Chapter Six
STUPID, STUPID, STUPID.
Willa pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, blocking out the daylight that was creeping in through her window, wishing she could as easily block out the memory of that kiss.
She had been awake for about an hour and spent most of that time wishing she could go back to sleep. At least asleep, she didn’t have to deal with her stupidity.
As if everything wasn’t enough of a mess.
What she should have been doing was containing it, shushing it into submission so that she could get on with her job. Instead, she had thrown fireworks into a bonfire.
His mouth on hers.
Her breath mingling with his.
At some point early yesterday evening, either of her own accord or because Ares had sent her, Iona knocked on her door with some freshly squeezed peach juice, and she had taken the opportunity to excuse herself from supper by claiming that she had a migraine.
She hated lying, but she’d had more than enough of Ares Konstantinou for one day.
That was one way of putting it.
She felt her cheeks burn as the kiss swelled up inside her again, and she touched her lips, remembering how he’d bent his head and fitted his mouth to hers.
She should have pushed him away. Or slapped him like the heroine in an old black-and-white movie.
But instead, she had kissed him right back, unthinkingly, as if it was something they had done a hundred times before.
As if he hadn’t spent the last week making her jump through ever-higher hoops.
But it wasn’t all her fault. He was so close.
Close enough for her to see the hunger in his eyes, to feel the pull of his desire.
And it felt real, more real than that first time because now they had done more than kiss.
They had talked, argued, made accusations, and then suddenly it was as if the storm had blown through and they had survived it.
And it was just the two of them alone, and it had felt right in the same way it had on the roof of the Clarendon.
Except, it wasn’t right. Or real.
Up until yesterday, she might have kidded herself that it was both, but she couldn’t do that now. Not having seen his face, the way it changed, that shuttered expression as she told him that she hadn’t been using contraception.
It told a story all of its own, one that would end without a happily-ever-after.
Not that she was expecting one. Her future was as unmapped, as unmappable, as the rest of her life.
In the short term however, it was obvious that no matter what she had reluctantly agreed to do in London, she needed to get out of here as quickly as possible.
They both needed some space—she did, anyway, and she could speak to Ariana without Ares being there.
Because he wasn’t going to forget what Thea had said. Particularly as she had as good as admitted it might be possible. She could be pregnant.
And if she was, then Ares was the father. She’d as good as admitted that too.
Her shoulders tensed as she replayed his reaction. But what had she thought? That he wanted her to be pregnant with his baby? Aside from the fact that they barely knew one another, less than a day ago he’d told her that he had no current plans to have children.
But why was she even thinking about this? Why had she let Ares and his random logic get inside her head? She threw back the sheet in irritation. The chances of her being pregnant were slim to none.
Standing up, she walked into the dressing room, blinking as the lights fluttered on.
There was a full-length mirror at one end of the room, and she tugged her T-shirt over her head and stared intently at her naked body.
Obviously because she was weak-minded, she had looked up early changes in pregnancy, and it was easy to convince herself that her breasts ached. That she was exhausted and breathless. But then arguably, all of those symptoms were also caused by being in proximity to Ares Konstantinou.
She stared at her reflection. She knew they weren’t, but her breasts definitely looked bigger. And her hair looked glossier.
Stop it.
Turning away from the mirror, she stalked across the room to the window and pushed the shutters slightly apart. There was no breeze, but she could smell the salt from the sea, and there was a faint hint of thyme.
Thymari.
She breathed out unsteadily, feeling the soft press of Toula’s head, her all-seeing brown gaze.
This was going to stop. She was going to get dressed and get this prenup written and then get the hell out of Dodge and—
And what? She glanced across to where her mother’s engagement ring sat on the bedside table.
Ignore the possibility that she might be having a baby? Live yet another lie?
Misery stabbed her stomach. She had left California to stop having to lie to everyone around her. Yet now she was thinking about lying to herself. Acting like a child shutting her eyes and thinking nobody could see her. If she was pregnant, then wasn’t it better to know?
Something moved on the terrace below, and she felt her body stiffen, nipples tightening as Ares walked out into the soft morning light.
He was wearing shorts and a T-shirt that fitted his contoured upper torso like a glove.
Her breath hissed through her teeth. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.
He was also ruthless and uninterested in marriage or children.
Did she really want to find out if she was pregnant with his baby?
Yes.
Because then she would know for sure, and knowing anything for sure right now felt like a big deal. She watched as Ares began to jog away from the house, and then she quickly got dressed.
Making her way downstairs, she headed for the kitchen. Iona was talking quietly to another woman who was folding napkins. As Willa walked into the room, they both turned towards her, smiling.
‘Good morning, Ms Hamilton. I hope you slept well.’
‘I did, thank you,’ Willa lied. ‘I wondered if you could help me?’
‘Of course.’
Something of the tension in Willa’s body must have been visible, because Iona turned and said a few quiet words to the other woman, who instantly retreated, and now it was just the two of them. But where to begin?
She cleared her throat. ‘It’s a little awkward. I need to get to the mainland. There’s something I want.’
‘I understand.’ The older woman nodded. ‘But perhaps that might not be necessary. If you’ll excuse me for one moment?’
‘Of course.’ Willa stared after the housekeeper in confusion as Iona walked across the kitchen and disappeared through a doorway. When she returned, she was holding a padded envelope. ‘I think this might be what you need.’
Her smile was neutral, polite.
Willa took the envelope, opening it a fraction. Pregnancy tests. She breathed out unsteadily.
‘I don’t understand—’ And then she did. Because Ares Konstantinou didn’t do careless, and it would be the definition of careless for him to let Willa leave this island without knowing for sure if she was pregnant with his baby. Or pregnant, at all.
‘Actually, it’s fine. You don’t need to explain, but thank you.’
As she left the kitchen and made her way back upstairs, she wondered what Iona was thinking.
The older woman seemed completely unfazed, but then she was a trusted family employee.
She lived with the Konstantinous and was witness to their private lives.
Who knew what she had seen? Maybe this was just what she called a typical Wednesday.
Twenty minutes later, Willa was staring in shocked silence at the array of plastic wands resting on the side of the bath. There were five tests in the envelope, and she had used all of them. Although, she could have stopped after the first three because the result was irrefutable.
Pregnant. 2–3 weeks.
The bathroom was warm, but she was shivering. She could feel her shock beating in her throat, hard, an actual physical thing as if her heart had relocated. And beneath it, tiny but fierce like a match striking, a flare of joy.
Pregnant.
She had told herself this morning that it was better to know for sure.
And now she did. But she had never allowed herself to imagine this moment.
She knew first hand how hard it was to give up something you had.
Better to just accept what the doctors had said.
That conception would be challenging. Not impossible, but highly unlikely.
And yet, here she was, pregnant.
Pressing her hand against her mouth, she breathed out shakily. Because now came the hard part. She picked up the last test and stared at the result. Was this how it had started for her mother? A chance encounter. A kiss that felt imperative. Sex that burned like wildfire.
And then a plastic wand revealing a life-changing future.
Had her mother told her father—her birth father—that she was having his baby? If so, how had he reacted?
She shivered again. Had he denied it? Was that why his name wasn’t on the birth certificate?
Had she put down Robert’s name out of spite?
Or despair? Or, more likely given that she was married at the time, had she not known for certain?
And rather than rock the boat, had it been simpler, safer to tell herself, tell the world, that Robert was the father?
So many questions that would never be answered. So many lies, because there was never just one lie.
Her eyes slid down to the test. She could lie to Ares. Tell him the tests were negative. He would be relieved; he would want to believe it was negative.
But then what?
Because there was never just one lie.
* * *
Speeding up, Ares took the hill at a sprint. It was a bit risky. The ground was dry and uneven, with loose stones that slithered treacherously beneath the soles of his trainers. But he needed to make his lungs burn. Burn off the anger and that feeling of being out of control.