Australia: Wicked Mistresses(57)

‘How clever you are. And have you similarly worked out whose child it would be?’

And Cleo’s fantasy world crashed down around her. Andreas’ child. His baby.

‘It’s not a crime to trust someone.’

Maybe not. But it should have been a crime to make the same mistake, over and over and over, like a broken record. The bright side, Nanna, where’s the bright side?

You have a booking to go home in two weeks, a voice in her head told her. Change it.

And Cleo knew that was what she had to do. She had to leave, and now, while Andreas was away. Staying was pointless She didn’t want anything to do with him any more, a man who could treat women as he had, pitting one against the other like queens battling it out on some chessboard.

Besides, there was Petra to consider, and a baby.Andreas’baby.

She put a hand to her own stomach. For a few days there, the possibility had existed that it could have been hers. That she too could have been pregnant.

Thank God it had never happened! What a mess that would have been.

‘He doesn’t know, then?’

‘Not yet. I only just found out myself.’

‘I think you should tell him as soon as he comes back. I’m sure…I’m sure he’ll do the right thing.’

Petra nodded, still looking at the floor. ‘I know he will. His mother desperately wants grandchildren. At least she will be delighted.’

Oh, God. More words she didn’t need to hear. More words that rocked the foundations of her soul. Andreas had forgotten to use protection with her that time. Surely not intentionally? And yet he’d seemed almost annoyed when he’d learned she wasn’t pregnant. He’d offered her more money to stay—to give him more time to get her pregnant? It didn’t bear thinking about. She didn’t want to know the answer.

‘I’m leaving,’ Cleo told the woman still hunched and bowed on the bed. ‘I’ll pack my things and be gone this afternoon.’ It was still early in the day. She was sure she could get some kind of link to Athens, be it by plane or ferry. She’d get out now, before Andreas returned and threw her out because there was no point continuing with their charade. She’d get out now while she still held some shred of pride intact.

Petra sighed and sent her a watery smile. ‘That’s probably for the best.’

Halfway to London, Andreas was growing restless, still searching for the answer to a question that had been plaguing him for hours. Why had she told him she’d loved him? Why would she do that?

She’d turned down a million-dollar offer to stay. Turned him down flat, talking about returning home as if she couldn’t wait to be out of there.

And then he’d given her an envelope full of Kurt’s money and she’d told him that she loved him. It made no sense, no sense at all.

He toyed with the plate of dips and antipasto, took a sip of his cold Mythos beer and watched the landscape beneath his window slowly roll by. What did she want by saying such a thing?

He sighed and pushed back into his seat, smiling about how excited she’d been when she’d told him what she’d learned about the legend of Atlantis. Why did she want to go home so badly to study when all she wanted was all around her here? She couldn’t study in a more perfect place. No, she had to stay, there was no question.

But she wouldn’t take his money. What else could he offer?

Family.

The idea was so simple! If she were part of his family she would stay. And she could bear him the children his mother so desperately wanted. He wasn’t interested in looking for a wife. He couldn’t even think about it with Cleo occupying his bed and his thoughts. And she had said that she loved him. It was perfect.

He took a celebratory swig of his beer and sighed. He’d marry her. Hadn’t he come to terms with that very idea when he’d thought she could be pregnant? So what was to stop him marrying her when she was not? She would be pregnant soon enough then.

It was all settled.

He picked up the phone that connected him with the pilot. ‘Change of plans. We’re going back to Santorini.’

There was no argument, no question from the flight deck. They were turning around. So he wouldn’t make it to London to sign those papers, but did he really care about Darius anyway? He’d put the fear of God into him. Wasn’t that enough? He could do what he damned well liked with the hotel; one more wasn’t going to make any difference to the Xenides portfolio. And the kicker would be that Darius would still have to pay him back the loan.

He put his hands behind his head and leaned back into the soft upholstery. It was perfect.

‘Three weeks, Mother, that’s right. Are you busy that weekend?’

‘Too busy for my son’s wedding? Tsh. Of course not.’ Even here, standing at the window to his office overlooking the caldera, he could hear the tremor of excitement running through her voice, could imagine that five minutes after this conversation the entire who’s who of Athens would know about the upcoming nuptials. ‘Although I have to admit to being a little surprised.’

‘Really?’ Not half as surprised, he’d bet, as he had been when he’d returned home to find Cleo gone and a teary Petra apologising, not making any sense. Petra and tears. He’d never expected to see the day.

He’d been about to head straight back to the plane and follow Cleo when Petra had dropped the bombshell that she was pregnant. He wouldn’t wish the news she’d given him on his worst enemy. It wasn’t the world he’d imagined so perfect, with Cleo sitting on the terrace, her belly swelling, ripe with their child. But it was a child. His child. And there was no way he could walk away. ‘Why’s that?’

‘Well, you seemed so sure when you were last here that you weren’t planning on marrying Petra.’

‘It was something you said,’ he said, clutching at the excuse. ‘Something about not realising what was right there under your nose.’

‘Oh.’There was a short silence and for a moment he thought the line had dropped out. ‘I guess I did say that.’

Strange, Andreas thought, as one of his staff slipped a note to him. He’d imagined his mother would be delighted with that little snippet. He could see her even now telling all her friends at bridge that she’d played matchmaker.

‘Anyway, I’ll send over the helicopter for you a few days in advance.’

‘That would be lovely. I’ll enjoy coming over to help with everything. And, Andreas?’

‘Yes?’

‘It all seems such a rush. I know I put some pressure on you and, while that’s a mother’s prerogative, I’d hate to think you were rushing into something you might regret later. Are you sure you’re making the right decision?’

His head collapsed back, his hand going to his brow. It was the right decision, wasn’t it? Morally. Ethically. For the sake of his child. He was doing the right thing. The note in his hand fluttered against his brow. He looked at it, trying to focus, trying to make sense of the words it contained in the context of the query he’d sent to the clinic.

We are unable to provide information on our patients but can advise that we have no patient by the name of Petra Demitriou.



And it was signed by the very doctor Petra had claimed had confirmed her pregnancy.

No wonder she hadn’t wanted him to accompany her!

‘Andreas? Are you still there? I asked if there was any chance you were making a mistake.’

He was, but his teeth were grinding together and it took a force of will to prise them apart. Thank God he hadn’t told his mother why it was all such a rush! ‘Very possibly, Mother. I’ll have to call you back.’

‘Possibly? What do you mean?’

‘I’ll call you back.’

Right now he had something more important on his mind.

He found her in his suite, supervising the removal and packing of Cleo’s clothes. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

‘Andreas! I didn’t hear you coming.’

‘Who asked you to take Cleo’s clothes away?’ He gestured to the staff, clearing the room with a click of his fingers.

‘Andreas, Cleo’s gone. I thought I should make room for my things, seeing as I’ll be moving in soon.’

He swallowed back on a surge of revulsion. He hadn’t been able to stomach the thought of Petra back in his bed when he could still smell Cleo’s scent on his sheets, the smell of her hair on his pillow. Although Petra had made it clear she’d like to resume sexual relations ten minutes after she’d dropped the double-barrelled blast that Cleo had gone and that she was carrying his child.

And now she was planning on moving in. It was all he could do to keep a tenuous hold on the contents of his stomach.

‘When’s your next appointment with the clinic?’ he asked disingenuously. ‘I’d like to come too.’

She smiled and closed the wardrobe doors, he guessed so he couldn’t see how empty they now were. Empty of Cleo. As empty as he now felt. ‘There’s no need for that. It’s just routine. Tests. You know.’

‘No, I don’t know. And neither, it seems, does Dr Varvounis.’

‘Wha…? What do you mean?’

‘You’re not registered at the clinic. He’s never heard of you. You haven’t been, have you?’