Chapter Eight #3
‘The fish was caught this morning. And Evadne has made something special for dessert. She’d have my hide if she thought I’d scared you off before you could eat it.’
Unbelievably, before Dido could stop it, a huff of laughter escaped. The thought of the gentle housekeeper with her smiling eyes berating Panos, who towered head and shoulders above her, was ridiculous.
‘She would, you know. She likes you.’ He paused. ‘She’s already told me off for neglecting you.’
Startled, Dido met his gaze again. He wasn’t joking.
She tried to conjure wariness and distrust but failed. Being on a knife edge of anxiety took its toll. Would it be so bad to stay and share the meal?
He’s probably missing his social life in Athens.
Maybe he just wants conversation after spending so much time with a toddler.
The thought gave her hope. Maybe soon he’d be ready to discuss shared custody.
Dido reached for her glass and sipped. ‘I like Evadne too. She’s teaching me to cook Greek food.’
‘Is she? What have you made?’
‘Tzatziki and cheese pie.’
His eyes rounded. ‘You helped make the tyropita we had for lunch?’
‘Don’t look surprised. I’ve been cooking since my teens.’
Perhaps he thought gold-diggers were too busy honing seduction skills to cook for themselves.
‘Have you? I never learnt.’
‘You can’t cook?’
That seemed like one of the strangest things he’d told her, apart from the day when he’d revealed his huge wealth. To her, cooking was an everyday skill like doing the laundry or making a bed. Besides, Panos always seemed so capable, able to handle anything.
He shrugged but this time the movement looked self-conscious.
‘From as early as I remember I had a butler, cook, housekeeper and nanny. Later the nanny was replaced by a tutor. Each had their own domain and rigid rules. I wasn’t allowed to overstep and nor were they.
There was no eating in the kitchen or unscheduled snacks, much less cooking lessons.
They weren’t considered necessary for the heir to the Diamandis fortune. ’
Dido frowned. He’d told her he’d been brought up by guardians after being orphaned in infancy, but this sounded antiquated. ‘Surely—’
‘My guardians arranged specialist tutors. When I was old enough I learnt commerce, economics, business and politics. Languages, of course, plus the usual curriculum. My progress and behaviour were carefully monitored.’
‘You didn’t go to school?’
He shook his head. ‘It wasn’t deemed appropriate.’
Her chest squeezed. ‘That sounds lonely.’
His gaze caught hers and something passed between them. It felt like the beat of energy they’d once shared. Like trust. Which was surely impossible.
‘I didn’t have time to be lonely.’ Yet his gaze cut away from hers and she wondered. ‘Anyway, I made up for it when I went to university. It was amazing how many friends I made there.’
His intonation on the word friends said a lot.
Three years ago he’d explained the reason he hadn’t told her about his fortune was because he’d learned that was why most people wanted to know him.
They wanted to live off his largesse, basking in his generosity.
He hadn’t given details and she hadn’t asked.
In London he’d mentioned paternity claims by women he’d never slept with.
Tonight’s scant details painted an austere picture that chilled her blood.
Surely an orphaned child needed love, not servants. She’d been a teenager, not a baby, when her parents died but she’d needed her Aunt Flavia then desperately. She tried and failed to imagine not having her loving presence.
Who had he leaned on? Cared for? Who’d loved him?
‘You didn’t have anyone at all?’
He reached for his wine, looking at the view beyond the garden. ‘I had plenty of people. I was constantly surrounded.’ Suddenly his gaze locked on hers and fire sizzled in her veins. ‘I’ve been extraordinarily privileged all my life. Don’t go imagining I need sympathy.’
‘Of course not,’ she murmured. Yet she was appalled. His upbringing was anything but normal. Where was the love every child needed? The emotional nurturing?
Did that explain his mistrust? The way he’d so quickly thought the worst of her, cutting her off without giving her a fair hearing? If he’d had no truly close, caring relationships since his parents died…
Yet he was so loving with their baby. Who’d taught him that? Could it be innate? All she knew was that his feelings for Athena seemed utterly genuine.
Dido remembered the discussions they’d had long ago, about how they both wanted a family of their own above all else. The urge to create what they lacked was almost as strong as the spark of sexual attraction that flared and grew between them.
Now she was confused.
Panos had threatened to keep her away from her baby. He wanted sole custody.
Yet he cared for their daughter. He was doing his best to build a connection with her, and succeeding. Dido didn’t doubt that his feelings for their baby were genuine.
‘What are you thinking, Dido? You’re very serious.’
‘About our baby.’ She couldn’t share the rest.
He sat forward. ‘There’s more I want to know.’
‘Such as?’
‘Everything, starting with the pregnancy. What was it like?’