‘What is it?’ he asked.
She gave a half smile, a little rueful. ‘He doesn’t know how fortunate he is, compared with so many other children.’
Nikos’s face was sombre a moment. ‘True, he has every material blessing. But no parents.’
Ann bit her lip. ‘Yes, but there are many children with neither families nor material security. Still,’ she went on, ‘who would begrudge him for a second the happiness he has? And he isn’t spoilt—not in the slightest.’
‘No,’ agreed Nikos. ‘He isn’t. We have done our best, myself, my mother and Tina, to ensure he is not a spoilt brat.’
‘Never!’ exclaimed Ann feelingly. ‘He’s an angelic child.’
There was a tug at Nikos’ mouth. ‘Now, there speaks a doting aunt!’ Then, as it had before, his expression changed. ‘And you are, aren’t you, Ann? It’s not a show for my benefit, is it? You really do love him.’
‘Is that so surprising?’ she asked steadily.
His eyes rested on her, with that same expression in them that she could not read. ‘Perhaps not,’ he answered.
Was there reluctance in his voice? Of course there must be, thought Ann. It would gall him to think she really cared for the nephew she had sold, as he so scathingly reminded her whenever it suited him, for hard cash.
And suddenly, out of nowhere, Ann found herself wanting to dispel that view of her as heartless and mercenary.
‘I think you have come to love Ari,’ he said slowly. ‘Being with him as you have been on Sospiris and here, now, day after day. I think you have come to love him now that he is no longer a baby—a burden on your life imposed on you by your sister’s death, a responsibility you could not evade.’
His eyes were resting on her, still with that unreadable expression in them, and Ann could only let him speak—even though she wanted to shout out that he was wrong, wrong! That she had never, ever regarded Ari as a burden, that he had been the most precious thing in her life, and that giving him up had nearly broken her…
But Nikos was still speaking, his tone sombre, and as she listened her eyes widened in amazement.
‘When I came to you that night, Ann, four years ago, fresh off the plane, I’d spent the entire journey in a state of agonising grief for my brother’s death. There was only one other emotion in me.’ He looked at her, his eyes heavy. ‘Fear,’ he said.
She stared, not understanding.
‘Yes, fear. And anger—not just at your sister, for what she’d done to my brother, but at myself. Harsh, unforgiving anger. Because…’ He took a ragged breath. ‘It was I who had ensured that Ari was illegitimate. I was so sure that Carla had lied through her teeth to Andreas that she was pregnant by him, and not any of the dozens of men she got through, I persuaded him to wait until the child was born and only then have DNA tests done—convinced as I was that they would be negative, and he would not need to marry a woman like her and ruin his life. So when I arrived that night, Ann, my anger at myself for having myself ensured my dead brother’s son was a bastard warred only with my fear—my fear of you.’
‘Me?’ Ann’s voice was disbelieving.
Long lashes swept down over his eyes, and his mouth twisted.
‘Yes, Ann—you. A drab slip of a girl, living in a dingy slum, holding a baby in her arms that I desperately, desperately wanted—needed!—and which you could have denied me.’ He took another heavy breath. ‘Surely, Ann, you knew how powerful your position was? The moment I showed my hand and told you I wanted to take Ari you must have known?’
‘Known what?’ she said blankly.
‘That you were holding me to ransom! Theos mou, Ann—you had legal possession of my brother’s son. When your sister was killed you became Ari’s legal guardian—and as such, the moment you knew I wanted him, you had unlimited power over me. Had Andreas and Carla been married, I could have wrested Ari from you with ease—what court in the world would have awarded custody to a penniless girl in comparison with what I could offer my nephew? But as Ari’s guardian, as you were, you held every card.’
Incredulity flared in her face. He saw it, and gave a brief, hollow laugh.
‘I came to you that day with only one weapon in my hand. My money.’ His mouth twisted again as he spoke. ‘Fear that you would turn me down, laugh in my face, made me harsh to you, Ann. Whatever your sister had done, you were hardly responsible—I knew and accepted that! Yet my anger at her, my fear of you—of the power you held to deny me what I needed most, my brother’s son—made me angry with you, too. But…’ His eyes closed momentarily as he faced truths he had not wanted to face—truths that told him baldly, bleakly, just why he had so wanted to hate and despise Ann Turner for selling her baby nephew to him. ‘I had a lucky escape that day—and do not think I did not know it. I found a woman young enough, poor enough, to bribe with a pittance.’
Ann swallowed. A million pounds? A pittance? But Nikos was talking again. His voice was darkly bitter—at himself.
‘Do you not realise how I cheated you that day, Ann? You could have held out for far, far more. I would have given the world for Ari. You could have sent me off, left me to sweat with no room to manoeuvre, once you realised how desperately I wanted Ari. You could have raised the bidding—not just to sell him to me, but for a share in the Theakis wealth. You could have gone to the press, Ann—kicked up a storm, a hideous scandal over our heads, raking up everything your sister had been. You could have hired a team of crack lawyers to get your fingers into the Theakis fortune on behalf of the child for whom you were legal guardian, illegitimate though he was. Just thinking of what you held the power to do that day made me so harsh to you. Even as you took that cheque for a paltry million pounds from my hand I hated you for the power you had over me.’
He stilled, the strong emotion in his face fading—but not completely.
‘And I hated you for selling Ari to me—even though it was what I wanted—so swiftly and so cheaply. I’ve condemned you ever since for it.’
She swallowed. There seemed to be a stone lodged in her throat, making it hard—impossible—to breathe.
‘I…I noticed,’ she said.