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‘No, I—’
Jane struggled for an answer, gazing beseechingly at Demetri, begging him to get out of sight.
But all he did was finish fastening the buttons on his shirt and stuff it back into his trousers. Then, to her horror, he walked across to the door and swung it open.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TO HER surprise, Jane slept amazingly well.
She hadn’t expected to. After the day—and evening—she’d had, she’d anticipated lying awake for hours, mulling over everything that had happened. But instead, she’d lost consciousness the moment her head hit the pillow.
A clear conscience? She didn’t think so. What she’d done—what she’d allowed Demetri to do—had been unforgivable. She’d deserved to spend the night berating herself for her foolishness.
No doubt the fact that she was pregnant had had something to do with the ease with which she’d fallen asleep, she reflected ruefully. Now, rolling onto her back, she found the sun streaming through the crack in the curtains she’d drawn the night before. While she’d been in London, fretting over the alternatives she was faced with, such sleep as she’d had had been restless and plagued with tortuous dreams. But last night she’d been so exhausted, she hadn’t been able to keep her eyes open.
In consequence she felt rested, more rested than she’d done in a long time. Not since Demetri had come back into her life, in fact.
However, it was time to get up and face the day and it wasn’t just the familiar nausea that was causing her stomach to quiver in protest. Dear God, what had Demetri’s father really thought when his son had thrown open her door and stormed out of her apartments without a word of explanation the night before? Just a terse ‘Papa’ in passing, and then he strode away towards the stairs as if he at least had no intention of answering any questions about his reasons for being there.
What Leo Souvakis must have thought, finding his son with the woman he was supposed to be divorcing was anyone’s guess. And not ‘supposed to be divorcing’, Jane amended. Was divorcing. Hadn’t she received the initial papers the day before she’d left for Kalithi? Just because she hadn’t signed them yet didn’t make them any the less real.
Pushing back the covers, she discovered she’d slept without the man-size T-shirt she invariably wore. But being left to face Leo’s obvious confusion when his son had passed him with barely an acknowledgement had been humiliating, so it was no wonder she’d been bewildered after he’d gone. At the time, however, Demetri’s father had gazed after his son as if he didn’t understand the situation. And then he’d looked at Jane and found she was wearing only a bathrobe and an expression of understanding had crossed his lined face.
Jane’s own face had been burning. She’d been all too aware that her lips were bruised and she had stubble burns on her cheeks. Leo wasn’t a fool. He must have guessed exactly what he’d interrupted. Which was why he’d refused when she’d invited him in.
‘Ah, not tonight, Jane,’ he’d said, glancing once again along the landing, almost as if he’d expected his son to reappear. ‘If you have everything you need, I’ll wish you goodnight. Sleep well, my dear. Kalinikhta.’
He’d obviously decided now was not the time to indulge in casual conversation. But as Jane had said goodnight, she’d wished she’d had the nerve to say It’s not what you think! Yet it was what he’d probably thought, she admitted unhappily. How could she pretend otherwise? And what he’d thought of her behaviour, let alone his son’s, was not something she was looking forward to finding out.
A maid brought her breakfast while Jane was taking her shower. She found the tray containing fruit juice, sweet rolls and coffee on her bedside table when she came out of the bathroom. She hoped the girl hadn’t heard anything she shouldn’t, but if she had, what of it? People were sick for various reasons, not all of them suspicious.
The smell of coffee was offputting, but, breaking off a corner of one of the rolls, she popped it into her mouth. It was good. It even made her feel a little better, and she remembered that she’d read somewhere that food could help morning sickness.
She ate two of the rolls and drank the fruit juice, her spirits improving all the time. She even swallowed half a cup of coffee and by the end she was feeling pretty good.
The maid who’d unpacked her clothes had folded all the casual items into a drawer. Jane pulled out a sleeveless tanktop, in pink with matching shorts. The colour suited her and she secured her hair with a long-toothed comb. Then, feeling a little apprehensive, she left her room. It was after nine, so perhaps someone would be about.
