Читать книгу Kyriakis's Innocent Mistress - Diana Hamilton - Страница 7

DIMITRI KYRIAKIS placed the unmarked buffcoloured envelope squarely in front of him on the gleaming expanse of the otherwise empty desktop and tried not to show his distaste as he dismissed the private investigator.

With the tips of his long fingers resting on the surface of the envelope he stared out of the huge floor-to-ceiling plate glass window, seeing nothing.

He had lived for thirty-six years, a driven man, with the last twenty-two of those years spent coldly and clinically exacting vengeance on the man who was his father for the way he’d flung unforgivable insults and flatly refused to help his gentle, loving mother when she’d needed financial help as much as she’d needed oxygen and he, her son, fourteen years old, had been impotent to provide it.

Years spent working, learning, planning, taking at first tentative steps and then giant strides towards his objective: the downfall of the arrogantly powerful Andreas Papadiamantis.

Already the Kyriakis fleet of eye-wateringly luxurious cruise liners had relegated his father’s dwindling fleet to scratching for the cut-price, downmarket, kiss-me-quick tourist business, and it was rumoured to be going out of business altogether.

And now his money men were working on the takeover of the last two of his father’s hotels. One in Paris, the other in London. The rest had been overshadowed by the Kyriakis chain, driven out of the top end of the market and eventually sold off at a loss.

But things had changed. His father had disappeared off the radar six months ago—none of the usual mentions in the press, no sightings at his head office in Athens—and the thought of the old lion crawling into his den to lick his wounds had been oddly unsettling to Dimitri. He needed his enemy to be in the ring, fighting.

Four months into his father’s apparent disappearance, his frustration and curiosity at fever-pitch, he had had the fabulous, sprawling white villa he’d only visited that once in his life watched. He had needed a clue to what was going on. To him, the spying exercise had been utterly distasteful. Ruthless in pursuit of his objectives he might be, but he was always up-front, his intentions open for anyone to see. It was the way he operated.

His dark-as-jet eyes focused at last on the panoramic view from the window: the expanse of deep blue ocean framed in the foreground by tall pines, the glimpse of the soft white sand of a rocky bay. Relaxing. Hypnotic. Or it should be. Always had been. Until today.

He came to his island retreat on average twice a year, to unwind, empty his mind. Not a fax machine, a computer, a landline in sight. But now his mind was churning with totally uncharacteristic and unwelcome indecision.

Had he done enough? Was the vendetta played out? Was it time to forget his father, let the planned takeover go? Time to allow the man who’d sired him to avoid the final humiliation? Time for Dimitri to move on, to turn his life in an entirely different direction? To turn his back on sporadic, ultradiscreet affairs, to marry, produce sons and daughters of his own—laughing, golden-limbed small people to give a gentler purpose to his life.

The black bars of his brows drew together as he finally remembered what lay beneath his fingertips. Broad shoulders tightening beneath the crisp white cotton of his custom-made shirt, he withdrew the photographs.

His father. On a terrace surrounding an immense outdoor swimming pool. Wearing his trademark cream linen suit, shades and—incongruously—a battered straw hat. The telephoto lens made him look strangely diminished. Not so the female he was touching.

He was touching the naked shoulder of arguably the most luscious blonde bimbo ever to wear a bikini. Caught in the act of turning to smile at the older man, her long silvery hair falling back from her gorgeous face, her voluptuous breasts seeming about to burst from the confines of the two scraps of dark blue fabric, she was sexual enticement on legs.

And what legs! Long, beautifully proportioned, smooth, tanned.

Abruptly he pushed the photographic images back in the envelope. He didn’t need to see the others. He’d already seen enough to knowthat the old lionwas on the hunt for a new wife to stir his ageing libido.

His father favoured blondes.

His mouth tightened to a hard, straight line as his mind swirled with the memory of that other time, that other blonde. His father’s second wife. With diamonds glittering at her ears, and her floaty designer dress a whole universe away from the cheap, second-hand stuff his mother had had to wear. And his father throwing him off his property, refusing to help, refusing the modest sum that would have assuredly gone a long way to making the life of the mother of his bastard son so much easier, in all probability extending it by several precious years.

So, no, while such coldly bitter memories still existed, it wasn’t over.

Andreas Papadiamantis was still unforgiven.

‘A girl could get used to this, sis!’

Bonnie Wade smiled warily at her sister. Lisa was sprawled out on a lounger, her honed, bikiniclad body still glistening from the pool, her cropped strawberry blonde hair slicked to her head.

‘My two blonde babies,’ her dad called them. ‘One strawberry, one champagne!’

‘Here—’Bonnie reached for the tube of sunblock from the marble-topped table at the side of the lounger and tossed it over. ‘You don’t want a dose of sunburn.’

At twenty-seven, two years Bonnie’s senior, Lisa had always been her best friend. Physically and temperamentally, they couldn’t be more different. Lisa was tough as old boot leather, and slim to the point of thinness, whereas Bonnie was soft as marshmallow and—to her private dismay—billowy. But they complemented each other, understood each other.

Their mum, the harrassed wife of a busy GP, had been heard to confide in her closest friend, the mother of three boisterous boys who seemed perpetually to be intent on causing grievous bodily harm to each other. ‘I don’t have that problem, thank heavens! Ever since little Bonnie learned to walk my two have been joined at the hip. Never a cross word!’

So, delighted as she had been to receive the seven a.m. call from the airport this morning, she still didn’t understand why Lisa was here.

‘I’ll talk to you about it later,’ the older girl had stated on the drive back to the villa. ‘And before you get your knickers in a twist, the Olds are fine. It’s nothing to worry about.’

Now, three hours later, she was none the wiser. As a fitness instructor to the rich and famous, Lisa usually took time off over the Christmas season, taking a three-week break and flying to where was hottest. But it seemed this year she had decided to take a week off during the summer, with a lastminute diversion to drop in on her sister on her way to Crete.

‘You’re sure the old guy doesn’t mind me being here?’ Lisa finished slapping sunblock on her legs.

‘Quite sure,’ Bonnie confirmed. ‘When I told him I needed time off to collect you at the airport he insisted Nico drive me, and wouldn’t hear of you finding a hotel.’ She tweaked the starched skirts of her white uniform dress. ‘So—give. Why the unexpected visit? What is there to talk about?’

Lisa hoisted herself up on one elbow. ‘OK. Look, why don’t you sit down—relax? I think I know how you’re going to take this, but I’m not sure, so, I thought I’d stop in as I was passing and talk to you face to face.’

Bonnie shifted on the flat soles of her white canvas shoes, as near to feeling exasperation with her sister as she’d ever been. ‘I’m on duty,’ she pointed out. A glance at her watch confirmed it. ‘Andreas is due for his exercise session in ten minutes.’

‘Fair enough. Here goes…But first, how much longer are you in this job?’

‘I’m supposed to sign off at the end of the week. Why?’

As a nurse, working through a highly respected agency, she specialised in remedial care. Sometimes, as now, she worked abroad, but mostly in the UK. She might be staying on longer to help this patient. Andreas Papadiamantis was a troubled man, and she’d promised to help him. But there was no time to go into that now—although the unexpected opportunity to confide in her sister later, during her off-duty hour after lunch, would be more than welcome.

‘Why?’ Lisa gave a wry, tight-lipped smile. ‘Because Troy went to see the Olds, that’s why. He says he wants you back.’

Bonnie felt her face crawl with colour. Anger, disbelief—she didn’t know which. Abruptly she sat on a vacant lounger. On the eve of their wedding he’d sent his best man to tell her that he couldn’t go through with it. Sorry. Would she arrange for the return of the wedding gifts? And she could keep the engagement ring.

She’d felt sorry for Brett, the bearer of the news. He’d been painfully embarrassed. Only with hindsight had she realised that she should have been feeling sorry for herself, broken-hearted. But she hadn’t been broken-hearted, and Troy’s supposedly magnanimous message that she could keep his ring was an insult she was still smarting over six months later.

The next morning, on what should have been her wedding day, she’d taken the ring and the unworn bridal gown to the nearest charity shop. Her parents, bless them, though alternately fussing over her and ranting at Troy’s perfidy, had made all the necessary cancellations and returned the gifts, and she had just gone ahead and got on with her life as if nothing had happened.

Which, also with the clarity of hindsight, she recognised meant that Troy had done her a favour. She couldn’t have been in love with him at all. He’d hurt her pride, her sense of self-worth, but, being of a cheerful, optimistic disposition she’d soon got over that.

‘Apparently,’ Lisa was saying, ‘he gave them a real sob story. He didn’t know what came over him. Burn-out, he guessed. He’d been working so hard. He’d never forgive himself for hurting you so badly, for messing up his own life, come to that. He loves you more than he thought possible, and just wants the chance to put things right. But he didn’t know where you were working, how to contact you—blah-blah-blah. And you know Mum. A soppy romantic if there ever was one. She went and got all dewy-eyed and sentimental and told him where you were, working with a cancer patient. And—this is more than a guess—I know he’ll be turning up any time now. As soon as he can fix time off from that supposedly mega-impressive job of his in the City. I wanted to warn you. I don’t think you’re the type to go all gooey when a guy gets down on his knees and begs forgiveness with crocodile tears in his eyes, but some women just might—’

‘Not this one!’ Bonnie got to her feet, a smile twitching at the corners of her expressive mouth. The nerve of the man! Though if Lisawas right, and Troy Frobisher didwant them to get back together, and she had been head over heels in love with him, then she might be deluded enough to believe whatever he said and spend the rest of her life regretting her gullibility.

She turned to her sister. ‘Thanks for the warning. We’ll talk more later—after lunch. Don’t worry, I won’t be taken in by him—or any man, come to that. And I’ve got something to tell you that’ll knock spots off the prospect of any sick-making visit from an exfiancé!’

Andreas Papadiamantis could be a charming companion when he wanted to be, and if ensuring that his surprise house-guest felt welcome and relaxed while she enjoyed the lavish hospitality of his home was his objective then he’d succeeded magnificently.

Over lunch at the polished stone-topped table in a cool, airy dining room, his gaunt, still-handsome features softened as he glanced between the sisters, smoothly switching subjects.

‘Touching on your amusing description of your need for strictness with your clients, I must tell you that my nurse—your sister—is also a formidable woman,’ he told Lisa. ‘When I was first diagnosed and taken in for treatment I insisted on a total news blackout. I am not the powerful business force I once was, but I still have assets—the remainder of a once dominant chain of luxury hotels. If the shareholders got wind of my possible demise the value could drop like a stone.

‘Bonnie was apprised of the situation when she took over my remedial care, and I tell you, although I employ a security staff, she made them look like amateurs! She was like a lioness defending her cub.’ He lifted his bony shoulders in a dismissive shrug. ‘I have lived with press interest for most of my life, but it has increased to intolerable proportions since my son set out to ruin me. She sent them flying—literally!’ He chuckled, his black eyes dancing. ‘She found one clinging to a tree that overhangs the perimeter wall on the far side of the estate. She knocked him off his perch with a handy stout stick!’

Bonnie blushed at the reminder. She’d felt dreadful afterwards, and had sent Spiro, one of the security men, out to discover if the snooper had been hurt. Thankfully there’d been no sign of the man or his camera.

‘It’s not something I’m proud of,’ she told the grinning Lisa, and laid down her fork, her healthy appetite dwindling.

It disappeared altogether when her patient said, ‘Bonnie saved my life. I truly believe that. Oh, the doctors did their part, I don’t deny that, but mentally I had given up. Until Bonnie arrived and chivvied me out of it—taught me how to laugh, really laugh, for perhaps the first time in my life, to take things less seriously.’ His eyes clouded. ‘To take a long hard look at my life, recognise my mistakes and vow to do better. I know her agency will move her on to look after some other ailing creature when I get the final all-clear—’

‘Which you have,’ Bonnie put in, wanting to stop all this embarrassing stuff.

Andreas ignored her, explaining to Lisa, ‘I don’t want to lose her. Selfish I may be, but she has been so good for me.’ His quirky grin was self-mocking. ‘I even went so far as to ask her to marry me, but showing great wisdom she declined—much to an old man’s disappointment!’ He dabbed his mouth with his napkin. ‘Now I must leave you both for my afternoon rest—as my good nurse insists.’

There was a heavy silence until the door closed behind Andreas, and then Lisa exploded, ‘What was all that about?’ She raised one arched brow. ‘Did he really pop the question?’

‘Come on.’ Bonnie rose from the table and brushed a stray crumb from the front of the white lawn sleeveless blouse she’d teamed with an apricotcoloured cotton skirt. ‘We’ll find somewhere to talk.’

It was the hottest part of the day, and usually she spent her off-duty hour in the pool, but today that pleasure would have to be deferred. She was intent on unburdening herself.

For the past week she’d been itching to do just that, but there’d been no one to confide in. Now, like a gift from above, Lisa had arrived. She couldn’t choose a better confidante than her sister—her best friend.

She led the way to one of the immense salons, elaborately furnished in the high baroque style. She privately thought it was more like a self-conscious museum than a comfy home. But at least the air-conditioning kept the interior of the villa pleasantly cool.

‘Grief!’ Lisa’s eyebrows arched up to her hairline. ‘Who did the Disney decor?’

‘The Sugar Plum Fairy?’ Bonnie grinned, plonking down on a stiffly upholstered two-seater settee and patting the space beside her.

A week ago, during her early-evening perambulation of the extensive grounds with her patient, Andreas had suggested they sit awhile in one of the strategically placed vine-covered arbours.

Concerned that the old man who had made such excellent progress was feeling unwell, she had been knocked speechless when he’d come out with, ‘Will you be my wife, Bonnie? I do not ask this lightly. You have brought optimism back into my life, given me hope where before there was only bleak emptiness. When I was at my weakest you gave me strength. I find I don’t want to be without your life-enhancing company, your warmth and strength. I have been lonely for too long.’

Bonnie had gulped. The pleading darkness of the old man’s eyes had made her feel terrible. She knew that patients often got—well, crushes, for want of a better word, on their nurses, and they just as soon got over them. But Andreas was, as he’d said, so lonely. He had no friends as far as she could tell, and no family. No one to visit with bunches of grapes, no one to phone for progress reports or even send get well cards. No one. Nothing.

Too flummoxed to think of anything sensible to say, Bonnie had felt her insides shrinking until her stomach felt like a particularly tough walnut.

‘It would be a marriage in name only,’ Andreas assured her. ‘I would make no sexual demands upon you. You would have the protection of my name—and my name still means something, even though my second son is crushing my various businesses into the ground. I have a personal fortune in a Swiss bank account—entirely separate from my business affairs. Upon our marriage it will be yours, to give you security for life. In return all I would ask of you would be your constant company and your promise to intercede with my son on my behalf.’

‘I didn’t know you had any sons!’ Bonnie blurted, seizing on the outrage she felt on his behalf at his offspring’s obvious uncaring neglect, in order to put off the moment when she would have to turn his marriage proposal down flat. And hadn’t he said something about this second son running his business into the ground? Coming from a close-knit, loving family herself, she couldn’t think of anything more chillingly vile!

‘I need to be frank with you.’ He took her hands. Her first instinct was to withdraw them, but the beginnings of pity took over as he confessed, ‘My near brush with death has made me take stock of my life. I have too many regrets. My first marriage was arranged. We didn’t love each other. At the time love wasn’t important, or so I thought. There was no room in my busy life for pointless emotion. I saw emotion as a weakness. Building up my business empire was all that mattered. She—Alexandrina—died shortly after giving birth to my firstborn son, Theo.’ His mouth twisted wryly. ‘I honestly think she died to get away from me—and that’s a heavy weight on my conscience.’

He paused, as if remembering something dark that had been buried for too long and then, his voice strengthening, continued, ‘I remarried within a year. A man in his prime has certain needs, and taking a mistress entails a certain expenditure of time and effort—time that could be more profitably spent on business concerns.’

‘And taking a wife doesn’t mean spending time and effort?’ asked Bonnie, appalled.

Andreas sighed deeply. ‘I am telling you this to showyou the man Iwas then. The type of man whose first unloved and unconsidered wife died to escape him, and whose second wife eventually ran off with another man. Whose firstborn son left home as soon as he hit eighteen because—as he said—I drove him too hard, expected too much, used criticism as our only mode of conversation. I never saw him again. He left my home, refused to join the business as I had planned since his birth, so I washed my hands of him. He died of a heroin overdose in Paris five years later.’

His hands tightened on hers. ‘I am not proud of what I was. I have been a failure as a husband, as a father. As a human being. I see all this now, and I cannot tell you how deeply I regret it all. Regret all that I was, all that I was not. But most of all I regret that I have not seen my second son since he was fourteen years old—and that he has made himselfmy enemy.’

He took a deep breath. Warm darkness was closing in, the great scarlet ball of the sun sinking low on the horizon. ‘That is why I would ask you, were you to agree to be my wife, to stand by my side and give me courage, to intercede with my remaining son on my behalf. I want to get to know him, make amends if I can. I dream of turning his enmity into friendship—or, if that cannot be managed, a sense of kinship. I don’t want to leave this life having no one of my blood to mourn my passing.’

Bonnie felt her throat tighten, felt moisture gather in her eyes. She was so sorry for him. Poor old guy! On the face of it, he’d deserved all he got. But hewas obviously truly repentant over his past deeply dreadful shortcomings. His recent near death experience had opened his eyes to his failures with shocking clarity.

Surely he deserved a second chance?

But she had to make one thing clear. Gently, she withdrew her hands from his. ‘Andreas,’ she began firmly, ‘I’m fond of you.’

And she was. They’d hit it off from the start. She always gave her patients the best care she could, even if they were real miseries! But Andreas had been different—responding positively to all her medical demands, never once complaining. She tried her best to like all her charges, even if they were impossible, but with this old guy she hadn’t had to try.

‘But I can’t marry you,’ she said softly. ‘It’s immensely flattering, but in my book marriage should be more than a contract, with money changing hands. Companionship comes into it, of course, but there has to be so much more. I will promise one thing. I’ll do my utmost to try and put things right between you and your son, but you must tell me how to go about it.’

‘So what are you going to do?’ Lisa had listened in total silence as Bonnie had recounted that conversation verbatim. ‘What are you going to say to this estranged son of his? It won’t be easy—but I guess you know that.’

‘I’ll think of something,’ Bonnie replied, with a confidence she was far from feeling.

Deep down she felt thiswas a no-win situation. On the one hand, the firstborn son’s reaction to his father’s harsh idea of parenting made it no surprise that the second-born should have followed suit. But surely that didn’t excuse his apparently ruthless drive to ruin his father?Aguy had to be really mean-minded to start out on that track, and by all accounts never give up.

Quite how she’d get through to him she had no idea. But she’d promised to do what she could, and she never went back on a promise.