One Kiss in... London. Carol Marinelli

didn’t you call?’ Nico asked the question he had when he had first arrived at her door, for he had given her his private number that morning at breakfast. Even then he had been worried to leave her.

      ‘Why didn’t you?’ Connie asked. She could never tell him the real reason so she went on the defensive instead—after all, he would have surely heard from his family the scandalous outcome to the wedding. Why should it be her that picked up the phone? Had he cared, even a jot, if their one night together had meant even a fraction of what it had to her, surely he could have called in those days and weeks as the news broke, just to see that she was okay. That he had not spoke volumes.

      The only reason he was here was because of the child and she must remind herself of that.

      He was here for his son, nothing else.

      ‘I did not hear about this till today,’ Nico said. ‘The moment I found out I had my PA track you down and I got on a plane.’

      ‘Oh, please,’ Connie retorted, because she knew how big the news had been, that even if he only made occasional visits and duty phone calls to his family, he would have been told. ‘As if your family wouldn’t have gossiped about this—’

      ‘We were not talking for a long time—only in recent weeks have we spoken,’ Nico interrupted. ‘After your wedding …’ Only the slightest pause gave indication that this subject was a painful one. ‘There was a falling out—a large one. Only in the last few weeks have we started speaking again. I have had a difficult year.’

      Not that difficult, Connie wanted to say, because he stood tall and strong and beautiful; he was every bit the man she had left. ‘Too difficult to pick up the phone?’

      And he never shared private matters and he wasn’t particularly comfortable in doing so now, but better that than her to think he had known and not thought to contact her. ‘I found out they were not my parents.’

      Connie stood frozen—not at the news, because she had found out the same already, but that he knew and that Nico would tell her. She was shocked he would share what surely no one else knew, because if that news got out it would make her annulment and pregnancy idle chatter.

      ‘How?’ It was husky, and the word stuck in her throat. Did he know already that her father was involved? Was that, in fact, why he was here?

      ‘I remembered.’ He said it so simply. His voice did not betray the pain and the heartache, the jumble of feelings and dreams that made, almost, a memory. ‘I’m wrong apparently. My parents deny …’ His voice trailed off. He was not here to talk about himself and not used to sharing.

      ‘Tell me,’ Connie offered, because pain had entered the building, and now that he was not looking at her, now that he focussed instead on the television behind her, she could really look at him. Yes, the year had left its mark on him, too. He was a touch thinner perhaps, but that was not it. She tried to fathom what the change was, but couldn’t.

      He shook his head, because he had said more than enough already, and Connie did not push again, scared what her tired brain might reveal in an unguarded moment.

      ‘You’d better go.’

      He had better.

      He could leave what he had in his wallet, and if she threw it at him, then she could pick it up later. He could send her regular cheques each month and it was up to her if she cashed them. He could go, safe in the knowledge that soon she would be strong, but there was a scent in the kitchen that had him linger, the sweet smell of baby. Then he looked over at her and thought how much better he could make things.

      Not forever, he quickly told himself, because there could be no forever, his heart had learnt that long ago.

      But he could expedite things, get her back on her feet sooner, help set her up with somewhere decent to live, but for now she needed to rest and get strong and, he admitted, albeit reluctantly, she simply deserved a little looking after. ‘Come with me,’ Nico said, and this time he meant it. ‘Not to the hotel, but back to my home. I will hardly be there, you can rest, get your strength, I have staff …’

      ‘I’ll be fine.’ She meant it, she absolutely meant it—she just hadn’t quite worked out how.

      ‘Come with me.’ He said it again. ‘I have a property on Xanos—the south.’

      She gave a wry laugh, had this vision of blondes draped over his white loungers, of million-dollar views and champagne cooling, and could not be the ragamuffin guest. ‘I’m not interested,’ Connie said. ‘I’m trying to get away from my family—I hardly want to go back to Xanos.’ It was Connie frowning now. ‘I didn’t know you had property there.’

      ‘No one knows,’ Nico said. ‘It is very private, extremely secluded. There is a stretch of beach that is mine and you can walk undisturbed there. There is a pool and a garden where you can get back some colour …’ He looked at her tired pale cheeks and his mind was made up. ‘I have a housekeeper who cooks with local produce.’

      ‘Your staff will soon talk.’

      ‘My staff were hand-picked.’ He saw her dismiss that. After all, she knew how the island worked, that the people thrived on gossip—it was a factor he had considered on hiring Despina and Paulo. ‘They are an elderly couple,’ Nico explained. ‘Proud people, who lost their only son a couple of years ago—all their savings had gone into his health. They have nothing. The developer bought their home and was charging them the most ridiculous rent. Now they live in a property to the rear of mine and they tend to the house and garden as if it were there own.’ He looked over at Constantine and would not for a moment let her compare him to Henry. ‘I pay them not just their board but a good wage, too—my staff have dignity, and that brings loyalty. I insist on privacy. No one, not even my family, knows that I am there.’

      ‘Why?’ Connie blinked. ‘Why the secrecy?’

      He had no choice but to tell her. If she came she’d find out anyway, for there were papers everywhere and records that he pored over whenever he got a chance. ‘I am from there,’ Nico said. ‘I am sure of that. I want to find out my past …’ And she felt her blood run cold as he continued, ‘So for now, in my free time, I base myself in Xanos.’

      ‘Doing what?’

      ‘Searching,’ Nico said. ‘I want to find out who and where my parents are.’

      ‘And then …’ Connie was having great trouble finding her voice. ‘Once you’ve found them, you’ll …’ She struggled, tried to stop herself from asking too many questions, but she wanted to be sure that was all he wanted, wanted to know that her family would be safe. Nico didn’t wait for her to finish her stumbling sentence. He cut straight in and she saw then what she hadn’t been able to place before, recognised then the change in him and it was anger. ‘I don’t just want to find them. I want to find out who facilitated this, and, when I do—’ how black were his eyes as he continued, how badly they bored into her heart ‘—they will pay.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

      THEY would pay.

      Connie was quite sure of it.

      He would ruin her family, of that she had no doubt. The shame she had wreaked on them would be nothing, nothing compared to what Nico would do when he found out the truth.

      All of the truth, for she knew more.

      She had seen the papers, had held them in her hands, and knew there was much more to this than parents giving up their baby.

      ‘Get your things,’ Nico said, and she was about to say no, but maybe she was too tired to process things properly. Perhaps by being there she could prevent him from finding things out because, Connie knew, the outcome could only be devastating. ‘We leave now.’

      ‘I can’t,’ Constantine said. ‘I can’t just leave