our lawyer that if you want a quick, clean divorce then you have to move now.’
But I don’t want a divorce, was the reply that lit up like a halogen light bulb in his head. I want my wife back. My wife!
CHAPTER THREE
OUT in the street Isobel hailed a passing taxi, gave the driver the name of her hotel then sank back in her seat with a shaking sigh. Maybe she should have waited for Lester Miles to join her but at this precise moment she didn’t want anyone witnessing the state she was in.
‘You OK, thespinis?’ the taxi driver questioned.
Glancing up, she saw the driver studying her through his rear-view mirror, his brown eyes clouded by concern.
Did she look that bad?
Yes, she looked that bad, she accepted. Inside she was a mass of shakes and tremors. Beneath her zipped-up jacket her blouse was still gaping open and there wasn’t an inch of flesh that wasn’t still wearing the hot imprint of a man’s knowing touch. Her hair was hanging around her pale face and her mouth was hot, swollen and quivering from the kind of assault that should have set her screaming for help but instead she just—
‘Yes—thank you,’ she replied and lowered her eyes so he wouldn’t see just how big a lie that was.
She felt like a whore. Her eyes filmed over. How could he do that to her? What had she ever done to him to make him believe he had the right to treat her that way?
You riled him into doing it is what happened, a deriding little voice in her head threw in. You went in there wanting to rip his unfaithful heart out and ended up with him ripping out yours!
She stared at the fingers of one hand as they rubbed anxiously at the empty place on another finger where her wedding ring had used to be, and tried to decide if she hurt more because of the way he had just treated her, or because she was still flailing around in the rotten discovery that she was still in love with the over-sexed brute!
It had hit her the moment Lester Miles had mentioned a future wife and Diantha Christophoros in the same, soul-destroying breath. Couldn’t he have come up with someone fresh instead of picking out his old love to replace her with?
He’d also been having her watched, she suddenly remembered. Had he been that desperate to find a solid reason to bring their marriage crashing down that he’d had to go to such extremes?
I hate him, she thought on a blistering wave of agony. And she did. The two opposing emotions of love and hatred were swilling around inside her in one gigantic, dizzying mix. The man was bad for her. He had always been bad for her. Three years on, she thought wretchedly, and her stupid heart had not learned anything!
The taxi pulled into the kerb outside her hotel. Fumbling in her purse, Isobel unearthed some money to pay the driver then climbed out into the heat of a midday sun. Within seconds she felt as if she was melting, which only made a further mockery of her sanity in coming here to Athens at all and wearing leather of all things in this city famous for the oppressive weight of its summer heat.
Her mother had been right; she’d been asking for trouble—and had certainly found it! Returning to her hotel room, she stripped off the wretched suit and walked into the bathroom to shower his touch from her skin.
Never again, she vowed as she scrubbed with a grim disregard for her skin’s fragile layers. By the time she had finished drying herself she was tingling all over for a different reason and her mood had altered from feeling destroyed to mulish. If she’d ever needed to be reminded why she left Leandros in the first place then that little scene in his boardroom had done it.
She didn’t need a man like him. Let him pour his money into his settlement, she invited, as she dressed in a pair of loose-fitting green cotton trousers and a matching T-shirt. Let him have his divorce so he can marry Diantha Christophoros and produce black-eyed, black-haired little thoroughbreds for his dynasty—
Was that it? Her head shot up, the brush she was using on her hair freezing as she struck at the heart of it. Had Leandros changed his mind about children and decided it was time he made an effort to produce the next Petronades heir?
What was it Lester Miles had said? She tried to remember as she brushed her hair into one long, thick, silken lock. Nikos was getting married. The lawyer called it an heir thing. Nikos might be three years younger than his brother but if Leandros wanted to keep the line of succession clear in his favour, then he needed to get in first with a son.
The tears came back. I would have given him a son. I would have given him a hundred babies if he’d only wanted them. But he didn’t, not with me for a mother. He wanted a black-haired Greek beauty with a name exalted enough to match his own.
I’m going to be sick, she thought and had to stand there for a few minutes, fighting the urge as a three-year-old scar ripped open in her chest.
She had to get out of here. The need came with a sudden urgency that left her no room to think. Securing her hair into a simple pony-tail, she snatched up her camera case and slung the strap over her shoulder, slid a pair of sunglasses onto the top of her head then headed for the outer door.
It was only when she stepped out into the hotel corridor that she remembered her mother, and felt guilty because she didn’t want to see her right now while she was in this emotional mess. But in all fairness she could not just walk out of here without checking Silvia was back. With a deep breath for courage, she knocked on the door next to her own room. There was no answer. Silvia must still be out with Clive. Relief flicked through her. In the next minute she was riding the lift to the foyer, so eager to escape now that she could barely contain the urge long enough to leave a message for her mother at Reception to let her know what she was doing.
As luck would have it, she was about to step outside when Lester Miles strode in.
‘How quickly did they draw up the papers?’ she questioned tartly.
‘They didn’t.’ The lawyer frowned. ‘Mr Petronades left just after you did.’
To dance attendance on his future bride? Isobel wondered, and felt another burst of bitterness rend a hole in her chest.
‘So what happens now?’ she asked.