“It’s over. Anita’s nothing to me.”
“Don’t say that,” Saphire’s words were haunted. “If it was truly just meaningless sex then it would all have been for nothing. I’ve lost my best friend. I’ve lost you. And what for?”
“You haven’t lost me! And Anita’s missing you like crazy.”
Saphire honed in on the statement. “So you’ve seen her since then?”
His mouth worked over time. “I’ve … yes. But only because we had to talk. About you. She’s full of remorse. As am I.”
Another lie; she would have bet her life on it. “Great. So you should be. But that has little effect on my decision.”
“Divorce? I don’t want that.”
“I don’t care.” Saphire stood with a purposeful elegance from the chair and picked an imaginary piece of lint off her dress. “This isn’t a debate. It’s a decision, and I’ve made it.”
“Come on, Saff. We’ve been together for a decade of our lives. Surely you can’t just throw it all away …”
“You’re the one who did that,” she reminded him firmly. “I came here today with a heap of questions for you. Curiosity is natural under the circumstances, I suppose. I wanted to know how long it had been going on. I wanted to know if there’s been anyone else. I wanted to know why you even married me. But as soon as I saw you I realized how little any of that matters.”
“It all matters. I’ll tell you everything you want to know. Just stay. Just talk to me. Please.”
“No.” Her smile was sympathetic now. “You don’t understand. I feel nothing for you. I’m not angry. I’m not sad. I’m not jealous. Everything I ever felt for you has disappeared. It’s just not there. I can’t snap my fingers and bring it back. You killed it, but I’m glad.” She walked towards the door.
“Stop.” He followed and put his hand on it. His breathing was ragged, and his eyes were darting around the room now. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to go to my father,” she said gently, understanding his fear. “But don’t worry. I have no interest in dragging your name through the mud. I’m only going to inform him of our pending divorce.”
“He can’t act for you. That would be a massive conflict of interest.”
She had to bite down on her tongue to stop from rolling her eyes. “I don’t need him, or anyone, to act for me. This will be a simple divorce proceeding. Draw up the papers and I’ll look them over.” She curled her hand around his cheek. “I need to tell dad before he hears it from someone else. He’ll be furious — with you — if he’s caught unawares.”
Jordan had the good grace to look mortified. “What can I do to change your mind?”
Her smile was wan. “Go back in time, and don’t sleep with my best friend.”
He shook his head. “What else?”
“Nothing.” She tilted her head to one side and dropped her hand. “This isn’t a reaction, Jordan. It’s an acceptance of a fact you and I should have appreciated a long time ago. We’re not in love. We don’t love one another. We’re a terrible couple.” She pulled the door inwards and flashed a final smile in his direction. “Email me a copy of the papers when they’re ready.”
He nodded, too shocked to speak.
Saphire moved further down the corridor to the large glass doors at the end. She knew them well. She’d spent so much time in her father’s office that she’d joked it was like a second home. She’d loved it as a child; the smell of stationery and the background sounds of efficient work.
She tapped on the door briefly and then pushed it inwards. His personal assistant inclined her head and then smiled. “Saff, darling, how are you?” She asked, standing and moving around the desk to place a kiss on Saphire’s cheek.
“Hi, Linda. I’m great, thanks,” and surprisingly, the words felt sort of true. “Can I grab a minute with him?”
Linda nodded. “He’s got a board meeting in ten … but he can be a little late.”
“That’s fine,” Saphire shook her head. “This won’t take long.” Coward, she thought with a small smile. Would her dad be even more pissed off when she dropped the bombshell and ran?
“Go on in,” Linda nodded towards Angus Morrison’s doors.
Saphire pushed them in, noting the obvious differences between her husband’s office and that of her father. Despite the fact Jordan’s office was an executive space, Angus’s was something else. His view over London was incomparable; she could see all the way over the Tower, the Shard, towards the park. Her eyes glossed over the details gratefully. London was beautiful and she’d always loved it, though it was nothing now to the place l’isola Ourano occupied in her heart.
“Dad,” she smiled at him as he unfurled his slim frame from behind his enormous desk. Papers were everywhere. There was no computer. Only a barely used iPad perched perilously on the very corner of the table top, as a grudging concession to technology. Angus Morrison was, and always would be, old school.
“Saphire,” his voice was rich with pleasure. “To what do I owe the visit?” His lips tightened a little. “I suppose you were here to see Jordan?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” she nodded. “Coffee?”
“Always,” he preceded her, moving towards the kitchenette across the room. He pushed a cup under the nozzle and waited for it to begin to drain. He set it aside and then repeated the motion. Sapphire scooped the first cup up and cradled it in her hands.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
“So? How’s things, kiddo?”
She winced. “Well, I guess there’s no easy way to tell you this …”
He angled his head towards her and his skin had a grey pallor beneath his summer tan. “You’re pregnant?”
Saphire arched a perfectly shaped brow enquiringly. “No. I gather that wouldn’t be good news?”
He recovered quickly. “Of course it would be,” he denied, but Saphire had caught his first reaction.
“You really don’t like Jordan, do you?”
“How many times have you asked me that, Saphire? He’s only a year or two shy of being made head of corporate litigation. I’ve mentored the guy. He’s my son-in-law.”
Her smile was distracted. “Because I know you and I know you don’t like him.”
Angus made a sound of frustration. “I’m not going to have this conversation with you again, darling. It’s fruitless now that you’re married. Any doubts your mother and I had were erased by your commitment to him. Besides, what matters is how you feel.”
“Yeah, I know.” She bit down on her lip. “Which brings me to the reason I’m visiting.”
“Go on,” he nodded towards his own suite of comfortable armchairs and Saphire walked by his side.
She settled into one of them and sipped her coffee, then placed it on a glass topped table to her left. “I don’t want you to blame Jordan.” God, those words hurt to say, but she knew it was the right way to handle things. “I mean it, daddy. I’m just asking you to be fair, okay?”
“Of course,” he dipped his head forward, but something like hope was beginning to flare in his chest.
Saphire expelled a breath. “We’re getting a divorce.”
Angus was an excellent lawyer. He hadn’t been handed a damned thing in his whole life; he’d worked hard at university, then built an illustrious career all for himself. He’d worked hard, and he’d hardly slept for a decade, and now he was one of the most renowned solicitors in the country. He prided himself on his poker face, but holding it in place in that moment was a feat almost beyond him. He managed, just, to keep any emotion off his features as he digested her statement.
“Say something,” she begged finally.
He nodded, and sipped his coffee. “Does your mother know?”
Saphire shook her head. “No. I’ve just seen Jordan. It’s all happened very quickly.”
Another nod. “What happened?”
She sighed. “You and mum were right,” she said finally. “We should never have got marr
ied. I was too stubborn to see it.”
He pulled a face. Something wasn’t adding up. “So you and Jordan just decided …”
“Yes,” she nodded. “It was mutual. Amicable.” She leaned forward, putting a hand on his knee. “And I don’t want this to have any impact on his career path here.”
Angus’s laugh was a deep, booming noise that resonated through to Linda. “Hell, I’ll promote him if you’re finally rid of the wanker.”
“Daddy!” Saphire stared at her father in surprise, but a smile quirked at the corners of her lips. “I knew you didn’t like him.”
“Of course I don’t. He’s an arrogant prick. I’ve come across my fair share of Jordans in my time, all of them with that same pretty-boy sense of entitlement. He doesn’t understand you, Saphire. You’re an ornament to him. Nothing more.”
Saphire’s breath caught in her throat. “Why didn’t you ever say this to me before?”
“I wanted to, but your mother thought we’d push you away.”
Saphire nodded. “I mean it, though. I don’t want this to be bad for him, career wise. You know he wants to get into politics.”
“Saff, he might be an arrogant prick, and I might think he’s a thoroughly worthless son-in-law, but he’s got a brilliant legal mind. I would never have let him progress in the company if it wasn’t warranted.”
She grinned. “Good. I’m glad.”
“A divorce, hey? I suppose it’s inappropriate to ask you to join me for a champagne.”
She laughed, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
“Another time. I’ve got a plane to catch.”
* * *
Though London had been warm, Athens was even more so. The heat was stifling, with barely a breeze to offer even a hint of relief.
Saphire fanned herself with the magazine she’d lifted from the aeroplane. KONSTANIDES was emblazoned proudly across the front page. She knew that if she opened the picture, Thaddeus’s face would greet her.
So she didn’t.
It had taken a lot of fast-talking and phone calls to confirm where he was, but she’d done it. In some ways, Saphire wished it was anywhere else. Being back in Greece was sending shards of anxiety through her.
How could she be here and not know how he felt? How could she be here and not have the freedom of going to the island?
Impatience was a whip at her back. He was somewhere in that building. She stared at the monolith with growing need, and, as she’d done earlier that day, she skipped across the street. This time, though, happiness increased with every movement.
Thaddeus.
Her whole body clenched as she thought of him.
The foyer was elegant and modern. She crossed it and hit the button. She knew from the last phone call that his office was on the seventeenth floor. Butterflies were flittering through her.
The doors pinged opened and she put a hand on her stomach to quell the anxiety.
A man in a suit was sitting behind a timber desk. He spoke in Greek, his smile welcoming.
“I’m sorry,” a little line furrowed between her brow. “Do you speak English?”
“Of course,” his smile didn’t falter.
“Good.” Her own smile was unknowingly dazzling. “I don’t have an appointment, but would you mind letting Thad — Mr Konstanides — know that Saphire Arana is here?”
The receptionist’s look was slightly quizzical. “Oh,” his smile faltered. “I’m sorry madam, I know Mr Konstanides has meetings all day.”
“That’s okay,” she nodded. “I can wait. Only please let him know that I’m … that I am … waiting,” she finished lamely.
Something in her manner moved him and so he lifted his headset and punched his boss’s extension into it.
Thaddeus’s voice was a gruff, impatient growl. “Yes?” He spoke in his native language.
“Sir,” the receptionist’s eyes lifted to the beautiful English woman. “I have a Saphire Arana here for you.”
There was a short pause as Thaddeus processed this. “On the phone?”
“No, sir. In reception.”
“Where?”
“Here. In Athens. In reception.”
Thaddeus, in the midst of examining the annual budget, hadn’t had a minute to himself for days. He’d travelled to Paris, and back again, and he’d worked non-stop ever since. But in those brief moments when he’d been free to do so, he’d thought about Saphire. Only the certainty that missing her would be the end of him had encouraged him to get back to his normal life.
“I see,” he said, stalling.
“Yes, sir,” the receptionist waited for further instructions, his eyes not meeting Saphire’s. The hope there was too obvious.
“Please tell Mrs Arana that her trip is wasted. I cannot see her.”
“Today?”
“At all. Please remind her that our business is concluded.”
It was juvenile and cutting, but Thaddeus slammed the phone down with satisfaction. Who did she think she was, coming to see him after rejecting him so callously? She’d gone back to her husband. She’d made her choice. And her choice hadn’t been him.
Thaddeus Konstanides was not a man to beg. And yet he’d begged her. He’d begged Saphire again and again and still she’d left him.
For him. Jordan Arana.
The thought kept swirling in his brain, but his body was on fire. Every nerve ending was screaming at him to stand up and run to her. There were only walls between them. She was somewhere in his building, waiting for him.
He groaned, and pushed back in his chair, squeezing his eyes shut. He could see her as clearly as if she was before him.
Anger flared in his gut. How dare she try to see him? What could she have wanted? Briefly, he hoped that she had come to tell him she’d made a mistake. Only he’d seen the determination in her eyes for himself. He discounted the possibility as fantasy and reached for his phone once more.
Before meeting Saphire, Thaddeus had enjoyed an active social life.
He had a nice database of dates he could use to clear her from his memory banks.
And that’s what she deserved.
To be purged from his mind as she’d purged him from her life.
CHAPTER TEN
For the second time in a matter of weeks, Saphire could only stare as another woman moved her hands over a man that she considered herself to be in love with.
This time, the couple weren’t in bed.
They were standing on the sidewalk.
They weren’t making love. Yet it was so much worse. They were laughing, his arm draped casually around her shoulders, his fingers moving with casual familiarity over her bare shoulder.
The woman was stunning.
Supermodel stunning.
Her hair was jet black, her eyes enormous, her skin tanned brown. She was tall and slim with breasts that were almost completely revealed by the scandalously low-cut dress she wore.
All that waiting, waiting and hoping, for this?
Saphire’s cheeks flamed with mortification. Her stomach churned. Her heart broke.
God, he looked good. Her body was thrumming in silent admission of his mastery over her. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch him.
He was too far away.
Saphire swallowed and blinked down at her iPhone. It was almost midnight. And they were returning to his Athens penthouse.
It didn’t take a genius to guess what was next on the agenda.
Saphire groaned silently and stood up straighter. Worse than knowing how easily he’d put her from his mind was the embarrassment of letting him know that she’d witnessed it for herself.
Tears stung her eyes and she didn’t bother wiping them away. It was dark; no one was looking at her.
She spun around and checked in both directions for traffic before stepping onto the road. At that moment, a bus jerked out from a stop and had to slam on its brakes to avoid hitting her. The impatient driver leaned into his horn, his
brows beetling at the sight of the slim woman right in the middle of the road.
Thaddeus’s attention was caught by the noise and Saphire turned around at the exact same moment he looked up. Their eyes connected and barbed shock crashed from one to the other. She swore softly and moved quickly off the road, then further down the footpath, away from him. She walked fast; running was beneath her.
“Saphire.” His voice wasn’t raised, but it was commanding enough.
Tears were sliding down her cheeks. She let them fall. One foot in front of the other.
A sob tore through her chest. She swallowed it.
“Saphire.” His hand curled around her arm and he pulled her to face him.
She couldn’t look at him. Her breathing was wretched.
“What are you doing here?” He demanded, refusing to feel pity for her. He hated seeing her cry though. He longed to comfort her. But he wouldn’t, ever again.
“I … what do you think?” She responded, her words watery.
“I have no clue.” He pursed his lips. “I presume my receptionist told you I was not available to see you.”
“Yeah, no, I know.” She swallowed. “I got it. I just thought …”
“What?” His eyes narrowed. “How do you even know where my apartment is?”
Her cheeks flamed. This was going from bad to worse. She no longer felt that she was simply a lover he’d cast aside, but also like a stalker now too.
“I googled you,” she mumbled, squeezing her eyes shut on the admission.
“You googled me?” His response rang with icy distaste.
It spurred her to defensiveness. “I needed to talk to you and I only realized once I got home that I didn’t even have your number.”
“No,” he drawled, hardening his heart.
“But you’re a … you’re a … person of public interest, I guess. There were photos of you here. At this apartment.” She squeezed her eyes shut again and fidgeted her hands behind her back. “Once I knew you were working from your Athens office I guessed you’d come home eventually.” I just hadn’t realized you wouldn’t be alone.
“Like some kind of Macgyver?”
She might have laughed if her feelings weren’t so completely tangled.
Seasons of Sin: Misbehaving in summer and autumn... (Series of Sin) Page 11