Baby of Shame (17 page)
She must,
must
remember that he was being nice to her not for her sake but for Nicky’s. And for Nicky it was working. His happiness and confidence grew daily, and
Rhianna
rejoiced in it.
Rejoiced that he so clearly adored his newfound father.
Rejoiced that Alexis had so clearly taken Nicky to his heart.
Rejoiced that he had accepted that she, too, loved Nicky so devotedly.
So why,
why,
was she filled with this strange, painful yearning? As if all she had were not enough?
I have so much! I have Nicky, and he has Alexis, and Alexis is a good father, who trusts me now. I have no reason, no reason at all, to feel like this.
But she could tell herself that all she liked; it did no good.
The truth still stared her in the face. With every smile Alexis bestowed on her, with every laughing moment shared, with every little skip her heart gave, with every covert glance she gave to him—drinking in the way his long, bare legs braced against the hull as he tacked the dinghy, the way his long fingers curved around the stem of his wine glass, the way his polo shirt
moulded
to his muscled shoulders, the way the water dazzled like diamonds on his sea-wet glistening torso, the way the wind winnowed his hair as he sat at the wheel of the motor boat, guiding Nicky’s steering—with every moment, every minute she spent with him she knew, with a deep, helpless sense of powerlessness, that something was happening to her that she should fight with all her being, all her strength.
But she could not.
She was as helpless now as she had been the very first night she had set eyes on Alexis Petrakis.
And there was nothing,
nothing
she could do about it.
Alexis batted the beach ball back towards where Nicky was perched on his inflatable dolphin. From the corner of his eye he could see
Rhianna
stretched out on a poolside lounger, sunning herself. He wanted to look at her properly, but two things prevented him.
One was the fact that his son was paddling towards the ball with fell intent and at any moment would bat it back to him. The other was that gazing at
Rhianna
when she was wearing a new white and gold bikini that cupped her breasts and exposed her slim, lovely body, was not a good idea right now.
Indeed, letting his gaze linger on her at any time was not a good idea. Not now that her beauty was being revealed to him again day after day, as the last shadows of her illness left her, as her injured body healed beneath the warm, restoring sun, as her body regained the beauty hidden by ill-health and exhaustion.
Every time he looked at her he wanted her more.
But he had to bide his time, exert his patience. Impose
an iron
self-control on his desire.
But self-control, Alexis was finding, was a very, very hard discipline.
Even though it was essential.
After all—his face tightened—it had been his complete lack of self-control the evening he’d met her that had brought him to this pass. He had seen her, wanted her,
taken her—an
indulgence he should never have allowed himself.
He would not do so again.
No more mistakes, he had promised. He could not afford any more.
Because the stakes he was playing for were far, far too high.
This was his last chance, and he must play it very, very carefully. Step by step, day by day, he was getting closer.
Winning her over.
Getting her to trust him.
Because only when she did, only when he had finally, finally won her trust, could he achieve his goal.
Not just
Rhianna
back in his bed.
Something much, much more important.
The sun was hot on
Rhianna’s
back. She ought to move into the shade, she knew, for the noonday sun even this early in the year in these Mediterranean latitudes could be punishing.
But it was so lovely just to lie here on the soft lounger, eyes closed, feeling warm and languorous, the sun on her bare skin, almost drifting off to sleep. She would move in a moment…
‘You’re going to burn.’
The deep voice was admonishing. She stirred slightly,
realising
she must indeed have drifted off. But she felt so drowsy, so somnolent, she could not wake properly.
She would wake in a moment…
A squeeze of cooling gel pooled on her back, between her
shoulderblades
. She made a little sound in her throat as the cold gel impacted with her heated skin.
‘Hold still,’ the same deep voice told her.
And then the gel was being spread across her back, smoothed across her
shoulderblades
, her shoulders, drawn down the length of her spine, splayed around her flanks, across the swell of her hips. Hands, strong but supple, stroked the cooling gel with long, rhythmic sweeps into every inch of her skin.
It felt—exquisite.
She made a little sound in her throat again, and for an instant so brief she thought it had not
happened
the smoothing hands halted. Then they continued—lighter now, but still quite, quite exquisite.
She lay there, letting him massage the gel into her skin. She ought to stop him, she knew, but she could not. Could only
lie
there, her body purring, as his hands moved over her back.
When he stopped, she felt bereft.
‘There. I think that was in time.’ There was the slightest tension in his voice. ‘But no more sun now.’
She turned her head sideways to thank him, but her lips only parted soundlessly.
He was hunkered down beside the low, horizontal lounger, his bared body damp, shoulders glistening, hair slicked back from the water.
He was so close.
So close.
Her heart started to beat with a slow, heavy pulse. Warmth creamed through her, dissolving into her.
She wanted to reach out to him. Touch his mouth, trace along the bones of his cheek, his jaw.
The pulse of her heartbeat deepened, deafening her to all the rest of the world, which did not exist…did not exist…
Only her, lying here, in a pool of sun, gazing at his face, his mouth, his eyes…
And his dark, gold-flecked eyes which she could drown in…drown in…
‘Alexis…’
It was a whisper.
A plea.
His eyes darkened suddenly. It was his pupils dilating, she could see. She lifted her head from her arms, reaching towards him.
Her mouth aching for his.
Time had stopped—stopped completely. The world was not there. It was only him, there so close to her…so close…
And she wanted him so much…
So much…
He started to lower his head to her, lashes sweeping down over those darkening, desiring eyes.
She closed her own eyes, waiting with aching yearning for the moment when his mouth would touch hers.
But it never came.
Instead she heard him stand up, his shadow over her.
She felt cold.
As if the sun had just gone out.
‘Time for lunch,’ he said. His tone was abrupt. ‘Here.’ He dropped her filmy sarong over her. ‘I’m going to shower off.’
She heard him walk away.
Slowly she sank her face back down.
Desolation filled her.
Alexis made it a cold shower.
A very cold shower.
Christos
,
but he had come so close!
Within a hair’s breadth.
He should never have let himself put gel on her back.
But he hadn’t been able to resist. She’d looked so tempting there, spread out beneath the sun. Nicky had been borne indoors by Karen to get changed for lunch, and he had seen that
Rhianna
was falling asleep in the
And he hadn’t wanted her burning…
He wanted nothing getting in the way of his purpose now.
He sluiced the chilling water over his shoulders.
Only one more day to go now.
He could last that long.
He would have to.
But it was good, he
realised
as he turned off the shower and snaked a towel around his hips, taking another to dry his hair with. Good that it had happened—that incident by the pool. It proved to him that she was ready—very, very ready. Oh, he had no worry that he could not do what he intended with her—that night five years ago had proved that.
But having her make that soft, sensuous moan in her throat, gaze at him like that just now, mouth parted, waiting for him to kiss her, had been too close a call.
If he had lost his self-control and kissed her—
Could I have stopped?
He didn’t need to answer.
By the time
Rhianna
joined the lunch table she was composed again.
She had forced herself to be.
She had received a message.
Loud and clear.
She was Nicky’s mother.
Nothing more.
She had to accept it.
Just as she’d had to accept
that
five years ago she had been a one-night stand.
It didn’t matter was what happening to her now. It didn’t matter that with every day that passed her emotions were getting more and more tangled. It didn’t matter that when Alexis smiled at her
her
heart lifted.
Because there was one reason and one reason only why he was being nice to her like this.
For Nicky’s sake.
He had spelt it out to her, made it clear right from the start. Even when he’d been throwing his vileness at her it had been for Nicky’s sake. For Nicky’s sake he had been prepared to tolerate her in his son’s life though he’d thought her a drug-addict and a gold-digger. And for Nicky’s sake he had been prepared to be civil to her, make his wretched rapprochement with her, even though he’d thought she had used her body to persuade him to approve the takeover of her father’s company.
And even though he now accepted that he had ‘misinterpreted’ her
behaviour
that night—even though he had told her he had no more tests for her to pass—even though he was now being so extraordinarily
nice
to her—nothing else had changed.
It was all still for Nicky’s sake.
And how can I complain? How can I complain that Nicky is the most important person in his father’s life when he is the most important one in mine?
The only one.
The only one I care about.
But even as she thought it she knew it for a lie.
‘I
HOPE
you will not object, but I have told Nurse Thompson and Karen to take some time off. They’ve been on duty continuously, and Karen is missing her boyfriend in England and Nurse Thompson tells me she would like to see something of Athens while she is here.’
Alexis set down his coffee cup and looked across at
Rhianna
.
She had changed into the creamy sundress that he had told her matched her hair. Its
colour
flattered her, as he had known it would, setting off the honeyed tan of her skin exposed by the tiny shoestring straps.
She was slightly tense, he could see.
But then, so was he.
That incident by the pool was not easily banished from his mind.
But it was essential that he put it from him—and that she do likewise.
The clock was ticking. Getting the nurse and nanny off the island meant that tomorrow evening he could make his move.
He needed
Rhianna
completely off her guard.
No time to mount any resistance to him.
No time to do anything but provide him with the proof he needed.
Rhianna
nodded, giving an uncertain, flickering smile. Lunch had been awkward, even with Nicky present as well as Nurse Thompson and Karen. And now that Karen had whisked a protesting Nicky off for his nap, and Nurse Thompson had disappeared into her quarters, she felt yet more awkward.
She knew she mustn’t. Knew that the awkwardness was entirely of
her own
making. Alexis was behaving with her as he had been doing for days now. There was nothing different about it.
And she must take her cue from that. Forget about that moment by the pool. Put it out of her mind. Not think about it again.
She must not ask for more—she had so much.
She must appreciate what she had. Appreciate Alexis being nice to her…
It was, after all, so much more than she had ever thought possible.
It must be enough.
Even if it wasn’t.
But what was the point of crying for the moon?
None.
Resolutely she answered him, trying to make her voice sound relaxed.
‘Um—yes, of course. You’re right—they haven’t had any time off at all yet. When—when will they be going?’
‘I thought tomorrow. They can go back to Athens with the helicopter—in time for Karen to get a morning flight to London and Nurse Thompson to start her sightseeing. My office is sorting tickets and hotel accommodation, respectively—which I will provide. I think they both deserve that, don’t you?’
‘Yes, indeed,’
Rhianna
replied warmly. ‘They’ve been wonderful—both of them.’ She looked across at him. ‘It’s very generous of you,’ she said.
It was difficult to meet his eyes, but she did it all the same.
‘Will you be able to cope without them?’ he asked. He gave her a questioning look. ‘I don’t want their absence to set you back.’
She felt the
colour
run slightly into her cheeks.
‘You know, I really don’t need nursing any more. I know what pills to take, and I do my
physio
exercises every morning. And I feel bad at having Karen here still, too. Now that I’m better I can take on looking after Nicky again.’
‘So you want me to sack them both?’ Alexis enquired, his eyebrows rising quizzically.
‘No!’
Rhianna
riposted. ‘It’s just that I don’t want you spending money you don’t have to.’
Something flickered in his eyes. Then it was gone. She wondered if she’d imagined it. Then he was speaking again.
‘Well, let us see how we manage without them while they are away,’ he said temperately.
For a second that expression was in his eyes again.
Then it was gone.
The villa seemed very empty without Nurse Thompson and Karen. Even though Maria and
Stavros
were still there, they were busy with their duties as usual, and it was almost,
Rhianna
thought, as if there were only she, Nicky and Alexis on the island.
It felt strange.
It made her, she knew, even more aware than ever of Alexis—being all on her own with him with Nicky.
Or was it just because the scene by the pool kept haunting her, playing itself over in her mind, making her feel so aware of him?
She wished she didn’t. Wished she could just accept him for what he was—the father of her child. A child who needed both parents to love him, cherish him, to make his world safe and happy.
And we’re doing that, she thought. Nicky is happy—safe and secure.
She still could not see the future, but surely now that Alexis no longer had reason to think so ill of her they could, in time, work something out? Surely that was possible now?
But what it could be she did not know. She and Alexis were separated by so, so much—nationality, wealth, background.
Into her head stole a memory.
The evening when she had voiced questions about Nicky’s future.
We get married
he had said…
It had been a test, nothing more.
A last demonstration of his mistrust of her.
She knew that. He had said so himself.
But supposing it hadn’t been. Supposing
he
really, really had meant it. That they get married…
No.
Stupid.
Impossible.
Insane.
Marriage was more than making a home for a child.
Much more.
The scene by the pool played again.
Alexis pulling back.
Walking away.
Rejecting her.
She felt heat flush through her, then cold.
No. Whatever they worked out about Nicky’s future, it would not include marriage.
Alexis sat out on the terrace nursing a cold beer. Inside,
Rhianna
was settling Nicky to sleep.
He felt his tension rise. This was it. Tonight he would get the proof he needed.
The proof he had to have.
There was a footfall behind him. He got to his feet.
She was there.
His breath caught.
Christos
,
but she looked stunning—
She was wearing another of the outfits he had had delivered for her. It was a deep jewel-like turquoise
colour
, a loose, long-sleeved top in a chiffon material threaded with silver, a flowing, floating scarf wound about her neck, and matching long, loose trousers. Her unfettered hair framed her delicate
jawline
. She wore no make-up and did not need a scrap of it, Alexis thought. Her rare natural beauty needed no adornment.
His desire was instant.
Overwhelming.
But he would have to staunch it. Hold it in check.
For just a little longer.
She took her place. She seemed—tense, he registered.
Was finding it difficult to meet his eyes.
But then she’d been like that all day. Well, that was all to the good now. He
wanted
her aware of him.
Vulnerable to him.
It was exactly the way he wanted her.
He sat down again, and right on cue
Stavros
arrived, bringing the champagne.
‘
Kyria
,
kyrios
—
’ He flourished the tray and deposited it on the table.
Rhianna’s
eyes widened.
‘Champagne? Why?’
‘To celebrate,’ returned Alexis.
‘Celebrate what?’
But he did not answer. Only let a smile play briefly on his lips before turning his attention to
Stavros
and exchanging something with him in Greek. The man nodded and replied, then set about opening the champagne. The cork flew off over the beach with a loud pop, and then
Stavros
was filling up the glasses. When he had done, he said something again in Greek and took his leave.
Alexis picked up his glass.
He paused expectantly. Still feeling bemused,
Rhianna
lifted her glass to her lips. The cold liquid effervesced on her tongue. Her eyes met Alexis’s across the table.
Their obsidian depths were flecked with gold—pure gold…
And suddenly, out of nowhere, memory speared through her.
Alexis looking at her, those magnetic night-dark eyes holding hers as she drank his champagne.
Five long years ago on the night that had changed her life for ever.
And now she was drinking his champagne again.
An ache overcame her, a low,
agonising
ache that made her fingers clench around the long stem of her champagne flute. Abruptly, she raised it to her lips. The pale, cold, effervescent liquid beaded in her throat as it slid down.
It should have dulled the ache. But it did not. It seemed only to make it pierce her more. Of their own volition her eyes went to the man sitting opposite her. She could not help it.
He was so devastatingly compelling. She wanted to gaze and gaze, stare and stare. The crisp sable hair, the strong nose, the carved planes of his face, and the eyes—oh, the eyes! Veiled, unreadable, obsidian flecked with gold. For one long, aching moment she let herself gaze into them.
Something flickered.
Deep, deep within.
And then with another flourish
Stavros
was coming out again, this time bearing a tray filled with tiny bowls.
Mezes
,
Rhianna
recognised
. Traditional Greek delicacies—olives, stuffed vine leaves, tiny deep-fried cheese pastries…
By the time he had set them all out she had recovered. And as she sipped her champagne and nibbled at the myriad of dishes she made herself talk. The kind of things they had talked about in these last days—ordinary, everyday things: Nicky, Greece, world affairs, films, music, books, food.
Easy, unexceptional conversation.
The kind she had got used to now with Alexis. He had always taken the lead, and she had been too bemused by the new, different Alexis he had become towards her to do anything other than follow where he led.
Yet tonight, she fancied, it was
her
taking the lead, not him. She who prompted his answers with another
question,
and another…
Mezes
consumed,
Stavros
went on to serve their main course: tenderly baked lamb that melted in her mouth, washed down with rich red wine.
Somehow she got through the meal. Somehow she managed to sound normal.
And all the while the ache inside her grew and grew.
Stavros
emerged one last time, placing tiny cups of iced sorbet in front of them and setting down a tray of coffee—the customary combination of filter for her and Greek for Alexis. Then he set out cognac for Alexis.
Rhianna
declined a liqueur, as she always did.
She had drunk both champagne and wine. They should have numbed her, she thought. Yet they seemed only to have made her yet more vividly aware of Alexis. She knew she shouldn’t be. Knew it was stupid, pointless,
insane
to let herself react to him like this. But she could not stop.
She drank him in. The way his long, supple fingers held his cup, lifted his glass, gestured to make a point as he spoke. The way the strong column of his throat was framed by the collar of his open-necked shirt. The way the planes of his jaw, his cheekbones, seemed to incise the night.
The way his dark hair shadowed his head.
The way his mouth tugged slightly at one corner. The way his long black lashes swept down over those deep, glinting eyes.
It was as if she were more vividly aware of him than she had ever been.
Except for that one fatal night, so long ago…
The ache pierced at her, stabbing with pain.
She drank her coffee, dutifully taking sip after sip. Conversation ebbed, died away. She had no heart to try and start a new topic. Across the table, she watched Alexis slowly swirl the brandy in his glass.
Then, as if aware of her watching him, he set it down.
‘Come down to the sea’s edge,’ he said. ‘The stars are particularly clear tonight.’
He got to his feet, crossing to turn off the light on the terrace.
Rhianna
blinked, letting her eyes adjust. Slowly she got to her feet, following him to the top of the flight of steps that led down to the beach.
‘Can you manage?’ he asked.
She nodded,
then
murmured, ‘Yes, thank you.’ She walked down the steps beside him. His sleeve brushed against hers.
The ache came again, more piercing.
At the foot of the steps she slipped off her shoes. It was easier to walk in bare feet. The sand was cool beneath her soles, and beyond the shelter of the terrace she felt the whisper of a breeze on her, but it was not cold. Even so, she
redraped
her scarf around her and looked upwards as she walked down to the sea at Alexis’s side.
The stars were, indeed, exceptionally clear tonight. The moon had not risen yet, and the sky was a fretwork of gold and black. As they drew further from the villa the stars’ brightness increased.
At the sea’s edge Alexis halted. He stood, head lifted, gazing upwards.
For a moment there was silence as they both gazed at heaven’s floor.
‘I’m not very good with stars,’
Rhianna
murmured.
Alexis lifted an arm.
‘The Plough,’ he said, pointing to the northern sky above the villa’s roof. ‘The two pointer stars, showing where the North Star is. Can you see?’
‘I think so,’ she answered.
‘And Cassiopeia—can you see the constellation shaped like the letter W?’
‘I’m not sure. Who was she? She sounds Greek.’
She was making conversation. She knew she was. But she had to. She was standing here, on a night-dark beach, beneath a sky full of stars.
With Alexis.
And all she must do was talk about constellations, Greek myths, heroes and heroines. Because that was all he wanted to do.
To show her the stars.
