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‘But…you’re not a once-in-a-lifetime person.’
His mouth tightened. ‘You don’t know what I am, Gypsy, because since the morning after we met and you found out who I was you’ve had me sized up and boxed away.’
Gypsy felt little flutters enter her belly, along with a panicky feeling. ‘I don’t know what you’re saying, Rico.’
‘What I’m saying is that you have to open up to me, Gypsy. You need to trust me. I’m not letting you go, but I’m not going to put up with your blinkered view for ever. I am in your life and in Lola’s life for the foreseeable future. For that to work we need to agree on things like a nanny, and you need to be by my side when I need you.’
Inwardly shaking at his assertion that she needed to trust him and feeling extremely exposed to think that he’d made love to her just to make a point, Gypsy blurted out, ‘Just like I need to be available for a quickie when the mood takes you?’
Rico’s thumb moved back and forth over Gypsy’s skin. All he said was, ‘We both wanted what just happened. Don’t pretend you didn’t. And, just as I’ve never before picked up a woman in a club for a night of anonymous sex, I’ve also never felt that same urgency we felt just now. You have a unique effect on me, Gypsy Butler.’
Just then they heard Lola’s chatter. Agneta had obviously finished feeding her and was looking for them. Feeling very flushed and disheveled, Gypsy pushed past Rico to open the study door, and tried to pretend that everything was normal when the world felt anything but.
At the door she turned and said to Rico, while avoiding his eye, ‘I’m quite tired tonight. I’m going to go to bed early. Alone.’
Rico said with a mocking drawl, ‘Don’t worry, Gypsy. I won’t come to your bed this evening. I’ll be gone early in the morning, but be ready to come to me in Athens at four o’clock tomorrow.’
That night, sleepless in bed, aching for Rico despite her words, Gypsy lay and stared at the ceiling in the dark. She needed to think but her mind was disturbingly fuzzy. She’d got the distinct impression from Rico’s comments earlier that he saw some sort of future for them. But what, exactly? And was she brave enough to ask him?
She turned over on her side and looked out of the window to where the sea was just a black mass, with the small lights of boats flickering on and off. Rico was right. She’d prejudged him and misjudged him every step of the way.
He was nothing like her father in the business sense. And she now knew from his own personal history why he’d been so adamant that he wanted Lola. But still, that didn’t account for the way he’d so instinctively taken to fatherhood. He was nothing like her father in that regard either.
Shamefully, she had to acknowledge that part of her reaction could have come from jealousy at seeing how unreservedly Rico had accepted Lola. She’d never received that from her own father. She could also see that a lot of his initial arrogance had most likely been due to shock, and perhaps a fear that she might try to run away again. He’d done everything he could to make sure they didn’t leave his side.
But more than all of that was the way she felt about him. She couldn’t help but remember the way he’d been that night they’d met for the first time. The magic that had infused the air as the dark and handsomely seductive stranger had put her at ease, made her laugh, and then made love to her with an intensity that had left her in pieces. Knowing Rico as she did now, she suspected that he’d indulged in a much lighter, less cynical version of himself that night. Perhaps because he had been unburdened by his anonymity, just as she had been.
If she was truly honest with herself, amidst all the turmoil of her pregnancy and finding out who Rico was, the one thing that had superceded everything else had been the hurt that he’d left her so coldly. And yet he’d admitted that he’d regretted it, that he’d tried to get in touch with her.
Gypsy’s heart squeezed. She didn’t think she could ever hope that Rico would look at her with the tenderness she’d seen between Rafael and Isobel, but right now her silly heart couldn’t help longing for it. She couldn’t fool herself into thinking that whatever rapprochement was between them would absolve her of her actions in his eyes.
The crows of doubt mocked her for even thinking that she might be falling for him. It had only been a few weeks since she’d met Rico again—how could she trust her feelings when her daughter’s future happiness was at risk? Who was to say that Rico wasn’t just seducing her to keep her and Lola in his complete control, only for him to lose interest and move on, having torn their lives apart?
The old fear was still strong, making her feel as if she should be suspicious of the way he was bonding with Lola. She hated it, but it squeezed like a vice around her heart; it was ingrained within her after years of living with a man who had bullied and controlled her because he’d resented her, the reminder of his weakness. A man who had thought nothing of letting her mother die because she was socially undesirable, and because she’d forced his hand so that he’d had to acknowledge his daughter.
Thoughts and memories roiled sickeningly in Gypsy’s head until she finally fell into a dreamless sleep.
Gypsy looked at herself in the mirror of the wardrobe in a luxurious suite at the brand-new hotel that was opening that evening. A car had met her from the helicopter at the airport and whisked her here to the hotel, where she’d been met by a veritable entourage.
Up in the suite there had been a wardrobe of different outfits, and once she’d picked one out the team had set to work. The hairdresser had even smiled and said to her, ‘I’m under the strictest instructions not to straighten your hair.’ Gypsy had just smiled back weakly, feeling a plummeting sensation in her belly—as if she were falling over an edge into a dark chasm of the unknown.
Now she was on her own again, and twisting and turning to see herself, feeling all at once ridiculous and disturbingly sexy. The dress was a dark gold colour, fitted and to the knee, with just one wide strap over one shoulder, leaving the other bare.
High-heeled gold sandals looked like the most delicate things she’d ever seen and her hair was down, with Grecian-style gold bands holding it back from her face. She wore simple gold hoop earrings.
It was only then that she noticed the tall, dark and looming shape lounging against the door behind her. She whirled around, feeling very exposed. Rico was stunning in a black suit, white shirt, black tie. He straightened up and strolled towards her, and she could see that he was holding a champagne bottle and two glasses. Immediately her stomach roiled at the sight, but she clamped down on it; surely now she could take the opportunity to get over that awful teenage trauma?
Rico stared at her as if he’d never seen her before, raking his eyes up and down her body, and then he said simply, ‘You look beautiful.’
Gypsy grimaced and wanted to squirm.
Rico smiled. ‘Say, Thank you, Rico.’
She looked at him and felt an alien lightness bubble up. She smiled too. ‘Thank you, Rico. You look lovely too.’
He poured champagne into two flutes and handed her one. Gypsy instinctively held her breath as she took a sip. It slid down her throat like an effervescent sunburst and she almost shouted with relief. She’d gone clammy for a moment, expecting to feel the old urge to be sick. But it hadn’t come. She took another sip, relishing it.
Rico touched his glass to hers and said, ‘You look like you’ve never tasted champagne before.’
