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That familiar first name struck Bee like a slap but she would have thought nothing of it if Nectarios had not looked distinctly ill at ease.
‘And she’s…who?’ she pressed, hating herself for her persistence in the face of his discomfiture.
‘A fashion designer in Athens, but she was born on the island and maintains a property here.’
That fast Bee’s stomach threatened to heave and she struggled to control her nausea with perspiration beading her brow and her skin turning unpleasantly clammy. The blonde had to be Sergios’s mistress, Melita. There could not be such a coincidence. Indeed Nectarios’s embarrassment at her appearance had confirmed the fact. But Bee was in shock at the news that Melita was actually staying on the island. That possibility had not even occurred to her and she had naively assumed that Orestos offered Sergios no opportunity to stray. But how many evenings had he left her alone for several hours while he attended island council meetings? Or to visit his grandfather’s home? Lately there had been several such occasions and she had thought nothing of them at the time. Had she been ridiculously naive?
‘May I offer you some advice?’ Nectarios enquired as the four-wheel drive that had picked them up raised a trail of dust on the winding, little-used road back to the big white house with the tower on the headland.
Bee shot him a glance from troubled eyes. ‘Of course.’
‘Don’t put pressure on my grandson. Give him the time to recognise what you have together. His first marriage was very unhappy and it left deep scars.’
The old man was the product of another generation in which men and women were not equal and women expected and even excused male infidelity. Bee had no such guiding principle to fall back on and she could not excuse what she could not live with. And she knew that she would never be able to live in silence with the suspicion that Sergios might have laid lustful hands on another woman while he was sharing a bed with Bee.
Oh, how the mighty had fallen, Bee conceded wretchedly. Now she had to face up to the reality that she had allowed Sergios to run their marriage his way rather than hers. They had not renegotiated the terms of their original marriage plan. There had been no earnest discussions, no agreements and no promises made on either side. For almost two months they had coasted along without the rules and boundaries that she had feared might make Sergios feel trapped. Take things slowly, Bee had thought in her innocence, eager to pin her husband down, but too sensible not to foresee the probable risks of demanding too much from him upfront.
Now she was paying the price of not frankly telling him that he could not have her and a mistress. Strange how she had no doubt that he would angle for that option if he thought he could get away with it. Bee was well aware of how ruthless Sergios could be. In any confrontation he was hardwired to seek the best outcome that he could. Sometimes he manoeuvred people into doing what he wanted purely as a means of amusement. She had stood on the sidelines of his life watching him, learning how he operated and monitoring her own behaviour accordingly. Although she loved him she didn’t tell him that and she certainly didn’t cling to him or cuddle him or flatter him or do or say any of the things that would have given her true feelings away. She had decided that she was happy to give him time to come to terms with their new relationship…as long as he was faithful.
The thought that he might not have been, that he might already have betrayed her trust in another woman’s arms, threatened to tear Bee apart. In the circumstances he might even try to persuade her that he had assumed that
their original agreement that he could have other women still held good. After all, Sergios thought fast on his feet and was, she reckoned ruefully, liable to fight dirty if she pushed him hard enough.
But Melita Thiarkis was a different kettle of fish. She was an islander, a local born and bred on Orestos, so Sergios had probably known her for a very long time. A fashion designer as well—no wonder he was so hung up on even his wife being stylish. There would be ties between Melita and Sergios stronger than Bee had ever wanted to consider. Melita was strikingly attractive rather than beautiful but very much the hot, sexy type likely to appeal to Sergios’s high-voltage libido. The blonde was also confident of her place in Sergios’s life, Bee recognised worriedly, recalling the way the other woman had looked her over without a shade of discomfort or concern. Melita, Bee reflected wretchedly, did not seem the slightest bit threatened by the fact that Sergios had recently got married. And what did that highly visible confidence signify? Had Sergios slept with his mistress since he had become Bee’s husband?
As for the confirmation from Nectarios that Sergios’s first marriage had been unhappy, Bee had long since worked that out for herself. The fact that there were no photos of Krista and her name was never mentioned had always suggested that that had been anything but a happy marriage. But Sergios, even though given every opportunity to do so, had still not chosen to confide that truth in Bee.
On the other hand, Bee reminded herself doggedly, she had been really happy and contented until she laid eyes on Melita Thiarkis and realised that temptation lived less than a mile from their door. Sergios, after all, had been remarkably attentive since they had first made love, but how could Bee possibly know what he got from his relationship with Melita? That he had insisted Melita was a non-negotiable feature of his life even before their marriage suggested the blonde had very good reason to be confident.
He did have a thing for blondes even though he wouldn’t admit it, Bee thought bitterly as she peered at her dark brown locks in the bedroom mirror and tried to imagine herself transformed into a blonde. It would be sad to dye her hair just for his benefit, wouldn’t it? Just at that moment of pain and stark fear she discovered that she didn’t care if it was sad or not and she decided that she might well return from London with a mane of pretty blonde hair.
CHAPTER NINE
‘I THOUGHT you would be in bed,’ Sergio admitted when he landed in a helicopter after eleven that evening and strolled into the house. His tie was loosened and he was unshaven, his stunning eyes shadowed with tiredness. His sense of relief at being home again was intense and it startled him. ‘It’s been a long day and we have an early flight to London tomorrow morning.’
Bee glanced at him in surprise. ‘You’re coming with us?’
‘Eleni’s having surgery,’ he reminded her with a frown. ‘Of course I’m coming. Didn’t you realise that?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
Delighted by his readiness to be supportive, Bee resisted the urge to immediately dredge up Melita’s presence on the island. After all, if the blonde had a home and relatives on Orestos, she had a perfect right to visit and it might have nothing to do with Sergios. Was that simply wishful thinking? Bee asked herself as she put together a light supper in the big professional kitchen. She saw no need to disturb the staff so late when she was perfectly capable of feeding Sergios with her own fair hands.
He came out of his bathroom with a towel wrapped round his hips and sat down at the small table she had set up for his use. With his black hair flopping damply above his face and clean shaven, he looked less weary.
‘Was it a difficult day?’ Bee prompted uncertainly.
‘It’s always difficult.’ Sergios grimaced and suddenly shrugged, acknowledging that it no longer felt reasonable to continue to keep Beatriz in the dark when it came to the touchy subject of his first marriage. ‘Krista’s parents remember a young woman I never knew, or maybe the young woman they talk about is the imaginary daughter they would have liked to have had—she certainly bears no resemblance to the woman I was married to for three years.’
Bee was confused. ‘I don’t understand…’
‘Krista was a manic depressive and she loathed taking medication, didn’t like what the prescribed tablets did to her. I didn’t know about that when I married her. To be fair I hardly knew her when I asked her to marry me,’ Sergios confided with a harsh edge to his dark deep drawl. ‘I was young and stupid.’
‘Oh.’ Bee was so shattered about what his silence on the subject of his first wife had concealed that she could think of nothing else to say. A manic depressive? That was a serious condition but treatable with the right medical attention and support.
‘I fell in love and rushed Krista to the altar, barely able to believe that the girl of my dreams was mine. Unfortunately the dream turned sour for us both,’ he volunteered grittily, his face grim. ‘As she refused medication there was no treatment that made an appreciable difference to her moods. For most of our marriage she was out of control. She took drugs and threw wild parties before crashing drunk at the wheel of one of my cars. She died instantly.’
‘I am so sorry, Sergios,’ Bee whispered with rich sympathy, her heart truly hurting for him. ‘So very sorry you had to go through that and lose your child into the bargain.’
