Chapter Eight #2
The stupid Englishman had thought he was providing the winning argument that would persuade Panos. In fact it was the nail in the coffin of Panos’ trust in his new wife.
They’d only been married weeks and their marriage hadn’t yet been public knowledge.
Panos had successfully suppressed the news, wanting to give her time to acclimatise to her new life.
Her wide eyes as she’d taken in his Athens penthouse and her shock at his revelation of his wealth had engendered strong protective feelings.
He knew how intrusive the press could be.
Even having a discreet security detail was new to her.
Panos gritted his teeth at the memory. As if she’d needed protecting! Her shock hadn’t been real. She’d targeted him for his money and remarkably—after a lifetime in which he’d learned to identify sycophants and money-hungry women—he’d fallen for her lies.
Just before Fitzallan-Jones contacted his office, Dido had said she’d rather wait before announcing their marriage, adding that she hadn’t even told her family.
That was patently a lie. Her half-brother had been so cocky he’d given the game away, admitting he’d contacted Panos as soon as he learned about their marriage from Dido.
No one else knew about the marriage but a handful of Panos’ most trusted staff. The news had definitely come from her.
Had she told Charles that Panos was so besotted he’d do anything to make her happy? Like invest in a badly run business that was going down the drain?
Even after three years that rankled. Not just that she’d tricked him, but that he’d believed in her. How could that be after a lifetime learning the hard way that people who got close weren’t to be trusted?
Reaching the ground floor, he followed his nose into the kitchen. There was no sign of Evadne but she’d been busy preparing lunch. A large tyropita, a filo and feta cheese pie, sat on the bench beside the makings of a fresh salad.
It was a long time since his early morning swim and he’d been so busy with Athena he hadn’t taken time for coffee and the sweet biscuits Evadne had baked. Panos cut a slice, still warm from the oven, and headed outside via the backdoor.
‘I really don’t know, Flavia.’
Mouth full of delicious cheese and pastry, Panos stopped, one step out onto the terrace. A few metres away, Dido stood with her back to the house, holding her phone as she looked out over the pistachio grove.
As ever, heat licked from his groin to his belly as he took her in. Those tantalising curves, the dip of her waist, the glossy curls that invited his touch.
Infuriated by his instinctive reaction, he was about to turn around and leave when another voice said, ‘You’ll need a good lawyer to fight him for custody.’
Panos stilled, the food turning sour on his tongue.
The phone was on speaker and Flavia’s voice was clear despite the background hum of cicadas. His first instinct had been to leave Dido to her conversation. But the mention of a lawyer stopped him.
Naturally, she’d fight for custody. Yet it froze him in his tracks, belly clenching.
He had the resources to win any legal battle, plus proof that Dido had deliberately kept Athena from him. Yet he’d prefer not to take this to court.
He abhorred the idea of Athena as the focus of media attention in a custody battle. As he’d been the focus of fierce speculation from childhood, orphaned in his cradle, sole survivor of the famous Diamandis family and fortune.
But a fortune hadn’t given him what he most wanted—someone who truly cared about him, whom he cared about too. That had been elusive his whole life, because of his fame and fortune.
‘Lawyers cost money.’
There was silence for a moment, then Flavia sighed. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry I can’t offer to help but—’
‘Don’t you dare apologise, Flavia. You’ve done so much. I couldn’t ask for more. Anyway, it will be all right. I’ll sort it out.’
Panos was intrigued by the difference between Dido’s voice and her posture.
She sounded confident but her shoulders hunched as she sank onto the edge of the terrace.
If he hadn’t heard her words he’d guess she felt fragile, even overwhelmed.
Either she was lying to her aunt or her attitude whenever she faced him was sheer bravado.
He didn’t like that she confounded him, making him feel he was on the back foot. He turned away.
‘I worry about you, Dido, alone out there—’
‘Hardly alone, Flavia.’
‘You know what I mean. You’ve been working so hard, running yourself into the ground, and now this. I don’t want you ending up in hospital again.’
Panos stopped midstep. Hospital?
‘I’m fine. That’s not going to happen. I’m not pregnant now. The circumstances are completely different. I’m perfectly healthy.’
He swung around to see her plough her hand through her curls before propping her head up with one hand, her elbow on her updrawn knee. Her shoulders were slumped and he felt unwanted sympathy stir.
Sitting on the edge of the terrace, she looked small, defeated. Not the fiery termagant who’d confronted him in Tahiti, the unrepentant woman who’d stolen his child.
Silently, he closed the door behind him and walked away. But he couldn’t put the conversation from his mind. It had been easy to despise Dido when he dwelt on her sins. But seeing her weak and worried made him uneasy. He didn’t like it.
That was a conundrum he refused to ponder, but she’d given him plenty of other things to consider.
* * *
‘Where were you living when Athena was born? In the same building as your aunt?’
Dido swallowed and put down her water glass. Since coming here, their conversation had revolved around their daughter. She should have known Panos’ announcement that they’d eat together wasn’t an olive branch. He wanted to interrogate her. Why?
But she had nothing to hide and needed to defuse his prejudice against her to stand a chance of keeping her baby.
‘No. I had a bedsit on the other side of London.’
‘Bedsit? A one-room apartment?’ His expression conveyed surprise, or was that confusion?
‘It’s an expensive city.’
She didn’t add she’d been lucky to find it. Before that she’d shared a flat, but couldn’t imagine bringing a baby home to a place she shared with two others.
‘You didn’t live with your aunt?’
Dido frowned. Why did he want to know about this? ‘My aunt went to Bolivia soon after you and I met. She didn’t move back to the UK until later.’
‘Bolivia?’
He looked startled and she couldn’t resist adding. ‘It’s a country in South America.’
Two tiny grooves curved around the corners of his mouth, hinting at the sense of humour she’d once so enjoyed. The impact was electrifying. She even caught sight of a slashing dimple in one cheek. Dido remembered stroking her finger along that line, finding his laughter attractive.
She still found it attractive. That unnerved her because despite everything, part of her yearned for the man she’d once known. It was easier when he was grumpy and unreasonable or just plain furious. She didn’t want him likeable.
‘So I’ve heard. What was she doing there?’
‘Working for a charity, teaching English and computer skills to disadvantaged kids.’
‘That’s very laudable.’
Dido shrugged. ‘She’s done that sort of work for years.’
‘The pair of you are close?’
‘We lived together for a year after my parents died. I was seventeen and she came back to the UK to be with me.’
Flavia had been a lifesaver, providing the stability Dido needed to get through that first twelve months when the world she knew fell apart, courtesy of black ice and a speeding truck on the motorway.
‘You care for each other.’ His voice held a note she couldn’t identify.
For a second she hesitated, wondering what he was getting it. ‘We do. Why are you asking?’
He skewered a prawn with his fork. ‘Just curious. And the rest of your family?’
Dido’s hackles rose. She knew where this was going. Another accusation, no doubt. She dropped the cutlery she’d just picked up. ‘My half-siblings? I don’t know where they are. I haven’t seen them in years.’
Not since just after her parents died. But there was no point saying that. Panos didn’t want to know. He was so fixated on his own belief she was a conniving swindler.
She pushed her chair back. ‘I should go and check on Athena… Theeny.’
Great! Now she felt self-conscious about what she called her own daughter. Thanks to him.
The warmth of his hand covering hers made her still, shock strumming through her at how familiar that felt. Almost…welcome. Bizarrely, instead of feeling revolted, Dido felt her tension ease a little.
A second later he withdrew his hand and she strove to stifle what felt like regret. How could that be?
Being with him messed with her emotions!
‘She’s sleeping soundly. You checked before you came down to dinner and we’d hear on the monitor if she woke.’
He knew she was using their daughter as an excuse to avoid him. But he wasn’t gloating.
‘Please, stay and finish your meal.’
Dark eyes held hers, their expression serious. His tone was easy. She told herself not to trust him—she didn’t trust him—and yet…
The difficulty was Panos didn’t lie. He had faults, dreadful faults, but insincerity wasn’t one.
What was going on in his head? He didn’t act or sound like her enemy. And she was exhausted from being on her guard all the time. Could she trust herself, and him, for a short time at least?