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“He was very proud of you,” she confirmed, her lips twisting in a smile. “I’m so sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine how you’re coping. Your father was the most incredible man.”
Disgust rolled inside him. “You can say that, even when presented with evidence of why he wasn’t?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you think you’re the first woman outside of his marriage that he stumbled into bed with? Tell me, Phoebe, how long was the affair going on?”
She lifted her hand to the necklace again, tugging it from side to side.
“Affair?” She mumbled, eyes dropping to the bench in front of her. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Do I look as though I’m joking?”
“You’re completely mistaken. We weren’t involved,” she denied hotly, but the tears falling down her cheeks belied that. “Not in a sexual way,” she conceded, so he leaned forward, outraged and frustrated all at once. “It really wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like?”
But she was defensive now, angry, too. “I don’t think it’s any of your business.”
“He was my father.”
“So? If he didn’t mention me to you, then he clearly didn’t think you needed to know about us.”
“Then there was an ‘us’ to know about?”
Her face paled. “Oh, stop being so sick. I didn’t mean that. Only ourfriendship,” she stressed, in a way that made it impossible to believe her.
“If this is true,” he said, after a beat, “then tell me why he’d leave you money in his will.”
She groaned, dropping her head forward. “He didn’t.”
“In fact, quite a lot of money.”
She lifted a hand to her mouth. “I can’t believe it. Why would he do such a thing?”
“I suppose he thought you’d earned it?”
She slapped him instantly, so fast that he didn’t have time to react and she clearly hadn’t had time to think it through. Her hand connected with his cheek and then she jumped back, shaking all over.
“How dare you?” She demanded fiercely. “Get out of here.”
He glared right back, lifting a hand to his cheek absentmindedly, running a hand over the flesh which would surely show a heat mark from where she’d touched him. He’d dealt with worse, but hadn’t expected such a response from her.
“Get out. I mean it. Leavenow.”
He studied her thoughtfully. She was at least a foot shorter than him; there was no contest between them physically, but he’d clearly pushed her too far. Even he was surprised by the approach he’d taken.
There was time to get to the bottom of this, time to get her to confess and admit she’d made a mistake. He’d done enough for tonight.
“This isn’t over,” he promised, ominously, as he threw some fifty pound notes on the counter then turned and left.
Chapter2
HE WAS TURNING HER into the focal point of all his rage. He fully conceded that, as he stared out at London from his city apartment, eyes gliding over the well-lit city, the buzz and hum of activity despite the fact it was the small hours of the morning.
She wasn’t the woman Konstantinos had been in a long running affair with, nor was she the mother of a secret lovechild. God, at least, he prayed she wasn’t. But it was quite clear that they’d had a relationship. His father had visited her often—on Mondays, by the sound of it—which explained why he’d suddenly started spending so much time in London. Had those frequent visits even contributed to his heart attack? Had he pushed himself too hard, in an attempt to keep up with his nubile young lover?
It was impossible to contemplate, but then again, Phoebe was a very particular type of beauty. It was easy to understand how Konstantinos had fallen under her spell. Far easier to believe that than to imagine any man could be close to Phoebe Whittaker without wanting it to become physical.
