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They were greeted by the housekeeper, who was clearly agitated.
‘I’m glad you’re home—something terrible…’ Nervously she rubbed her hands together and Millie felt her legs turn to jelly.
‘Costas? Is he ill?’ She stepped forward, panic making her legs shake. ‘I shouldn’t have gone out. Is something wrong with him?’
‘The baby is fine, madam,’ the housekeeper assured her, but the pity and embarrassment in her eyes made Millie drop back a few steps.
‘Then what’s wrong?’
‘How anyone can write such stuff—do they have no shame?’ Clearly distressed, the housekeeper blinked furiously. ‘We’ve had all the papers put in the conservatory, Mr Demetrios, and I’ve instructed the staff that they’re not to speak to anyone. The press have been knocking and calling, but we haven’t answered. It’s shameful, if you ask me, a man not being able to have peace in his own home.’
Without uttering a word, Leandro turned and strode towards the living room.
Feeling as though her shoes were lead weights, Millie followed him into the room and closed the door behind her. Even though she didn’t know what was wrong, her heart was thudding and she felt sick with dread.
Even without looking, she knew that the newspapers would have done another hatchet job on her. But how? They’d only taken her photograph a few hours earlier.
Leandro picked up the first of the newspapers and scanned it briefly. The expression on his handsome face didn’t alter as he threw it aside and picked up the next.
Almost afraid to look, Millie stooped and picked up one of the discarded copies. The Hollywood actress smiled seductively from the front page, and the caption read, ‘Loving Leandro—my Unforgettable Night with my Greek Tycoon’.
Millie dropped the paper.
Her mouth was dry and her hands were shaking, but something made her pick up the next paper that he’d dropped. This time she read the copy.
‘She’s described your night together in minute detail.’
‘She has a vivid imagination,’ Leandro said flatly, picking up the last of the newspapers. ‘They all say the same thing. Leave them. It’s filth.’ But as he scanned the final newspaper his expression did alter, as if something printed there was the final straw.
His mouth a flat, angry line, he quickly folded the paper but Millie reached forward and tugged it away from him, some masochistic part of her wanting to see what had upset him so much.
‘Millie, no!’ Leandro stepped forward to take it from her but not before she’d seen the pictures of herself in a bikini.
‘Oh, my God.’ Appalled and mortified, she felt like hiding under a rock. ‘How did they—? We—’
‘They must have had photographers near my island.’ Leandro jabbed his fingers into his hair and cast her a shimmering glance of apology. ‘This is my fault. I took you on that boat and I made you wear the bikini.’
‘You didn’t know there’d be a photographer nearby.’
Millie gave a hysterical laugh. ‘Where was he? On the back of a dolphin?’
Leandro undid his bow-tie and released his top button. ‘I’m truly sorry.’ He broke off and muttered something in Greek. ‘I’ll speak to my lawyers immediately. There may be something they can do.’
‘It’s already been done.’ Her mouth dry, Millie stared at the photos and the close-up of her scars. Then she looked at the photographs of the actress taken from her latest film. The cruel positioning of the two photographs took her breath away. ‘You can’t undo this, Leandro. It’s out there now. It will always be out there. And you can’t blame them for making comparisons between me and the Hollywood actress—it’s too good a story to miss, isn’t it? The entire British public will now be asking themselves the same questions I asked myself—why would you choose me? And that’s just going to keep on happening.’ Her lips felt stiff and her brain numb as she stumbled towards the door. ‘Excuse me. I need to check on Costas.’
‘Millie—’
‘I can’t talk about this right now, I’m sorry. I need to be on my own. I need some time to get my head round it.’ Without giving him time to intercept her, Millie shot from the room and took refuge in the nursery. She felt as though she’d been stripped naked and the sense of violation was worse than the vicious attack that had caused the scars in the first place.
Everyone across the country would be staring at those intimate photos and everyone would be making judgements.
As if in sympathy with her distress, Costas was screaming uncontrollably and Millie dismissed the nanny and lifted him out of his cot, holding him close, deriving comfort from his familiar warmth.
‘There, angel. It’s all right,’ she whispered, ‘I’m here now. It’s all right. You’re fine.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ the nanny apologised. ‘I can’t do anything with him. I think he’s going down with something. He’s been hot all evening and fretting.’
‘It’s OK, I’ll sit with him,’ Millie muttered, feeling the baby’s forehead burning. ‘You go to bed. There’s no sense in everyone being awake.’
