Carrying the Greek's Heir

by Sharon Kendrick

  ‘That was Vasos,’ he said.

  ‘Again?’

  ‘The new deal on the Rafael building seems to be nearing completion earlier than planned and the architect is flying into London later this evening.’

  ‘And let me guess.’ Her voice was light. ‘You need to get back?’

  ‘I’m afraid I do. My business in Pisa will have to wait.’ His frown deepened as he seemed to look at her properly for the first time. ‘You’re sweating, Ellie. Are you okay?’

  No, she was not okay. She felt hot and dizzy and disillusioned. Maybe it was time to stop grabbing at rainbows and settle for reality.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said tightly. ‘I’d better go and pack.’

  Something dark and unwanted rose up inside him as Alek watched her go, her shoulders tight with tension. Something which clutched at his heart and made it twist with pain. Damn her, he thought. Why hadn’t he slapped her down? Why hadn’t he refused to answer all those intrusive questions which had done nothing but open up a dark can of worms?

  And yet now that he had pushed her away, the sense of relief he’d been anticipating hadn’t happened. They’d been doing that thing of sleeping on opposite sides of the bed—their breathing sounding unnaturally loud in the darkness of the night—each knowing the other was awake and yet not speaking. Because they had nothing left to say.

  Was it some cruel twist of fate which had left him feeling so lost without the softness of her arms around him? A taunting reminder of just how empty and alone rejection could make you feel. And yet wasn’t it better this way? For him to do the rejecting rather than risk being pushed away for a second time?

  When she returned from packing, he thought her face looked almost translucent beneath the brim of her straw hat, which she had worn during most of the trip. The Italian sun had barely touched her skin and her grey eyes seemed shadowed, and even though he knew he ought to say something he could think of nothing which would fall easily into the empty silence. She was quiet all during the journey back to London and the moment their plane touched down and he turned on his phone, it began to vibrate with a flurry of calls. And deep down, wasn’t he glad to have the opportunity to lose himself in the infinitely more straightforward problems of work? Far better than having to confront the silent reproach or the lip she kept biting as if she was trying to hold back tears. He had the car drop her off at the apartment while he went straight to the office.

  ‘You don’t mind?’ he questioned.

  She gave an unconvincing laugh, as if she recognised the question for what it was—a meaningless platitude. ‘And if I do? Would you be prepared to put your precious work aside and spend the afternoon with me, if I asked you to?’

  ‘Ellie—’

  ‘I’ll take that as a no,’ she said with another brittle smile. ‘Anyway, I want to have a lie-down. I’m tired.’

  After he’d gone she closed the bedroom curtains and, switching her phone to Silent, left it in her handbag on the far side of the room. But she could hear it vibrating like a persistent fly as she lay on the bed drifting in and out of an uncomfortable doze—too lazy to get up and switch it off completely.

  By five o’clock she forced herself to get up and saw there were three missed calls from a number she didn’t recognise. Muzzily, she took a shower but her mood was still flat as she pulled on a pair of linen trousers and a T-shirt. She was drinking a glass of water when the doorbell rang.

  Touching her fingertips to her belly, she went to answer the door to find a blonde woman standing on the step—someone she didn’t recognise but who looked oddly familiar.

  ‘Can I help you?’ questioned Ellie.

  ‘You don’t remember me?’

  Ellie shook her head. ‘Should I?’

  ‘Probably. I knew you before you were married. I was staying at The Hog when you were working there. Remember now?’

  And suddenly the mist cleared. Of course. It was the journalist. The sneaky blonde who had asked those questions which Ellie had stupidly answered, and which had ended up with her getting the sack. She looked into the woman’s glacial eyes.

  ‘I’ve got nothing to say to you,’ said Ellie.

  ‘Maybe not. But you might be interested in what I have to say to you.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ She started to close the door. ‘My husband doesn’t like journalists and neither do I.’

  ‘Does your husband realise he has a brother?’

  Sweat broke out on her forehead as Ellie leant against the door. She thought about what Alek had told her about his childhood. And amid all the pain and the heartbreak of his upbringing, he hadn’t mentioned his father having any more children. But maybe his mother had gone on to have more children. If he’d never met her, he wouldn’t actually know, would he? ‘You’re lying,’ she croaked.

  ‘Why would I lie? Actually, he has a twin brother. Yeah, I thought you’d be interested.’

  Yes, she was interested but that didn’t stop Ellie from shaking her head, because the dramatic words seemed to make no sense. ‘But if what you say is true, how come you know and he doesn’t?’

  The woman shrugged. ‘His brother asked me to track him down and speak to him. He wanted to know whether Alek would be receptive to a meeting. The first part wasn’t difficult but the second part was, because I could never get close enough to ask him. Men like Alek Sarantos are never easy to get close to. He doesn’t do interviews and he’s not the kind of man who drinks alone in bars, so trying to pick him up was never going to work. And as you say, he doesn’t like journalists.’

  ‘Are you surprised?’

  ‘Nothing surprises me any more,’ said the woman cynically. ‘That’s why I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw him with you that night. A waitress who was way out of his league and you were making out like two teenagers at a school disco! I thought I had the perfect opportunity to smoke him out, and I was right.’

  ‘Smoke him out?’ echoed Ellie in horror.

  ‘Sure. Put a woman into a man’s life and immediately you’ve got another way in.’

  ‘You’re disgusting.’

  ‘No, honey. I’m just doing my job.’ The journalist leant forward and tucked a business card into Ellie’s free hand. ‘Why don’t you tell him to call me?’

  After she’d gone, Ellie shut the door, leaning back against it and trying very hard to steady her breathing.

  A brother.

  A twin brother.

  How could that be? Did Alek know about this explosive fact and was this just one more thing he had deliberately omitted to tell her? She felt so spaced out that she couldn’t seem to take it in. Had the journalist being doing what journalists did so well...inventing a story to try to get some sort of reaction? Her heart was pounding and a weird kind of pain was spearing through her and she wasn’t sure how long she stood there, only that she couldn’t stay there. She couldn’t let Alek come home from work and find her slumped there like a zombie.

  She forced herself to dress, but the silky tea dress seemed only to mock her. She remembered the day she’d gone shopping, when she’d felt so proud of herself. So stupidly proud. As if managing to run up a massive bill on a man’s credit card all by herself was some sort of mega achievement. She remembered how easy she’d found it to spend his money. For all her feisty words, was she really any different from the other women who adored his wealth? He hated gold-diggers. He seemed to hate women in general and now she could understand why.

  Never had that famous saying seemed more appropriate.

  Give me the child until he is seven and I will give you the man.

  Wasn’t that just the truth?

  Alek had spent the first years of his life deserted by his mother and left alone with a cruel father. Was it any wonder that he’d locked his emotions away and thrown away the key?

 
She got more and more nervy as time wore on but when eventually Alek arrived home and walked into the sitting room, she thought how weary he looked. She’d been intending to break it to him gently but maybe something in her expression alerted him, because he frowned the minute he saw her.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  She’d been racking her brain to come up with the right way of telling him, but maybe there was no right way. There were only facts. She couldn’t protect him from what she was about to tell him, no matter how much she wanted to.

  ‘You remember that journalist who wrote the diary piece about us?’

  He tensed. ‘I’m not likely to forget her.’

  ‘Well, she was here today.’

  He scowled. ‘How the hell did she find out where I lived?’

  ‘I don’t think that’s really the issue here.’

  ‘No?’ His mouth twisted. ‘Well, my privacy is an issue, something which I thought you might have realised by now. What did you tell her this time?’ He gave a bitter laugh. ‘Did you give her a blow-by-blow account of your husband’s tragic childhood?’

  ‘I would never—’

  ‘Or maybe you thought you’d announce the baby news.’ His words cut over hers. ‘Even though we agreed not to say anything before the twelve weeks is up?’

  ‘Actually, she was the one with the news.’ She hesitated and then drew a deep breath. ‘She told me that you’ve got a brother.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

  ‘Actually, a twin brother.’ She licked her lips. ‘You didn’t know?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said coldly.

  ‘He asked her to contact you, to see if you’d be receptive to a meeting.’

  ‘I do not have a brother!’ he thundered.

  ‘Alek...’ But her words were forgotten as her body was racked by the most piercing pain Ellie had ever felt. Hot knives were chasing through her belly and stabbing deeper and deeper. All the strength was draining from her legs. Shakily, she reached out to grab the edge of the window seat as Alek strode across the room, his face criss-crossed with concern as he caught hold of her.

  But she didn’t want his concern. She just wanted something to stop the pain. Not just the one in her belly—but the one in her heart.

  ‘Go away!’ she mumbled, lashing out at him ineffectively—but she could see something else in his eyes now. Something which scared her. Why was he looking like that? And why had his face gone so white? Following the direction of his gaze, she saw the shocking scarlet contrast of blood as it began to drip onto the polished gleam of the wooden floorboards.

  And that must have been when she passed out.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ALEK FELT THE clench of pain around his heart—icy-cold and constricting. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He was powerless to help her and even if he’d been capable of helping her—it seemed he wasn’t going to get the chance to try. Ellie didn’t want him in the ambulance with her, or so one of the paramedics told him, a faintly embarrassed look on his face as he didn’t quite dare look him in the eye.

  For the first time in his adult life, Alek discovered the feeling of powerlessness. He couldn’t insist on doing things his way, or overrule what was happening by the sheer force of his personality or financial clout. He was being forced to accept the bitter facts. That Ellie was sick and their baby’s life was in danger. That she was being rushed through the London streets with blue lights flashing and sirens blaring and she didn’t want him anywhere near her.

  A bitter taste stained his mouth.

  Who could blame her?

  He drove to the hospital as quickly as he could but his usual unerring sense of direction failed him and he found himself lost in the maze of hospital corridors, until a kindly nurse took pity on him and showed him the way to the unit. His heart was in his mouth as he approached that white and sterile place. And still they wouldn’t let him see her.

  ‘But I’m her husband,’ he said, wondering if the words sounded as fake as they felt. What right did he have to call himself her husband? Was that why the ward sister was fixing him with a disapproving look? Had Ellie blurted out the truth to her in a moment of weakness, begging the nurses not to allow him anywhere near her—this man who had brought her nothing but pain?

  ‘The doctor is with her right now.’

  ‘Please...’ His voice broke. It sounded cracked and hollow. Not like his voice at all. But then he’d never asked anyone for anything, had he? Not since those air-conditioned nights in his father’s miserable fortress of a house, when he’d lain awake, the pillow clasped tightly over his head but too scared to cry. To the background sound of the night herons which had called across the island, he had silently begged an uncaring god to bring his mother back to him. And then, just like now, events had been completely outside his control. Things didn’t happen just because you wanted them to. He saw now that maybe the reason he’d always turned his back on relationships was because, ultimately, he was unable to control them and that control had become his security in an uncertain world. His heart slammed against his ribcage. Or maybe it was just because, until Ellie, he’d never had a real relationship with anyone.

  He looked into the ward sister’s eyes. ‘How is she?’

  ‘She’s being stabilised right now.’

  ‘And...the baby?’

  His voice cracked again. He hadn’t expected that question to hurt so much, nor for it to mean as much as it did. When had been the critical moment that this unborn life had crept into his heart and taken residence there? The world seemed to tip on its axis as the woman’s face assumed an expression of careful calm—as if she was attempting to reassure him without raising false hopes. He guessed she must have been asked that question a million times before.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s too early to say.’

  He could do nothing but accept her words and he nodded grimly as he was shown into a waiting room which looked onto an ugly brick wall. There was a stack of old magazines on a chipped table and—all too poignantly—a little heap of plastic bricks piled in one corner, presumably for any accompanying children to play with.

  Children.

  He hadn’t wanted any of his own—that had always been a given. He hadn’t wanted to risk any child of his having to go through what he had gone through. But now, suddenly, he wanted this baby so bad. He wanted to nurture the child that the baby would grow into.

  I will never abandon my baby or hurt or punish him, he thought fiercely. He will know nothing but love from me—even if I have to learn how to love him from scratch.

  He closed his eyes as the minutes ticked by. Someone brought him a cup of coffee in a plastic cup, but it lay untouched in front of him. And when eventually the doctor came into the waiting room with a ward sister beside him—a different one this time—he sprang to his feet and felt the true meaning of fear. His hands were clammy and cold. His heart was pounding in his chest.

  ‘How is she?’ he demanded.

  ‘She’s fine—a little shocked and a little scared, but she’s had a scan—’

  ‘A scan?’ For a second he felt confused. He realised that he’d been thinking in Greek instead of English and the word sounded alien to him.

  ‘We needed to check that the pregnancy is still viable, and I’m delighted to tell you that it is.’

  ‘Still viable?’ he repeated stupidly.

  ‘The baby is fine,’ said the medic gently as if he were speaking to a child. ‘Your wife has had a slight bleed, which is not uncommon in early pregnancy—but she’s going to have to take it easy from now on. That means no more rushing around. No horse riding.’ He smiled gently, as if to prepare him for some kind of blow. ‘And no sex, I’m afraid.’

  They took him to Ellie’s room, where she
lay on the narrow hospital bed, looking almost as white as the sheets. Her eyes were closed and her pale fringe was damp with sweat, so that her dark, winged eyebrows looked dramatic against her milky brow.

  She didn’t stir and, mindful of the doctor’s words, he sat down noiselessly in the chair beside the bed, his hand reaching out to cover hers. He didn’t know how long he sat there for—only that the rest of the world seemed to have retreated. He measured time by the slow drip of the intravenous bag which was hooked up to her arm. And he must have been looking at that when she eventually woke up, because he turned his head to find her grey eyes fixed steadily on him. He tried to read the expression in them, but he could see nothing.

  ‘Hi,’ he said.

  She didn’t answer, just tugged her hand away from his as she tried to sit up, reaching down to touch her belly, her gaze lifting to his in agonised question.

  ‘The baby?’

  He nodded. ‘It’s okay. The baby’s fine.’

  She made a choked kind of sob as she slumped back against the pillows, her mouth trembling in relief. ‘I didn’t dream it, then.’

  ‘Dream what?’

  ‘Someone came.’ She licked her lips and paused, as if the effort of speaking was too much. ‘They were putting something cold on my stomach. Circling it round and round. They said it was going to be okay, but I thought...’

  He felt completely inadequate as her words tailed off and he thought: You have only yourself to blame. If you hadn’t pushed her away, if you hadn’t tried to impose your own stupid rules, then you would be able to comfort her now. You’d be able take her in your arms and tell her that everything was going to be all right.

  But he couldn’t do that, could he? He couldn’t make guarantees he couldn’t possibly keep. Promises she’d never believe. All he could do was to make sure she had everything she needed.

  ‘Shh,’ he said in as gentle a voice as he’d ever used and she shut her eyes tightly closed, as if she couldn’t bear to meet his gaze any longer. ‘The doctor says you’re going to have to take it easy.’