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Afterwards she would make her exit from his life.
She would walk, before she was pushed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE MANSION ROSE up before them. A monstrous monolith which dominated the land around and Leon could do nothing to prevent the shudder of distaste which ran down his spine. The last time he had seen this place he had been walking out with a rucksack and the predatory eyes of a frustrated woman burning into his back. Had Marnie detected the bitterness of his feelings and was it that which had prompted her to lay her fingers over his tensed biceps and to give it a soft squeeze? He swallowed. Did she realise what her touch could do to him? That sometimes she had the power to take some of the darkness away?
She was staring up at the multi-tiered concoction, her lips falling open as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.
‘This is your home?’ she verified, but he shook his head in grim denial.
‘This is where I grew up
and lived until the age of sixteen,’ he amended grimly. ‘Do you like it?’
‘Honestly?’
‘Are you ever anything but honest, Marnie?’
He saw her swallow. ‘I can’t imagine ever living somewhere this big,’ she whispered. ‘It looks more like a museum.’
Leon rang the bell and waited but there was no welcoming committee to greet them. No sign of his father. Instead, the door was opened by a housekeeper—a stranger to him, obviously. Her hooded gaze ran over them both with calculating precision, her greeting more formal than warm.
‘Kyrios Kanonidou has been making some last-minute adjustments before the ceremony and would like you to join him on the eastern terrace for a drink straight away,’ she announced. ‘If you would like to follow me, I will make sure your bags are taken up to your suite. Once your meeting with your father is finished, I will send one of the servants to accompany you there.’
Leon was about to inform the woman that he was in no need of any direction before reminding himself that he was here as a guest, not to stamp his mark or assert his ownership—which was non-existent anyway. And nothing ever stayed the same, he reminded himself—wasn’t that apparent with every step they took? As they walked through the wide corridors, he became aware of how much had changed.
The route was familiar, the décor was not. Within its ornate elaborate shell, the building had changed out of all recognition in the years since Leon had last been here. All traces of his childhood gone. It was as though he had never been there—his presence wiped clean. In some ways it felt liberating to acknowledge this break with the past, but it still came as a relief to step outside onto the sun-washed tiles of the eastern terrace. Lush lemon trees in pots adorned a space used mostly used for breakfast and morning coffee and which was currently deserted. A white balustrade framed the dark blue sea and there were steps leading down to a beach of silvery white sand.
‘Wow. What a view,’ said Marnie, her long blonde hair blowing lightly in the breeze.
He turned to look at her, remembering the first time he’d met her. Looking defiant and wounded as she lay on the sand—those stormy eyes and killer curves luring him into the most memorable sexual encounter of his life. Whoever would have thought that one day he would bring her here and she would stand overlooking the beach from where he used to take his morning swim? He realised how uniquely comfortable he felt in her company. ‘You’re ready to meet my father?’
‘I think so,’ she said, smoothing down her skirt. ‘Is he very intimidating?’
‘I’ll leave you to judge for yourself,’ said Leon, because suddenly Stavros was bearing down on them, sweeping onto the terrace accompanied by a small retinue of servants carrying trays covered with drinks and canapés. It had been a year since he’d last seen his father and, although he was definitely a little frailer, his posture was as upright as ever, resplendent in a fine wedding suit of silver-grey, a waxy white flower in his buttonhole. But Leon noticed as if for the first time how excess rather than age had carved out the deep ravines which made his features seem more ravaged than he remembered, and how the once-handsome face was now a pastiche of what it had once been. An unmistakable coldness flickered through his faded eyes as turned to survey his son, though Leon noticed how quickly he hid his reaction behind a pasted-on smile.
‘Leonidas! I was worried you might not make it in time,’ Stavros observed in perfect English as he made his way towards them.
‘I said I would be here—and here I am,’ replied Leon steadily. ‘I’d like you to meet Marnie. Marnie Porter. You remember, I told you about her?’
‘Ah, yes. The hairdresser.’ The octogenarian’s eyes narrowed. ‘I understand we missed your company at dinner last night because of your dedication to your job, Miss Porter? I am in awe of such a work ethic. My son must be, too—for I have never been permitted to meet any of his girlfriends before!’
There was no doubt that Stavros was being mischievous and Leon wondered how Marnie would react to his teasing. But she seemed in no need of token reassurance, her familiar determination emerging as a gritty smile as she shook hands with his father. ‘I’m delighted to meet you, Kyrios Kanonidou. Thank you for inviting me to your beautiful home,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m sure you must have plenty to talk about with your son, so I’ll leave you to it.’ Diplomatically, she walked across the terrace to gaze out at sea, leaving the two men alone to converse.
Leon didn’t know what he had been expecting from this particular reunion, but it wasn’t the unedifying discussion which followed. At times his father seemed almost...jittery, while at others almost borderline aggressive as he spoke to his son in voluble Greek. Leon wondered if the reality of marriage to a woman so young was losing some of its allure as the wedding approached—if perhaps his child bride was more demanding than Stavros had anticipated. Was history going to cruelly repeat itself by giving him another predatory wife with a wandering eye? As the conversation ended, Leon was aware that the vague suspicion with which he had initially viewed this wedding invitation had been eclipsed by a quiet and simmering anger.
He saw Marnie’s eyes fixed on him as his father swept away with his entourage and as she came towards him he wished they could leave now. Board the luxury yacht which was moored and waiting in the marina in Phoinikas to take them to his house on the Thessaloniki coast. And although nothing was stopping them other than a misplaced sense of filial duty, Leon had given his word he would attend the ceremony and therefore he would do it, even if it was with gritted teeth.
‘So. How did that go?’ she questioned.
‘If you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about it at the moment.’ His words were clipped and he saw from her reaction that she had interpreted this as a put-down, but the reality was that a manservant had appeared to take them to their suite and, once there, Marnie realised she had very little time to get changed.
His own dressing swiftly completed, Leon walked over to the window while he waited for her, and stared outside, but the sight which greeted him did little to quell the tide of cynicism rising up inside him. Below, against the glittering backdrop of the sea, stood a wedding arch with rows and rows of chairs before it. Long tables were covered with white drapery, their surfaces crowded with silver and crystal. On the other side of the terrace, a wooden dance floor had been erected with a small dais at the back—presumably to house the band. And there were flowers everywhere. He’d never seen so many flowers. There were even small posies sitting on each of the seats, presumably one for each of the guests, who he could see were starting to arrive in a flurry of finery.
Leon’s eyes narrowed. His father had insisted this would be a small and discreet ceremony. It certainly didn’t look that way from here.
He heard a sound behind him and the moment Marnie walked into the room all his disdain evaporated, a pulse thundering at his temple as he acknowledged her stunning transformation. She was wearing a simple full-length dress in a blue as vivid as the Grecian sky, which skimmed her luscious curves and emphasised the pale curtain of her hair. She looked young and firm and fresh and he felt the tug of something deep inside him. He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this...
