Читать книгу Modern Romance Collection: July 2017 Books 1 - 4 - Sharon Kendrick - Страница 20

CHAPTER TEN

A SOFT GLOW crept beneath Keeley’s eyelids and in those few blurred seconds between sleeping and waking, she stirred lazily. Replete from pleasures of the night and with the musky scent of sex still lingering in the air, she reached out for Ariston—but the space beside her on the bed was empty, the sheet cold. Blinking, she reached for her wristwatch and glanced across the bedroom. Just after six on a Saturday morning and there, silhouetted by the light flooding in from the corridor, was the powerful figure of her husband, fastening his cufflinks. She levered herself up the bed a little. ‘You’re not going into work?’

He walked into the bedroom, one of the cufflinks catching the light and glinting gold. ‘I have to, I’m afraid.’

‘But it’s Saturday.’

‘And?’

Keeley pushed the duvet away, telling herself not to make waves. Hadn’t they just had the most amazing night, with the most amazing sex—and hadn’t those hours of darkness felt like perfect bliss? So what if he went to work when most of London was still fast asleep and getting ready for the weekend? She told herself that Ariston’s dedication to work was the price you paid for being married to such a wealthy man. But it was hard not to feel disgruntled because it would have been nice to have spent the morning in bed for once. To have done stuff like normal newly-weds—moaning and giggling about crumbs in the bed or debating whose turn it was to make the coffee.

But she wasn’t a normal newly-wed, was she? She was the wife of a powerful man who had married her solely for the sake of their baby.

She forced a smile to her lips. ‘So what time will you be home?’

Reaching for his jacket, Ariston glanced across to where Keeley lay, looking delectably rumpled and oh-so-accessible. Her heavy breasts were spilling over the top of a silky nightgown, which somehow managed to make her look even more decadent than if she’d been naked. She must have slipped it on again during the night, he thought, swallowing down the sudden dryness which rose to his throat. A night when she had been even more sensual than usual, her uninhibited response to his first careless advances leaving him deliciously dazed afterwards.

He’d arrived home with an armful of flowers impulsively purchased from a street seller outside his office, a vibrant bouquet which bore no resemblance to the long-stemmed stately roses usually ordered by one of his secretaries to placate her when he had been held up by a meeting. And Keeley had fallen on them with delight, burying her nose in the colourful blooms and going to the kitchen to put them in water before his housekeeper had shooed her away and taken over the task.

His heart clenched as he remembered the soft flush of colour to her cheeks and the bright glitter of her eyes as she’d risen up on tiptoe to kiss him. He had pulled her onto his lap after dinner, playing idly with her hair until she’d turned to him in silent question and he’d carried her off to their bedroom with a primitive growl of possession. Had he once told her that he didn’t play the caveman? Because it seemed that he’d been wrong. And he didn’t like being wrong.

He watched as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ears, the movement making her breasts strain even more against the shiny satin of her nightgown, and he forced himself to look away. To align the pristine cuffs of his shirt beneath his suit jacket as if that were the single most important task of the day.

Was she aware of her growing power over him? A shimmer of unease iced over his skin. She must be. Even someone as relatively innocent as her couldn’t be oblivious to the fact that sometimes he didn’t know what day of the week it was when she turned those big green eyes on him. Perhaps she was trying to extend that subtle power. Perhaps that was the reason for the sudden look of determination which had crossed over her sleep-soft face.

‘Ariston?’ she prompted. ‘Must you go?’

‘I’m afraid I must. Anatoly Bezrodny is flying over from Moscow on Monday and there are a few things I need to look at before he arrives.’

There was a pause as she snapped on the bedside light and pleated her lips into a pout which was just begging to be kissed. ‘You spend more time at the office than you ever do at home.’

‘Perhaps you’d like to dictate the terms of my diary for me?’ he questioned silkily. ‘Speak to my assistant and have her run my appointments past you first?’

‘But you’re the boss,’ she protested, undeterred by his quiet reproof. ‘And you don’t have to put in those kind of hours. So why do it?’

‘It’s because I’m the boss that I do. I have to set an example, Keeley. That’s why you have a beautiful home to live in and lots of pretty things to wear. So stop pouting and give your husband a kiss goodbye.’ He walked over to the bed and leaned over her, breathing in the sexy, morning smell of her. ‘You haven’t forgotten we’re having dinner out tonight?’

‘Of course I haven’t.’ She lifted her lips to his. ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

But he thought the kiss she gave him seemed dutiful rather than passionate, which naturally challenged him—because nothing other than complete capitulation ever satisfied him. Framing her face with his hands, he deepened the kiss until she began to moan and he was sorely tempted to give her what she wanted, until a swift glance at his watch reminded him that his car would be waiting downstairs.

‘Later,’ he promised, reluctantly drawing away from her.

After he’d gone, Keeley lay back against the pillows, blinking back the stupid tears which had sprung to her eyes. What was her problem—and why was she feeling so dissatisfied of late? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known what she’d been getting herself into when she’d married Ariston. She’d known he was a workaholic and he’d never promised her his heart. He’d been honest from the start—some might say brutally so—by telling her he could never love her. And she had accepted that. He was giving as much of himself as he was capable of giving—that was what she told herself over and over. She closed her eyes and sighed. It wasn’t his fault if her feelings for him were changing...if suddenly she found herself wanting more than he was prepared to give. And allowing those feelings to accelerate was fruitless; she told herself that too. She would be setting herself up for disappointment if she kept on yearning for what she could never have, instead of just making the most of what she did have.

So she ate the delicious breakfast prepared by Ariston’s cook and told his driver that she didn’t need him that day. She thought the chauffeur seemed almost disappointed to be dismissed and, not for the first time, she wondered if Ariston had asked him to keep an eye on her. No. She picked up her handbag and checked she had her mobile phone. She mustn’t start thinking that way. That really was being paranoid.

She thought about going to look at the autumn leaves in Hyde Park, but something made her take the train to New Malden instead. Was it nostalgia which made her want to go back to where she used to live? To stare at the world she’d left behind and try to remember the person she had been before Ariston had blazed into her life and changed it beyond recognition? She found herself walking down familiar streets until at last she reached her old bedsit, and as she stood and looked up at the window she wondered if she was imagining the surreptitious glances of the passers-by. Did she look out of place with her quietly expensive clothes and extortionately priced handbag as she chased the ghosts of her past?

She ate lunch in a sandwich bar and spent the afternoon at the hairdresser’s before going home to get ready for dinner, but she was unable to shake off her air of heaviness as the housekeeper let her in. She didn’t know what she’d expected from marriage to Ariston, but it certainly hadn’t been this increasing sense of isolation. She’d known he was tricky and distant and demanding, but she’d...well, she’d hoped.

Had she thought that living together and having amazing sex might bring them closer together? That what had started out as a marriage of convenience might become, if not the real thing, then something which bore echoes of it? Of course she had, because that was the way women were programmed to think. They wanted closeness and companionship—especially if they were going to have a baby. She knew she’d broken down some invisible barrier after he’d told her about the heartbreak of his childhood and she’d prayed that might signal a new openness. After the passion of their wedding night, she’d waited for that openness to happen. And then she’d waited some more.

And now?

Careful not to muss her hair, she pulled a silky black evening dress over her head. Now she was being forced to accept the harsh reality of being married to someone who barely seemed to notice her, unless she was naked. A man who left early each morning and returned in time for dinner. Who slotted in time with her as if she was just another appointment in his diary. Yes, he accompanied her to all her doctor’s appointments and murmured all the right things when they saw their baby son high-kicking his way across the screen. And very occasionally they drove out to the countryside or watched a film together—small steps which made her hope that non-sexual intimacy might be on the cards. But every time her hopes were dashed as those steel shutters came crashing down and he pushed her away—Mr Enigmatic who was never going to make the mistake of confiding in her again.

Ariston arrived home in a rush and went straight to the shower, emerging from his dressing room looking a vision of alpha virility, in a dark dinner suit which matched the raven thickness of his hair. He walked over to the dressing table where she sat and began to massage her shoulders—bare except for the spaghetti straps of her black dress. Instantly she felt the predictable shimmerings of desire and her nipples hardened.

‘Ariston,’ she said huskily as his fingers dipped from her shoulder to caress her satin-covered ribcage.

‘Ariston, what? I’m only making up for what I didn’t have time for this morning. And how can I prevent myself from touching you when you look so damned beautiful?’

She clipped on an opal earring. ‘I don’t feel particularly beautiful.’

‘Well, take it from me, you are. In fact, I’m tempted to carry you over to that bed right now to demonstrate how much you turn me on. Would you like that, Keeley?’

Did the leaves fall from the trees in autumn? Of course she would like it. But using sex as their only form of communication was starting to feel dangerous. The contrast between his physical passion and mental distance was disconcerting and...unsettling. Each time he made love to her it felt as if he were chipping away a little piece of her, and wasn’t she worried that soon there would be nothing of the real Keeley left? That she would become nothing but an empty shell of a woman? She fixed the second earring in place. ‘We don’t have time.’

‘Then let’s make time.’

‘No,’ she said firmly, rising to her feet in shoes which probably weren’t the most sensible choice for a pregnant woman, but this was the first time she’d met Ariston’s colleagues and, naturally, she wanted to impress. ‘I don’t want to arrive with my cheeks all flushed and my hair all mussed, not when I’ve spent all afternoon at the hairdresser’s.’

‘Then perhaps you should skip the hairdresser’s next time,’ he commented drily as he glanced at the elaborate confection of curls piled high on her head. ‘If it puts you in such a bad mood.’

It was one of those stupid little rows which spiralled up out of nowhere and Keeley knew she ought to dispel the atmosphere which was still with them when they got into their car. She wasn’t going to improve matters by sulking, was she? Laying her carefully manicured hand on his knee, she felt the hard muscle flex beneath her fingers.

‘I’m sorry I was grumpy.’

He turned towards her, the passing street lights flickering like gold over his rugged features. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said smoothly. ‘It’s probably just your hormones.’

She wanted to scream that not everything involved her wretched hormones—but she was aware that such a reaction would make a mockery of her words. She stared down at her baby bump instead, before lifting her gaze to his. Why not tell him about what else had been bugging her lately—a practical issue they could address and which might improve the quality of their lives? ‘Ariston.’

‘Keeley?’

She hesitated. ‘Do we have to have quite so many staff?’

His eyes narrowed. ‘I’m not quite sure what you mean.’

She shrugged a little awkwardly and began to fiddle with her jewelled handbag. ‘Well, we have a housekeeper, a cleaner, a cook, a driver and a secretary—as well as that man who comes once a week to water all the plants on the terrace.’

‘And? It’s a big apartment. They all have their necessary roles in my life.’

She didn’t correct him by reminding him that it was her life, too. Choose your battles carefully, she reminded herself. ‘I know that. I just thought that maybe I could, you know...help.’

‘Help?’ He furrowed his brows. ‘Doing what?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Chores. Stuff. Something to make me feel like a real person who’s connected with the world, rather than some sort of mindless doll who gets everything done for her. A bit of cleaning, perhaps. Maybe even some cooking.’ She bit her lip. ‘But when I offered to peel some potatoes for Maria the other day, she acted like I’d threatened to detonate a bomb in the middle of the kitchen.’

He seemed to be picking each word carefully, like someone selecting diamonds from a barrel of stones. ‘Probably because she didn’t think it was appropriate.’

‘And why wouldn’t it be?’

‘Because...’ He sucked in a breath and made no attempt to hide his sudden irritation. ‘You are not on my staff, Keeley, not any more. You are now the mistress of my household and I would prefer it if you acted that way.’

She sat up ramrod-straight. ‘You sound like you’re ashamed of me!’

‘Don’t be absurd,’ he clipped out. ‘But it isn’t possible to flit between the two worlds—you must realise that. You can’t be peeling potatoes one minute, and asking someone to serve you tea the next. You need to be clear about your new role and demonstrate it to everyone else, so nobody gets confused. Do you understand?’

She swallowed. ‘I think I’m getting the general idea.’

He caught hold of her hand. ‘And things will probably settle down once you’ve had the baby.’

‘Yes, probably. At least that’s something I can do,’ she said lightly.

There was a pause as he circled his thumb over her palm. ‘Though we will need a nurse, of course,’ he added.

At first she thought she must have misheard him. ‘I’m sorry?’ she said, but her heart had started to race with some dark and nameless fear as she looked into his face.

‘A nurse,’ he reiterated. ‘A nursery nurse, I believe they’re called.’

‘But...’ She could feel tiny little beads of sweat pricking at her forehead. ‘I thought since you’d been so hands-on with Pavlos, you wouldn’t want us to have any outside help with the baby. Was I wrong about that too, Ariston?’

She saw his face darken. Was he angry at the mention of his brother’s name—for her daring to bring up a subject he had very firmly closed on the night of their wedding?

‘Obviously, you will do the lion’s share but I shall be out at work for most of the day.’

‘And?’ she questioned in confusion as his voice tailed off.

His eyes briefly caught the gleam of lights as the car slid to a halt outside the restaurant. ‘And we will need a nurse who speaks Greek, so that my son will grow up speaking my tongue. For that is vital, given the heritage which will one day be his.’

His words were still reeling around Keeley’s head as they entered the upmarket Greek restaurant—one of very few in central London, or so Ariston informed her as they were led towards the best table in the room. But she didn’t care about the stunning trompe l’oeil walls painted with bright blue skies and soaring marble pillars, which made you feel as if you were standing in the middle of an ancient Greek temple. She was so reeling at this latest bombshell that she could barely take in the names of Ariston’s formidable-looking colleagues or their beautiful wives, who, to a woman, were sleek and dark and polished. She recited their names silently in her head, like a child learning tables. Theo and Anna. Nikios and Korinna.

And of course they all kept slipping into Greek from time to time. Why wouldn’t they, when it was their first language? Even though they seamlessly switched to English to include her, Keeley still felt like a complete outsider. And this was what it would be like when she had the baby, she realised as she stared down at her glass of melon juice. She would be on the periphery of every conversation and event. The English mother who could not communicate with her half-Greek child. Who remained on the outskirts like some silent ghost. She swallowed. Unless she did something about it. Started being proactive instead of letting everyone else decide her destiny for her. Since when had she started behaving like such a wuss? If she didn’t like something she ought to change it.

The men were deep in conversation as Keeley looked across the table at Korinna, who was playing with her dish of apple sorbet instead of eating it.

‘I’m thinking about learning Greek,’ Keeley said suddenly.

‘Good for you.’ Korinna smiled before lifting her narrow shoulders in a shrug. ‘Though it’s not an easy language, of course.’

‘No, I realise that,’ said Keeley. ‘But I’m going to give it my very best shot.’

She was just returning from the washroom when she crossed paths with the young waiter who had been looking after their table all evening, and he moved aside to let her pass.

‘You are enjoying your meal, Kyria Kavakos?’ he questioned solicitously.

‘Oh, yes. It’s delicious. My compliments to the chef.’

‘You will forgive me for intruding?’ he said, in his faultless English. ‘But I couldn’t help overhearing you saying you wanted to learn Greek.’

‘I do. I’m just trying to work out the best way to go about it.’

He smiled. ‘If you like, I could help. My sister is a teacher and she’s very good. She teaches at the Greek school in Camden but she also gives private lessons and is very keen to expand. Would you like her card?’

Keeley hesitated as he offered her a small cream card. She told herself it would be rude to refuse such a kind offer and that perhaps this was an example of fate stepping in to help her. They said that working one-to-one was the best way to learn a new language and this could be an empowering gesture on her part. Wouldn’t it be a brilliant surprise for Ariston if he realised she was making an effort to integrate into a culture which was so important to him?

She would show him what she was capable of, she thought. And he would be proud of her.

‘Thank you,’ she said with a smile, taking the card from the waiter and slipping it into her handbag.