Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
At ten on Saturday evening, Olympia stood at the top of the steps, in the flickering shadows, and gazed out over the terraces that cascaded down to the beach. She might be a screwup, she thought as she surveyed the scene with a warm ripple of pleasure, but she did know how to throw a party.
The event planner, who’d been working his socks off since first thing this morning, was worth every cent of his extortionate fee. Torches lined the jetty and the steps up to the house. Strings of lights edged the beach and draped through the trees. The pool shimmered like liquid jade, and around it sat tubs of myrtle perfuming the air. A DJ was playing music that had a sultry samba beat, which had the guests swaying, and the delicious food that her sister-in-law had provided was going down a treat.
For all Alex’s misgivings, she wasn’t tempted by any of the free-flowing alcohol. Once upon a time she’d got through a bottle of champagne a night with no problem at all, but she hadn’t touched a drop of anything stronger than tonic water in a year, pregnant or not. She was perfectly happy with a margarita mocktail, especially since he’d rejected raspberry and passion fruit in favour of an alcohol-free beer, in what he’d described as a sign of solidarity. And that wasn’t the only difference about this party. She was genuinely enjoying herself. She wasn’t pretending to have a good time to mask the fact that she was miserable. In fact, the whole vibe of the evening was giving her a lovely warm glow.
Or perhaps that was the ring that she’d hardly been able to take her eyes off since he’d put it on her finger. Every time she looked at it she caught some new spark of fire, some new hue to its colour. With the sun on it, the stone shone light and clear. Now, as night fell and the stars came out, its rich dark tones made her think of intoxicating sensuality and heady desire. Of the twisted sheets and ragged breathing and wild abandonment she’d experienced with him last night, which had somehow felt more intense than before.
Beneath the moonlight, in between catching their breath and the rise of relentless desire, he’d told her about his need for financial security as a result of his parents’ ruinous divorce. About how he’d been given a position in a bank by a sympathetic family friend and had turned out to have a knack for investment. The foreign markets in particular had become his playground, and within a year he’d made a cool five million. A decade later, he’d established his own funds, which traded a wide range of products on behalf of some of the richest people in the world.
He’d elaborated on his friendship with her brother, and the affair. Finally able to talk a little about his feelings, he’d confessed to the guilt he felt about introducing her mother to his father and the anger and resentment that had combined with the grief of losing both his parents. Olympia had tried to convince him that it wasn’t his fault, but she didn’t know if she’d succeeded. Nor did she have any further insight into how he felt now about her mother. He must have hated her at the time, and he obviously still harboured some ill will towards her, but to what extent? She’d asked but he’d prevaricated and she wondered if, perhaps, he didn’t know either.
Now, instinctively, she sought him out, and her gaze landed on him almost immediately, because all evening she’d been aware of where he was. He was wearing a dark suit and an open-necked white shirt, and he looked so stunningly handsome that her breath caught in her throat for so long she went a little dizzy.
A moment ago, he’d been chatting to her brother, Leo, and before that, Zander. But now he was on his own once again, standing at the edge of the section of the beach that had been converted into a dancefloor, hands in his pockets, staring out to sea, and it struck her suddenly how very much alone he really was.
Most of the guests here were hers—friends, colleagues, all five of her siblings with their respective spouses. The few he’d invited seemed to be related to his business in some way. Even the Sheikh had put in a brief appearance, before being whisked away by his security detail. But when she’d subtly probed—while they’d all lauded his business acumen and success—none of them had been able to shed any light on him personally.
She knew he had no family, and that was hardly his fault, but why did he have no friends? Why would anyone want to live like that? What was the real reason behind his avoidance of commitment? Surely it couldn’t just be the demands of his job. And how did he actually feel about marrying her and fathering a child if he genuinely preferred his own company?
‘Great party.’
These words, delivered in a familiar drawl, jolted Olympia out of her tumbling thoughts and she determinedly shook them off because tonight wasn’t a night for such weighty ruminations. Tonight was a celebration. Or rather, she speedily amended as she turned to see that Zander had joined her at the balustrade, a performance .
‘It is, isn’t it?’ she asked, the pride and pleasure with which she’d been regarding the proceedings faltering a fraction, before she forced herself to rally.
‘Of course, I’d expect nothing less,’ Zander said dryly. ‘I thought I was a party animal, but you took it to a whole other level.’
‘Not any more. You can’t deny this is eminently civilised.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it. It’s the height of sophistication.’ He looked at her shrewdly. ‘So how are you coping?’
‘Absolutely fine,’ she said, slightly surprised by the question, which indicated a level of interest she’d learned not to expect. But then she hadn’t envisaged all siblings plus in-laws turning up here tonight either, so who knew what was going on. ‘Most of what I used to get up to was for show anyway. Rehab was more of a reset than a cure.’
‘It did you good.’
‘I know.’
Zander’s expression turned unusually thoughtful as he folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the balustrade. ‘I was cornered by your new fiancé earlier.’
‘I saw.’
‘His reputation for ruthlessness precedes him, and I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of him businesswise, but he seems like a decent enough guy. He can’t sing your praises highly enough.’
At that, her eyebrows shot up and her heart skipped a quick beat. ‘Oh?’
‘I’ve been hearing all about your skill and tenacity, and the work you’ve been putting in to passing your exams. I understand he’s shared with you all the trading tips he’s picked up over the years. He’s your biggest fan. He said that I was an idiot for not deploying your many talents in a more productive role, and that if I didn’t give you the asset management job you want, he would.’
For a moment Olympia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Yes, she’d asked Alex to put in a good word for her, but she hadn’t actually thought he’d do it. Was he simply holding up his side of the bargain, or did he genuinely believe her capable of doing the job she so badly wanted? Had he fought for her?
‘Can you imagine the optics of that?’ she said lightly while her mind raced, trying but failing to work out what it meant. ‘The press would have a field day. It was bad enough when you hired me.’
‘You may have a point,’ Zander agreed with a nod. ‘But he does too. You’ve done really well these past few months. I’m impressed. I should have seen it sooner, and I probably would have without the severe sleep deprivation a newborn baby brings. You’ll find that out soon enough. Call me on Monday and we’ll talk about your next move.’
‘That would be great,’ she said, noting not only the shadows beneath her brother’s eyes but also the quiet way he seemed to light up at the mention of his tiny son, and wondering how Alex would feel when the time came. ‘Thank you, Zander. I won’t let you down.’
‘You’re welcome. I know you won’t. But, although I’d like to take the credit, it’s not me you should be thanking.’
* * *
Two hours into the party, Alex had to admit that it wasn’t nearly as grim as he’d initially feared, but that was probably because he wasn’t giving it his full attention. Even the endless stream of congratulations, which he’d assumed would have brought him out in hives, had failed to make much of an impression. He was too busy contemplating the ring.
If he’d ever thought that the outcome of selecting a purely functional engagement ring merited any consideration, prior to Aristotle Georgiou’s trip to his island, he would have assumed that once he’d dispatched the jeweller back to Athens that would have been that. He’d decided Olympia needed a prop and he’d got her one. Job done. He would not have anticipated it still playing on his mind some thirty-six hours later, yet it did.
Why, when she’d dithered and he’d had to step in before they both ossified where they sat—or worse, she made the wrong choice—had his involvement in the selection felt somehow portentous? Why, when instinct had told him, this one , had he for one mad moment wondered whether that instinct referred to the ring or the woman who’d be wearing it? And why did he feel such deep satisfaction whenever he caught her looking at it?
Initially, he’d simply pushed these frustratingly baffling questions from his head and forced himself to think instead about how brewing political unrest in various corners of the globe might affect his vast portfolio of funds. When the event organisers had shown up, and he’d immediately felt the beginnings of a headache, he’d escaped to the gym to sweat out his tension on the treadmill.
But later he’d taken her to bed, and for some reason the bloody ring had flashed like a beacon all sodding night, loosening his inhibitions and his tongue, and he might as well not have bothered with any of it. Had he had to share with her his innermost feelings about pretty much everything under the sun? No, he had not. But, as if she’d spiked him with some sort of truth drug, he’d barely been able to stop talking at all.
The insane disruption of the last day and a half had transformed his estate into some sort of dark twinkly flickering wonderland. With lights festooned about the place and artfully positioned pieces of furniture and random greenery, the gardens had never looked so appealing.
Nor had Olympia.
In a red knee-length halter-neck dress that she’d had sent over first thing this morning—because it apparently went with the ring that was causing him so much grief—she looked so stunning she took his breath away. Every time he caught sight of her he thought that his architecturally significant house wasn’t the only remarkably lovely thing on the island.
As life and soul of the party, she was also in her element, chatting and laughing and making sure that everyone was having a good time, while attracting attention like moths to a flame. How she knew so many people he had no idea. She obviously collected them, and the thought that this might be his life from now on made him feel faint.
But at least the dreaded bombardment of memories hadn’t materialised. All five of her siblings were here, which was a surprise when she’d implied that three of them would be unable to attend, but talking to them had been so uneventful he’d found himself wondering what on earth he’d been thinking all these years. There was nothing monstrous about any of them. They were all as perfectly normal as the next ultra-rich person. Zander had taken on board his observations about Olympia’s many talents and how they might be of benefit to him with no problem at all.
In fact, the only conversation that had proved bothersome so far was the one he’d had with the Sheikh. ‘Many congratulations on your forthcoming nuptials to Miss Stanhope,’ Abdul Karim had said with a smile that had then turned disconcertingly knowing. ‘I sensed something was up in Switzerland. Such sparks. I knew instantly that no one would be having dinner with her but you. I am never wrong about these things.’
Alex didn’t know what exactly the Sheikh thought he could see. Although their chemistry was still pretty volatile, despite their very best efforts to dampen it, so perhaps that was the giveaway. But thankfully he hadn’t been able to give the matter any further thought because Leo had then appeared at his side for the catchup he’d mentioned on the phone.
‘Good to see you,’ had been his former best friend’s opening salvo as he’d clapped him on the back and shaken his hand. ‘It’s been a while.’
‘Twenty years.’
‘How have you been?’
‘Good. You?’
‘Great. Happy on Santorini building boats. Married. Two daughters. Hard to believe when you think about the things we used to get up to.’
‘I’m sorry I cut you off so abruptly back then,’ Alex had said with a frown, as Olympia’s censure of how he’d handled the situation came back to him. ‘But Selene destroyed my family. It left us all broken. I did what I had to do.’
Leo had looked at him shrewdly. ‘I get that. Although it took me some time to work it out. I was sorry to hear about your parents.’
‘I was sorry to hear about your father.’
‘I could have done with a friend then,’ Leo had said with a shrug. ‘As could you, no doubt. But I’ve never seen much point in regret.’
‘Nor me.’
‘So you and Olympia… It’s not just a convenience thing, is it?’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘You can’t keep your eyes off each other.’
First the Sheikh, now Leo. What could they see that he couldn’t?
‘It’s complicated,’ Alex had muttered by way of prevarication.
‘It always is.’
They’d chatted for a while longer, catching up on the last twenty years, and then Leo had sauntered off to find his wife, leaving Alex to ruminate on what his friend had said about the nature of his relationship with Olympia. It had changed over the last couple of days, he thought as he rubbed a hand along his jaw. He’d started talking about his feelings and the world hadn’t imploded, even though he’d found it impossible to accept her perspective. So perhaps it was developing into one that went beyond mere convenience.
How he felt about that, however, he’d have to park for later analysis, because Olympia was making a beeline for him with a determined yet dreamy look on her face, which he couldn’t understand, but nevertheless it tightened his chest and constricted his lungs. The wave of emotion that he couldn’t even begin to identify swept through him like a river bursting its banks, and nearly took out his knees.
But then something over his shoulder caught her eye and she stopped dead in her tracks, the dreaminess turning first to shock and then to appal. He glanced round to see what was causing her such consternation, fully prepared to come to her rescue if required, and then it was his turn to freeze.
Because coming to a whiplash of a stop at the end of the jetty, sending waves tumbling to the shore, was a speedboat. And being helped off that speedboat a moment later was a woman, swathed in gold lamé and draped in diamonds, a woman who looked not a day over forty even though she had to be in her mid-sixties.
Her mother.
His nemesis.
The very much uninvited, deeply unwelcome Selene Stanhope.