by Anne Mather
‘She was on the verge of telling Melissa about us.’ He grimaced. ‘Don’t worry, I stopped her.’
‘So you think we should tell Melissa straight away?’
‘As soon as possible,’ agreed Milos, tucking a strand of silky blonde hair behind her ear. ‘Thank God Sheila doesn’t know about anything else.’
‘Amen to that,’ said Helen fervently. ‘What do I say when she—Melissa—asks where my room is?’
‘Good question.’ Milos’s lips twitched. ‘Well, as she doesn’t know where my suite is, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. Not until tomorrow morning, perhaps.’
‘When she might find us together?’ asked Helen tentatively, and Milos pulled a wry face.
‘When she’ll definitely find us together,’ he assured her roughly, and Helen lifted her face for his kiss.
Helen was unpacking her belongings when Melissa came to find her.
Milos had left, ostensibly to visit Rhea, but in fact, he was going to see Sam. They didn’t dare give Helen’s mother the chance to pre-empt their news, and taunting her ex-husband with such privileged information would obviously sour their relationship with him.
Melissa came into Milos’s apartment, whistling admiringly as she looked about her. ‘Hey, this is some room,’ she said, approaching the huge bed and bouncing on the edge for a moment. ‘Milos must really want to impress you.’
Helen’s cheeks turned a little pink. ‘It is nice, isn’t it?’ she admitted. She moistened her lips. ‘Is your room far away?’
‘About as far away as you could get it,’ said Melissa drily. ‘I’m in the opposite wing, near where they’ve put Gran.’ She paused. ‘What was all that before about me waiting until she was settled before I went to see her? It was like Milos was afraid I’d say something I shouldn’t.’ She spread her hands. ‘I just wish I knew what.’
‘I’m sure Milos didn’t mean anything like that,’ said Helen quickly, thinking how easy it was to get completely the wrong idea. ‘He was probably just thinking of your gran, that’s all.’
‘You think?’ Melissa considered this for a moment and then she said shrewdly, ‘Anyway, you two seem to be getting along better these days. I mean, like, I was totally shocked when Rhea said she thought that you and Gran were going to be staying here.’
Helen expelled a nervous breath. ‘Well, it just seemed the best solution,’ she said awkwardly. ‘And you must admit, there is a lot more room here.’
‘Oh, yeah.’ Melissa flopped down onto the bed again, watching as her mother laid the clothes she had taken from her suitcases onto the ottoman at its foot. ‘Hey, isn’t that my tee shirt? And those are my canvas trousers. Why have you brought them?’
‘I just thought you might need them,’ said her mother steadily. ‘As we’re going to be staying much longer than we’d originally planned.’
‘Mmm.’
Melissa seemed to absorb this, but then to Helen’s dismay she sprang up from the bed again and went to pull open the door into the walk-in closet. ‘You might as well put your clothes in here,’ she was beginning, when she stopped dead, turning back to look at her mother with accusing eyes. ‘Hey, there are clothes in here already. Men’s clothes.’
Helen’s heart sank, but she had to be honest. ‘I know.’
Melissa’s brows drew together. ‘They’re Milos’s clothes,’ she said, evidently recognising something of his. Then, turning back to her mother again, ‘What’s going on? Why are Milos’s clothes in here?’
Helen shook her head. ‘I expect he left them there,’ she said tiredly. ‘This is his room, after all.’
‘Wow!’ Melissa stared at her. ‘You mean, he’s given up his own room for you?’
Helen sighed. ‘Something like that,’ she said, wishing Milos were here at this moment.
‘Man!’ Melissa was obviously impressed. Then, as her natural intelligence kicked in, she blinked disbelievingly. ‘Don’t tell me you two are an item!’
Helen hesitated. It wasn’t the most ideal way to tell her, but she was sure Milos wouldn’t blame her. ‘Would you mind if we were?’ she asked huskily, and Melissa gave an incredulous whoop of excitement.
‘Are you kidding?’ she exclaimed. ‘Does that mean we get to live on Santoros for good?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because Milos spends part of his time in Athens. He has—business interests there.’
‘Oil-tankers, I know. He told me,’ said Melissa impatiently, and Helen remembered that awful journey from the ferry to her father’s house as if it were yesterday. ‘Well, that doesn’t matter. Athens is good, too.’
‘I’m glad you approve.’
‘So it’s true?’ Melissa had to have chapter and verse. ‘Are you and Milos sleeping together?’
‘Melissa!’ Helen was shocked at her daughter’s casual acceptance of something that when she’d been her age had been regarded so differently.
‘Well, are you?’
Melissa was waiting for an answer and Helen couldn’t do anything else but admit that they were. ‘But we’re going to get married,’ she added hastily, needing to legitimise the arrangement. ‘As soon as Milos’s parents get back from their cruise.’
‘Hey, you don’t have to tell me that,’ said Melissa, coming round the bed and throwing an affectionate arm around her mother’s neck. ‘People don’t need to get married to prove they love one another.’ She grimaced. ‘Anyway, I guessed what was going on. I’m not exactly naïve, you know?’
Helen gazed at her daughter with moist eyes. ‘Thank you.’
‘What are you thanking me for?’
Helen shook her head. ‘I don’t know. Just being you, I guess. You can be very sensitive sometimes, Mellie.’
‘Don’t call me Mellie,’ exclaimed Melissa disgustedly, pulling a face. ‘Anyway, wait until Milos gets back. I’m gonna ask him what his intentions are.’
Helen was horrified. ‘Don’t you dare!’
Melissa giggled. ‘Why not? He’s going to be my father, isn’t he?’
‘Well, yes.’ Helen hesitated. ‘About your father—’
‘You mean Richard.’
‘All right, Richard, then.’ Helen bit her lip. ‘Milos told me—oh, Melissa, why didn’t you come to see me when Richard told you he wasn’t your father?’
‘If Milos has talked to you, you know why.’
‘But you were more important to me than Richard,’ protested Helen fiercely. ‘And if I’d known what he’d told you, I’d have left him, never mind the other way around.’
‘Would you?’ Melissa was gazing at her anxiously now, and Helen suddenly realised how much Richard’s words had sapped the child’s confidence.
‘Of course, I would,’ she exclaimed, pulling Melissa into her arms and giving her a heartfelt hug. ‘You were always the most important person in my world. I thought you knew that.’
Melissa sniffed. ‘But you didn’t love my real father, did you? I mean, if you had, you’d have married him, wouldn’t you? Not Richard.’ She paused. ‘Unless he was already married. Was he already married, Mum? Was that why you couldn’t marry him? Richard said I was just the result of a one-night stand and that you didn’t even know who my father was.’
‘Oh, God!’ Helen was stunned. ‘Of course I know who your father is. I—I was a virgin before—before we made you.’
‘And was he married?’
It was very important to Melissa to believe he was and Helen couldn’t be less than honest. Not now. ‘I thought he was,’ she admitted unhappily. ‘I didn’t find out I was wrong until—until quite recently.’
‘So who is he?’ asked Melissa eagerly. ‘Tell me. Is it someone I know? Oh, God, it isn’t Mark Greenaway, is it?’
‘No.’ Helen closed her eyes for a moment. ‘It isn’t Mark Greenaway.’
Melissa was obviously relieved. ‘But is it someone I know?’
Helen shook her head. ‘Who would you like it to be?’ she asked, de
sperately seeking a way out, a way not to tell her until Milos was here, and Melissa frowned.
‘You still don’t want to tell me, do you?’
‘I do, I do.’ Helen made a helpless gesture. ‘Just answer my question first.’
Melissa scowled, looking so like her father that Helen had to catch her breath. ‘Well, let me see,’ she muttered ill-humouredly. ‘How about Prince Charles, hmm? Or maybe just Brad Pitt, though I guess his current lady wouldn’t be too thrilled about that.’
‘Melissa!’
‘Oh, okay.’ Melissa pulled away from her and walked across to the windows. Standing looking out at the view, she said carelessly, ‘Well, I suppose the most obvious person would be Milos. I mean, he’s young, he’s good-looking, and he’s rich. And he obviously cares about you.’
Helen sucked in a breath. ‘Good choice,’ she said, and Melissa cast a moody look over her shoulder.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘You’ve had your fun. Now, why don’t you tell me who it really is?’
‘Because you know,’ said a blessedly familiar voice behind them and Helen turned weakly to find Milos strolling casually into the room. He shed his jacket on the bed, and then, after giving Helen an understanding look, he went to join his daughter by the windows. ‘Sorry to disappoint you about the prince and so on, but it’s me. It really is.’
Melissa’s mouth opened in silent disbelief. Then, closing it again, she said, ‘You’re kidding, right?’
Milos arched a dark brow. ‘Do I look like I’m kidding?’
‘No.’ The word whispered from her lips, and Helen had to steel herself not to rush across the room and take the girl into her arms. ‘You—you’re my father? And you’ve known this—’
‘Since a couple of days after you got here,’ Milos told her honestly. ‘Believe me, it was a shock to me, too.’
Melissa shook her head, looking beyond him now to where her mother was still standing beside the bed. ‘But you knew before that,’ she said accusingly. ‘You’ve known my whole life, and you’ve never told me.’
‘I couldn’t—’ began Helen, wanting to explain that Richard had deceived her, too, but Melissa wouldn’t let her go on.
‘You knew,’ she said again, putting her hands over her ears to block anything else anyone might say. ‘You knew and you didn’t tell me. Oh, my God! My God! Too much information!’
She was gone before either of them could stop her, rushing across the room and out the door, with tears streaming down her face. In the silence that followed her departure, Helen sank down onto the bed and buried her face in her hands.
‘Oh, Lord,’ she whispered, feeling as if the bottom had just dropped out of her world. ‘Oh, Lord, she’s never going to forgive me!’
‘Of course, she will.’ Milos was amazingly calm considering the circumstances. He came around the bed and put his arm about her, giving her a brief, but wonderfully reassuring, hug. Then, with a grin, he straightened again. ‘Leave her to me, agape mou. Believe me, compared to your father, she’ll be a pushover!’
* * *
Helen and Milos were married six weeks later in the small chapel on the Stephanides estate. The ceremony, a simple affair, was confined to their immediate family and friends, but many of the islanders turned out to wish their patron’s son well.
Milos’s mother would have preferred a much grander affair. She’d wanted them to get married at the cathedral in Athens, with all the pomp and circumstance that would have entailed.
However, she’d had to agree, somewhat grudgingly, that such a dispensation, bearing in mind that her son had been divorced, might have been difficult to arrange. Besides, neither Milos nor Helen had wanted to wait, and in the end Helen had had her way. A quiet wedding, where the words they had spoken had meant more than their surroundings.
Initially, Helen had been afraid that Milos’s parents wouldn’t like her; that they’d expect she was a gold-digger; that Melissa’s existence would cause dismay and not delight. But she couldn’t have been more wrong. Whatever they thought of her, their discovery that they had a ready-made granddaughter had swayed the balance. In a tearful moment, Athene had confessed that they’d both given up hope of Milos ever giving them any grandchildren. He’d always shunned any efforts they’d made to persuade him otherwise. But now she was prepared to accept that, however unlikely it seemed, he had been waiting for Helen to come back.
It was a nice thing to say, and, although Helen wasn’t sure whether she or Athene believed it, it did augur well for the relationship they were bound to have in the years to come.
Helen’s mother had taken the news very differently. With one of her smug smiles, she’d maintained that she’d guessed who Melissa’s father was all along. She’d just never said anything because of Milos’s association with her ex-husband.
Not that Helen had known this until much later. Hers and Milos’s first thoughts had been for their daughter, and when they’d tracked her down to Helen’s mother’s room, and Melissa had announced in a choking voice that she’d already told her grandmother who Milos was, the atmosphere had been electric.
The stand-off had faltered somewhat when Melissa had gone on to say that she didn’t want to stay at Vassilios. She wanted to go and stay with her grandfather, she maintained, and nothing Helen, Milos or her grandmother could say would make her change her mind.
The upshot was that Milos himself had driven the girl to the vineyard, braving Sam’s wrath for a second time that day. Helen’s father had been reluctant to get involved, but Melissa was his granddaughter, after all. Responding to her pleas, he’d agreed to let her stay for a couple of nights.
Helen had been shattered when Milos had got back, a combination of her daughter’s recalcitrance and her mother’s self-satisfaction proving the last straw. She’d been convinced that nothing and no one could mend the breach that now yawned between her and her daughter, and she’d been distraught.
A week later, she was able to look back on those first days with disbelief. She’d calculated without Milos’s involvement. For so long, she had had to make all the decisions concerning Melissa for herself, and having someone else shoulder the burden was such a relief.
She never did find out what he’d actually said to their daughter to make her change her mind. She suspected he’d played on the fact that Melissa expected them to believe her when she said Richard had threatened her, yet she was unwilling to listen to her mother when she tried to tell her he had deceived her, too. Whatever, within a couple of days, Melissa was back at Vassilios with her grandfather’s blessing, and the return of Milos’s mother and father had successfully completed the reconciliation. Helen had no doubt there would be problems to come, maybe even another rebellion about their relationship, but she didn’t doubt that, with Milos to support her, they would make it through.
The wedding itself was magical. Helen’s father had agreed to escort her down the aisle, and with some inducement from her new grandparents Melissa had been prevailed upon to act as maid of honour.
Helen had been relieved to find her father’s anger over Milos being Melissa’s father hadn’t lasted. The two men had been friends for so long, and she’d been afraid the animosity would spoil that. But, as with the peace Sam had made with his first wife, time had proved a great healer. The mistakes he’d made in his own life had helped him to understand Milos’s dilemma and he accepted that Milos genuinely loved his daughter, and probably always had.
Everything had been so different from her first wedding, thought Helen later that night, standing at the rail of Milos’s yacht. Then it had taken place in a register office, with Sheila Campbell and Richard’s widowed mother as the only witnesses, the latter under duress.
They were spending their honeymoon cruising in the Mediterranean, while Melissa stayed at Vassilios with Rhea and Helen’s mother. It was an arrangement that would enable her to get to know her new grandparents properly, and the girl was already blossoming under so much loving attention.
Helen’s mother had been given the option of staying on the island or returning to England. With no financial worries, Sheila would be able to come and go as she pleased, and that obviously delighted her.
‘You may regret that,’ Helen had heard her father say drily to her husband, but Milos had assured the older man that Santoros was big enough for all of them.
‘In any case, we—that is, Helen, Melissa and I—will be spending half the year in Athens,’ he said blandly. ‘Melissa has to go to school, you know.’
Helen had heard her father laugh at that, and, remembering, she thought how lucky she was to have two such wonderful men in her life.
‘Happy?’
Milos had left the yacht in the charge of its efficient skipper and come to join her, and Helen leaned back against the warm strength of his shoulder.
‘Blissfully,’ she said happily. She tipped her head up to him. ‘Are you?’
‘Well, let me see.’ Milos frowned, tipping the strap of her camisole off her shoulder as he did so. ‘I’m married to the woman I’ve loved for most of my life and she loves me.’ He bent his head and licked the warm skin he’d exposed before continuing, ‘We have a teenage daughter, who, despite being a bit of a pain sometimes, is extremely precious to both of us, and will no doubt prove to be a great older sister to any future children we might have.’ He nuzzled her neck. ‘Yes, on balance, I’d say I was—very happy.’
‘That’s good.’ Helen lifted her shoulder to his lips. ‘But you know what you said about any future children?’ She took a nervous breath. ‘We might not have to wait too long to find out.’
Milos swung her round to face him. ‘Do you mean what I think you mean?’
Helen gazed up at him. ‘Do you mind?’ she whispered and Milos’s shout of triumph echoed across the moonlit water.
Blackmailed into the
Greek Tycoon’s Bed
Carol Marinelli
About the Author
CAROL MARINELLI recently filled in a form where she was asked for her job title and was thrilled, after all these years, to be able to put down her answer as ‘writer’.