And it wasn’t just her who thought so. Even as Theo made his remark he glanced behind him, his gaze picking out the long three-seater sofa in the sitting room behind them.
‘I’ll sleep on that,’ he told her.
That idiotic emotion fleeted through her again as she registered what he intended, and again Vicky tossed it aside and stamped on it. Hard. Very hard.
‘Thank you,’ she said stiffly.
‘Not at all,’ said Theo. His voice was formal. There was an inflexion in it she did not pick up.
Their sleeping arrangements set the tone for the rest of the honeymoon—which Theo passed in meetings with various government trade officials and other businessmen, and Vicky in sightseeing tours—and continued thereafter when they returned to Athens, to take up residence in the huge Theakis mansion in an exclusive district of the city. There, they hardly ever saw each other, and Vicky was grateful. The house was so large it was easy to keep out of his way, though she was always relieved when he went off on business to other parts of Europe or, better still, farther afield to America.
It was quite difficult enough coping with the bizarre situation she was in without him being around to add to the strain. Being Theo Theakis was just that much easier when he wasn’t around.
Not that it solved her other problem—boredom. The main occupation of the social circle she found herself in seemed to be spending money and socialising with each other, neither of which Vicky took pleasure in. Shopping seemed mindlessly extravagant, and because of the prurient envy and resentment that she so often received from other women, socialising was out of the question. She would have happily spent more time with her uncle, had it not been clear that right now, as was understandable, his prime concern was his business—seeing off the corporate raider now that he had accepted the financial support of Theakis Corp. Besides which, she was also worried she might let slip just how much of a contrived sham her marriage was.
To pass the time she explored Athens, and all the cornucopia of ancient sites in this region of Greece. She also, inspired by discovering the heritage of her father, started to learn Greek, struggling with the difficulty of the alien script to get to the language it embodied, as well as assiduously studying Greek history, art and philosophy. Then there were concerts, opera and the ballet to divert her, and she became a regular at the theatre. Back at the Theakis mansion she also spent a good two hours a day in the pool, swimming lengths, as well as making the most of the fully equipped gym.
But that, as it turned out, was the easy bit of her marriage. Much, much worse was the time—far too much of it!—when Theo was back in Athens and they had to take part in what seemed to her a never-ending round of social activities. She didn’t want to, but it was, she conceded, all part of the show that was the purpose of their marriage in the first place.
But being part of a ‘couple’ with Theo was a highly uncomfortable process. She felt eyes on her, curious and critical, only adding to her feelings of acute self-consciousness in the role she was being required to play. It was the reason, she knew, that she was so particularly stiff in her manners, and the reason why, too, though she was forced to buy ridiculously expensive clothes for such occasions, she always chose styles that were above all discreetly understated—outfits that did not emphasise or overly reveal her figure, or make her conspicuous. They might draw disdainful looks from the chicly sophisticated women from whom Theo Theakis selected his sexual partners, but what did she care?
Her concern was simply to get through the ordeal of being Theo Theakis. Constantly at her husband’s side, conscious all the time—punishingly so—of his tall, commanding presence beside her, was making it impossible, quite impossible, for her ever to relax.
The hardest occasions, she came to realise, were those when she had to play the role of Theo Theakis in his house, entertaining others. It seemed to exacerbate her pointless, enervating awareness of him, to put her in an oh-so-visible position where she was indelibly linked to him. Bride of a man that other women wanted and resented her for having.
Help yourselves! she wanted to shout at them.
And especially one of them.
She’d glided up to Theo at one of the social events Vicky had attended with him on their return from their fake honeymoon, and Vicky had recognised her instantly. She was the spectacularly svelte woman who had had been at her uncle’s dinner party the evening she had been introduced to Theo, who had been all over him, ignoring Vicky completely.
She ignored her now, too.
‘Theo!’ Her voice was a rich purr, and she spoke Greek, effectively cutting out Vicky while she used a low, intimate voice to the man at her side. She stood too close to him, in his body space, and the contrast between her closeness and the stiff distance that Vicky habitually kept from Theo was marked. So, too, Vicky registered, with a sudden tension in her muscles, was the difference in the smile that Theo bestowed on the woman.
It was a smile of familiarity—sensuality.
He’s never smiled at me like that…
The words formed in her head before she could stop them. Immediately she dismissed them. Of course Theo had never smiled at her like that—it was a smile for a lover to give a woman whose pleasures he had enjoyed.
Not for a woman he’d married in a token arrangement for the sole purpose of saving her uncle’s beleaguered company. A woman who meant absolutely nothing else to him…
Forcibly, she stiffened her spine. What on earth was she thinking of? Let him have as many lovers as he wanted. It was nothing to do with her.
And this woman now wasn’t anything to do with her, either.
To prove it, she held out her hand.
‘Hello—we haven’t met yet, have we? I’m sure I would have remembered you,’ she said sweetly.
The woman’s sloe-like eyes flickered to her. Vicky’s voice had been bland, deliberately sticking to English, but she could see the other woman register the subtle insult. Theo’s lover—past or present—was not a woman that other women forgot having seen before.
‘Christina Poussos,’ she returned dismissively. ‘An old friend of your…husband.’ She hesitated pointedly before giving the descriptor of the man she was too close to.
Vicky’s smile was even sweeter.
‘Oh, no,’ she murmured in a saccharine voice. ‘Not that old, surely?’