroom grimly.
The helicopter descended onto the cleared area, with the infernal noise of the rotors finally decreasing, and from of the interior a tall, lithe man in a hand-made suit jumped down, then gave a hand to a woman in a brilliant scarlet couture outfit and a hat with a cascade of crimson feathers in it.
‘Oh, my God, it’s Anna,’ said Vanessa faintly.
‘And Leo,’ added Markos.
‘But this was going to be a very quiet wedding!’
‘Not any more,’ said Markos. ‘We’ve been rumbled.’
With an air of resignation he watched Leo and Anna pause only to thank the policeman and bid farewell to the pilot, then charge across the road towards them. Greek burst from Leo, and he wrapped his arms around Markos in a huge bear hug. Anna came striding up to Vanessa and stopped dead in front of her.
‘Don’t you dare marry him if he hasn’t grovelled to you yet!’ she ordered. Then, without waiting for an answer, she lavished two huge air-kisses on each of Vanessa’s cheeks. ‘I can’t kiss you properly because of this stupid lipstick,’ she said, then stepped back, looking straight at her. ‘He does love you, doesn’t he? And he’s said so, hasn’t he?’
Vanessa nodded. ‘Yes, he does, and he has, and he keeps on doing it. I can’t seem to stop him.’
‘Good!’ said Anna fiercely, and turned on Markos. ‘You just be good to her, all right?’
‘All my life,’ he said quietly. ‘And beyond.’
‘Good!’ said Anna again, and then blinked rapidly. ‘Oh, rats, I’m going to cry. And my make-up took ages!’
Silently, her husband handed her a large silk monogrammed handkerchief from his suit pocket.
‘We’re attracting the local paparazzi,’ he announced laconically.
Around them a small crowd was gathering, and some were taking photos.
‘That one in red is on the telly,’ one woman remarked to another knowingly, if inaccurately. ‘She’s in one of the afternoon soaps.’
‘Better get on with the wedding, love, or you’ll be in the maternity ward before he gets the ring on you!’ called another cheerfully to Vanessa.
‘Smile, please—local press—Teymouth Times,’ yet another voice said, and a flash went off.
With a benign smile all round, Leo ushered his wife and the bridal couple indoors.
‘How the hell did you find out?’ demanded Markos in Greek, in an undertone.
‘Don’t be dense, little cousin,’ returned Leo scornfully. ‘Taki’s sister’s married to my pilot—you hadn’t a hope in hell of keeping it quiet. Just as well, anyway.’
He paused in the entrance hall and plunged his hand into his inside jacket pocket, drawing out a jewellery case. He turned to Vanessa.
‘I’m cutting it a bit fine, I know, but this is for you. It’s compensation for having to marry my idiot of a cousin.’
He flicked open the case. Green fire flashed in the light. Vanessa’s breath caught.
‘Oh, no, I couldn’t—it’s from the Levantsky collection!’
‘I told Anna it would look perfect on you at your wedding. And it will, too.’ He lifted out the necklace, handed the case to his wife, and moved to loop the emeralds around Vanessa’s neck.
‘I’ll drape my bride in jewels, thank you!’ said Markos, and took the necklace. ‘And, what’s more, I’ll buy them for her myself.’
Leo shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I’ll take a banker’s draft from you then. You can have them at cost, seeing as you’re family.’
‘Don’t worry, you’ll get the market price,’ returned Markos. ‘I can afford it. Profits on all my divisions are soaring.’
‘Well, soaring profits on my divisions mean Anna and I are going to give Vanessa the matching emerald bracelet for her bride present—and I don’t want any hassle from you, OK?’ riposted Leo.
‘Could we just leave all your disgusting money out of this?’ demanded Anna exasperatedly. ‘And never mind about all these fancy green rocks. Just get on with the wedding. Vanessa shouldn’t be on her feet so much.’
Carefully, Markos fastened the Levantsky emerald necklace around Vanessa’s throat. Then he kissed her, very softly and tenderly.
‘Ready?’ he said.
She nodded, her eyes full. Happiness blazed through her. She couldn’t speak.
‘Then let’s do it,’ said Markos, taking her hand. ‘Let’s start the best marriage in the world.’
‘Joint best,’ said his cousin, reaching for Anna’s hand. Together they followed Markos and Vanessa into the celebrant’s chamber.
Outside, on the pavement, the photographer from the Teymouth Times waited patiently. His enquiry to the register office clerk to get the names of the couple, then a call to his newsdesk to run a search on ‘Makarios’, had struck gold. A stunning, tempestuous model, a dazzling red-headed bride one step away from the maternity ward, and not one but two handsome Greek multi-millionaires—not forgetting the top-of-the-range custom-built car gleaming at the kerb, and the helicopter parked on the green—yes, he definitely had the front page in the bag.
And all the glossy celebrity mags would be eating out of his hand for the photo rights…
He sighed happily, and checked his lens again.
Inside, oblivious to the photographer’s forthcoming once-in-a-lifetime scoop, in a quiet, sun-filled room, with the scent of summer flowers from the bouquet on the table, two people made their vows. To love and to cherish each other all their lives, and to prepare the happiest of lives for themselves—and their child, waiting to be born.