In Christofides' Keeping (15 page)

Inwardly shaking at his assertion that she needed to trust him and feeling extremely exposed to think that he’d made love to her just to make a point, Gypsy blurted out, ‘Just like I need to be available for a quickie when the mood takes you?’

Rico’s thumb moved back and forth over Gypsy’s skin. All he said was, ‘We both wanted what just happened. Don’t pretend you didn’t. And, just as I’ve never before picked up a woman in a club for a night of anonymous sex, I’ve also never felt that same urgency we felt just now. You have a unique effect on me, Gypsy Butler.’

Just then they heard Lola’s chatter. Agneta had obviously finished feeding her and was looking for them. Feeling very flushed and disheveled, Gypsy pushed past Rico to open the study door, and tried to pretend that everything was normal when the world felt anything but.

At the door she turned and said to Rico, while avoiding his eye, ‘I’m quite tired tonight. I’m going to go to bed early.
Alone.
’

Rico said with a mocking drawl, ‘Don’t worry, Gypsy. I won’t come to your bed this evening. I’ll be gone early in the morning, but be ready to come to me in Athens at four o’clock tomorrow.’

That night, sleepless in bed,
aching
for Rico despite her words, Gypsy lay and stared at the ceiling in the
dark. She needed to think but her mind was disturbingly fuzzy. She’d got the distinct impression from Rico’s comments earlier that he saw some sort of future for them. But what, exactly? And was she brave enough to ask him?

She turned over on her side and looked out of the window to where the sea was just a black mass, with the small lights of boats flickering on and off. Rico was right. She’d prejudged him and misjudged him every step of the way.

He was nothing like her father in the business sense. And she now knew from his own personal history why he’d been so adamant that he wanted Lola. But still, that didn’t account for the way he’d so instinctively taken to fatherhood. He was nothing like her father in that regard either.

Shamefully, she had to acknowledge that part of her reaction could have come from jealousy at seeing how unreservedly Rico had accepted Lola. She’d never received that from her own father. She could also see that a lot of his initial arrogance had most likely been due to shock, and perhaps a fear that she might try to run away again. He’d done everything he could to make sure they didn’t leave his side.

But more than all of that was the way she felt about him. She couldn’t help but remember the way he’d been that night they’d met for the first time. The magic that had infused the air as the dark and handsomely seductive stranger had put her at ease, made her laugh, and then made love to her with an intensity that had left her in pieces. Knowing Rico as she did now, she suspected that he’d indulged in a much lighter, less cynical version of himself that night. Perhaps because he had been unburdened by his anonymity, just as she had been.

If she was truly honest with herself, amidst all the turmoil of her pregnancy and finding out who Rico was, the one thing that had superceded everything else had been the hurt that he’d left her so coldly. And yet he’d admitted that he’d regretted it, that he’d tried to get in touch with her.

Gypsy’s heart squeezed. She didn’t think she could ever hope that Rico would look at her with the tenderness she’d seen between Rafael and Isobel, but right now her silly heart couldn’t help longing for it. She couldn’t fool herself into thinking that whatever rapprochement was between them would absolve her of her actions in his eyes.

The crows of doubt mocked her for even
thinking
that she might be falling for him. It had only been a few weeks since she’d met Rico again—how could she trust her feelings when her daughter’s future happiness was at risk? Who was to say that Rico wasn’t just seducing her to keep her and Lola in his complete control, only for him to lose interest and move on, having torn their lives apart?

The old fear was still strong, making her feel as if she should be suspicious of the way he was bonding with Lola. She hated it, but it squeezed like a vice around her heart; it was ingrained within her after years of living with a man who had bullied and controlled her because he’d resented her, the reminder of his weakness. A man who had thought nothing of letting her mother die because she was socially undesirable, and because she’d forced his hand so that he’d had to acknowledge his daughter.

Thoughts and memories roiled sickeningly in Gypsy’s head until she finally fell into a dreamless sleep.

Gypsy looked at herself in the mirror of the wardrobe in a luxurious suite at the brand-new hotel that was opening that evening. A car had met her from the helicopter at the airport and whisked her here to the hotel, where she’d been met by a veritable entourage.

Up in the suite there had been a wardrobe of different outfits, and once she’d picked one out the team had set to work. The hairdresser had even smiled and said to her, ‘I’m under the strictest instructions not to straighten your hair.’ Gypsy had just smiled back weakly, feeling a plummeting sensation in her belly—as if she were falling over an edge into a dark chasm of the unknown.

Now she was on her own again, and twisting and turning to see herself, feeling all at once ridiculous and disturbingly
sexy.
The dress was a dark gold colour, fitted and to the knee, with just one wide strap over one shoulder, leaving the other bare.

High-heeled gold sandals looked like the most delicate things she’d ever seen and her hair was down, with Grecian-style gold bands holding it back from her face. She wore simple gold hoop earrings.

It was only then that she noticed the tall, dark and looming shape lounging against the door behind her. She whirled around, feeling very exposed. Rico was stunning in a black suit, white shirt, black tie. He straightened up and strolled towards her, and she could see that he was holding a champagne bottle and two glasses. Immediately her stomach roiled at the sight, but she clamped down on it; surely now she could take the opportunity to get over that awful teenage trauma?

Rico stared at her as if he’d never seen her before, raking his eyes up and down her body, and then he said simply, ‘You look beautiful.’

Gypsy grimaced and wanted to squirm.

Rico smiled. ‘Say,
Thank you, Rico.
’

She looked at him and felt an alien lightness bubble up. She smiled too. ‘Thank you, Rico. You look lovely too.’

He poured champagne into two flutes and handed her one. Gypsy instinctively held her breath as she took a sip. It slid down her throat like an effervescent sunburst and she almost shouted with relief. She’d gone clammy for a moment, expecting to feel the old urge to be sick. But it hadn’t come. She took another sip, relishing it.

Rico touched his glass to hers and said, ‘You look like you’ve never tasted champagne before.’

Gypsy caught his eyes. ‘Not for a long time.’

He arched a brow and asked, ‘Secrets of a hell-raising youth?’

Gypsy hid the dart of pain and said, ‘Hardly.’

A delicious coil of tension settled in her belly as she took Rico in; he was so tall and broad. His face all planes and shadows and hollows.

On an impulse, she blurted out, ‘What happened to your nose?’

Rico stiffened. She could see his hand tighten on his glass, but then he said, ‘My stepfather, the day I left Buenos Aires…He left me with a token of his affection, and a constant reminder that your own flesh and blood is your only real family.’

Gypsy remembered Isobel telling her how Rico had nearly had to be hospitalised.

‘Was he responsible for the scars on your back too?’ She’d noticed the faint silvery lines criss-crossing his back one morning when Rico had got up to go back to his own room, and she’d felt them while making love, but she hadn’t had the nerve to ask about them. Until now.

Rico’s mouth was a thin line. ‘Yes, more of my
stepfather’s legacy for not being his biological son. It’s hard to get out of the way of a belt when you’re small…’

Sheer horror tightened her gut, and she had a sudden stark understanding of how important it was for him to be there for Lola.

Gypsy went close and reached up her hand to touch his jaw. Her voice was husky. ‘If I’d been there I would have stepped in the way, so he’d hit me instead.’

She looked up at him. A part of her couldn’t believe what she’d just said, and another part felt fiercely that she’d meant every word. Even now anger bubbled low to think of anyone beating Rico, or hurting him.

Realisation hit her like a thunderbolt.
God
, she’d fallen for him. There was no luxury of
falling
about it. She was already deeply and profoundly in love with this man.

To her relief, before Rico might see something of her realisation and her reaction, he took the champagne and put it down before taking her hand.

His voice sounded rough, and impacted upon her somewhere very raw. ‘We should go downstairs. The grand opening will be any minute now, and I have a speech to make.’

Feeling as though the earth had shifted on its axis, Gypsy followed Rico out, her hand tightly clasped in his. All the way down in the lift she looked resolutely at the floor, terrified that if she looked into his eyes he’d know immediately.

Rico stared at the elevator door on the way down, Gypsy’s hand in his. He was still reeling from her simple assertion that if she’d been there she would have taken the blows for him. He knew she’d been sincere because
she’d looked shocked once the words were out—as if she couldn’t believe she’d said them.

The only other person who knew the extent of what Rico had been through at the hands of his stepfather was Rafael, because he’d suffered too—albeit not to the same extent—and many times Rico had felt that Rafael wanted to say something similar. That if he could have borne the brunt of that man’s anger he would have. But he’d never articulated it the way Gypsy just had, with such sweet simplicity.

Taking a deep breath just before the doors opened, Rico gripped Gypsy’s hand more tightly momentarily, and she squeezed him back in silent communication. His chest expanded, the door opened, and they stepped out and into the melee.

Rico had made his speech and was now back at Gypsy’s side, holding her hand again. A guilty part of her revelled in this newly proprietorial touch and she grimaced inwardly. She could never have imagined
this
—wanting to be claimed so publicly by him.

They barely needed to circulate, as a constant stream of people came to
him.
The only time he crossed the room it was to another couple, and Rico slapped the man on his back playfully. He introduced the handsome man and his very pregnant wife to Gypsy. ‘I’d like you to meet some newlywed friends of mine—Leo Parnassus and his wife Angel.’

The wife smiled shyly, one hand on her large bump. Gypsy asked how far along she was, and they started to chat about pregnancy and birth. She could feel Rico tense by her side, and when the couple had moved on he turned to her and said, ‘I don’t know anything about your pregnancy, or the birth…’

Guilt rose up, so much more poignant now, and immediately fearing some kind of reprisal Gypsy took her hand from his. ‘I’m sorry…I didn’t think…’ she started.

But Rico took her hand again and shook his head. ‘No, it’s not about that. I’m not angry about that…not any more. But I’d like you to tell me some time, OK?’

Gypsy nodded, feeling herself fall even further into the chasm. But just at that moment, with absolutely no sense of foreboding whatsoever, she heard someone near them declare shrilly, ‘Oh, my
God
! Alexandra Bastion, is that
you
?’

G
YPSY’S
blood went cold. Unbeknownst to her, her hand had tightened painfully on Rico’s. The woman came over and grabbed Gypsy’s arm. Gypsy recognised her through the fog of shock. They’d gone to school together—a remote and very exclusive boarding school in the Outer Hebrides in Scotland. The furthest place her father had been able to find to send her.

‘Alexandra—I don’t believe it! It’s been—what?—seven years since we left that place? How
are
you? What have you been up to?’

The woman’s eyes went appreciatively to Rico. Clearly she was looking for an introduction. But Gypsy was incapable of speaking, and suddenly, on top of this shock, she knew the taste of the champagne was making itself felt and that she was going to be sick.

As if realising her turmoil, and no doubt thinking the woman was mad, Rico put his arm around Gypsy’s waist and said urbanely, ‘I’m sorry—you must have the wrong person.’ With a smooth move he glided them away.

Gypsy got out through numb lips, ‘I need a bathroom.’

She could hear the woman behind them saying to someone, ‘How strange. I could have sworn that was Alexandra Bastion…and
who
was that guy?’

Her voice faded away, but Gypsy felt clammy all over and knew that if Rico hadn’t been holding onto her she might have fallen.

In seconds they were in the lift and going upwards, a wall of tense silence between them. Gypsy took deep breaths and concentrated on not being sick, but all she could think of was the champagne sloshing around her belly, and she knew it had been that woman who had sent her back in time.

As soon as they were in the suite she ran for the bathroom and closed the door, hunching over the toilet bowl as the contents of her belly came up. She was aware of the door opening and Rico coming in. She put out a hand and said weakly, ‘No, please…go away.’

But, predictably, he ignored her. She heard water running, and then she felt a damp cloth against her face and it was wonderful. Eventually, when her stomach was empty, Rico helped her up and handed her a toothbrush with toothpaste already on it. She brushed her teeth and splashed water on her face. And then Rico lifted her into his arms, despite her weak protest, and took her over to one of the ornately covered chairs and sat her down.

He went and sat on the corner of the bed, near the chair, and just watched her, hands linked loosely between his legs. Gypsy knew without him saying a word that she had to talk.
Now.
With a tight knot in her belly, she took a deep breath.

‘When I was fifteen years old my father found me tasting champagne from a leftover bottle after one of his parties.’ Her belly tightened at the memory. ‘He dragged me into his study, opened a new bottle of champagne and forced me to drink the lot. He wouldn’t let me leave the room until I had. When I was sick all over the floor he made me clean it up, and told me that perhaps I’d
remember that lesson if I ever wanted to taste champagne again.’

She looked at Rico. His eyes bored into hers and he said, ‘Your father was John Bastion.’

Gypsy couldn’t even feel surprised that he knew. She just nodded wearily. ‘When did you find out?’

‘Before we came back to Athens.’

So he’d known for the past few weeks, but said nothing.

He saw the question in her eyes and said, ‘I wanted you to tell me yourself. Why didn’t you want to tell me about him?’

Her heart clenched. She bit her lip. Where to start? Hands closed tight in her lap, she finally said, ‘Because I hated him, and from the day he died I wanted to forget that he’d existed.’

Rico frowned. ‘Where did
Alexandra
come from?’

‘He didn’t want me. The only reason he took me in eventually was because he was a so-called pillar of society and Social Services couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t. He had to; he wanted to avoid negative press attention at all costs. But the minute I was under his roof he insisted on changing my name to Alexandra, and he spread the word discreetly that he’d adopted me out of the goodness of his heart. He didn’t want anyone to know I was his biological daughter. He was ashamed to be reminded that he’d had an affair with a cleaner. He was ashamed of everything about me—especially as I wasn’t some sleek blonde, like his own mother or his new wife.’

Rico stood up and started to pace. He turned around. ‘And what about your mother? Where was she?’

Gypsy’s hands tightened. She looked down. ‘We weren’t well off at all…Where I was living with Lola
was a palace compared to where we were. She couldn’t cope. She tried to kill herself…that’s why she wanted me to go to my father. He insisted they send her to a mental hospital for psychiatric assessment…and without any resources or anyone to speak for her she got lost in the system, forgotten about. She died there when I was about thirteen, but I didn’t find out until after my father died and I found a letter from the hospital.’ She didn’t mention the heartbreaking letters from her mother.

‘Your father and stepmother died in a plane crash?’

Gypsy looked up again and nodded. ‘Over the English Channel, coming back from France.’

Surprising her, he asked, ‘Why were you in the club that night, Gypsy?’

Feeling the quiver of trepidation in her belly, but knowing that if he investigated further he’d find out everything anyway, she told him. She smiled wryly, but it felt a bit skewed. ‘As I was officially my father’s next of kin, despite public perception, I received everything in his will. He’d never got around to making sure I wouldn’t, which is undoubtedly what he’d planned, but as he believed he was infallible he hadn’t counted on sudden death…

‘That night…the night of the club…it was six months after his death and I’d just received and signed over every single Bastion asset and property to all the charities he had been patron of and had stolen from for years. I felt so guilty that I’d never been brave enough to report him to the police it was the least I could do. I donated the rest of his money to psychiatric care and research. I insisted it was done anonymously. I didn’t want any media attention. And I’d also just reverted back to my own birth name, which was easy as it was on my birth certificate. I was finally free—from him and his legacy. I didn’t
want a penny of his money. Not after what he did to my mother and how he treated me.’

She shrugged. ‘I heard the beat of the music and I wanted to dance, to celebrate being free…’

Rico came and sat back down heavily on the bed.

Gypsy continued with a rush, wanting to make Rico understand. ‘He knew that I knew about his transgressions with charity funds, so when I was seventeen he took me to a charity event and auctioned me off to work for a summer with that charity’s operation in Africa.’ Her mouth twisted. ‘It was to get me out of his hair, but also a punishment and a way to demonstrate his control. I had the last laugh, though, because it was the best experience I ever had and it inspired me to want to study psychology.’

She bit her lip. ‘He spoke of you. He was envious of your fortune and said you were ruthless. That was another reason I believed the worst about you. I assumed your methods were the same as his…’

Rico’s lip curled. ‘I never had anything to do with the man. I had no respect for the way he did business.’

Feeling unaccountably sad, Gypsy said, ‘I know that now.’ She stood up abruptly. Emotions were bubbling too close to the surface. She’d never revealed this much to another living soul and she suddenly felt too exposed. ‘Look, do you mind if we don’t talk about it anymore? It’s in the past now. Alexandra Bastion never really existed. I’d like to go home to Lola tonight, if it’s possible.’

Rico stood too, tall and powerful, his face and eyes unreadable. Gypsy nearly sagged with relief when he said, ‘Of course it’s possible. I’ll call Demi now. Why don’t you get changed and we’ll go?’

The whole way back to the island, and then to the
villa, Rico was silent, and Gypsy was grateful. Once they got inside, though, and they’d both looked in on Lola, who slept peacefully, Rico trailed a finger down Gypsy’s cheek and said, ‘We’ll talk in the morning…we need to talk about this.’

His steely tone brooked no argument. Of course he wasn’t going to let her revelations end here. Reluctantly Gypsy nodded briefly, and Rico stepped away and strode from her room, leaving her alone.

And that night, for the first time in a long time, she slept like a baby.

The following morning Gypsy revelled in waking up to Lola’s chatter as she waited contentedly for someone to come to her. She had a prickling sensation over her skin, as if something momentous was going to happen. And she couldn’t forget the revelation that Rico had already known of her past. Perhaps not everything, but enough, and yet he’d wanted to wait for her to tell him. He hadn’t used it against her.

It made her feel slightly panicky inside, with the sensation of no walls of defence left standing. What would happen now?

Gypsy dragged herself up and went to greet Lola, who said ecstatically, ‘Mama!’, and stood to greet her. Gypsy took her out and held her close, breathing in her delicious scent and feeling her solid weight. But already Lola was squirming to get down and be off exploring.

It was only when she was escaping out through the bedroom door that Gypsy realised she was looking for Rico, who appeared at that moment, cleanshaven and gorgeous in jeans and a T-shirt, and swung Lola up in his arms, much to her delight.

He looked at Gypsy, no discernible expression on his face. ‘I’ll take her down if you want to get dressed.’

So we can talk.

He didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. He now had all the knowledge, all the power. Gypsy hated the way she automatically imagined the worst, but she’d had years of dealing with exactly that.

A short while later, dressed equally casually in jeans and a long-sleeved top, Gypsy joined the mayhem that was Lola’s breakfast-time. Agneta was there too, cooing at Lola, who was happily holding court. Gypsy came in and had some coffee and a croissant, but she couldn’t swallow past the huge lump in her throat.

When Agneta took Lola off, insisting that she would get her changed and dressed, Rico finally put down his napkin and stood.

‘Will you come into my study?’

Gypsy looked up, and something dark made her say, ‘Oh, so you’re
asking
now?’

It was a mistake, because Rico glowered and all Gypsy could think of was the frantic coupling that had happened between them in there. With warmth suffusing her cheeks, she followed Rico.

Once in the study, Rico turned around to face Gypsy. Instinctively wanting to protect herself, she crossed her arms. Rico hitched one hip on the edge of his desk, and Gypsy fought not to let her gaze drop wantonly to where his jeans stretched over hard thighs.

‘I had no idea you went through so much at the hands of that man.’

Gypsy looked at Rico before glancing away. His gaze was so intense. She shrugged. ‘How could you have known? No one knew except for me.’

‘That’s why you didn’t want to tell me about Lola, isn’t it?’

Gypsy swallowed painfully. Her gaze swung back. ‘It was a large part of it, yes. But, no matter what you believe, I
did
intend telling you. I just wanted to be in a better position…so you wouldn’t see me as weak…and the thought of being dragged through the courts to prove paternity
was
daunting. I didn’t want people finding out that I had been Alexandra Bastion and wondering where the family fortune had gone. I had never imagined that I might become pregnant. I truly did believe I’d be safe.’

Rico winced. ‘I told you about that court case. It was just unbelievably bad timing for you to have seen it that very morning.’

Rico stood from the desk and started to pace, making Gypsy’s pulse race. She crossed her arms tighter across her chest.

He stopped to face her and in an uncharacteristically impatient gesture ran a hand through his hair. ‘Look,’ he began, ‘it’s clear now that we both had our reasons for reacting the way we did—you in your decision to keep Lola to yourself, and me for wanting her with me from the moment I knew about her.’ He shook his head. ‘I thought you were just like my mother—wilfully keeping me from Lola just because it served your purposes. And the thought of Lola possibly being brought up by some other man some day…enduring what I had…was too much to contemplate.’

Gypsy balked at the thought of
another man.
There would be no other man. Not ever. Not any more.

She bit her lip and said quietly, as that assertion rocked through her, ‘I was just so terrified that you would be like my father…
worse
…because you were even more powerful than him. All I ever was was an inconvenient
pawn to him.’ She looked at Rico. ‘I thought you would sweep in and take us over, remove me permanently from Lola’s life the way my father did my mother.’

Rico shook his head. ‘I was angry, yes, but I never thought of taking you away from Lola. I will admit that I saw a future where Lola was in my life and you were sidelined…but I don’t see that future any more.’

‘You don’t?’

He shook his head. ‘No.’ His voice was a little gruff. ‘I see a future with all of us together. I don’t want this to end in fifteen months. I don’t want to let you and Lola go. I want more than that, Gypsy. I want us to be a family…’

Gypsy started to tremble from her feet up. What Rico was saying was so huge. Massive. He wanted them to stay together. For ever? It was all at once the most exhilarating thing and the most terrifying. And in the midst of it all was her bone-deep ingrained fear and panic.

That snide voice was reminding her that men like Rico were masters of getting what they wanted. That he
had
swept in and taken them over. Look at them now—living on an island, effectively cut off from everything and everyone. And she had no idea how Rico really felt about her. He might be able to forgive her now, but what if that resentment was still there, buried and festering away? What if his desire waned and he wanted another woman?

Gypsy shook her head and started to back away, noticing the flash of Rico’s eyes. He stood up straight at the desk, and his quick anger at her less than compliant response seemed to add fuel to her reasoning.