One Kiss in... London: A Shameful Consequence / Ruthless Tycoon, Innocent Wife / Falling for her Convenient Husband

‘It’s not just about you!’

‘I don’t want you in my life.’ It came out all wrong, but so adamant were the words, so strong the effect that for a moment Nico was silent.

He could feel acid churn in his stomach. It was all very well for her to choose to live like this, but he would not allow it for … He stopped himself from voicing it, even in his head. For now he would try to sort this by removing dangerous emotion, by not even thinking that the baby might be his. He would treat her for now, Nico decided, as he would a client, be objective as he dealt with the issues she faced. ‘Let’s just concentrate on getting you out of here. Are you managing to save?’ Always practical, he tried to steer her to a solution. Perhaps if he could help her get a flat, arrange some child care, at least get on her feet, then, maybe then, they could talk, but his question went unanswered and a frown formed as he saw her swallow. ‘What are you paid?’ He did not care if the question was rude.

‘I have accommodation, and I have food,’ Connie said, not revealing that she ate the same as Henry did, that the disgusting porridge and mince and potato was all that was available. ‘In return I look after his home …’

‘He doesn’t pay you?’

‘A little.’ Constantine revealed the paltry sum that hardly covered the nappies, that gave her no option but to breastfeed, and her milk was already starting to dry up.

Nico closed his eyes and took a deep breath for a moment, and it was game over.

He could not treat her as a client.

‘It’s the twenty-first century …’ His voice rose and she begged him quiet, but he lowered it only slightly. ‘You cannot be treated like a slave. There are people who deal with single mothers, with wages …’

‘And I have qualifications and a wealthy family back home in Greece,’ Connie retorted, for she had looked into that. ‘I’m hardly a priority. There are people far worse off than me.’ It was hard at times to remember that. ‘I’m getting things sorted.’ She was, she meant it. She was doing everything in her power to ensure a better future for her child, to lift herself out of the hole she was in. ‘I went to the doctor today, he gave me vitamins and some tablets. Once they kick in …’

‘Tablets?’

‘He says I have postnatal depression.’ She watched his eyes narrow. ‘I didn’t want to take anything while I was feeding, but he said they were safe.’

‘I’d have postnatal depression if I lived here.’ He wasn’t being derisive, absolutely he wasn’t. ‘You are not depressed, Constantine, you are miserable because you are exhausted. Tablets won’t help that.’

‘Oh.’ She gave a tired laugh, absolutely devoid of humour. ‘I’ll take what I can get.’

A banging on the ceiling had Nico’s jaw clamp down, and it ground tighter as he saw the baby murmur a tired protest as she moved him from her breast.

‘He’s still feeding,’ Nico said as she stood. Breastfeeding did not embarrass him, it was that she might interrupt this time to tend to the demands of the greedy man upstairs that caused the gruffness to his voice.

‘He’s asleep,’ Connie said, but even though he was, she knew she had stolen some precious food from her son. Henry was still banging, so she sorted out her clothing and without a word headed upstairs.

‘What’s all the noise?’ Henry demanded. ‘Who’s down there?’

‘No one. I’m sorry,’ Connie attempted. ‘I had the television too loud. Can I get you a drink?’

‘Just my pillows.’

She hated sorting his pillows most, and it was the thing he most often asked. How she hated leaning him forward and arranging the pillows, knowing where his eyes were, where his cheeks were.

Had Nico been able to see the smile on Henry’s face at that moment, instead of Connie laying the old man back down, he’d have been laying him out, but for now he sat in the quiet kitchen, trying to work out how best to handle things.

He had not stopped to think since he’d heard the news—after finding where she was he had pretty much stepped on a plane and now he had to sort something out.

Thankfully the baby was sleeping. Nico did not go over and look. It was almost as if he did not want to see, to know, to have it confirmed.

Deal with the issue.

It was his mantra and it never failed him.

In crises at work, he simply silenced the voices, cut through the tape and dealt with what was, not what might be, not what had been, but what was.

Constantine, for now, was the issue.

If it was not his son … He looked around the kitchen, heard her footsteps walking above and knew that even if the baby were not his, he couldn’t simply walk away.

And if it was … Nico sat still for a long moment, wrestled with indignation, with the betrayal at not being told, which led to more anger against a woman who wanted to go alone, so he clamped his mind closed on those issues and fought to get to the vital point. If this was his child, what then?

She did not want him in her life.

His mind raced for an instant solution.

Declare her unfit?

Take the child?

To what?

For what?

Raw was his honesty.

His lifestyle was lavish, he ate out most nights, hopped on planes, and the only thing he had to think about changing was the time on his watch.

He looked at the dark hair on the back of the child’s head, to the white sheet over his shoulders, and it was a relief not to see his face, safer by far not to love him.

Love did not last. Something deep inside told him that.

‘You must go.’ Constantine was at the door.

He should, Nico realised. He should get up now and let her continue her miserable life and get on with his—except he could not leave it there.

‘Come with me.’

She gave a tired smile, but Nico wasn’t joking.

‘I mean it,’ Nico said. ‘Come back to my hotel.’ He saw her eyes shutter, no doubt thinking he was about to add to her exhaustion. ‘Separate rooms,’ he added.

Which just made her feel worse. Oh, she wasn’t up for a sexual marathon, but for him to so quickly discount her …

‘I’m not your problem.’

The baby might be, but he did not want to broach that, so he tried another approach. ‘I feel that I engineered this, that you would be married to Stavros if it were not for me.’

‘And I’d no doubt be feeling exactly the same,’ Connie pointed out, ‘with my little IVF baby and a husband that couldn’t stand to touch me—a little less tired perhaps, but still on the happy pills!’ She hated this, hated to be seen like this. Pride was her downfall, because she could beg and weep to her family, could go online tomorrow and tell the world how she was living and shame would move her family to bring her home, but she would not force charity. ‘It would be just as bad …’

‘It could not be as bad,’ Nico refuted. ‘It could not be worse.’

There were unexpected prices for pride, and she paid one now—because here was the man who had seen her so beautiful. Here was the man she escaped to in weary snatched dreams, looking more beautiful than she had dared ever remember, yet she had seen the shock in his eyes when she had opened the door, the bewildered start as he’d realised the swan had reverted, and now he was seeing her at her very worst.

‘If I had led you back to your room instead of mine, if I had not said those things about choices …’

‘I’m glad that you did.’ Her admission surprised even her, but now she thought about it, now she looked at how her life would have been without Nico’s intervention that night, despite all her problems, it was still here that she would rather be. She felt better for him being there, better for their talk, better now that she could see more clearly, and spirit rose within her. ‘Things aren’t great now,’ she admitted. ‘I know there will be struggles ahead, but I will get there.’

And there was still a glimmer of fire in her tired, dull eyes, and Nico was in no doubt now that with or without him she would.

‘This is temporary,’ Connie said, her voice firmer now. ‘Had I stayed I would have felt like this forever.’

‘Why didn’t you call?’ Nico asked the question he had when he had first arrived at her door, for he had given her his private number that morning at breakfast. Even then he had been worried to leave her.

‘Why didn’t you?’ Connie asked. She could never tell him the real reason so she went on the defensive instead—after all, he would have surely heard from his family the scandalous outcome to the wedding. Why should it be her that picked up the phone? Had he cared, even a jot, if their one night together had meant even a fraction of what it had to her, surely he could have called in those days and weeks as the news broke, just to see that she was okay. That he had not spoke volumes.

The only reason he was here was because of the child and she must remind herself of that.

He was here for his son, nothing else.

‘I did not hear about this till today,’ Nico said. ‘The moment I found out I had my PA track you down and I got on a plane.’

‘Oh, please,’ Connie retorted, because she knew how big the news had been, that even if he only made occasional visits and duty phone calls to his family, he would have been told. ‘As if your family wouldn’t have gossiped about this—’

‘We were not talking for a long time—only in recent weeks have we spoken,’ Nico interrupted. ‘After your wedding …’ Only the slightest pause gave indication that this subject was a painful one. ‘There was a falling out—a large one. Only in the last few weeks have we started speaking again. I have had a difficult year.’

Not that difficult, Connie wanted to say, because he stood tall and strong and beautiful; he was every bit the man she had left. ‘Too difficult to pick up the phone?’

And he never shared private matters and he wasn’t particularly comfortable in doing so now, but better that than her to think he had known and not thought to contact her. ‘I found out they were not my parents.’

Connie stood frozen—not at the news, because she had found out the same already, but that he knew and that Nico would tell her. She was shocked he would share what surely no one else knew, because if that news got out it would make her annulment and pregnancy idle chatter.

‘How?’ It was husky, and the word stuck in her throat. Did he know already that her father was involved? Was that, in fact, why he was here?

‘I remembered.’ He said it so simply. His voice did not betray the pain and the heartache, the jumble of feelings and dreams that made, almost, a memory. ‘I’m wrong apparently. My parents deny …’ His voice trailed off. He was not here to talk about himself and not used to sharing.

‘Tell me,’ Connie offered, because pain had entered the building, and now that he was not looking at her, now that he focussed instead on the television behind her, she could really look at him. Yes, the year had left its mark on him, too. He was a touch thinner perhaps, but that was not it. She tried to fathom what the change was, but couldn’t.

He shook his head, because he had said more than enough already, and Connie did not push again, scared what her tired brain might reveal in an unguarded moment.

‘You’d better go.’

He had better.

He could leave what he had in his wallet, and if she threw it at him, then she could pick it up later. He could send her regular cheques each month and it was up to her if she cashed them. He could go, safe in the knowledge that soon she would be strong, but there was a scent in the kitchen that had him linger, the sweet smell of baby. Then he looked over at her and thought how much better he could make things.

Not forever, he quickly told himself, because there could be no forever, his heart had learnt that long ago.

But he could expedite things, get her back on her feet sooner, help set her up with somewhere decent to live, but for now she needed to rest and get strong and, he admitted, albeit reluctantly, she simply deserved a little looking after. ‘Come with me,’ Nico said, and this time he meant it. ‘Not to the hotel, but back to my home. I will hardly be there, you can rest, get your strength, I have staff …’

‘I’ll be fine.’ She meant it, she absolutely meant it—she just hadn’t quite worked out how.

‘Come with me.’ He said it again. ‘I have a property on Xanos—the south.’

She gave a wry laugh, had this vision of blondes draped over his white loungers, of million-dollar views and champagne cooling, and could not be the ragamuffin guest. ‘I’m not interested,’ Connie said. ‘I’m trying to get away from my family—I hardly want to go back to Xanos.’ It was Connie frowning now. ‘I didn’t know you had property there.’

‘No one knows,’ Nico said. ‘It is very private, extremely secluded. There is a stretch of beach that is mine and you can walk undisturbed there. There is a pool and a garden where you can get back some colour …’ He looked at her tired pale cheeks and his mind was made up. ‘I have a housekeeper who cooks with local produce.’

‘Your staff will soon talk.’

‘My staff were hand-picked.’ He saw her dismiss that. After all, she knew how the island worked, that the people thrived on gossip—it was a factor he had considered on hiring Despina and Paulo. ‘They are an elderly couple,’ Nico explained. ‘Proud people, who lost their only son a couple of years ago—all their savings had gone into his health. They have nothing. The developer bought their home and was charging them the most ridiculous rent. Now they live in a property to the rear of mine and they tend to the house and garden as if it were there own.’ He looked over at Constantine and would not for a moment let her compare him to Henry. ‘I pay them not just their board but a good wage, too—my staff have dignity, and that brings loyalty. I insist on privacy. No one, not even my family, knows that I am there.’

‘Why?’ Connie blinked. ‘Why the secrecy?’

He had no choice but to tell her. If she came she’d find out anyway, for there were papers everywhere and records that he pored over whenever he got a chance. ‘I am from there,’ Nico said. ‘I am sure of that. I want to find out my past …’ And she felt her blood run cold as he continued, ‘So for now, in my free time, I base myself in Xanos.’

‘Doing what?’

‘Searching,’ Nico said. ‘I want to find out who and where my parents are.’

‘And then …’ Connie was having great trouble finding her voice. ‘Once you’ve found them, you’ll …’ She struggled, tried to stop herself from asking too many questions, but she wanted to be sure that was all he wanted, wanted to know that her family would be safe. Nico didn’t wait for her to finish her stumbling sentence. He cut straight in and she saw then what she hadn’t been able to place before, recognised then the change in him and it was anger. ‘I don’t just want to find them. I want to find out who facilitated this, and, when I do—’ how black were his eyes as he continued, how badly they bored into her heart ‘—they will pay.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

THEY would pay.

Connie was quite sure of it.

He would ruin her family, of that she had no doubt. The shame she had wreaked on them would be nothing, nothing compared to what Nico would do when he found out the truth.

All of the truth, for she knew more.

She had seen the papers, had held them in her hands, and knew there was much more to this than parents giving up their baby.

‘Get your things,’ Nico said, and she was about to say no, but maybe she was too tired to process things properly. Perhaps by being there she could prevent him from finding things out because, Connie knew, the outcome could only be devastating. ‘We leave now.’

‘I can’t,’ Constantine said. ‘I can’t just leave Henry …’

‘He treats you like a slave.’

‘He’s an old man,’ Connie said. ‘And slave labour or not, I signed up for the job.’

‘Then you leave in the morning.’

‘I doubt the agency can get a replacement any time soon.’

‘Oh, they will,’ Nico said darkly.

‘I can’t …’ She wanted to go; there was a part of her that was tempted to just escape, to go home, to hide at his property and heal, and there was part of her too that needed to be there, to stop the train wreck that would surely happen. But there was another reason that she was scared to go.

One reason.

And Nico knew it and he faced it.

‘We need to talk,’ Nico said. ‘There are things we need to discuss.’ He looked at her lank hair, her puffy face, could feel the exhaustion that seeped from her, and his harsh voice softened. ‘But not now,’ he said, ‘not yet—not till you are ready.’ He saw hope flare in her dull eyes as he tossed her the lifeline, and he willed her to take it. ‘You have my word. For now all you have to do is deal with the basics.’

‘The basics?’

‘Be a mother,’ Nico said. ‘And when you’re not being a mother, you rest.’

How sweet those words were, how tempting, how blissful it sounded. She wanted to close her eyes right now, to just sink into them, not think of problems, the hows, the whys, the hell that surely would follow.

She wanted what he offered.

‘Rest,’ Nico said. ‘We’ll leave in the morning. For now you should sleep.’ But Connie shook her head.

‘I have to do the laundry.’ He watched as she heaved a basket across the kitchen and he saw her jaw tighten as, instead of offering to help, he sat down, and just once as she loaded filthy sheets into the machine did she glance up, but said nothing.

And still she said nothing as she turned the machine on, and then opened the dryer, pulling more of the same out and folding the old man’s bedding, but he could feel her tension at his lack of assistance as he picked up the remote and flicked the television to the news.

‘I don’t do laundry,’ he said.

‘Clearly,’ Connie said as she dragged out the ironing board.

‘You want to be a martyr …’ He shrugged. ‘Go ahead.’

And she didn’t want to be a martyr so, for the first time, rather than ironing them, she put away the board and she just folded them instead.

‘Rebel,’ Nico said, glancing up, and she felt something she hadn’t in a very long time—a move on the edge of her lips that was almost a smile as she left the wretched laundry and sat on the only seat left in the kitchen, the one on the sofa beside him. It was horribly awkward, staring ahead at the news when she wanted to turn and stare at him, wanted to talk, but scared what might come out if she did.

‘Why don’t you go to bed?’ Nico suggested. ‘While he sleeps, shouldn’t you rest?’

‘I shall go to bed as soon as you’ve gone.’

‘Oh, I’m going nowhere,’ Nico said. ‘I’m not giving you a chance to come up with a million reasons why you can’t leave in the morning. I’m staying right here.’

‘What about your hotel room? What about—?’

But Nico wasn’t going to argue. ‘Go to bed.’

And she sat there.

‘Go on,’ he said, and her face burnt, and she bit back tears. Neither victim nor martyr did she want to be, but dignity was sometimes hard to come by.

‘You’re sitting on it.’

And to his credit he said nothing, did not act appalled, just headed over to the kitchen and prepared the second cup of instant coffee he had ever had in his life, then perched himself on the barstool.

‘There is a bedroom.’ She felt the need to explain. ‘It’s just Henry moans if …’ she hesitated a moment ‘ … the baby starts crying. He can’t hear so much if we are down here.’

And there was the longest pause so he was determined not ask, but more than that, he wanted to know. ‘What’s his name?’

‘Leo,’ Connie said, and swallowed, because by tradition he should be Vasos after Nico’s father, and though she had ached to name him Nico, it would have been too much of a constant reminder, so instead she had named him Leo, for it was in August that he had been made.

‘Sleep,’ he ordered, and she unravelled a blanket.

And she tried to sleep.

Turned her back on him and faced the faded pattern of the sofa, tried not to think about the man in the room and that tomorrow she would leave here with him.

Tried not to fathom her scary future.

Because, even with Nico’s offer, the future was scary. Scarier, in fact, than going it alone, because the truth would out—deep down she knew that.

She was just in no position to run from it.

CHAPTER NINE

SURPRISINGLY, she slept.

Despite his presence, despite her anxiety about the next day, with Nico in the room, a strong, quiet presence, somehow her exhausted mind stilled. Somehow she fell asleep to the whir of the tumble dryer and washing machine and did not think about what the next day would bring.

Even in the night, when her baby awoke, Constantine hardly did. Nico watched in silence as, surely more asleep than awake, she dragged herself from the sofa at Leo’s first murmur, crossed the dark room and changed her child then went back to the sofa with him. She curled on her side, hardly a word spoken, just a hush to her baby and then the sound of him feeding, and after a while, when the room was silent, he watched her sleepwalk her baby back to his crib. It happened again early in the morning, but this time the feed was interrupted by the incessant demands of the old man.

‘I could go up for you?’ Nico offered, the third time she dashed to the stairs.

‘And scare the life out of him.’

He was more tempted than she could know, but he held onto his temper. Nico even sat quietly while Constantine rang the employment agency, watching her fingers rake through her long hair as she explained that today she would be leaving.

‘Next week?’ Connie said, and Nico’s jaw tightened and she knew, just knew, he was about to take the phone from her, but she was determined to handle this. ‘I want someone here today.’ But the agency knew Connie was a responsible woman who would not leave the old man alone, and took full advantage of that fact. For, really, they could find someone at their leisure without her walking out. Defeated, she handed him the phone.

‘Nico Eliades speaking.’ His voice was one she had heard before, that morning she had rung him from her father’s study.

For mal.

Brutal.

‘You have one hour to send someone or, failing that, to get here yourself.’ And he said a little more than that, as Connie sat cringing, that he was considering reporting them. First he would check with his lawyers about minimum wage and work hours, and most certainly he would do that at ten a.m., ‘if no one is here’.

The owner was there within half an hour.

She told Henry, who must have been used to staff leaving, because he didn’t seem remotely bothered. He knew full well there would be plenty of others who were desperate to take her place.

Connie packed her things into her suitcase, which bulged a little more now that it had to hold Leo’s things.

‘What about the crib?’

‘It was already here.’

‘Then let’s go.’

He took the case she had been struggling with and held it as easily as if it were an empty carrier bag and then handed it to a driver who was coming to the door.

‘Are we going back to the hotel?’ she asked as she climbed into the car. He had thought of everything, Connie realised, because there was even a baby seat. Or rather he had informed his driver, because Connie really couldn’t imagine him fitting it, and certainly he offered no help as for the first time she wrestled with straps and the buckle and fitted Leo into the seat.

‘I don’t know how it goes.’ She was embarrassed after a couple of attempts and he sat in the seat beside her, clearly wanting to get going and unused to this type of delay.

‘Don’t look at me,’ Nico said, and drummed his fingers on the car door as he sat impatiently waiting for the click that told them Leo was safely secured.

It was only as they drove off, as her life changed forever again, that Connie realised not once had he so much as looked at their baby.