And, although it was a thrill to dress up so finely, she knew that it was because she was with Xandros that she enjoyed them so much.
Her days were still solitary, but she didn’t mind. Some of Xandros’s female friends had asked her to lunch, but she’d never gone. She didn’t want to be stand-offish, but she was worried that without Xandros to shelter her she might let it slip that she would not be making her life with him.
It was safer to keep her own company. Just as she was today, settling down at her favourite pavement café for lunch.
She was making dogged progress with her self-taught Greek-language lessons, aided by books and podcasts, and she tried it out assiduously as she went around Athens, or even on Xandros himself. Now she unfolded the easy-read tabloid newspaper she’d just bought, a dictionary to hand, to see what she could manage of its articles.
A shadow fell across her as she pursed her lips, making out an unfamiliar word in the headline. She assumed it was the waiter, coming to take her order, and looked up with a smile.
It froze on her face.
It was her father.
CHAPTER TWELVE
SHOCK AND DISMAY jolted through her. She had not set eyes on him since she had stormed out that hideous morning after he’d ripped all her stupid dreams to pieces.
Without asking, he sat himself down.
‘So,’ he said, his English strong and accented, ‘my dutiful daughter.’
His voice was as unmelodious as she recalled, and there was a mocking look in his pouched eyes. Rosalie could say nothing, could only feel the mix of shock and dismay possessing her.
‘What? No kiss for your devoted father? The father who got you such a rich and handsome husband?’ The mockery came again, along with a jibing twist to his voice. ‘I knew you’d see sense and marry him—I didn’t keep you in poverty so you wouldn’t know what side your bread’s buttered on! You like the luxury life, just like everyone does,’ he sneered.
‘What do you want?’ Her voice was terse and tight. She could feel her heart starting to hammer in her chest.
His heavy eyebrows rose. ‘Want? What do you think I want?’
His grey-green eyes, so like hers though he himself was nothing like her—nothing—bored into her.
‘I want what I have told you I want. I’ve got half of it—my fancy Lakaris son-in-law. Now I want the rest.’
He leaned forward, his piercing gaze working over her, resting on her abdomen assessingly before coming back to her still-frozen expressionless face.
‘I want my Lakaris grandson,’ he said. His eyes narrowed. ‘Are you breeding yet? You’ve had long enough for that fine husband of yours to play the ram!’
Rosalie gasped—not at his crudeness, but at what he’d said.
He gave a coarse laugh. ‘Did you think I’d be content with him just putting a ring on your finger? He’ll have to put a baby in your belly, too! So,’ he repeated, ‘are you breeding yet? It’s a simple question and a crucial one.’ There was a look of relish in his face now, as if he were enjoying what he was telling her. ‘Crucial for that handsome husband of yours, that is!’
She swallowed. Her heart was still hammering in her chest. ‘What...what do you mean?’
‘Crucial,’ her father answered, ‘if he wants to complete this precious merger he’s after.’ He cocked his head, surveying her with his heavy-lidded gaze as if he were a snake and she a cornered mouse. ‘No baby, no completion,’ he spelt out.
He got to his feet, looking down at her as icy water pooled in her stomach.
‘Tell him that!’ His mouth gave that cruel twist again. ‘And as for you—how long do you think you’ll last as his dressed-up doll of a wife if you can’t bring him the one thing he married you for? Getting his hands on my business! And don’t think to come running to me if he discards you. I won’t lift a finger. You can get back to your London slum and starve again! So,’ he finished, turning away, ‘get yourself pregnant, my girl—if you want to stay in the lap of this luxury you’ve grabbed with both hands.’
He walked away. Climbed into the tinted-windowed car idling at the kerb, which drove off.
Leaving Rosalie sick with dismay.
Across the ancient city the floodlit Parthenon blazed on the Acropolis. But Rosalie, standing on the balcony of Xandros’s apartment, her hands clutching the railing, was blind to it. Blind and deaf to everything except the thought pounding in her head like a merciless drum.
You have to tell him—you have to tell him.
She had to tell Xandros what her father had said. Threatened. Because it had been a threat—a stark and ruthless threat. No baby—no merger.
She felt her stomach clench.
We thought we were outmanoeuvring him...turning the tables on him. Now he’s turned them back on us!
The feeling of sick dismay that had filled her at her father’s words was there again, and she could not rid herself of it. How could she not dread having to tell Xandros...? Tell him that their marriage had been pointless all along. That the merger he wanted so badly was going to be impossible to achieve.
I have to tell him! But I can’t—not yet! Not tonight!
She wanted—craved—a little longer with him before she had to shatter his hopes. Just a little longer...
With a smothered cry, she wrenched herself away, hurrying indoors. Xandros would be home soon, and she had to change for the dinner dance they were going to tonight. She had another new evening gown to show off to him. She must look as beautiful as she always strove to look for him—had to see his eyes light and glint with admiration and desire...
Just give me tonight with him! I’ll tell him tomorrow—in the morning...
As though it might be easier then... When it was going to be the hardest thing in the world.
Xandros was leading her out onto the dance floor, taking her into his arms. Rosalie’s eyes clung to him. He was looking as superb as he always looked in black tie, and she knew by the expression in his eyes as he gazed down at her that she was spectacular, in a sumptuous off-the-shoulder gown in champagne satin, with diamond drops at her ears, her hair upswept into an elaborate style, her make-up full and dramatic.
All around were couples equally resplendent, and chandeliers glittered above them as Xandros swept her away into the dance. Rosalie clung to him as he whirled her around—a former Cinderella at yet another lavish ball, dancing the night away with the most handsome man in the room. Her very own prince... Living the high life. Living the dream...
But what was the dream? What would it be worth to me, all this lavish luxury, if I wasn’t here with Xandros?