Chapter 39
I stand at the door to the living room, preparing to put on the performance of a lifetime. They’ll be throwing Oscars at me for my role as ‘Woman not almost caught by her dead boyfriend’s godmother while being brought to orgasm by his brother’.
Once the coast was clear, I’d crept back to my room, taken an ice-cold shower to muzzle my libido, and wriggled into jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, because after being practically naked in Mark’s hot hands, I’m too self-conscious to show any skin.
By the time I’ve combed my hair and slapped on a bit of make-up, I’m sweating, but I don’t care.
Chin up and tits out, I bound into the living room, wearing my biggest smile. I give Kiki a kiss on the cheek, and she tells me how pleased she is to finally meet me.
She looks like Anthi, with the same sharp cheekbones and blue eyes, except she’s let her hair go white and it’s cut in a smart bob.
I can also see Leo in her, and it strikes me anew how Mark got all his father’s dark, brooding looks and that extra dose of testosterone that sculpted his square jaw, strong neck and enormous hands whose size I didn’t notice until they were wrapped around my bare hips.
I sit next to him on the sofa, not because I want to but because it’s the only place left. Theo and Kiki are on the opposite sofa, and the third is covered in damp beach towels that I really hope aren’t ruining the leather.
‘God bless you, my girl,’ says Kiki, ‘for helping Marko when he slipped in the pool.’
Is that how we’re describing his near-fatal drowning?
From the corner of my eye I see Mark nod imperceptibly, as if to say: just go with it.
He’s manspreading in a fresh pair of shorts so I’m forced to sit upright with my knees together to stop our legs touching.
‘It was nothing,’ I reply, trying not to choke on the words.
She takes my reply at face value, then adds, ‘If Leo, God rest his soul, were still with us, you and Marko would be brother and sister.’ She states it like a fact; as if it doesn’t need saying.
Mark doesn’t react, his only response a long intake of breath.
I wish I could laugh off her words or tell her, ‘Nothing brotherly about where those fingers have been.’
I could say nothing. I should say nothing. But I’ve had a particularly difficult twenty-four hours. I’m hot, I’m sweaty and I’m frustrated as hell.
‘Leo was a lovely person, but I wasn’t going to marry him.’
Theo looks at me in panic, trying to decide whether I’m joking or whether he ought to sweep in and change the subject.
Only Kiki doesn’t seem shocked by what I’ve said. ‘Yes, yes, of course, not until you finished school.’
What is this, the Middle Ages?
‘Not ever,’ I say, my boldness taking me by surprise.
‘Well, of course, because of his illness. We all knew he didn’t have much time. But if it wasn’t for his illness …’
She seems satisfied to have got to the bottom of what she thinks I’m trying to say.
I bite my tongue to stop myself from blurting out how I really feel. That if it wasn’t for his illness, I wouldn’t have gone out with him in the first place. That I only did so out of pressure from our mums and because I felt sorry for him.
Luckily, she switches her attention to Theo, asking about the wedding plans and, after she’s asked a suitable amount of follow-up questions to appear polite, she asks what she really wants to know.
‘When are you getting married, Marko?’
I get a perverted satisfaction that this annoying question, beloved of older relatives, also gets thrown at men.
‘I need to find a girl that will have me first,’ he says with an easy smile.
‘Maybe Nella can find you a nice girl to settle down with. I’m sure she’s got lots of single friends.’
How does she manage to make that sound like a burn?
I stand, about to make my excuses to leave, when Kiki grabs my hand.
‘A coffee would be lovely, my love. Just a touch of sugar.’
I smile and nod, because however insulting it is that she assumes only female members of this party can make coffee, it’s preferable to sitting here.
As I leave, Tig walks in and immediately makes Mark swap places with Theo so the two of them can sit together.
Theo introduces her and after Kiki asks a perfunctory question about the wedding, Tig goes off on one about ivory versus ecru chair skirts, and I suppress a mean-spirited smile, knowing Kiki’s about to be subjected to a long and tedious diatribe.
I’m bringing the Greek coffee to the boil when Mark joins me in the kitchen.
‘Damn, you are salty when you don’t get to come.’
‘I was being perfectly polite.’
‘Yeah, but you also told her exactly how you felt. You usually say the things people want to hear, always putting their feelings ahead of yours. Didn’t it feel good to speak honestly?’
I’m taken aback by his observation. His therapist must be good.
‘There’s plenty I didn’t say.’
He nods. ‘I know you had zero warning, but thanks for meeting her.’ He pauses, and his expression changes. ‘I can’t let her get the bus back to Limassol. I’m going to drive her.’ He pauses. ‘Want to come, too?’
‘It’ll be just the two of us on the way back.’
He doesn’t reply, just holds my eye.
Oh. Oh.
I take a step away, to give my willpower a fighting chance to do its thing, then glance over my shoulder to make sure no one’s listening.
‘It’s a very tempting offer, and part of me would like nothing better than for you to pound me into oblivion in the back of your car, but … we can’t, okay.’
He pinches the bridge of his nose. ‘I’m hard. Again. And I just took care of it.’
‘Sorry, was it the word “oblivion”?’
‘More the word “pound”.’
I’ve inadvertently painted quite a picture.
I shake myself. ‘We got caught up in the heat of the moment – which seems to be a pattern with us in sheds – but Leo’s godmother turned up. How can that not be sign?’
‘She’s my mum’s cousin, which also makes her my aunt. She came to see me.’
‘Yes, but she wanted to meet me. And she talked about Leo the whole time, about how we were meant to be together until cruel fate intervened. That’s the story Mum and Anthi used to endlessly repeat and I’m sick of it.
’ I stop to take a breath, the strength of my feelings catching me off-guard.
‘You want honesty? You want to know how much of a bitch I was? How about this: I only went out with him because I felt sorry for him.’
I brace myself for his reaction.
He frowns. ‘That’s your deep, dark secret?
You literally put his feelings ahead of your own, and you think I’m going to hate you for it?
’ He pauses. ‘That’s the missing puzzle piece, it explains why you did what you did.
I knew you weren’t secretly in love with me – I was just a warm body at your service. ’
I cringe. ‘That makes me sound awful.’
‘Hey, I wasn’t complaining.’
‘I should have had the guts to be honest with him, but instead I ruined his life.’
‘It’s been fifteen years, Nella,’ he says softly. ‘Haven’t you beaten yourself up enough?’
‘Fifteen years of it festering, of living with the guilt, of not being able to tell him sorry. I cheated on him, for God’s sake. Nella Praxitelis, the big fucking expert on infidelity, and what was my first experience of it? Cheating on someone who didn’t deserve it.’
‘You were a kid.’
‘I was old enough to know better. I hurt him unforgivably, and for what? A cheap fumble in a dark room. Nerve endings responding to friction. That’s all sex is.’
‘I don’t remember us having sex,’ he says wryly.
‘You’re not seeing it from my point of view. I was a sixteen-year-old virgin. For me, what we did that night was a Roman orgy.’
His mouth falls open in disbelief before he breaks into a smile so heartfelt it lights up his whole face. ‘Oh, my pure, innocent angel.’
‘It’s not funny,’ I protest.
He shakes his head. ‘Who’s Caligula in this scenario – me or you?’
‘Me, of course.’
He tips his head back and properly laughs.
‘You were my hot-bodied slave,’ I add, fighting a smile.
He leans against the counter, collapsing with fresh laughter, his whole body shaking.
It’s a joy to watch him lose it like this. To be the person who brings him to his knees in pure, unadulterated delight.
We’re both laughing so hard we don’t notice Theo until he’s right in front of us.
‘Er, guys, the coffee?’
We look at each other guiltily, and I go to grab a cup and saucer but Mark beats me to it, bumping me aside with his hip.
‘I’ll do it, Your Imperial Highness. Emperors don’t get their hands dirty. That’s what they have slaves for.’