by -Julia James
'Do you think,' she went on, speaking jerkily, 'it might be possible for me to lie down for a little while? I feel... I feel...'
Immediately Demetria was all concern. She hurried to the bed, drawing down the damask cover.
'I will send up coffee. Or do you prefer tea? Something to eat?'
Janine shook her head. 'Thank you, no. I just need to rest a little.'
Demetria nodded. 'Of course. I...I will leave you, then. For now.'
Face still troubled, she took her leave.
Slowly, Janine sat down on the bed.
Her head was swimming. She let her body fold down onto the bed, lifting up her legs. They felt very heavy. Her whole body felt heavy, numb. Her eyes closed. The cotton pillowcase was cool on her cheek. She reached to pull the damask coverlet back over her.
I want to sleep, she thought. Sleep, but not to dream... !
She dreamt. Instantly, immediately.
She was there, at the villa, on the terrace. Nikos was beside her, his arm around her. She leant into him, feeling his strength, his solidity. Joy filled her. Joy and relief. She had had such a terrible nightmare, but now she had woken from it. A nightmare so awful she did not want to think about it. But it was over. She was here, with Nikos, and he was holding her and everything was wonderful and beautiful and blissful...
He was making love to her, moving over her body, whispering to her, murmuring, his hands gliding over her skin, his mouth caressing her... She was on fire, on sweet fire, her limbs dissolving. The fire was burning through her, and through him, and she cried out, cried out...
Her eyes flew open.
To an empty room.
Misery enfolded her, wrapping around her like weed, drowning her.
She curled in on herself against the misery, against the pain lancing and lancing through her.
It was a lie—everything was a lie! I meant nothing to him, nothing. Less than nothing—/ was just something to be picked up, manipulated, and disposed of. Whatever it took. A problem to be sorted. A threat to be disarmed, demolished, removed.
And what had it taken? A look, a day, a kiss, a smile. She had gone down at the first fence, willingly going with him, putting up not the slightest resistance. She had melted at his feet.
He didn't have to break a sweat to seduce me...
A chill went through her. Demetria had known what she was doing when she sent Nikos to deal with her...
She had sent a master to do the job. The job of seducing the woman she thought was stealing her husband.
Except that I wasn't that woman. I was just—
What was the word the military used? When unintended targets got hit?
Collateral damage.
That was what she had been. Collateral damage.
The target hadn't existed at all.
Her stomach iced.
But the damage was real. Horribly, horribly real.
She gave a smothered cry, flinging back her arm across the pillow, staring up at the ceiling with wide, pained eyes.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SHE dined that night with Stephanos and Demetria. The strain was all but unbearable. It was an awkward, painful meal, and Janine could hardly eat. The delicious food tasted like straw. Conversation was minimal, stilted. They talked only of innocuous things, like the weather and the wedding they'd been to on Long Island.
What made it worse was that it should have been a joyful meal, thought Janine anguishedly. After all Stephanos's fears Demetria had accepted her; she would have a recognised place in her father's family. She could be her father's daughter for all the world to see. She could love him openly, freely. Without hiding or secrecy or worry about hurting Demetria. She should be glad, rejoicing. And so she would have been...
She would have to go, she knew. She could not stay here, however much she wanted to spend precious time with Stephanos, get to know him, the father she had never known. The father she had never been told about.
Demetria found it very hard to accept Louise's actions.
'How could she not have told Stephanos she was pregnant?' she asked uncomprehendingly.
'I think Louise simply didn't want any hassle,' Janine answered. 'She must have known Stephanos would insist on marrying her. And she would have refused—she always hated the idea of marriage. She saw it as a shackle for women. Constricting their freedom. So she never told him, just went ahead and had me.'
She didn't look at Stephanos as she spoke, but she could feel his pain—because it was her pain too. Her mother had denied them both the chance to know each other, love each other.
'And yet,' she said, saying what must be said, 'if it had been otherwise then Stephanos would have married Louise, and not you.'
Pain went through Demetria's eyes.
'Stephanos would have had a child,' she said in a low, anguished voice.
'I want only you, Demetria! With or without children, I want only you!'
Her husband caught her hand, holding it hard. Between them, tangible in its power, Janine could sense the strength of their love, holding them together against their mutual grief. What must it be like, she thought, to be loved like that?
No! Don't think, don't think!
Instead she awknowledged the painful irony that she should have been born to a woman with so few maternal feelings when Demetria yearned for a child with all her being. She found herself giving a small prayer that her father's wife should be granted the blessing she so longed for.
She has a generous heart, thought Janine. She could so easily have bitterly resented my existence, and instead she has welcomed it, rejoiced in it. Yes, perhaps there is an element of what she told me, that I am proof that Stephanos can father a child, but for all that she could so easily have seen me as a taunt to her own infertility.
She felt a silent shiver go through her. Had Stephanos only realised how large Demetria's heart was then he would never have thought to keep his new-found daughter's existence a secret—arousing his wife's suspicions and making her act so swiftly, so devastatingly, to protect her marriage...
Misery filled her. None of this would have happened. This vile, sick situation would never have arisen.
Another thought pierced her, even more anguished.
Supposing Stephanos had introduced her into his family life straight away, the moment they arrived in Greece? Supposing she had come here, to his own house, had met Demetria—and her brother? An image leapt in her mind so painful she could not bear it—Nikos coming here, Demetria's brother, being introduced to his brother-in-law's long-lost daughter, knowing who she really was right from the beginning...
She saw him as vividly as if he had been real, looking at her with those night-dark eyes, taking her hand, welcoming her—
The beeping of the house phone sounded and she blinked. Nikos was gone.
Well, that much was true. Nikos was gone. Gone from her life for ever. And she must go too. She could never meet him again. Never.
And she didn't want to see him. The very thought of him made her buckle with nausea. After what he had done to her...
The instinct to run, run and lick her wounds, was overpowering.
Tomorrow. I'll go tomorrow. After breakfast. I must find out about flights and all that. She would ask her father as soon as he'd finished speaking on the phone.
He'd answered in Greek, his face tightening slightly, then nodded, said something more in Greek, and hung up.
She opened her mouth to speak, but her father forestalled her.
'Janine—will you come with me a moment, pethi mou?
There was tension in his voice; she could hear it.
He got to his feet and waited for her to do likewise. Puzzled, she did so. The atmosphere seemed strained somehow—and yet expectant.
She saw Demetria look at her, then glance to meet her husband's eye in silent communication. The look in the other woman's eyes was tense as well. Then she got to her feet too and came across to Janine. She took her hands in hers.
'I c
aused you great harm,' she told her. 'I never mean! to, but I did. The harm cannot be undone—but what cat, be done will be done.' She leant forward to place a kiss on each of Janine's cheeks.
Janine's eyes widened. The moment seemed so solemn suddenly. Then, just as suddenly, Demetria's face suddenly lit. 'Yet I am happy as well as sad—I cannot help it!' Her hands squeezed Janine's. 'You do not know how much I have longed for this day! Oh, it should not have been like this, I know—but all the same I cannot stop my happiness! And that it should be you of all people fills my heart with joy!'
Janine just stared at her. Demetria's words were inexplicable.
Then her father was touching her shoulder, drawing her away. He said something to Demetria, and she nodded. The tension was back in the room, yet Demetria's face still was lit from within.
Bemused, Janine went meekly with her father. Perhaps she needed to sign documents or something—to do with the transfer of money he was making over to her.
They went out of the large, ornate salon, across the wide marbled hallway to a door set off a small lobby towards the rear of the huge house. Janine could hear her footsteps echo off the marble floor.
Stephanos went ahead of her and opened the door. She stepped through into the room beyond.
And stopped dead.
Nikos was inside.
Blindly, instinctively, she turned to run, bolt, flee. But her father was there, catching her shoulders.
'My child, my child—I know, I know. But this must be done. It must.'
There was grimness beneath the softness, the sympathy. Gently but inexorably he turned her around, ushering her Forward a little so he could close the door behind him.
She wanted to shut her eyes, wanted to cover her face, but she could not. Nikos was standing there, across the room. It was a kind of study, she noticed with the tiny fragment of her brain that was still registering the existence of anything that was not Nikos. There was a large desk, a computer on it, leather chairs, shelves with books, massive tomes and business journals. A masculine place. A place of business and financial transaction, of legal documents, contracts and commerce.
Nikos looked completely at home in it.
He was wearing a suit. Dark this time, not the lightweight suit she'd first laid eyes on him in. Whereas in the light grey suit he'd looked elegant and devastating, now he looked sombre.
And just as devastating.
That was the worst thing, she thought, as her mind fragmented into a thousand shards, each one needle-sharp, piercing her flesh like knives. That she could feel her heart jolt as her eyes took him in, took in those broad shoulders, the long, lean body, that beautifully planed and sculpted f ace, those dark gold-flecked eyes. Veiled eyes. Eyes that saw her but did not look at her. Eyes that were shuttered, had no expression in them. Her nails dug into the palms of her hands. As they did so she saw that a muscle was working in his cheek. He looked grim, and tense.
Why? Why was Stephanos doing this to her? Why this hideous ordeal? How could he be so cruel to her? The silence stretched endlessly, it seemed. But it could only have been a few seconds—though they seemed to last for ever, Janine felt.
Stephanos spoke. Though she could understand none of the words, Janine could hear the heaviness in them. As he spoke Nikos's face tensed even more. His eyes moved from her to look at her father.
Then, abruptly, as Stephanos fell silent, they snapped back to her.
For a second something blazed in them, something that made her flinch with shock. Then it was gone. The veil was back over those dark and gold eyes, a veil she could not see past.
Stephanos placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her slightly towards him.
'My daughter.' His voice was solemn now, as Demetria's had been. 'Great wrong has been done to you. Now it shall be righted.' He placed his other hand upon her other shoulder, leant forward and dropped a kiss upon her forehead. It was almost like a ritual, a paternal blessing.
Then, exchanging one long last, level look with Nikos, he left the room.
She wanted to run, bolt, flee from the room. But her feet were rooted to the ground, her body frozen.
Nikos looked at her. As before, the moment seemed to last for all eternity, not the few fleeting seconds that was all its true duration.
Her nails dug deeper into the palms of her hands.
What was he going to say? What could he say?
That he'd made a mistake? An error?
Collateral damage.
The chill euphemism echoed in her mind.
She looked at the man who up until this moment had never set eyes on her without thinking that she was a woman who had taken the financial protection of a married man—a rich, married man—a man—and the irony of it bit so deep she had to stop herself crying out—a man old enough to be her father.
For one long, ghastly moment he went on looking at her, not speaking. Then, abruptly, his voice broke the unendurable silence between them.
'Janine—'
Just her name. The softness of his pronunciation, the familiarity, undid her. Her nails seemed to pierce her skin, so deep did she dig them into her palms. For one terrifying moment she felt she was going to burst into tears, sob with pain and despair, break down entirely.
She wouldn't do it. She would not. She would not break down. For some horrible reason her father thought she should endure the ordeal of facing Nikos again—why, she could not tell. She didn't want an apology, didn't want an expression of regret, didn't want any awkward, stilted voicing of contrition.
With immense effort she schooled herself.
'Yes?' Her voice was cool, unemotional.
Something flashed in his eyes. For a moment she thought it was anger. But that could not be. It was so totally inappropriate that she must have imagined it.
'This is a difficult situation for us both,' he said tightly. 'Let us try and get through it with as much grace as we can muster.'
He looked, she thought suddenly, very formidable. Every inch a man of wealth and consequence, a man born to riches, a powerful man. Like a shot to the heart she remembered that first frisson she had felt as he towered over her in his business suit at the poolside, making her feel so exposed, so vulnerable in her skimpy bikini.
No, she mustn't remember that. Mustn't remember anything as dangerous as that.
He was speaking again.
'The arrangements have been set in motion. From my meeting with Stephanos this afternoon I understand that he has already taken steps to settle an appropriate sum on you, as capital. That will, of course, remain yours. He and I have also agreed a separate sum, from my own resources, that will be settled on you as income. As for the ceremony itself, I know that Demetria is very keen to make a splendid occasion of it. Whether you are happy with that, or would prefer something quieter, I leave entirely to you. Whichever you choose, you will, of course, have my support—whatever Demetria's feelings on the subject.'
He spoke briskly, as if running through the key points of a business deal. As he finished he looked at her question-ingly, as if affording her the opportunity to input her comments, if any, before he moved on.
She stared at him blankly.
'I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about,' she said.
A frown creased between his eyes.
'I appreciate, Janine, that your background means you are unfamiliar with the concept of settlements and the disposition of property on such an occasion, but be assured that Stephanos is obviously ensuring that your interests are safeguarded to the utmost. You may safely leave everything to him. As for the other matter...' His voice became dry. 'You may, if you prefer, leave that equally safely to Demet ria. She will, I know, be in her element.' His mouth tightened minutely. 'It is, after all, something she has longed for on my behalf.'
'What is?' She was lost—completely lost. Nikos looked at her.
'To see me married,' he said tightly.
She drew her breath sharply. It was like a blow coming out of the b
lue. And it hurt. Over everything that had happened, all her pain and misery, this smote at her with lethal force.
'You're getting married?' Her voice was faint. Her nails spasmed in her palms.
He was looking at her as if she was deranged.
'Have you not listened to anything I have told you?' he demanded. He could have been speaking to an underling, a recalcitrant employee. 'Stephanos and I have agreed the settlement—you are, it goes without saying, extremely well provided for. Demetria will undertake the organisation of whatever form of ceremony you prefer. Unless you feel strongly, I would suggest a civil ceremony—but of course if you wish I can arrange for you to receive whatever instruction is necessary so that you may participate in an Orthodox service. Our wedding can be as large or as small, as public or private as you wish. Demetria will make all the arrangements necessary.'
Faintness was washing through her. Faintness and disbelief.
'Our wedding...'
Her voice trailed off.
He took a step forward. 'Our wedding,' he repeated, He took a breath. 'Janine, we must be married. It is obvious. Surely you understand that?' There was tension suddenly in his voice.
Slowly, her head shook from side to side.
'No. I don't understand.' Her voice was still faint.
Something changed in his eyes. And in his voice.
'Don't you?'
She felt her breath catch. There was a caress in his words as tangible as if he had stroked her arm.
Pain squeezed through her.
'Don't you, Janine?' He reached towards her. The gold in his eyes was molten suddenly. She backed away. Blocking. Rejecting. 'No! I don't understand.' Her voice was hectic. I don't understand in the slightest! It's ridiculous, absurd!'
The flash of anger in his eyes came again. 'Try saying that to Stephanos! To Demetria!' His mouth thinned.
'They're consumed with guilt. Each of them feels that this...debacle...is their fault. Stephanos's for not confiding in Demetria about your existence. And Demetria's—' his voice became grimmer yet '—Demetria's for coming to such a disastrous conclusion about your identity!' His eyes held Janine's. 'Our marriage is the only way they can accept what has happened. The only remedy.'