by Anne Mather
‘We’ve been invited to attend a ball.’ He waited while she read the invitation—a royal invitation—which of course demanded a prompt response. Which of course, Karin told herself, was the only reason he was here.
‘There is no we.’
‘We were in yesterday’s newspaper,’ Xante pointed out, and finally she looked up at him. Looked into his eyes for the first time since they had made love, looked at that haughty, sexy, slightly depraved face. And she never wanted to look away. ‘Did you read about our honeymoon in Greece?’
‘No,’ Karin lied, dragging her eyes away from his and returning to the computer screen.
‘I’d like to accept the invitation.’
‘Then accept.’ Karin shrugged, tapping away and inadvertently deleting outstanding fines. ‘Pretend I’m sick on the night, or that we’ve just broken up; that’s not such a bad idea, actually …’ She gave a tight smile. ‘You might just manage to buy yourself a title!’
‘It’s you they want,’ Xante said, because it was the truth. ‘It’s you I want,’ he said, because that was the truth too. In the week since they’d returned, he hadn’t been able to think straight, and had slept alone each night for the first time in sixteen years. He didn’t understand what was happening, except that something was, and that something had to be dealt with. He watched her fingers as they paused over the keyboard and knew his admission had shocked her as much as it had shocked him.
‘I’m busy that night.’
‘What about tonight?’ Xante pushed. ‘We could go for dinner.’
‘It won’t just be dinner.’
‘I won’t lay a finger on you,’ Xante said, and two old ladies peered over their magazines and gave each other a nudge. ‘I just want to talk.’
Her cheeks were as red as if he’d slapped her on both sides of her face. She wanted him to go, but she wanted him to stay. ‘What if there are things I don’t want to talk about?’
‘Then say,’ Xante said. ‘We will talk about movies and books and what your favourite colour is; we will start at the beginning as if it were our first date, as if we never slept together.’
‘Shh …’ She knew everyone was listening. He was just so big and loud, and even his whispering filled the silent building.
‘I promise not to have sex with you,’ Xante whispered loudly, and somehow that made her smile. ‘I promise not to kiss you or even hold your hand. I promise only boring, superficial conversation …’
And it did sound tempting, because she actually wanted to tell him. And maybe, just maybe, she would. Oh, not the whole lot, of course—but maybe she could come to the table tonight, having seen her lawyer, and could tell him about her scars and explain why she could never show him. She didn’t have to tell him the whole sorry story because Xante had taught her that she could say no. Could say ‘no, I don’t want to talk about it yet’; it was like having been handed the golden key. She could feel herself tipping into trust and it felt as if she were falling, taking this leap into the unknown and praying inside that he might be there to catch her. ‘Dinner.’ She gave a sharp nod of her head. ‘Just dinner.’
‘I’ll pick you up at eight.’
And then she had to sit in a library that was watching her and pretend that life was normal, that the man who had just left hadn’t walked out holding her heart in his hands. Karin had to wait till her coffee break when no one was listening to ring and book herself in for a blow dry for five. And even in her race to get to the lawyer, even with Xante’s promise of no sex, she was ten minutes late for her appointment—because a pretty lacy cami with matching panties just called to her from a window … The underwear was wrapped in tissue paper, placed in a box and into a pretty bag, and she held onto the pink, ropey handles like a security blanket.
For the first time ever she sat through the gruelling hour with her lawyer, and told someone about her past, and started to plan her life.
It just somehow felt nicer in the knowledge that tonight she would be seeing Xante.
* * *
Delighted with himself, Xante waltzed through the foyer of his hotel, but groaned somewhat when he checked his messages. That little jaunt to the library with his phone off had cost him dearly.
But Karin was worth every penny.
‘Athena.’ Xante deliberately kept the surprise from his voice as his ex-bride-to-be approached him in the foyer. ‘What brings you to London?’
‘The shops!’ Athena smiled. ‘Then I realised how close I was to your hotel and I thought it would be nice if you took me to dinner.’
‘You should have called me,’ Xante pointed out. ‘Unfortunately my whole day is already taken for, and I have plans for dinner tonight.’
‘Of course; I know how busy you are.’ Athena’s smile stayed intact. ‘But surely there is time for coffee? I would hate to go back and tell everyone that you did not have time for an old friend …’
‘Of course,’ Xante smiled. ‘There is always time for coffee with a friend.’
Seated at the table, Xante gave the orders, his mannerisms smooth, belying the unease he felt. Eternally vigilant, he was never more so now, positive that Athena hadn’t been ‘just passing’. Playing the game all the same, he listened as she rattled off her purchases, which luckily didn’t take too long.
‘Your mother seemed very impressed with Karin.’ Athena wasted no time getting to the real reason she was here.
‘Karin is an impressive woman.’
‘I am worried, Xante.’
‘Don’t waste your energy worrying about me, Athena. I can take care of myself.’
‘I know that—I know better than most that you look out for yourself.’
‘I looked out for you too, Athena,’ Xante pointed out. ‘I could have told everyone about your plans, showed them your emails, and no one would have blamed me for what I did.’
‘I am not talking about that, Xante. No; it is your mother I am worried for.’
‘I look out for my mother too.’
‘You have hurt her in the past, though, and not just with our break-up.’ Athena’s eyes met his, watched the grim set of his jaw, the slight swallow that told her he was rattled. ‘But with your careless ways …’
‘Athena!’ Xante was tired of playing games. ‘What is it you have come here to say?’
‘Your mother’s excited, naturally. Karin is the first woman you have brought home. Already she is talking marriage. You know she is desperate for you to give her grandchildren.’
‘It is early days for me and Karin.’ Xante was annoyed now, seriously so. His mother liking Karin so much had come as a surprise, and he certainly wasn’t looking forward to hurting her if things didn’t work out between them, but it was none of Athena’s business. His mind flitted as it often did to Karin, to the woman who was slowly working her way into his heart, and when he spoke it was the truth. ‘I will never marry or have children just to keep my mother happy—but, yes, Karin is a very special woman.’
‘What do you know about her?’
‘Everything I need to.’ Xante drained his coffee. “Athena, I think I have heard enough; I am busy.’
‘Fine.’ Athena stood up and went through the ritual of kissing him on the cheeks before she offered her parting shot. ‘If you are not worried about her criminal history, then you’re right—I have no need to be. I am sure you have everything under control.’
‘Criminal …’ Xante shook his head. ‘Look, Athena, there was a misunderstanding the other day.’
‘The other day?’ Athena’s almond eyes narrowed. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Xante; obviously she makes a habit of acquainting herself with the police.’
‘Athena, we all have pasts.’
‘Sure.’ Athena shrugged. ‘But drunken assault?’ She watched a muscle pounding in his cheek and knew that she had him, knew this was news to him. ‘Of course, it must have been a misunderstanding; the charges were dropped once the victim had been discharged from hospital. Either that, or i
t was one of the benefits of having a very rich daddy to help you out!’
‘How would you know this?’
‘Friends in the right places,’ Athena retorted. ‘The same as your girlfriend.’
She was wrong, Xante told himself, hating himself for doing it, but consoling himself he was proving her innocence as he scoured the Net. Her name was everywhere, but there was nothing that confirmed what Athena had said. He scoured images, the news, and with every article that his frantic eyes scanned his heart beat slower. He felt confident enough now to click on his phone and ring Paulo, a private detective who did some occasional work for him.
‘Karin Wallis …’ He felt like the biggest rat in the world, but he so badly wanted Athena to be wrong. She had to be wrong. Karin wasn’t just any woman; she was this woman who was under his skin, in his heart, constantly on his mind. This was the woman he could so easily give his heart to, the woman who might even one day be the mother of his children. ‘I can’t find anything on the Net, but the charges were dropped, apparently.’
‘Leave it with me.’
He didn’t want to leave it with him.
He didn’t want the truth.
Giving his driver the night off, he drove to her house, knowing he would see her soon; ignorance was very nice, thank you very much.
His phone was bleeping, alerting him to a text as his tyres hit the gravel of her driveway, but Xante ignored it.
There was a vast skip that didn’t seem to belong outside such a stunning home filled with bottles and garbage bags, and he could hear music pumping from the house. Just then his phone rang.
‘I can’t get much.’ Paulo was apologetic. ‘There wasn’t an official gag-order, more a gentleman’s-code-of-honour thing …’
‘That’s fine,’ Xante said. ‘Thank you.’
‘There are a couple of articles. I’ll send them over now—just local papers, but they’ve all been pulled.’
‘Don’t bother.’ He wanted ignorance. He could see the curtain twitching, knew that she was waiting for him, and that was all he needed to know.
‘I can get Reece to dig deeper; he knows some of the journalists in the area.’
‘Let it go,’ Xante said, only Paulo wasn’t listening; he was reading off his list, because to him Karin Wallis was just a name.
‘She’s in debt up to her eyeballs. It’s going to come down like a pack of cards soon. It’s all there—drink-driving, assault, suicide attempt, rehab; the usual stuff.’
And, when you asked for the truth, what right did you have to complain if you didn’t like it?
Xante stared at his phone and watched as reams of texts appeared: scattered articles, photos, her debts, the loans, her credit-rating; the whole sorry lot was there. At every turn he’d listened to his heart rather than his head. Over and over he had accepted her excuse as well as making his own for her. He had wanted so badly to believe in her, but at every turn he had been thwarted.
Xante had cried once, the morning his father’s body had been discovered.
Twenty-one years later, he did so again.
CHAPTER TEN
SHE was ready and waiting, wearing a smart grey-wool dress and with her hair down, a coat of blonde around her shoulders. Xante stood in the hall as she picked up her coat, trying to return her smile as she looked around for her keys. The thumping music was messing with his head.
Karin was messing with his head too.
‘You were sitting outside for ages.’
‘I had to make a call.’
She frowned at his glassy eyes. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Great.’
‘Sorry about the noise,’ she said, raising her eyes to the ceiling; the lights literally shook with each thud. ‘Still, I won’t have to put up with it for much longer.’ She gave him a bright smile, closing the door, and followed him out to the car.
There was a brightness to her Xante hadn’t seen before, and usually he would have found it appealing—but not tonight. He was tired of the many faces of Karin, and tired of trying to work her out.
Tonight he would get answers.
Her brightness soon evaporated; she could feel his mood smother her like a cloak. A strained, one-sided conversation took place between them on the short drive to the restaurant, Karin dragging out ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers from her clearly reluctant date.
The rain was falling so fast the wipers couldn’t keep up with it, but Karin thought she’d rather be out there, somehow, than stuck with Xante like this. She could see his tense profile as he reverse-parked, fitting his luxurious car into an impossibly tight spot, and suddenly Karin just didn’t want to do this. She was too tired for games, and had enough pride in herself not to sit through a strained dinner just to have him dump her at the end.
This was supposed to be a date, not a summons.
‘You know, suddenly I’m not hungry.’
‘The table’s booked.’
She was having great difficulty trying not to cry, but she absolutely refused to. ‘Look, clearly you don’t want to be here, and guess what? Neither do I. So can you please just drive me home?’
‘You don’t want to know what’s wrong?’
‘You’re thirty years old, Xante!’ Karin said. ‘I shouldn’t have to guess at it. If there’s something wrong, then I assume you’re old enough to tell me yourself.’
‘Here.’ He pulled out his phone, scrolled through a few texts and handed it her.
And as she stared at her past, she lost what she’d started to believe might be her future.
‘You’ve been checking up on me?’
‘It’s the only way I can find anything out about you. You’re not exactly forthcoming …’ He gave up trying to justify it; he knew that he probably couldn’t. He had told himself over and over on the drive to the restaurant, not to push it, to drop it, to leave it—except he couldn’t do that either. Her little dig about being out of the house soon had tightened the already-taut coil. ‘When were you going to tell me, Karin? Once we were safely married? Once you’d got what you wanted?’
‘Once I trusted you,’ Karin broke in, handing him back the phone and stepping out into the driving rain. For a second she popped her head back in. ‘Which can never happen now.’
She knew he wouldn’t leave it there and she was right.
Like a kerb crawler he drove beside her to the house, window down, shouting at her to get in, but she didn’t look over at him and she didn’t answer—because if she did her response certainly wouldn’t have been ladylike. She wanted to spit, swear and kick at him, but instead she ran. Racing up the stone stairs of her home, she tried to brush past him as he jumped out of the car and raced after her, but he wouldn’t let her go. ‘I just want some answers. Karin, I just want to know what’s happened to you.’
‘To check whether I’m suitable?’
‘Yes!’ Xante roared, because it was the truth. This, the woman he wanted as his wife, the woman who would, God permitting, be the mother of his babies.
‘Well, it doesn’t matter any more,’ Karin shouted. ‘Because, after what you just did, you’re not suitable for me.’
She hated him, and she hated his opinion of her more. She was so tired of the lies and the secrets, and if he wanted to know so badly then she’d tell him—she’d serve up her pain and see if he enjoyed tasting it.
Putting the key in the door, she opened it. She didn’t invite him in, but didn’t shut him out either. If Xante needed answers, he could have them.
And then he could leave!
She took him into the library, because it was the only decent room left in the house.
Dripping wet but ever the lady, except for the times she forgot to be, she offered him a drink, but Xante declined.
She had been rushed into this moment, but she refused to be rushed any more. She took her time to light the fire, trying to work out what she would say to him.
It had been disastrous when she’d told David.
His horror and anger
had been everything she hadn’t needed. Her tears had only made things worse, her emotion inflaming his. She was determined not to repeat it with Xante.
The balled newspapers shot smoky flames that licked at the logs. The central heating had long since given up the ghost; she was shivering wet, but Karin knew it would take for ever to get warm. Once this was over and Xante was gone, she’d have a nice, hot bath and get changed.
Once Xante was gone … Her head tightened at her future, because he would be gone and he’d have lost them for ever. The second he had handed her that phone, he’d snapped them into the past tense.
Now she just wanted it to be over.
‘The only truly great Wallis was my grandfather. The only thing my parents were good at was partying, and my brother Matthew is just the same. That party you witnessed the other night wasn’t a one-off, it happens all the time. The only decent thing in this family is my sister Emily. The rose will help to pay off her final school-fees and hopefully get her through medical school.
‘We’re broke,’ she said flatly.
‘It doesn’t stop you jetting about,’ Xante pointed out.
‘Better that than bring Emily back here.’ Karin shrugged as if it were easy. ‘Better that than expose her to what I had to put up with. It’s all a facade, Xante, and one I had intended to keep up till she finished her schooling—except I can’t. I can’t live like this for a moment longer. All I want is a quiet life; that’s all I’ve ever wanted.’
Xante shook his head. ‘Don’t try to tell me again that you were boring as a child, don’t tell me again how you like to lock yourself in here and just read, that you never drink. You were arrested for drink-driving!’
‘I was arrested.’ Karin’s voice was matter-of-fact. ‘When I regained consciousness from the car accident, there were two officers by my bed and I was charged with drink-driving and causing actual bodily harm. My father arranged it so that the charges were dropped—which saved him the discomfort of explaining the wild party that had been taking place in his home, and that one of his closest friends and most prestigious guests had attacked his seventeen-year-old daughter. It also hid the glaring fact that both of my parents had been too passed out or stoned to do anything about it, and saved them from having to explain how they didn’t even find out about everything till the next day.’ There, she’d said it, and she hadn’t been bitter or angry, just felt relief.