CHAPTER NINE
‘SO...’ROSIE’SVOICEwas heavy with implication. ‘Did Xanthos actuallysayanything?’
Bianca was trying very hard to hold back her mounting irritation—which was surely more to do with her own stupidity at having allowed herself to get involved with the Greek billionaire in the first place, than the fact that her younger sister was annoyingly trying to interrogate her.
‘Of course he did,’ she said calmly. ‘Unless you think we spent the entire time in the mountain hut and then on subsequent flights in total silence?’
‘That’s not what I mean!’ Rosie protested.
‘Then perhaps you’d like to explain what youdomean!’ Bianca knew she was being unreasonable but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. It was as if her defensiveness had become a sturdy shield she could hide behind now that her bravado had started to slip away. ‘I know you’re a queen now, Rosie—but I’m not one of your loyal subjects who has learned to intuit your words before they’ve even left your mouth.’
‘That’s not fair, Bianca!’
‘Then just say what you want to say, because I am time limited. Don’t forget that most of us don’t have a wealthy monarch to support us and still need to work for a living.’
‘And that’s not fair either!’ Rosie’s exasperated sigh echoed down the phone. ‘You’re hopeless when you’re in this kind of mood, so why don’t we change the subject? When are you coming out to Monterosso to see us?’
‘Not any time soon,’ said Bianca, before relenting a little. After all, it wasn’t Rosie’s fault she was hurting so much. The force of missing Xanthos had been like a sudden storm whose fierceness had taken her by surprise. And no matter how much she tried to reason that she barely knew him or to convince herself that she didn’t really like him, it didn’t seem to make the slightest bit of difference. Maybe their forced incarceration had provided an extra layer of intimacy. Or maybe the man to whom you so eagerly gave your virginity always occupied a special place in your heart. Yes, that must be it.
But she wasn’t going to tell Rosie about Xanthos—about what they’d done or what they’d said—because if she shared her pain, it would only prolong it. She needed to draw a line under the whole affair and the best way to do that was to avoid going to Monterosso for the time being because, annoyingly, the place now reminded her of meeting Xanthos. Her voice softened. ‘I’ll try to get out in the spring if I can. Promise. But right now, I really do have stuff I need to do.’
But after she had terminated the call, Bianca didn’t resume work immediately. She sat at her desk, staring at the calendar she insisted on hanging on her office wall every year, despite such things being considered old-fashioned. The January photo showed a clump of white snowdrops clustered around the trunk of a tree and although usually she adored the first flowers of the year, for once the scene looked as bleak as she felt inside.
She felt the wash of despair, wondering why she had allowed Xanthos to get so close and why she couldn’t seem to get him out of her mind, no matter how hard she tried. Was it because the sex had been so incredible? Or because she’d enjoyed the unfamiliar experience of being part of a couple?
She thought about their matter-of-fact conversation late on Christmas afternoon, when she had calmly taken the initiative and told him there was no future for them. The truth was that her pride had wanted her to say it first—to signal the end before he did—because his growing distance from her had been obvious. But if her words had brought him relief, there had been surprise on his face, too—as if she had broken the mould. Did his lovers usually cling on to the bitter end? Probably. No wonder he was so arrogant.
She stared out at the dome of St Paul’s cathedral, which dominated her particular patch of London skyline. It didn’t matterwhyhe seemed to have taken stubborn root inside her mind—all that mattered was the manner in which she dealt with the aftermath of their heady affair. She needed to move on. To start dating, like other women her age. To find a nice, steady man with whom to settle down and have a family. And perhaps Xanthos had been the catalyst she needed to put that in motion.
So what was she waiting for?
She downloaded the apps recommended by her assistant and quickly learnt the rules of Internet dating, discovering never to agree to dinner on a first date, in case the man was so boring that you couldn’t make your escape. But all the men seemed boring, even though in her heart Bianca knew they weren’t. There was the hunky heart surgeon who invited her on a winter picnic in Hyde Park. The businessman who had rowed across the Atlantic with his brother and raised a shedload of money for charity in the process—and the fine art expert who took her to a private view at a groovy gallery where they could see lights twinkling all over Shoreditch.
The trouble was that none of them were Xanthos Antoniou and he was proving an impossible act to follow. Didn’t matter how much she tried to reason that he wasn’t the right man for her, deep in her heart Bianca wasn’t convinced. It was like having tasted a morsel of rich, sweet chocolate then being told you would have to eat stale bread for the rest of your life.
And then one day in early spring, he rang.
His name flashed up on the screen because, naturally, they’d gone through the civilised motions of exchanging numbers before they’d parted. For a moment Bianca stared at it blankly, wondering if she was seeing things. She knew she should let it go to voicemail but suddenly she was sliding her thumb across the screen and praying that her voice sounded normal.
‘Hello?’
‘It’s Xanthos.’
‘I know.’
There was a pause. ‘You don’t sound overjoyed to hear from me.’
‘How should I respond, Xanthos? Would you like me to burst into song?’
His low laugh did dangerous things to her blood pressure. ‘How are you, Bianca?’
Oh, you know. Missing you. Obsessing about you. Trying not to view the past through rose-tinted spectacles or think about how it felt to have you deep inside my body.
‘I’m fine!’ she said brightly, looking at the wall calendar, which today was displaying the frilly yellow daffodils of March.
‘What’ve you been up to?’
She saw no reason to lie, nor to be coy andof courseshe wasn’t trying to make him jealous. ‘I’ve been dating.’