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‘I have longed to meet you for many years, my dear child,’ she said in her warm voice. She tucked Ann’s hand in her arm. ‘Come,’ she said.
Ann was in a daze, scarcely able to believe what was happening. They left the store and were conveyed by chauffeured car to the hotel where the Theakis party were evidently staying—one of London’s premier hotels, overlooking Green Park.
Ann only had eyes for Ari who, realising he had a brand- new admirer, took full advantage, chattering away to her. Yet, despite her undivided attention to the little boy, Ann could not help but feel the dark, glowering presence of his uncle, his anger at her vibrating from every pore, condemning her for her temerity in daring to be there. She ignored it. What did she care if Nikos Theakis were wishing her to oblivion? She returned the compliment tenfold!
Her only concern was Ari.
Her heart clenched again as she took in the miraculous reality of seeing her nephew here, now, in the flesh—a little boy, no longer a baby, no longer only a wrenching memory….
Lunch passed in a daze as well. What she ate she had no idea. She had no idea of anything except the fact she was sitting at a table with Ari, asking him all the questions a child his age would be ready to answer—his favourite toys and stories and activities. He regaled her copiously, prompted sometimes by his nanny, Tina, and sometimes by his grandmother.
His uncle, however, spoke only when referred to by his nephew. This, however, was not seldom, and Ann could see that Nikos Theakis was regarded as a high authority and the fount of great wisdom by his nephew. What she also had to accept—and she knew she should be glad of it—was how patient and attentive he was to Ari, and how Ari showed no timidity or reticence with him. As for his grandmother—it was obvious to Ann that Ari was the apple of her eye.
Across the years, the ghost of her voice, so heartrending in the letter she had written for Ann, echoed in her head: He will be cherished and loved throughout his life.
Oh, Carla, thought Ann, her throat catching with emotion. You can be happy—you can be happy at how safe and loved your son is!
A small beringed hand was laid lightly on her wrist. It was Ari’s grandmother. ‘You are thinking of your sister?’ she said, her eyes kind.
Ann could only nod, unable to speak. The older woman smiled sadly.
‘We do not know why they were taken from us—your sister and my dear son—but we know they gave us a gift beyond price. And I am so pleased—so pleased, my dear—that you are here with us now, after far, far too long away from Ari.’
Again, Ann could not speak—but this time not because of the emotion of grief. What could she say to this kind, sympathetic woman of how cruel the separation had been for her? How cruel, too, her surviving son’s strictures on Carla and herself.
She looked away—and straight into dark, hard eyes. Time buckled, and it was if she were once more standing in front of Nikos Theakis in her dingy flat, with him looking at her as if she were a cockroach. Almost she dropped her eyes under that killing basilisk gaze, but then she rallied, her chin lifting slightly, her eyes clashing with his. Then, as she continued to hold his gaze defiantly, refusing to back down, his expression began to change. She didn’t know what it was, but something shifted in those hooded night-dark eyes, and as it shifted something quivered down the length of her spine…something that suddenly made her snap her gaze away after all.
Then Ari made some childishly amusing remark, causing her to smile, as well as his grandmother and nanny, and the moment was gone.
As the meal came to an end, Sophia Theakis took Ann’s hands again, drawing her to her feet.
‘For the moment, alas, we must say goodbye again, while I place myself in the hands of my doctors.’ She spoke lightly, but Ann wondered what it was that had brought her to London for medical treatment. Then Ari’s grandmother was speaking again. ‘But this must not be the end of our acquaintance. Within a week I shall be returning to Greece for our Easter celebrations, and then, dear child, if it is at all possible, I shall count it the greatest pleasure if you will be my guest there. On Sospiris you shall finally have a chance to make up for the years you have lost with little Ari.’ She smiled benignly.
‘My son will make all the arrangements. Nikos—’ She spoke swiftly in Greek, clearly giving him some kind of instruction. He nodded curtly at the end.
‘I will indeed,’ he said grimly. ‘With the greatest pleasure, I will escort Miss Turner to her destination.’
Dark eyes rested on Ann, and she did not need to be a mind- reader to know where it was that Nikos Theakis wanted her destination to be. Somewhere exceedingly hot would do nicely. With flames.
Nikos closed his hand over the rich material of her coatsleeve, his grip tightening on the arm beneath. Tightly leashed anger lashed within him, as it had been doing since his incredulous gaze had first landed on the figure daring—daring!—to speak to his mother in the toy store.
Theos mou, he should have expected this! Should have expected that the girl would make such an attempt! Doubtless the
million pounds he’d paid her off with had all been frittered away by now.
His brow darkened. Had it been deliberate? Positioning herself in that toy store, richly arrayed as she was in the spoils of her ill-gotten gains? Of course it had! Why was he even questioning it? What else would a girl like her have been doing in a toy store of all places? No, she must have plotted it deliberately, after discovering—he had yet to find out how!—that his mother was visiting London with Ari, and seeking the opportunity to put herself forward. More fool him for not having expected it. For letting her take him totally by surprise…
In more ways than one. For a moment Nikos felt again the second of the two shocks that had hit him as he’d recognised the woman accosting his mother. Not the rage that had signalled the moment he registered that it was Ann. But the other one. The one that had almost made him look twice, as if his eyes were deceiving him. Deceiving him that the woman with the knockout face and figure could possibly be the same drab, unkempt girl he’d last seen four years ago.
But then, he thought cynically, it was amazing what a million pounds to spend on herself could achieve by way of improvement! Sleek, beautiful hair, subtle make-up, flattering designer clothes and—his cynicism deepened—an expensive winter tan on flawless skin. Oh, yes, Miss Ann Turner with a million pounds at her disposal could well afford never to be drab and repellent ever again! Now she could look every inch a man-trap, like her trollop of a sister…
Not that she was anything like as blatant as her sister. Carla Turner had flaunted the kind of sugar-babe looks that pulled men in the most obvious way possible—including his gullible brother!—but Ann Turner was in a quite different style.
Classy.
The word came to him, and irritated him even more. Yet the woman whose arm his own was now pinioning had fitted in as effortlessly with the hotel dining room and their party as if she had been born to it.
His eyes went to her rigid profile, and assessed it.
