Sometimes they managed to get to Kallistris at the weekend; more often, though, it was just driving out to explore yet more of Greece with him—up to Delphi, famed for its oracle, and out to the long island of Euboea, across the dramatic Gulf of Corinth bridge to visit the site of the ancient Olympic games.
Sometimes they stayed in Athens, taking it easy in the apartment, with long lie-ins and vegging in front of the TV, tuned to an English-language channel or watching online movies. Or dining out à deux in beautiful restaurants. Or socialising at a dinner dance, or another grand and glittering affair.
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 as
sessingly 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.