Greek Tycoon, Wayward Wife(17)

The cords in Rion’s neck went taut, and he raised himself to his full height, but before he could take another step forward Libby cut in front of him. She didn’t know what the hell was going on, but Spyros’s condescension and disrespect was such an unpleasantly vivid reminder of her father that she couldn’t remain silent.

‘I’m not sure what business it is of yours, but I can assure you that we are married.’

Rion looked at her, and she saw something flare in his eyes. She wasn’t sure whether it was pride or horror.

‘Don’t tell me he actually convinced you to go through with it? Do you really think people are stupid enough to believe that he’s capable of some whirlwind romance, that overnight he’s become a family man? All it screams is rashness and irresponsibility.’

‘You think so?’ Rion said, pretending to ponder the concept. ‘Lucky, then, that Libby and I married five years ago.’

He paused to watch Spyros’s face drop before continuing, ‘We have been apart for a period of time, yes, but what marriage doesn’t go through bad patches?’ He looked critically at him. ‘I’d say those that seem not to are the ones which invite suspicion.’

Spyros’s conceited expression turned to one of pure malevolence. ‘You will not win this, Delikaris—’ he twisted his head and glowered at the crowd ‘— You’re no better than they are.’

‘No, I don’t believe I am,’ Rion replied. ‘And that’s the difference between us.’

Rion fought the urge to show Spyros that wasn’t the only difference between them, that if he ever insulted his wife again he would pay, but he knew that would only be living up to the creep’s preconceptions. Instead he placed his hand on Libby’s arm, momentarily wished he could repress his rudimentary urges with such ease when it came to her, then encouraged her forward and smiled with intentionally nauseating civility. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse us, we were just off to see Georgios.’

Libby watched as Spyros angrily pushed his way back through the crowd to a small, grubby-looking man and a large woman in a gaudy peacock-print dress whom she presumed must be his wife. Her nose was turned up at two young boys acting out the fight between Odysseus and the Cyclops, one with one eye tightly shut, the other brandishing a rolled-up theatre programme, creating clouds of dust.

Libby would have cheered them on if she hadn’t felt as if she’d just been engulfed by a dust cloud herself. A dust cloud which, once settled, she had a horrible feeling might reveal a truth she didn’t want to see. She turned her head back to face Rion, who had the audacity to be scanning the crowd for the Mayor again.

‘Would you care to tell me what just happened?’

‘Sorry?’

‘That man—Spyros, or whatever his name is—who is he?’ And who are you?

‘He’s the current leader of Metameikos,’ Rion replied through gritted teeth.

As he spoke she pieced together the bits of information she’d gleaned from their conversation. ‘And what? You’re standing against him in some sort of election?’

As she said the words aloud, she knew she’d hit the nail on the head before he even had the chance to nod. That was why Eurycleia had been so reverential when he’d mentioned coming here tonight—that was why he wanted her to meet the Mayor—that was why—

Libby felt as if the fragile threads keeping her heart suspended in her chest had just been cut.

That was the real reason why he’d refused to sign the divorce petition and invited her here. Not because he wanted to give their marriage another shot. But because he thought that playing the family man in the local community for a couple of weeks might win him a few extra votes.

‘And you just didn’t think you’d bother mentioning it?’ Libby exploded, almost as angry at herself for thinking he might have changed as at the concrete proof that he didn’t give a damn about anyone but himself.

‘Do you mind if we don’t do this in front of the whole of Metameikos?’ he said under his breath, steering her away from the throng of people who had started to turn around.

Libby shook him off angrily. ‘Oh, no, it wouldn’t do for your wife to make a scene, would it?’

‘Not over nothing, no,’ he said matter-of-factly, as if she was the one who was being unreasonable. ‘This isn’t a secret, it’s a public election, gineka mou. I’m sorry if you didn’t realise I was running but, given that you’ve been gone for five years, unfortunately there will be some things we don’t know about each other.’