Her gaze shifted to the proprietorial arm he kept around the woman, his fiancée, Brianna Moneypenny, and she felt a twinge of shame-laced jealousy.
He caught her gaze and he gave a short nod in greeting before returning his attention to the front.
She faced forward again, but the unsettling feeling that had gripped her nape escalated. The feeling grew as the ceremony progressed. By the time the priest announced the eulogy reading, Perla’s stomach churned with sick nerves. She pushed it away. Whatever emotional turmoil she was experiencing had nothing to do with the Pantelides family and everything to do with what she’d done on Tuesday night. And those memories had no place here in this chapel, today.
No matter what Morgan had put her through, she had to do this without breaking down. She had to endure this for his parents’ sake.
They’d offered her the only home she’d ever known, and the warmth she’d only ever dreamed about as a child.
Another pat from Mrs Clinton gave her the strength to keep upright. She thought she heard a sharp intake of breath behind her but Perla didn’t turn around. She needed every ounce of focus to stride past the coffin holding her dead husband...the husband who, while he’d been alive, had taken great pleasure in humiliating her; the husband who even in death...seemed to be mocking her.
She got to the lectern and unfolded the piece of paper. Nerves gripped her and, although she knew it was rude, she couldn’t look up from the sheet. She had a feeling she would lose her nerve if her gaze strayed from the paper in her hand.
Clearing her throat, she moved closer to the microphone.
‘I met Morgan at the uni bar on my first day on campus. I was the wide-eyed, clueless outsider who had no clue what went into a half-fat, double-shot pumpkin spice latte—except maybe the pumpkin—and he was the second-year city dude every girl wanted to date. Even though he didn’t ask me out until I was in my last year, I think I fell in love with him at first sight...’
Perla carried on reading, refusing to dwell on how overwhelmingly wrong she’d been about the man she’d married; how utterly gullible she must have been to have had the wool pulled over her eyes so effectively until it was too late.
But now was not the time to think of past mistakes. She read on, saying the right thing, honouring the man who right from the very beginning of their marriage had had no intention of honouring her.
‘...I’ll always remember Morgan with a pint in his hand and a twinkle in his eye, telling rude jokes in the uni bar. That was the man I fell in love with and he’ll always remain in my heart.’
Unshed tears clogged her throat again. Swallowing, she folded the sheet and finally gathered the courage to look up.
‘Thank you all for coming—’
She choked to a halt as her gaze clashed with a pair of sinful, painfully familiar hazel eyes.
No.
Oh, God, no...
Her knees gave way. Frantically, she clutched at the lectern. She felt her hand begin to slip. Someone shouted and moved towards her. Unable to breathe or halt her crumpling legs, she cried out. Several people rushed towards her. Hands grabbed her before she fell, righted her, helped her down from the dais.
And, through it all, Arion Pantelides stared at her from where he stood next to the man she’d guessed was Sakis Pantelides, icy condemnation blazing from his eyes and washing over her until her whole body went numb.
* * *
Ari tried to breathe past the vice squeezing his chest, past the thick anger and acrid bitterness lashing his insides. The pain that rose alongside it, he refused to acknowledge.
Why would he feel pain? He had no one to blame but himself. After all life had thrown at him, he’d dared to believe he could reach out and seek goodness when there was none to be had. Only disappointment. Only heartache. Only disgust.
But still the anger came, thick and fast and strong, as he stared at Pearl...no, Perla Lowell, the woman who’d lied about her name and slithered into his bed while her husband’s body was barely cold.
Disgust roiled through him. Even now, the memory of what they’d done to each other made fiery desire pool in his groin. Gritting his teeth, he forced his fists to unclench as he stamped down on the emotion.
He’d let himself down, spectacularly and utterly. On the most sacred of days, when he should’ve been honouring his past, he’d allowed himself to succumb to temptation.
Temptation with absolutely the wrong woman.
One who’d turned out to be as duplicitous and as sullied as the husband she was burying.
‘Do you know what’s going on with her?’ His younger brother, Sakis, slid a glance at him.