Greek Tycoon, Wayward Wife(36)

‘You just enjoy your time off,’ he said gruffly, then tilted his head to look at the man watching her from across the lawn with a twinkle in his eye. ‘I don’t doubt Petros is keeping you busy.’

Eurycleia looked back at him and rolled her eyes affectionately. ‘I dare say he is.’

‘He looks as though he really dotes on you,’ Libby added. She’d meant it to come out jovially, but she could hear the wistfulness in her own voice. Thankfully, neither Eurycleia nor Rion seemed to notice.

‘Oh, he’s just come over all protective because I’ve been talking to that charming young man who works for you,’ Eurycleia said to Rion. ‘Now, what’s his name…? Stephanos? Yes, that’s it. He was telling me how you and he-who-I-shan’t-even-name are now neck and neck in the opinion polls. I mean, really, as if a young man like that is going to be interested in me!’

She threw her hands in the air in exasperation, and then clapped them back together again.

‘Oh, listen to me—waffling on. I’ve already taken up too much of your precious time.’ She reached out to squeeze their hands in turn. ‘If you need anything, you know where to find me.’ She winked, held up two sets of crossed fingers, and then scuttled back across the lawn.

Libby watched her go, taking in the garden’s swirling mix of fairylights and flowers for the first time. It reminded her of some of the parties her parents had held in the grounds of Ashworth Manor—the ones where they’d invited every wealthy family in the south of England with sons about her age. But here there was no such discrimination; the designer-clad of the new town were mixed with the home-made Sunday best of the old town, exactly the way she would have preferred those other parties to have been. Yes, she recognised that some people didn’t look a hundred per cent comfortable in their surroundings, but save for a few of Spyros’s clan everyone seemed to be making the effort to mingle.

In fact, it looked exactly what it was supposed to be: a celebration of democracy. Except it wasn’t, was it? she thought miserably. Democracy was about the freedom to choose, but the people of Metameikos had no choice. This election was between one deceptive, power-hungry fat cat and another; she had no doubt about that now. And she couldn’t bear the thought of being a part of it.

She took a swig of wine from the glass in her hand and turned back to face him. ‘I told you from the start, Rion, I’m not prepared to lie for you. Especially when as far as I can see you’re no better than Spyros.’

Rion gritted his teeth. ‘I’m not asking you to lie for me.’

‘You’re asking me to stand by your side and look like I want to be there. That’s a lie.’

‘Is it?’ he murmured scathingly. ‘It didn’t feel like you ever wanted to be anywhere else when you were making love to me.’

Libby shook her head wretchedly. ‘And that became a lie the second you used it as nothing more than an aid to your campaign.’

Rion’s anger turned to puzzlement, and then his face stilled. ‘When I rang the office I told them I’d missed the call because the meeting overran, that was all.’

Her cheeks flushed. God, she wanted to believe him. But how could she? He’d say whatever it took to stop her from leaving, from ruining his chances of success. He had done so from the start.

‘No.’ She shook her head again, more fiercely, and felt her whole body begin to sway from side to side. She took a step backwards, but he grabbed onto her wrist and pressed his lips to her ear.

‘You want honesty, Libby? The truth is this isn’t about the election, or what it says about our marriage on paper. This is about you and me. It always has been—’

‘No!’ She wrenched herself away from him so fiercely that a sharp pain shot through her shoulder. She’d believed that for so long, but tonight just proved that was the biggest lie of all. ‘I can’t do this, Rion!’

She had to go. If she didn’t, her poor battered heart might never recover.

She was surprised he didn’t haul her back and physically bar her escape, but as she began to dart through the crowds, clattering her half-empty wine glass onto a passing silver tray, she supposed it made sense. Holding his wife by force would do even more damage to his precious reputation than her absence altogether.

She didn’t know where she was going, except to somewhere wide and free and as far from him as possible—which meant away from here. But, just as she was about to run into the main house and back through the door they’d used to come in, she spotted a side passage by a laurel tree, to the far left of the building, which had initially been obscured as she’d crossed the garden. From this angle, it looked as if it would lead back to the road a lot more quickly, and cut out the possibility of her running into anyone she knew.