The Greek's Marriage Revenge: To have and to hold until truth do them part... (The Henderson Sisters Book 1)

by Clare Connelly

  “Sophie, you need to tell me what you mean about Helena.”

  “No, I don’t. I don’t need to do any damn thing you say.” She pulled the bag over her shoulder. She moved towards the door, a strange emptiness spreading through her. “Did you really marry me just for the sake of your sister?”

  He stared at her long and hard; his silence, though, spoke volumes.

  “Okay.” She could no longer stop the tears that were moistening her eyes from falling. She turned around and walked back to him. She tilted her face up to his. “You need to know that I married you because I loved you completely. You need to know that, because one day, you’re going to realise that I’m telling the truth. And on that day, you deserve to feel as guilty as hell for using me like this.” She saw the shock on his face with some satisfaction. “I don’t love you anymore. In fact, I don’t think I ever really knew you.” Her cheeks were wet and her chest was heaving with the pain of breathing. “Goodbye.”

  “You cannot leave like this. We have to discuss …”

  “I beg your pardon.” She paused just outside the door. “We have nothing to discuss. Everything we were was a lie.”

  Downstairs, in the long hallway, she pulled her credit cards out of her wallet and left them on the mantle. Her ring she added to the pile of things she no longer needed. They belonged to Alex’s wife, and Alex’s wife had just been some poor sucker who’d allowed herself to be manipulated into believing in love.

  That woman was not Sophie anymore.

  She would never believe in love again.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “I am afraid I do not comprehend what you are saying.” Alex sat down in his leather office chair with a gnawing sense of disbelief. Could this be some kind of trick? Had Sophie fooled her replacement into spreading these lies?

  “I’m sorry, sir, but you asked me to report anything untoward to you.”

  Yes, he had, but he’d meant a secret love affair between Eric and Sophie. Not this, of all things.

  Elaine continued, when Alex didn’t speak. “I believe your sister needs to see a specialist. Perhaps even to be admitted to hospital for a time.”

  “And on what do you base this conclusion?”

  “I have seen it before. The sense of disconnection is a hallmark. Your sister is … vacant … even when she is with the children.”

  “She’s not maternal,” he countered firmly.

  “This is different, sir.”

  He stared out of the window. Sophie had warned him. And he’d ignored her. He hadn’t wanted to believe that she might have been right.

  Sophie. Had she really been gone three weeks already? He lifted her ring from his desk without noticing that he was doing it. It was a constant reflex with him these days. He would stare at it and remember the way her face had looked at it in complete confusion, the first time he’d shown it to her. The way she had insisted it was far more than she needed. The way she’d said she loved it, because he’d chosen it.

  His gut twisted.

  Everything in the house reminded Alex of Sophie. Everything. She was everywhere he looked, and yet she was nowhere.

  “Are the children affected?”

  “On some level, certainly. There is a wariness with them. An obvious preference for their father and me. They try to orchestrate outings that exclude their mother, as though they’re attempting to form a family unit with me and Eric.”

  Alex had seen all this before. Only he’d blamed Sophie. He’d blamed Sophie and Eric. “And what do you do?”

  “I do as they wish, of course. Their emotional wellbeing is my primary goal. I do, however, think you need to enable support for your sister.”

  “I see.”

  He lifted the ring to his cheek. Where was Sophie? He knew only that Harry had taken her to the airport, and that she hadn’t touched his bank accounts since leaving.

  He didn’t know where she was living, and on what money she was surviving. Did she have savings? Did she have a job? Did she have a comfortable home? The thought of Sophie in discomfort or squalor flooded him with anger.

  “Elaine, I’m going to come to London. Do not mention this to Eric until I arrive. I will … require an element of surprise.”

  His mind made up, he set about organising the logistics. For a man like Alex, this was not difficult. With an army of staff and a jet at his disposal, it was only a matter of hours before he was back in London; staring at the house he’d first seen her. Sophie.

  Then, he’d come to London to help his sister.

  And now, he was there on the same chore, but with a far different goal in mind.

  How long had this been going on? How long had Eric suspected? And why hadn’t he taken Alex into his confidence? What had Sophie said? Eric had been afraid Alex would take over. Well, he was damned right about that. Alex had every intention of helping his sister, to hell with what Eric thought.

  In the end, Eric was actually relieved that Alex had swept in and taken over. Helena, too, seemed finally glad that someone was telling her what to do in order to feel better. An exceptional facility accepted her immediately – another benefit of being Alessandros Petrides – and the day after she’d left, Alex found himself sitting on the sofa, a scotch in one hand, and an expression of despair on his face. It was the same sofa he’d first seen Sophie scrambling under and he wished he could reach back through time to that moment and slap himself for not seeing her as she really was.

  “Eric, I need to know.”

  “To know what?” The other man was similarly bleak.

  “About you and Sophie.”

  “What about me and Sophie?” He was distracted, staring at the floor.

  Alex ran a hand over his stubbled chin. “Helena believed the two of you were having an affair.”

  That caught Eric’s attention. “She … what?”

  If Alex needed any further confirmation of just how badly he’d got it wrong, his friend’s expression offered it. He spoke matter-of-factly. “Helena called me. Two months ago. It is why I came to London. She asked me to intervene.” The words tasted horrible in his mouth. Everything about it was disgusting to him.

  “I can’t believe it. Poor Helena.”

  “Poor Helena?” Alex shook his head. “Poor Sophie.”

  “Why? Why poor Sophie?” Eric swirled his glass; the ice clinked against its edges.

  Alex had successfully kept news of his separation from reaching his sister and her husband. But now, as Eric regarded his old friend carefully, something like suspicion moved within him.

  “Alessandro? What are you talking about?”

  He swallowed, so that his Adam’s apple moved visibly. “It does not matter. It’s my problem to resolve.” He fixed his friend with a serious stare. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” If only Eric had confided in him! So much of this could have been avoided.

  “No offence, mate, but you’re the last person I would have told.” He lifted a hand to silence Alex’s imminent objection. “Helena wouldn’t even acknowledge she had a problem. It was a bloody nightmare. I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t look after her.” His eyes were haunted. “I worried you might think I couldn’t make her happy.”

  Alex blanked out his feeling of pain.

  “Sophie was wonderful,” Eric sighed heavily. “You know what she’s like. Such a gem. She became a part of our family instantly. She had only been here two days when she realised what was going on.”

  “How?” His voice was raspy; his heart was hammering heavily in his chest. “How did she know, when I, Helena’s own brother, never realised anything was amiss?”

  “Don’t beat yourself up. I was slow on the uptake too.”

  “I do not understand how Sophie realised though. Helena held it together so well.”

  “Not when you spent a lot of time with her. The cracks were there.”

  “But Sophie didn’t know her before.”

  “No. But her sister Ava had post-natal depression after her daught
er was born. As you no doubt know, it was a very harrowing time for Sophie and she was able to spot the symptoms easily.”

  Alex shifted his weight and sipped his scotch because he couldn’t meet his friend’s eyes.

  “I saw you coming out of her room that night.”

  “What night?” Eric queried diffidently.

  “The night I proposed to her. It was late. She was hardly dressed.”

  “Oh. Wasn’t she?” His gaze narrowed. “You can’t seriously think I’d cheat on your sister? And with our nanny?”

  “Sophie is more than just a nanny,” Alex retorted angrily. “She’s beautiful. She’s … I thought … I presumed you would have found her irresistible.”

  “Like you did?” Eric queried with a disappointed smile.

  Alex nodded warily.

  “I’m telling you, mate, she’s a stunner, but I’ve only ever had eyes for your sister.”

  “But you were in her room.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “She borrowed money.”

  Alex stared at him, silently prompting Eric to continue.

  “I told her I’d give it to her, but she insisted she wanted it to be a present for the kids, from her.”

  “What?”

  “That’s what she wanted the money for. To buy tickets to a show for the kids.” He shook his head. “Your wife’s all heart.”

  Alex nodded. His wife, all heart or not, was missing. And he could no longer keep it to himself, because he needed his friend’s help.

  * * *

  Sophie had fine drops of paint splattered down the front of her shirt, and her blonde hair had copped a fair few spots of it too. She ran a hand over it and grimaced. It didn’t matter. It was just paint.

  London was, at any time of the year, her favourite place in the world. But now, in the lead up to Christmas, it was more beautiful than anything she’d ever seen. The streets of Mayfair were decked out in sparkly fairy lights overhead, and even now, in the early evening, it glistened with magic, snow and pale cream moonlight.

  The bar was underground. Sophie paused at the top of the stairs while she slipped her gloves off and pushed them into her handbag, and then she began to move downward.

  It was absolutely packed with the after-work crowd. Sophie weaved through the people determinedly, heading for the shining wooden bar.

  She ordered a bottle of wine, though she didn’t feel like drinking, and took up a table near the window. The associations gave her a bad case of nerves, but she couldn’t wait to see Eric again, and to hear about the boys. She stared at the table top, and tried to relax. But the feeling of merriment that surrounded her was absolutely at odds with her deep well of grief.

  Christmas would be here soon. And she would spend it alone. No Liv, for she seemed to have disappeared into technological thin air. Ditto Ava, who was probably trying to work out just how the hell to conceal Milly from Cristiano while he was physically on the same property as them.

  And no Alex.

  She pushed aside the well of pain.

  It was only one year, and truly, it was just another day. What did it matter that she’d always loved the festive season? That it was a highlight of her year to decorate the tree and make mince pies and pudding?

  None of that mattered.

  A man jostled behind her and Sophie smiled up at him blandly then stared back at her empty glass. She might as well at least pour some wine, so that it was obvious she was waiting for someone.

  She lifted the bottle at the exact moment Alex cleared into her view, and she would have dropped it to the floor had he not reached for it with lightning fast reflexes.

  “Alex.” Her voice was barely there. She cleared her throat and tried again. “What are you doing here?” She stared at him hungrily. He looked so good. Good enough to eat. But he was the devil. A bastard in disguise; a man who had hurt her wilfully and knowingly. She squared her shoulders and stared at him coldly. “I’m waiting for someone.”

  “Eric is not coming.”

  Sophie closed her eyes on the wave of despair. Suddenly, the friend she’d been longing to see had evaporated, and in his place was the enemy. “He told you.”

  “Yes.”

  Sophie was furious. Betrayed and angry. She scraped her chair back and stood, then grabbed her handbag from the floor. “Go to hell.”

  He stood up and blocked her from leaving. “I’m there, believe me.”

  “I don’t believe you. I will never believe anything you say again.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “No.” She glared at him defiantly. “I don’t want to talk to you, or I would have called you. Don’t you get that?”

  “Sophie, I know that you were telling the truth.”

  She stared at him for a long time, and then finally, she laughed. It was a hollow cackle. “So? Is that supposed to make me forgive you? Because now you see that I would never in a million years hook up with a married guy?”

  “I had you investigated. I got a … wrong, as it turns out … report about your work in Sydney.”

  “Oh my God.” She sat down, simply because she felt shock assailing her body and taking her strength. Her legs were jelly. “You are some kind of sick bastard, aren’t you? You knew about Edwin all along?”

  “Yes.” He crouched down before her. “I did. And I am. You must understand that I have spent my life being defensive and protective. These habits are not easily given away.”

  She clenched her teeth. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Please, Sophie …”

  “No.” She glared at him. “Do you understand what you did?”

  His heart twisted painfully inside his muscled chest. “Yes.”

  “No, you don’t.” She stood, and this time, anger propelled her forward. “You aren’t the only one who has a past. I lost my mum. And I had to quit a job I loved because the guy basically attacked me. And I’ve been worried sick about Helena, and trying to help Eric, and loving those boys, and then I met you, and I’d never known anything like it. I was so blown away by how much I loved you, and how right it felt. I didn’t doubt for even one second that you felt the same way.”

  “But I did, Sophie, I just didn’t realise it.”

  “No.” She laughed, and kept walking, back up the stairs and into the freezing cold night. “You wish that you had, because that would make you feel better. You hate that you were wrong about everything, because deep down, you think of yourself as morally superior to everyone on earth. But you aren’t. You used me, and you treated me like dirt. I didn’t deserve that.” Tears sparkled on her long lashes. “And you’re here now because you want me to make it better for you. I’m not going to.” His expression was scored with emotion. But she ignored his hurt. “It’s over.”

  He swallowed. “Please, let me talk with you. Just have dinner with me, at least, and hear what I say. I have words in my mind that I cannot contain. I must talk to you.”

  She sobbed, as the dam of emotion threatened to burst completely. “I don’t want to hear them. Nothing you say matters. Don’t you get it? I know that there are no words that will fix this.”

  “Sophie,” he groaned, and reached for her hand, but she flinched away violently.

  “I only came to see Eric. I shouldn’t have called him. I had no idea he would tell you, or I would have found another way to get in touch. I just wanted to hear about the boys.” Her voice cracked and she whipped her face away, angry at herself for showing such intense vulnerability to this man.

  “Helena is in hospital. I am spending time in London while she recovers.”

  Sophie stared at him, and relief that the truth was finally out in the open was a welcome wave.

  “You knew about her depression. You understood where I was blind.”

  What could she say to that? Nothing. She was silent.

  “Our childhood has left marks on her. She is anxious. She has underlying issues that need to be addressed. She will get that time now to unravel the burdens our years
of living rough left on her. She will get help, finally.”

  Sophie nodded; she had no words to describe how glad she was. “How are Ian and John?”

  “They are missing their mother; and they are missing you. Their new nanny is good to them, but she does not read Peter Pan.”

  Sophie didn’t smile. She’d lost the ability. “I have a new family now.”

  “You work for someone else?” It displeased him and frustrated him all at once.

  “Temporarily. Yes.”

  “Yet you are here.”

  “Yes.”

  And for the first time he saw the paint in her hair and on her shirt and he smiled. “I am asking you only for dinner.”

  His smile hardened her heart. It had been his smile that had turned her admiration into love. Her longing from lust to love. “And I am asking you to leave me alone.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Don’t you get it, Alex? You broke what I felt for you beyond repair. You made it ridiculous and untenable. It’s not just that I needed time to get over it. To forgive you. There is no forgiving this.”

  “Only because you think I tricked you into marriage,” he murmured sharply, aware that the street was busy.

  “You told me that’s what you did!”

  “And maybe I even believed it then. But Sophie, how could I not love you?”

  “Don’t!” She stamped her foot. “Don’t use that word. You have no idea what it is to love someone.”

  “I am telling you the truth …”

  She lifted a hand and slapped his cheek hard, and then she sobbed. Grief and shock mingled inside of her. “Don’t. Just … don’t.” She spun on her heel and ran down the street. It was crowded but she was slight and she weaved effortlessly through the hoards of commuters. Only at the corner, with traffic flying in all directions, was she forced to pause.

  Alex, one hand lifted to his burning cheek, strode purposefully down the pavement towards her. He didn’t know what to do to fix this, but he had to get through to her. He watched as his wife looked in both directions, and then flicked her head over her shoulder, to see where he was. Her eyes clutched to his, and then her mouth opened and she winced.