One Kiss in... London. Carol Marinelli

and meals if I require them. Paulo keeps an eye on the garden.’

      ‘Oh.’

      ‘It’s all a bit basic …’ His hand swept around the simply furnished home. ‘Though not for much longer. There are some designs in progress. I am trying to purchase the land to the side of the property, once that is in place the rebuild will start.’

      ‘It’s lovely as it is,’ Connie said, because absolutely it was, certainly better than the palatial penthouse she had been nervously anticipating, but Nico just shrugged, clearly less than impressed with the place.

      ‘I have asked Despina to come over more while you are here, to help with the baby …’

      ‘I don’t need help with Leo.’ Her response was immediate, because as gorgeous as it had been to have ten minutes to herself, she did not need help taking care of her son.

      ‘She can make your bed, then.’ He dismissed her protests. ‘Prepare your meals.’

      ‘I can cook!’ Connie said, ‘I’m not an invalid, I don’t need someone cooking and cleaning for me. In fact …’ she had an idea that would perhaps make her feel less beholden to him ‘ … why don’t I take care of the house while I’m here?’

      ‘To save me the money I pay Despina?’

      His voice dripped sarcasm, and also Connie realised quickly just how stupid that idea was. She hardly wanted to do the woman out of a job. ‘I mean, to give her a break, perhaps …’

      ‘Fine,’ Nico said. ‘I’ll cancel her.’ He shrugged. ‘There is a small boat that leaves at eight each morning, it takes you to the market. Might be a bit tricky with Leo and all those bags, I saw the trouble you had at the jetty.’ She thought for a moment as she stood there, blushing at her own stupidity. Despina wasn’t just nice, she was a necessity, but Nico hadn’t finished teasing her yet. ‘But if you can’t manage the boat, perhaps you can eat at the taverna,’ he suggested, his tongue firmly in cheek. ‘It would be a bit too far to walk to Ravels with Leo.’

      ‘I doubt they welcome babies.’ She could be as sarcastic as Nico when she chose to be.

      ‘So,’ Nico said, ‘Despina stays. And you will not offend my housekeeper dragging a mop around yourself or folding sheets. You are to rest, to relax, recover from the birth and then …’ Black eyes met hers but thankfully he did not complete what he was saying, stuck to his promise that for now any difficult topics were on hold, but it was all there in his eyes, and it was there, too, in the knot deep in her stomach. She was terrified of his reaction, not just to fatherhood but when he found out what her father had done. ‘For now,’ Nico said, ‘we eat.’

      It was the dinner she had dreamed of.

      Every night as she’d made Henry’s stew and mashed potato and then sat down much later to the same meal for herself, she had wished for this.

      Slivers of lamb tossed in tzatziki, and a salad of thick slices of tomato drizzled in Xanos’s olive oil, and surely there were no better olives? Connie closed her eyes as she bit into one, could taste the lemon and garlic they had been marinated in. It was a simple dinner, but completely the tastes she had grown up on and Nico watched as she relished each bite.

      ‘What?’ She blushed as she caught him watching her.

      ‘It’s good to see you enjoying it.’ He poured himself a glass of wine, but when he offered, Connie shook her head.

      ‘No, thanks.’ She took a drink of water and relished it. ‘The water is so much fresher and softer here. I am enjoying my dinner,’ she admitted, and then she admitted a little more. ‘It’s not what I thought it would be. I mean, even as we flew in, I assumed we’d be going to the newer homes, or perhaps to the hotel.’

      A year ago, they would have been.

      Even a few months ago, that would have been the case.

      But after employing the elderly couple to sort out the chaos of the neglected old house, on each trip back to Xanos, when he needed to go through papers, to make calls and go through records, though initially he had stayed at Ravels, each time he had visited he had stopped by at the house. He stayed for dinner when Despina suggested it, then dinner had stretched to staying a night now and then, and now it had been weeks since he had graced Ravels.

      ‘It is more private here,’ Nico said, but did not offer more. Did not tell her the unexpected pleasure in choosing wine for this dinner tonight, rather than ringing down. The pleasure of books still placed where he had left them, and a lounge by the French windows that looked out to a view that was now familiar in its detail.

      ‘Here I get to think,’ Nico admitted, ‘and there is a lot to think about.’ He was hesitant, not used to wanting to speak about things, and he had shared this with no one. But somehow here with her and away from it all, Nico did relent and told her about his searching. ‘I don’t know where to look next.’ He stabbed his fork into his dinner. ‘How can I look for a birth record, when I don’t even know my name?’

      ‘You can’t,’ she said slowly, trying to hide the fear as to her family’s part in this, trying to pretend that she didn’t already know.

      ‘After the wedding I walked around,’ Nico said. ‘I knew the streets … but I could not know them …’ The bewildered frown on his face was completely out of place because even his forehead seemed to struggle to create the lines. Nico Eliades was a man who always knew the answers, always had things worked out. This, though, he still had not. ‘Of course I can get nothing out of my parents. I have stopped asking for now. I figure if we are at least talking, maybe one day they will tell me.’

      For the first time she saw it from his side. She’d seen it from her family’s, had seen it from her own view-point—his wrath aimed at her when he found out the truth. But now she sat and saw it from his—the agony of knowing, and not having it confirmed.

      ‘Nico …’ She opened her mouth, but she did not know to broach it, how to say it.

      ‘Leave it,’ he said, because he was tired from it all. ‘I’m going for a walk.’

      He did. He walked the beach and back, and then he did it again, did not want to go to a bed that was empty and to the dream of what was waiting for him. He thought of her there in the house, and didn’t like the comfort it brought, for he knew it could not last for long. He could hear the baby crying as he returned much later, saw her standing in the kitchen in a skimpy nightdress, waiting for a bottle to warm.

      She turned and said nothing, guilt in her soul and trouble in her heart, because she could see the wretchedness inside him.

      ‘I thought you …’ He stopped then, because it should not merit conversation, it was no business of his how she fed her babe. ‘Goodnight, then.’

      She felt quite sure she was being dismissed. She headed to the bedroom and held tight to her baby, guilty tears coming as finally she put the teat of the bottle in Leo’s mouth and he suckled eagerly. His dark eyes looking so lovingly up at her, not realising her guilt, unwitting of her failures.

      Nico, she knew, would not be so easily fooled.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

      AT FIRST her days had been spent dozing on the sofa—her energy seemed to have depleted along with her milk supply, and though Leo was far more content on the bottle, though there was far less for her to do, everything now seemed to exhaust her. Sometimes Connie would jump up, assuming Henry was summoning her, but gradually she learnt she didn’t have to sleep with one ear open and with Nico working all day, slowly, slowly the fog started to lift. Connie took walks in the garden, or sat at the table doing a jigsaw Despina had found when clearing the house. Despina had given her other things, too. Late one afternoon when she’d been there a week or so, she handed Connie two bags. ‘They are my niece’s. I asked for you.’

      Embarrassed,