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Disappointment in her, or himself?
Was it his pride that was damaged? Because he’d got her wrong? He’d seen something in her that hadn’t been there. On the day of their wedding she’d told him how much she wanted babies and he’d congratulated himself on finding the perfect wife and mother.
He’d thought she was a woman who would stand and fight. Instead, she’d walked out at the first opportunity.
Acknowledging that failure in his judgement hadn’t grown any easier over the past year, Leandro mused as he left the nursery and walked towards his own suite of rooms.
So why had he insisted that she stay? Was he a masochist?
No. But his expectations of his wife had been seriously modified.
He’d give the child a home, he’d promised himself that he’d do that.
And as for his wife—well, he’d long ago learned how to lust without love, so that shouldn’t be a problem.
Swearing in Greek, he yanked his shirt off and strode into the bathroom. Given that Millie had chosen to sleep with the baby, a cold shower was the only solution.
‘Life won’t be as fancy with me,’ Millie told Costas as she strapped him in the car seat inside the taxi. ‘None of this mood-altering lighting system, comfort cooling and underfloor heating. If your feet are cold, you wear socks, OK? It’s a simple life, but I can promise I won’t ever leave you. I know I left him, but that was different. I’ll explain it to you when you’re older.’ It was still dark outside and she’d slipped out through the garden, careful to avoid any journalists who might still be camped at the front of the house. ‘I’ve been renting a little flat in a village near the coast. I think you’ll like it.’
She saw the taxi driver glance in his mirror and coloured. He probably thought she was mad, talking to a baby.
Or maybe he’d recognised her.
That horrifying possibility had had her sliding down in her seat, but then she told herself that she was being paranoid.
Who was going to look twice at her?
She’d pushed the pram and carried her bag and the car seat to the next street so that no one would see her emerging from Leandro’s house and make the connection.
The driver pulled up outside the train station. He helped her with the pram and the car seat and Millie gave him a generous tip, trying not to think what that money would have bought her.
‘There’s another half an hour until our train leaves, so we’ll find a coffee shop and see if they’ll warm your bottle.’
Even this early in the morning, the station was busy, and Millie weaved her way through suited men and women, all of whom appeared to be in a hurry.
She found a quiet corner in a coffee shop, bought herself a cappuccino and lifted Costas out of his pram to give him his bottle.
She was so engrossed in the business of feeding him that she didn’t notice anyone else in the coffee shop until a light almost blinded her.
With a murmur of shock, Millie glanced up and what felt like a million cameras flashed.
Horrified, Millie snatched Costas’s blanket and threw it around him, concealing him from the cameras. ‘Go away!’ She recoiled from the intrusive lenses, all pointed in her direction. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘The whole world wants to know about the Demetrios baby.’
‘Well, the whole world should just mind its own business,’ Millie snapped, her eyes searching for an escape route. There was none. The row of journalists between her and the door was now three deep and she could see other people in the station glancing across in curiosity, wondering what was happening.
How could she not have noticed?
Because she hadn’t been looking for it. She wasn’t used to living her life looking over her shoulder.
‘Are you happy to look after the kid? Can’t be easy for you.’ The rough male voice came from right next to her and Millie turned her head and saw a man in shabby clothes sitting at the table next to her, a tape recorder in his hand.
Had he been there when she’d arrived? No, he’d arrived soon afterwards—which meant he must have followed her.
Hands shaking, Millie started to put Costas back in the pram but the photographers pressed closer, determined to get a shot of his face.
As one particularly persistent journalist stretched out a hand to move the blanket, Millie shifted Costas safely to one side. Her protective instincts going into overdrive, she gave her coffee a small nudge.
