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Not that Effie could blame her. How must it feel to be confronted by living proof of your husband’s infidelity and betrayal? Had she known what Andreas had done at the time? Did she know what he was doing now?
It was impossible to tell. It was as if she was trapped beneath glass.
After dessert, they moved outside. Eugenie had been called away to the phone, so it was just the three of them sitting on the wide leather sofas beneath a huge white canopy.
‘Your coffee, Ms Price.’
‘Thank you.’ Effie smiled up at the maid—different maid, same uniform—feeling again that twinge of unease.
‘Achileas tells me you were in the hospitality sector before you decided to set up your own business.’ Andreas leaned back, his blue eyes moving with deceptive carelessness over Effie’s face. ‘Working as a chambermaid.’
‘Yes, I was. I worked at the Stanmore in London,’ she said, lifting her chin. ‘I would have liked to concentrate on my perfumery sooner, but I needed to work to pay the rent.’
Andreas nodded. ‘Everyone has to start somewhere. And you were working at the hotel when you met my son?’
‘She was.’ Achileas leaned forward and picked up his coffee cup, positioning himself between her and his father. ‘But she wasn’t at work when we met again and got to know one another.’ He turned, his blue eyes resting on her face, his gaze fierce and unwavering. ‘That was later.’
Her chest tightened—no, that was wrong. It felt more as if it was being stretched...stretched almost to its limits...by something building inside her that she couldn’t name.
There was a beat of silence and Andreas smiled. ‘Achileas... I left some paperwork on the desk in my study for you to read through. I wonder if you might take a look.’ He glanced over his shoulder and instantly the maid reappeared. ‘Show Mr Kane to my office.’
Watching Achileas leave, Effie felt her heart start to beat faster. She had thought this meeting today would be an opportunity for father and son to talk. Now, though, it appeared that Andreas wanted to speak to her.
But to what end?
Still smiling, Andreas got to his feet. ‘If I may, Effie, I’d like to show you the rose garden. I think you would enjoy it. We have both the Turkish and the Damascene varieties which I believe are used extensively in perfumery.’
Naturally, she agreed, and the garden was beautiful. Arranged in a spiral, like the shell of a snail, the roses at the centre were the oldest and rarest. The smell was extraordinary—as delicate as fine wine with notes of sweet apricot, green apple and honey. It was hard not to simply stand and breathe.
Andreas seemed pleased by her reaction. ‘So, has perfumery always been a passion of yours?’
Effie nodded. ‘Always. My mother was a beautician, and she encouraged me when I was very little to make potions and perfumes. My idea for the business grew out of that. Although it’s still at a very early stage,’ she admitted.
‘That might be a good thing.’ The older man’s eyes moved past her to the beautiful house. ‘Being an Alexios comes, if you’ll excuse the pun, at a price. Clearly there are huge benefits and privileges. Less obviously, sacrifices have to be made.’
She cleared her throat. ‘What kind of sacrifices?’
‘This family is a job in its own right. We are patrons of charitable foundations. We endorse political candidates. We fund and support the arts and scientific research. On top of all that, you would have a home to run—this home in the future.’ He paused. ‘And, of course, a family to raise.’
Remembering that moment on the beach, she felt her pulse stumble.
‘I think it might be a little early to be talking about having a family.’ She smiled stiffly. ‘We’re not even married yet.’
‘But you will talk about it, I hope?’
She stared at Andreas, startled. Not by his desire for grandchildren—many parents felt the same way, her mum among them. But because Andreas had disowned his son before he was even born.
‘Wouldn’t it be better to wait a little?’ she said carefully. ‘I mean, you and Achileas have only just met. You might like some time to get to know one another.’
Andreas smiled, and there was something tyrannical about his smile. A Zeus-like disregard for the wishes of lesser mortals—even those related to him.
‘Achileas understands. He knows the importance of legacy to a family like ours. I’ve explained to him that the name Alexios is a privilege to hand from father to son, and from son to grandson,’ Andreas continued smoothly.
Father to son...son to grandson. It sounded like a prayer, and she felt a wave of pity for the old man sitting opposite her. He had lived his life always one step ahead of the pack, but he was slowing down now, and it must be hard for him to know that at some point he would stop.
But Achileas had lost so many years with him already. He needed this time with his father even if he didn’t know it himself.
‘I can see why you would think that, but I disagree,’ she said.
