While Maddie had values that he admired—even if living with them was a distinct challenge for him—she also had a lot to learn. Krista was not a negotiable element in his life, he reasoned. He had chosen Krista to be his wife, and he was not a changeable man. The only vacancy available was that of mistress. There were strict boundaries between his public life and that which he led in private. Maddie would have to understand and accept it. He would give her the chance to adjust to the concept of compromise. He refused to consider what he would do if she proved stubborn.
After a lengthy delay at the airport, Maddie returned to London and a grey wet morning. She felt the loss of bright sunlight almost as much as the loss of Giannis. He’d had her flown back to London on a Petrakos jet and, mindful of the crew, she had felt obliged to stay dry-eyed. Nemos had carried her bag right to the door of her bedsit, and even put the key in the lock for her. When the door had shut behind her she’d thought how hopelessly dark and drab her rented room seemed.
She was quick to remind herself that this was her real world. Had she resisted temptation, as all her instincts had urged, she would not be feeling as though someone had forcibly torn her in two.
But at least she now understood why her time in Morocco had felt unreal. How could it have felt like anything more serious or durable? Her love affair had just been a casual sexual intrigue to a Greek billionaire for whom one woman was clearly never going to be enough. He had picked her because she had been so amazingly free with her favours in his office. Had she paused to ask him then if he was a single man? No, she had not. So it would be hypocritical to blame him for the entire débâcle. Having torn up the rulebook of how she lived her life, it seemed she was now paying the price for being free and easy.
The next day she was wakened by the delivery of a magnificent bouquet. She would not allow herself to read the card and, although the waste of such beauty brought tears to her eyes, she dumped the flowers.
Feed a cold and starve a fever, her grandmother had often said, and Maddie knew she had a fever that required brutal discouragement. She refused to wallow in the belief that she loved Giannis. How could she have loved someone she hardly knew? She had to get over him and do it quickly. But the craving for him nagged at her like a constant pain. She did not know how to kill the terrible bone-deep longing just to see his lean, dark face one more time. Her peace of mind was gone as well. How would she ever forgive herself for the mistakes she had made? The mistakes she had then excused so that she could go on making them with him? Her self-esteem was at rock bottom.
Keen to get back to work, and even more eager to earn some money, she had already let the employment agency know that she was available again. Luckily she had to work at the supermarket that night. At the end of her shift she emerged wearily for the walk home.
A limo pulled in ahead of her, the chauffeur stepping out to open the passenger door for her. ‘Please go away!’ she hissed, praying that none of her co-workers were behind her.
But the limo followed her home, and she was on the stairs when Nemos appeared, carrying a large wicker hamper. ‘Nemos…please,’ she muttered tiredly. ‘I don’t want this.’
He set the hamper down at her door. ‘Mr Petrakos sent us to pick you up from the store and deliver this.’
‘Is he still in Morocco?’ she heard herself ask.
‘Athens…on business.’
Maddie went red, because she knew she wasn’t practising what she had preached to Giannis or herself. She shouldn’t have asked; where Giannis was and what he might be doing was nothing to do with her any more. At her urging, Nemos took the hamper away again.
She slept badly that night, and woke up at dawn. The smell of someone frying food had drifted into her room and curdled her tummy. Her period was due today, and she was desperate to have her fears set to rest. Might stress and a guilty conscience have made her imagine that she felt dizzy and sick? She was pleased when the agency phoned and told her that she would be temping for the week in a big insurance company. And then her neighbour, Mrs Evans’s daughter, asked if Maddie could spend a couple of hours with her mother while she went out. Glad of a distraction from her worries, Maddie went downstairs to sit with the old lady.
Mrs Evans enjoyed the benefit of cable television, and told Maddie to pick a programme from a multitude of channels. Skimming through the many options in the magazine she had been handed, Maddie stiffened in surprise when she saw a photo of Giannis above a few lines about a documentary on his love-life. The programme had already started, but she put it on in time to see an incredibly beautiful blonde girl stepping on board a giant white yacht. From that moment Maddie was hooked, and yet nothing had ever hurt her more than watching that programme.
She made tea for Mrs Evans at a run during the commercial break, so that she didn’t miss anything. She was so ashamed of her painful curiosity to know who Krista was, and what she found out only wounded her more.
Set next to Krista Spyridou, with her platinum hair and supermodel looks and gloss, Maddie could only see herself as a plain Jane with a weight problem. She marvelled that the exquisite Krista was not enough to satisfy Giannis. Was he just a rat in the fidelity stakes? Perpetually addicted to the novelty of fresh faces? It was no consolation to see innumerable shots of him with an endless procession of gorgeous high-profile women. But as Maddie watched, learning that Giannis had known Krista since childhood and seeing pictures of them together overlaid with a commentary about how much the couple shared, her heart twisted inside her. They did look like a perfectly matched couple. Both of them were Greek, beautiful, rich, sophisticated and fashionable. Maddie knew that she was none of those things, and she wondered how she had contrived to tempt Giannis. Although it hurt her to acknowledge it, she also accepted that Giannis had to genuinely care about Krista. Why else would a guy with so much choice and so much experience have decided to marry her?
As soon as Maddie had finished work the following day, she went straight to a pharmacy and bought a pregnancy testing kit. Her nerves worn thin, she sat in her bedsit and read the instructions over and over until she knew them by heart. When she could no longer put off the moment of truth, she did the test and the result came through very quickly.
She was going to have a baby.
Right on cue she felt light-headed again. She was in shock. In spite of Giannis’s immovable belief that there would be no repercussions from the condom accident, she was pregnant. Yet he had almost managed to convince her that she was worrying needlessly. Had that been his wishful thinking? A sob convulsed her throat. Suddenly she felt very young and very scared. She had managed to do everything wrong. She had conceived during a casual sexual encounter. Giannis Petrakos cared nothing for her and would certainly not want her to have his baby. Nor, quite naturally, would Krista Spyridou. What would such news do to Giannis’s intended bride?
Maddie wept long and hard with guilt and unhappiness. She knew how gutted she would feel if the man she was about to marry got another woman pregnant. Krista, who was innocent of all blame, would be hurt and humiliated. It might also be a very public humiliation, Maddie conceded sickly. Until she had glimpsed the Petrakos lifestyle on television she had really not appreciated just how newsworthy and wealthy Giannis was. If the press were to discover that he had fathered a child by a lowly office temp, the story would almost certainly be front-page news. And what role would be assigned to Maddie in such an unlikely triangle? Most probably that of gold-digging tramp, she reckoned painfully. For she was not a beautiful pedigreed golden girl like his photogenic bride-to-be.
And what good would such a scandal do any one of them? Particularly her poor child, who would have to look back on it all some day in the future? When the contraception had failed Giannis had compared the risk of pregnancy to a disaster. And, unless she was very much mistaken, he had made no further reference to that possibility precisely because it was his worst-case scenario come true. In all likelihood he would hope that Maddie would agree to a termination—but she was not prepared to consider that option.
A wave of bitter pain and regret scythed through Maddie. Was it really her duty to pin a chance pregnancy on a man who didn’t want to know?