They were crossing the reception hall when Demetri heard the unmistakable sound of a car coming up the drive to the house and his stomach clenched instinctively. Oh, right, he thought tiredly, wasn’t this just par for the course? He’d thought things couldn’t get any worse, but they just had.
‘That must be your father and Ariadne and—and your wife,’ offered Ianthe uneasily, and Demetri gave her a wry look.
‘Yes,’ he said flatly. ‘I think you’re right. How wonderful!’
Ianthe’s eyes held an expression of reproach. ‘You don’t mean that.’
‘Don’t I?’ Despite his reluctance, Demetri continued doggedly towards the outer doors. ‘Well, we’ll see, shall we?’
They paused in the open doorway as his father’s vintage Bentley halted at the foot of the steps that led up to the terrace where they were standing. Unaware of being observed, Jane was first out of the car. She’d apparently been acting as his father’s chauffeur with him beside her in the front seat. Now, she hurried round the bonnet to pull open his door, offering him a hand to alight. He did so gratefully, leaning heavily on her arm before rescuing his cane and transferring his weight to it.
‘Thank you, my dear,’ he said with evident warmth. And then he saw his son.
‘Demetri!’ he exclaimed, and Ariadne, who had been getting rather ill-temperedly out of the back of the car, lifted her head disbelievingly.
‘Darling,’ she cried, ignoring Jane and his father. Darting ahead of them, she reached Demetri and, grasping his free arm, she stood on tiptoe to brush her mouth against his. ‘You’re back!’
‘You noticed.’ Demetri’s tone was even, but he was watching his wife and his father making their careful ascent of the steps. Then, with an inward curse, he put down his briefcase and went to help them, leaving Ariadne and Ianthe to exchange an unfriendly look.
‘I can manage,’ said his father irritably, and Jane permitted her husband a contemptuous stare.
‘Hoping to impress your girlfriends?’ she asked but the smile she’d adopted for his father’s benefit turned malicious when she looked at him.
‘Well, obviously I’m not impressing you,’ he retorted, ignoring his father’s protests and taking his full weight on his shoulder. ‘And believe it or not, I didn’t know Ianthe was coming here today.’
‘It’s of no interest to me whether you did or not,’ declared Jane, not altogether truthfully. She directed her whole attention to the old man. ‘Not much further, Leo.’
‘I see that.’ Demetri’s father shook his head. ‘But I’m not an invalid, you know.’
‘You’re not used to climbing steps,’ pointed out Demetri drily as they reached the level surface of the terrace. ‘OK.’ He released his father’s arm. ‘You’re on your own now.’
‘Thank you.’ Leo’s tone was clipped, but then, noticing Ianthe’s anxious expression, his voice softened. ‘Hello, little one. Where are you and Demetri off to?’
‘We’re not going anywhere,’ Demetri answered him, his irritation increasing with every word his father spoke.
‘I’m going to see Theo,’ Ianthe explained nervously. ‘Demetri says he’s staying at the cottage.’
‘Ah.’ The old man nodded. ‘And does your mother approve?’
‘Whether her mother approves or not isn’t relevant,’ said Demetri angrily, and his father gave him a warning look.
‘Just because you do exactly as you like, don’t expect the same behaviour from everyone else,’ he said coldly. He glanced round for Jane. ‘Come, my dear, will you give me your arm?’
Jane looked uncomfortable now, and well she should, thought Demetri furiously. This was not why he’d brought her here, to drive a wedge between him and his father. Dammit, he’d had just about enough of this.
‘I’d like to speak to my wife, if you can spare her for five minutes,’ he said, ignoring Ariadne’s disapproval. They weren’t engaged yet, he told himself grimly, even if it was only a matter of time.
His father sucked in an impatient breath. ‘Can’t it wait, boy?’ he demanded, and that word was the last straw.
‘No, it can’t,’ said Demetri flatly. ‘Jane: will you come into the library? We can talk there.’
Jane glanced about her a little desperately, but she knew she’d get no help from either Ariadne or Ianthe. Leo, after a resigned shrug of his shoulders, had already begun to make his way across the smooth marble floor, proving he didn’t need her help.
‘I—suppose so,’ she conceded finally, with ill grace. She met Ianthe’s anxious gaze. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t keep him long.’
‘Oh, for pity’s sake!’ Demetri gripped her arm just above her elbow and guided her decisively towards the arched corridor that led into the west wing of the villa. Then, as if feeling some remorse for the way he was treating Ariadne, he looked back and added, ‘I’ll see you at dinner, Ari. We’ll have the whole evening to ourselves. I promise.’
Ariadne’s face softened. ‘Endaxi.’ OK. Her tongue circled her pink lips. ‘Saghapo.’ I love you.
Demetri made no response to this, but he could tell that Jane knew exactly what Ariadne had said. Her arm stiffened and, if she could have wrenched herself free of him, she would have done so. As it was, he had to virtually frogmarch her into the book-lined apartment and slam the heavy door behind them.
Only then did he release her, and she quickly put some space between them. She went to stare out of the windows, windows that overlooked a cascade of flowering plants and shrubs falling away below them. From here, the sea looked distant, with acres of woodland marking the boundary of the Souvakis’ property. But the backdrop was spectacular, the sea darkening from aquamarine to deepest sapphire.
The silence stretched, and Jane, who had determined not to be the first to speak, found her nerves growing as taut as violin strings. As always on occasions like these, she worried that he’d somehow found out about the baby. But surely if he had, she’d have heard about it before now.
Hearing the rustle of papers, she felt compelled to turn, half expecting him to be holding a private letter from her doctor. But that was so ludicrous, she couldn’t believe she’d even considered it, and she was a little put out to discover he was riffling through some papers on his father’s desk.
Almost trembling with indignation, she exclaimed, ‘What do you think you’re doing, Demetri? You invited me in here and now you’re apparently reading your father’s mail. If this is some kind of power play, forget it.’
Demetri remained bent over the desk, but he looked up at her through his lashes. ‘It’s no power play,’ he told her, his eyes dropping once again to his task. Then, almost against his will, he added, ‘You seem to have my father under your spell.’
Jane gasped. ‘And that’s what you wanted to tell me?’
‘No.’ At last, Demetri straightened, tossing the letter he had been examining aside. ‘I wanted to ask if you’d received the divorce papers from Carl Gerrard. They should have been with you a week ago, before you left for the island.’
Jane’s nostrils flared. ‘Well, they weren’t,’ she retorted, excusing her answer on the grounds that the papers only arrived four days ago.
Demetri’s brows drew together. ‘You’re sure about that?’
‘That they didn’t arrive a week ago?’ she asked innocently. ‘Oh, yes, I’m very sure.’
Demetri came round the desk to prop his hips against the huge slab