by Trish Morey
He slammed his palm against the glass and slammed shut the door on his emotions. Curse the woman to hell and back, but he would not feel guilty!
He sucked in air as he glanced at his watch, telling himself to forget about Athena, because there was something more important he had to do. If he left now, he would be there before dark.
* * *
Athena somehow managed to stumble home. She must have looked a sight staggering blindly through streaming eyes down the streets, but she couldn’t pull herself together, couldn’t pretend she wasn’t shattered. Everything her father had left her—the houses, the businesses—it was all gone. But it wasn’t the loss of her fortune that caused her the most distress. It was the betrayal of the man she’d grown to love.
The man who was the father of her child.
She collapsed onto her bed and let the tears fall into her pillow—desperate tears, futile tears—until finally her tears ran dry. Because all the tears in the world wouldn’t change anything. She’d had such high hopes. Happy hopes. She’d been so excited to tell Alexios her news. But instead of joy, all Alexios had caused her was heartbreak. And still none of it made any sense. Still, she couldn’t understand why he’d done what he’d done.
All she understood was that once again she was alone in the world. Alone, but for this tiny seed growing inside her.
She rolled onto her back feeling drained and exhausted, her eyes puffy and aching, and spread her hand low over her belly. It would serve him right if she decided not to go ahead with the pregnancy, if she decided to destroy something of his life when he had so thoroughly destroyed hers.
It would serve him right when she still didn’t know how she was supposed to cope with a baby, let alone all by herself.
Her fingers curled, her fingernails digging into her belly, as if she could simply pluck it out.
It would serve him right!
But where was the satisfaction in doing that when Alexios would never learn what she had done, or what he had lost?
Besides, could she really do such a thing? She swallowed, burying her first impulse to strike back at him the only way she could, when she thought about what was involved. It would never be as simple as it sounded. There would be all kinds of medical appointments and a visit to the sterile antiseptic environs of a clinic where her baby’s brand-new life would be snuffed out. And there would be the aftermath, when she thought about what she had done and wondered—a boy or a girl? There would be a due date that would never be—a constant reminder—a birthday with never a celebration.
Her heart squeezed tight and fresh tears welled in her eyes.
Poor baby. Poor helpless baby. How could she take Alexios’s betrayal out on something so tiny? So innocent? So utterly dependent on her for its survival.
She rolled over onto her side and buried her weeping face in her pillow. She couldn’t, that was how.
She would have this baby to spite him. She would bring it up surrounded by love and safe from fathers who didn’t know what love was.
And Alexios could go to hell, but he would never hear her news.
Never know that he was going to be a father.
* * *
The mountain winds were brutal and whipped around Alexios’s collar, tugging at the hem of his coat as he put the small bunch of flowers down, while scattered gravestones appeared and disappeared in the swirling mist, glowing ghostly white in the eerie light before vanishing again. But Alexios didn’t flinch. The wind didn’t bother him. The gloom and the mist didn’t spook him. His focus was fixed on the gravestone before him, the simple cross that bore his family name, and the names of his mother and father.
He knelt there, in the damp earth before the grave, his thoughts swirling like the mist that surrounded him. He thought about the promise he had made to a dying man, about the fire in his belly that had burned since that day. That had possessed him for so many years.
But his thoughts kept getting interrupted by images of a woman with confusion and hurt in her eyes, a woman who had no right to be in his thoughts at all, a woman who had no place here, amongst the people her father had hurt the most.
He shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the pictures of her. To rid himself of this ceaseless gnawing at his gut. Because he’d achieved what he’d promised his father, hadn’t he? It wasn’t for guilt that he’d lived and worked and burned every day since.
His fingers clenched and unclenched by his sides while he stared at the simple grave, remembering the promise he’d made to a dying man all those years ago, the promise made good.
‘It is done,’ he said, the words plucked from his mouth and carried away on the biting wind. ‘It is done.’
There was no bolt of lightning to accompany his words. No thunderclap or sudden clearing of the mist to signal the fatal blow to the Nikolides Group that Alexios had struck today. No acknowledgment from the heavens to celebrate the achievement of a decade-long dream.
The mist continued to swirl and the wind still whipped around him with icy tentacles, but, instead of a sense of victory, it was the crack inside him he felt, the crack that kept shifting, grinding its slow way open.
Because in that moment, he wondered, where was the satisfaction? He wondered what it was all for.
‘If it brought you back,’ he said, struggling through a throat clogged tight. ‘If it made a difference.’
But he knew that it couldn’t. He knew that it wouldn’t.
And wasn’t that the greatest blow of all?
So with one final nod of his head, he turned away from the gravestones and let the swirling mist reclaim them.
* * *
It took two days before she could manage to drag herself out of bed and front up to work, and she knew that if she hadn’t had her work, and if she hadn’t had this baby growing inside her, she would have had no reason to get up at all.
It was Loukas who got her through those first few agonising days, Loukas who provided a shoulder for Athena to cry on in the next few weeks after that, while together they worked on the paper they were preparing to announce the discovery. It was Loukas who was only too willing to listen when she needed to confide in someone, or chose to stay silent when she couldn’t bear to discuss it. Her old friend and mentor was the crutch she needed to lean on, circling warily around her at work, trying not to fuss but looking worried for her nonetheless.
‘Tea,’ he offered now, his gentle smile widening when she realised he’d lifted his head from his own work and been watching her staring into space.
Athena nodded her thanks and smiled back, before Loukas disappeared with their mugs to the rudimentary kitchen. She heard the sound of water running, the snap of the lid closing and the flick of the power switch.
She smiled as she heard her old friend muttering as he fiddled with tea bags and battled to open the ancient fridge. After four weeks, Loukas was still acutely worried about her, surrounding her in a cotton-wool dressing, and it occurred to her that so long as Loukas was around, she wasn’t as alone as she’d always imagined herself.
But he didn’t have to worry about her. Time was her opportunity to look back, to make sense of what had happened, and the more time that passed, the more sense things made.
From the very beginning, she’d been suspicious of Alexios’s motives. Cautious. She’d been right to be as it turned out. But because he’d always been one step ahead, he’d drawn her in, like a bird tempted to follow a trail of breadcrumbs.
Mikro peristeri.
His little dove.
His stupid little dove.
He’d had her bag snatched so he could save the day. He’d offered to leave the gate of the palace in Santorini unlocked, so she felt safe. He’d let her think he wasn’t stopping her from leaving, when she’d expected him to try something—anything—during that amazing sunset. And because he hadn’t, she’d been left wanting.
And when she’d told him she was leaving, that a shipwreck had been discovered and she had to go, he’d protested, and she’d been flattered that she’d meant something to him. But he’d said, ‘It doesn’t have to end now.’
At the time she’d thought nothing of his use of that little word—now.
But in hindsight, it made perfect, dreadful sense. Without her realising, he’d hinted at the ugly truth of what he’d intended all along. Because he’d always known it was going to end; that had been his plan the whole time, to steal her fortune and to cut her loose.
He’d snatched her fortune as easily as he’d snatched her bag.
God, she’d been so naïve, so ripe for the picking.
She gulped down air that tasted of betrayal and injustice and one thousand regrets, as freshly pressed as that very first day, and for a moment felt swamped by it.
But damn him to hell and back, she would not drown under the torrent of emotion. She would not be broken, least of all by him.
What bothered her more was that now there would be no Professor Loukas Spyrides Wing of the museum to show off the treasures they’d recovered from their watery grave. That bit stung so much, and the only consolation was that she’d never told Loukas what she’d planned for him, so he didn’t have to be disappointed too.
She curled her open hand over her belly under which their baby lay. No. No longer their baby. Her baby. Alexios had given up any and all rights to this child when he had done the unthinkable and taken her trust, and thrown it back in her face.
And no, she wasn’t worried any more. She was angry and she was resolute. Determined. She would be strong for herself and her growing baby.
She just wished being strong would help take the pain away. She’d thought love would die a quick death. She’d imagined it had died those first days when she was so stunned and angry and blindsided and numb.
She’d willed it to die.
But love wasn’t as simple as that, she’d learned. Love was illogical. Irrational. Discomfiting and inconvenient. Love stuck like glue, even when hate did its best to dislodge it. Love stuck around, even when circumstances dictated that it had no right to be there.
Alexios had no claim on her heart. Not now. But still her heart didn’t listen. Still it subjected her to sleepless nights reliving his lovemaking. Remembering how tender he’d been. How precious he’d made her feel.
Because he’d lied so well? Or because he’d actually felt a shred of something for her?
She shook her head. Clearly because he’d lied so well. She couldn’t afford to dwell on the alternative—she’d lose her sanity if she went down that route, and already she’d lost too much.
‘Athena,’ said Loukas softly when he returned, obviously interpreting the tortured thoughts reflected on her face. ‘I know it’s not my place to say this, but you know, if it makes you so miserable, you don’t have to have the baby.’ And then a moment later he shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. Please forget I said anything.’
She reached out a hand to him. ‘It’s okay, Loukas. I did think about it. I seriously considered it. But I kept thinking, it’s not the baby’s fault. Why should the baby have to pay the price of its mother’s mistake?’
He nodded then, his eyes dewy, and put his gnarled hand over hers. ‘I understand. One day you will find someone who truly deserves you, someone who loves you and your child.’
She shook her head. ‘You know, I don’t think I’ll do that at all. With the example my parents set me, I don’t think I’d be very good at it.’
‘There is nothing written in the stars that says your own marriage couldn’t be very different.’
‘Maybe not, but it’s the only marriage I’ve ever seen up close, and it wasn’t pretty. I think I’d rather pass than inflict that on myself and a child.’
‘You can’t say that now. You can’t predict what will happen.’
‘We’ll see. But what I do know is that, growing up, all I ever wanted was my father to love me.’ She shrugged. ‘I honestly don’t think he was capable of the emotion. And I know he never wanted me. My mother dying was an inconvenience, because then I became an inconvenience.
‘But I’m determined that that is never going to happen to this child. I’m going to be both mother and father to it, and it is never going to wonder if it is wanted or loved.’
He smiled as he patted her hand. ‘This is one very lucky child, to have you for its mother.’
* * *
Alexios stepped from the helicopter, his thumping heart challenging the rotors for ascendancy as he set foot on the island for which his father had held such high hopes. If he’d needed a reminder of why he’d done what he’d done, a reminder of why he’d planned and schemed for ten long years to take over the Nikolides empire, here it was. Argos island—site of his father’s dream, a source of so much hope, of an island respite for his hard-working village colleagues.
Argos island, that instead had delivered so much grief over the years.
All because of Stavros Nikolides and his insatiable greed.
He sucked in a breath flavoured with avgas and vengeance in equal parts and, Theos, it tasted as good as he’d always imagined it would.
He walked along the tiled path climbing to the house, shrubs of wild thyme seasoning the warm salt air, a cluster of olive trees clinging to a hillside, while crowning it all spread the house, long and white and bold against a brilliant blue sky.
Blessed by nature and surrounded by the stunning Aegean waters with stunning views to the mainland, the island itself was a jewel. No wonder his builder father had seen such potential here.
Then he looked closer at the white palace—the abomination that Stavros had built—sprawling over the top of the island as if it were clutching it, laying claim to it—a palace for one man who had found it impossible to share.
He stood on the bridge over the infinity pool that ran the length of the house, so that every room on this side opened onto it, and found himself wondering about Athena. Had she swum in this pool and spent days lazing by its side? And then he turned away, pushing aside that unwelcome thought with it. It was enough to know that no Nikolides would ever be swimming here again.
White curtains billowed at the sides of doors thrown open by the housekeeper in preparation for Alexios’s arrival, their nervous fluttering like excited schoolchildren anticipating their first day with a new teacher.
He ventured inside, across the marble-lined entry, so large it could be a reception room in its own right, and through into what could only be described as a ballroom, it was so enormous. Marble again lined the walls and floors and the large square columns that held up the ceiling weighted down with massive crystal chandeliers. Two white leather couches were perched at one end of the room, a white rug separating them, while massive mirrors were fixed to opposite walls, reflecting all that marble magnificence and then reflecting the reflections, so it looked as if the room went on for ever in both directions.
His footsteps echoed in the empty spaces as he moved from room to room. Every room in this ice palace was too big, the furnishings too garish and opulent. It was hideous, multi-levelled, and so many self-contained wings spread out behind it was like a cancer creeping across the island.
Like the cancer that had killed his mother because his father hadn’t been able to afford her treatment...
His hands fisted at his sides.
So much grief. So much heartache. It was good he had come. It made it real, what he had achieved. What he had won back for his father.
He would fix it, this marble and mirrored monstrosity. He would have it toned down, injected with some warmth, and set up to be a holiday-break destination. The village had moved on since his father’s time. Families had moved away, seeking work in the cities. Sons and daughters had gone to university and found work elsewhere. But there were still plenty
of people doing it tough. People who could never afford to take a break from their lives. The Kostas Foundation would find them. It always had, people like Anton who’d been sleeping on the streets from the time his mother had abandoned him at six years of age. Kids who’d grown up street smart but education poor. Kids who courted with crime, skirting around the boundaries of the law-abiding population, on a daily basis.
He could make it happen.
And finally he could bring his father’s dreams to life, or at least a version of them. It was something.
He cast a glance at the pool as he strode back on his way to the helicopter, imagining a younger version of Athena splashing around in the pool, feeling an unexpected stab of guilt. What was she doing now? Licking her wounds with her colleagues? Crying over her spilt fortune?
He shook his head and looked around at the island, already eager to get the plans for its transformation under way. It was a shame, that was all. He’d enjoyed having Athena in his bed, but it couldn’t be helped. He shouldn’t feel guilty.
CHAPTER NINE
Two months later...
ALEXIOS DIDN’T SPEND a lot of time at the Kostas Foundation School. He attended all the necessary board meetings, of course, and he’d visit at Easter and Christmas when the kids put on an assembly and some kind of performance, but he didn’t tend to drop in uninvited. Which was why the principal was so surprised to see him when he called by unexpectedly.
‘Mr Kyriakos,’ he said, as he extended a hand to welcome his visitor. ‘We weren’t expecting you. To what do we owe this pleasure?’
Alexios shook it. ‘I won’t take much of your time, Con. Just want to see how my money is being put to good use.’
‘I think there’s no question of that,’ the principal said, his chest puffing out in pride, clearly delighted at his surprise guest, already gesturing him to the door. ‘How about I give you a tour and show you?’
He led Alexios through the hallways of the building that had been an orphanage in days gone by, until the supply of unwanted babies had dried up and the buildings had lain unwanted and neglected. Until Alexios had found the mouldering property, and decided the big rooms, sleeping quarters and huge kitchen would be perfect for a school, for street kids who had nowhere to live and nothing in their bellies and no chance of an education that didn’t involve learning how to break the law and get away with it. Street-smart kids who could make it in the world and become useful citizens, if only they could see another way to survive and prosper. Kids whose futures weren’t determined by destiny, but by opportunity. Kids who could benefit from the lessons he’d learned along the way, transforming himself from a dirt-poor village kid to a billionaire.