‘WHAT ARE YOU talking about?’ Xan stared at his housekeeper in disbelief. ‘What do you mean, she’s gone?’
But he barely listened to Manalena’s distressed explanation as he stormed up to the bedroom because the evidence was there for him to see. He shook his head with disbelief as he pulled open one of the closet doors. Only the most basic of Tamsyn’s clothes were missing—all the fancy ones remained. His throat dried as he reached out to touch the white gown she’d worn at their wedding party, which he’d almost torn in his eagerness to remove it from her body last night. Her unread books were no longer in a pile beside the bedside table and that wide-toothed comb thing she used to rake through her unruly curls in the mornings was nowhere to be seen.
He dismissed the housekeeper as he saw a note she must have left lying on the pillow, striding across the room to pick it up and resisting the desire to crush it to a pulp within the palm of his hand. It was short and to the point. Was that deliberate? Was she mocking him for that terse note he’d once left her in a faraway desert palace?
Xan,
I’ve decided to go sooner rather than later and I didn’t want the bore of saying goodbye, I’m sure you’ll understand.
Below you’ll find all my bank details and I look forward to hearing from your lawyer.
Yours, Tamsyn.
He stared at it, his eyes scanning the words in disbelief, as if there had to be some kind of mistake. But there was no mistake. There it was, in black and white. A stark farewell, which seemed mainly concerned with getting her payment for their short-lived marriage.
His mouth twisted. He’d gone back to the office this morning, strangely reluctant to leave the seductive warmth of his wife’s body and the lazy caress of her arms after their surprisingly satisfactory honeymoon. The day had seemed to drag in a way he wasn’t used to and several times he’d found himself picking up the phone to ring her, just to say hello, before reminding himself that wasn’t his style and putting it down again. He’d told himself it was normal to be physically aching for her, because they’d been having so much amazing sex since the day of their marriage and they’d been together exclusively for fourteen days and nights. Elena had looked startled when he’d suddenly announced he was leaving early and his heart had been beating like a drum as his car had been driven at high speed to the estate, only to discover that his wife had gone. And to discover just how she had spent her day...
A bitter taste coated his throat. She must have been silently planning her get-away. How long had she been plotting that, he wondered? While his own driver had been busy ferrying him around the city, she had persuaded Manalena to call her a cab to take her into Athens, supposedly on a shopping trip—before slipping away to the airport to catch a regular flight to London. Had she been laughing quietly as her lips had locked against his that morning, knowing what a surprise she was about to spring on him? Was that why her hand had slid between his legs to find his hardness—he was always hard for her—and guided him inside her slick, waiting heat for one last, bone-melting time?
He paced over to the window but the bright beauty of the Aegean failed to stir his heart, for his rage and incomprehension were all-consuming. Didn’t she owe him the common courtesy of telling him she was breaking their agreement by leaving early, or at least explaining why?
He told himself not to do anything. To give himself time to calm down. But even as he thought it, he found himself lifting his phone and barking out instructions to Elena to have his private jet made ready. He didn’t know what he was going to say to his runaway bride, all he knew was that he had to say something.
* * *
Tamsyn stared at the photograph, as if doing so could help. It was that old trick of voluntarily subjecting herself to pain before anyone else got the chance to do it. As if that could somehow make her immune to it.
Some hope. The photograph was from a gossip column and had obviously been taken at the wedding party. She didn’t imagine Xan’s friends were the type who sneaked photos at exclusive social events, but there had been a lot of outside caterers there that night and maybe one of them had captured the moment. And, oh, what a moment to have captured.
Beneath a headline which proclaimed Greek Tycoon Weds at Last! was a photo of her and Xan. She thought how dreamy she looked and how happy she seemed as she stared up into his face. And Xan? Tamsyn sighed. His darkly contoured features gave little away, but maybe it was good to recognise that. To reinforce that she’d done the right thing in running away from his luxury estate, because if she’d stayed around, growing fonder and fonder of him—then her heart would have been truly broken.
Yet didn’t it feel a little bit broken now?
From a long way downstairs she heard the doorbell ring, but she didn’t move. It wasn’t her house—she was just lucky that her friend Ellie from the Bluebird Club had an attic room going free and had told Tamsyn she was welcome to stay there until she’d found her feet again. Funny expression, really. As if someone could lose their own feet. She couldn’t imagine going back to waitressing, yet neither could she summon up the enthusiasm to enrol in college to get herself a late-in-the-day education, despite Xan’s faith in her. And the craziest thing of all was that, having married just to get her hands on his money, she now found herself reluctant to take any of it. The deliberately cold note she’d left for him had been nothing but bravado—done to ensure that he would ultimately despise her and leave her in peace.
‘Tamsyn!’
It was Ellie. With a sigh Tamsyn got up off the single bed, walked across the tiny room and stuck her head outside the door. ‘Yep?’ she yelled down.
‘There’s somebody here to see you.’
Tamsyn blinked. Nobody other than Ellie knew she was back, because that was how she wanted it. Time to lick her wounds and recover—even if right now that seemed like an impossibility. She’d told Hannah she was here, in a rushed phone call to the palace in Zahristan when she’d tried her very best—and somehow succeeded—in not sobbing her heart out as she explained that her brief marriage was over. Surely her heavily pregnant sister hadn’t impulsively flown over to see her?
‘Who is it?’ she called back.
‘Me,’ said a dark, accented voice which carried up the stairs. ‘Your husband.’
Tamsyn clutched onto the door handle, trying not to react as she saw a glimpse of the top of Xan’s dark head as he walked up the stairs. A lurch of joy and fear made her feel almost dizzy, but most of all she could feel an overwhelming sense of yearning as his broad shoulders came into view. But she wasn’t going to let him know that, because one thing she knew was that there could be no going back. She could be strong, yes—she’d spent her life trying to be strong in the face of adversity. Just not strong enough to stay with a man who was never going to care for her.
‘Xan,’ she croaked, as he drew closer. ‘What...what are you doing here?’
‘Not now,’ he said grimly as he reached the top of the stairs. ‘In private.’
‘Everything okay?’ called Ellie’s anxiously from the bottom of the stairs.
‘Everything’s just fine,’ said Xan, in the kind of tone which broached no argument.
Tamsyn felt even more dizzy as he reached the top of the stairs and gestured for her to proceed him into the room, still with that same grim expression on his face. She told herself she didn’t have to let him in. After all, it was her room, not his—and technically he could even be described as trespassing. She could tell him to leave and only to contact her through her lawyers, but deep down she knew that wasn’t an option—and not just because she didn’t actually have any lawyers. It was more because she wanted to feast her eyes on him one last time. To file away the memory of those cold blue eyes, that hot body, and the sensual mouth which had brought her so much pleasure.
‘So, Tamsyn,’ he said, once he was inside the miniscule room and completely dominating it, having flicked a dismissive glance at the tiny bed and the view out over an alley which was lined with overflowing dustbins. ‘Are you going to explain why you decided to run off without telling me?’
Her heart was beating very fast as she sucked in a deep breath. No, she wasn’t. Because she didn’t owe him anything. Nothing.
But the defensiveness which had always been second nature to her wasn’t coming as easily as usual and she wondered how convincing her nonchalant shrug was. ‘We both knew it had to end sometime,’ she said carelessly. ‘I just made an executive decision to end it early. It was a fake marriage, Xan. It was conceived to get you out of a tight spot and as far as I’m concerned, I’ve performed my part of the bargain.’
‘Why, Tamsyn?’ he said simply.
Once again, she shrugged, even though when he said her name like that it made her want to cry. ‘I heard... I heard you talking with your father.’
His eyes narrowed in comprehension and then he nodded. ‘Did you now? So you will have heard me defending you.’
‘Yes, I heard you. Thanks.’
He looked at her. ‘And that’s it?’
She nodded. ‘Yep, that’s it. There’s nothing more to say. I don’t even know why you’re here.’
‘Because I don’t understand. And I need to understand.’
She shook her head so that her unruly curls flew all around her shoulders and impatiently she pushed them away. ‘No,’ she negated heatedly. ‘You don’t need to understand, Xan. You want to understand—and there’s a difference. I know you’re rich and powerful, but even you have got to realise that you can’t always get what you want. So will you please go?’
He shook his head. ‘There’s something you’re not telling me, Tamsyn.’
‘And? What if there is? You’re not privy to my innermost thoughts—even if we were a real married couple, which we’re not! You have no right to expect explanations.’
‘I disagree,’ he said coolly. ‘I think I do, and I’m not going anywhere until you start talking to me. I want the truth, Tamsyn. I think you owe me that, at least.’
Did she? Did she owe him anything? For the sexual awakening, or for making her realise that she was as capable of love as anyone else? As she stared into his resolute face, Tamsyn recognised she was in real danger here. She wanted her heart to stop hurting but the only way that was going to happen was if Xan went away and left her alone, and he wasn’t showing any sign of doing that. She could see the look of determination on his face and realised he meant it when he’d said he wouldn’t be satisfied with anything but the truth.
So should she tell him and witness his disgust when he realised what kind of person he’d really married? Watch his gorgeous face freeze with fastidious horror when he learned the truth about her gene pool? And that might that be the best outcome of all, because then he really would say goodbye and she could begin the long process of getting over him. If she pushed him away first—at least he wouldn’t be able to turn round and do it to her. She sucked in an unsteady breath. ‘You described me as honest and decent and true,’ she said quietly. ‘But I’m not. At least, I’m not honest.’
‘What are you talking about?’
Don’t let your voice shake. And, above all, don’t cry.
‘You only know half the truth. That my mother was a groupie—’
‘Yes, yes. That’s old news,’ he said impatiently.
She shook her head, but her determination not to cry was failing her. She felt her eyes brimming with tears and saw Xan flinch, as if he found such a spectacle distasteful. He probably did. He didn’t like emotion. It was messy and he wasn’t used to it. Well, neither was she if it came to that, but for once in her life Tamsyn was finding it impossible to hold back the shuddering sob which seemed to erupt from the very bottom of her lungs.
‘Well, here’s some hot-off-the-press news!’ she snarled. ‘My father was a rock star. A very famous rock star. His name was Jonny Trafford.’
‘Jonny Trafford? Wow.’ He frowned. ‘But he—’
‘I’m not interested in how many albums you had of his. You want to know what happened?’ she rushed on, waving her hand impatiently to silence him in her determination to tell him the facts. The unvarnished facts—not the version which everyone knew. It was the only thing she had left of Jonny Trafford—her few brief and bitter memories. ‘He had a one-night stand with my mother.’ Her voice shook with something like shame. ‘According to his official biography, he had similar nights with lots of women. Sometimes with more than one at the same time...’
‘Tamsyn—’
‘Shut up!’ she declared as the tears now began to stream down her cheeks and the words came choking out. ‘You know my mother had us fostered because we got in the way of her latest love interest? I know. Shocking, isn’t it? And after she died Hannah came into possession of her paperwork, including a letter addressed to me which contained the bombshell discovery that Jonny Trafford was my father. But Hannah didn’t tell me that. At least, not straight away.’
He narrowed his eyes. ‘Why not?’
‘She was trying to protect me, just like she’d always done.’ Tamsyn stabbed at her wet cheeks with a balled-up fist. ‘She thought I’d been through enough hurt and wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to endure any more. So she went to see him.’ Her voice tailed off but his face was intent as he leaned forward.
‘Tell me, Tamsyn.’
She shook her head as she looked at him, knowing this was it. The words tasted sour as she began to speak them but she forced herself to keep looking at the man she had married, no matter how much it hurt. No matter how much disgust he showed when he heard the truth. ‘He was a full-blown junkie by then, of course. She said she’d never seen anyone look so pathetic, in his huge mansion with all those great big mirrors and shaggy rugs, and the dusty platinum discs on the walls. But when she told him about me, she said she thought she saw a light in his eyes. He told her straight off he was going to go into rehab, like his manager had been nagging at him to do for years, and he did. And that was when she told me about him.’
‘Well, that was good, wasn’t it?’ Xan questioned.
Tamsyn shrugged. ‘Yeah, I suppose so. He wasn’t allowed any contact with the outside world for six weeks, not until he was properly clean, but he was allowed to write letters. He wrote to me and said he was looking forward to seeing me and I can remember how excited I felt. I had no real memories of my mother, but here was the chance to connect with my roots at last. I know it sounds stupid but I wanted to see if I had the same nose, or eyes, or if we walked in a similar way. I wanted to feel connected.’
‘It doesn’t sound stupid.’ There was a pause and his eyes were very steady as he looked at her. ‘What happened?’
‘We arranged to meet in a famous London hotel, for tea, but...’ She swallowed, then shook her head and it took a couple of moments before she could compose herself enough to continue. ‘He couldn’t face it—or maybe the lure of heroin was stronger than the thought of meeting his daughter for the first time. I sat in that fancy hotel for ages with barely enough money to pay the inflated price of the pot of tea I’d had to order. I remember getting lots of pitying looks—probably because of the way I was dressed. Or maybe people thought I’d been stood up. Which I had, I g-guess.’ She swallowed again, but now the tears were like hot rivers coursing down her cheeks and the pain in her heart was fierce and intense as she relived a scenario she hadn’t allowed herself to think about for years. ‘When I came out it was dark and the evening news bulletins were flashing up on TV screens in a nearby department store—and the lead story was that Jonny Trafford had been found dead in a hotel room with a needle hanging out of his arm.’
‘Tamsyn—’
‘No!’ she interrupted, her voice trembling as she fished a tissue out of the back of her jeans and loudly blew her nose. ‘Don’t say all the things you think you’re supposed to say. Because words won’t change anything, Xan. I know it was terrible but I’ve come to terms with the fact that neither my father nor my mother wanted me, and that’s why I’m so screwed up. Whichever way you look at it, I’m not the right type of wife for you. My unsuitability runs deeper than you thought and it’s far better we split now, rather than later. So just go, will you? Go now and leave me in peace.’
He shook his head. ‘But I don’t want to go.’
‘When will you get it into your thick skull that I don’t care what you want?’ she flared back. ‘I’m telling you my wishes and since this is my home, for now at least, you will have to listen to them!’
But Xan didn’t move. There was silence for a moment as he glanced over his shoulder to survey the bleak view outside the window and then looked back at her, the woman he had married. He saw the way her lips quivered with belligerence and pride and shame. Her cheeks were wet and streaky and fiery strands of hair were matted with tears. Her expression was defiant but wary as she returned his gaze—like a dog which had spent its life being kicked but had just enough spirit left to fight back. And that was Tamsyn all right. He admired her spirit and always had done.
He hadn’t been expecting yet another layer to her tragic life story. He hadn’t realised just how deeply she’d been damaged. He’d imagined coming here today and after some token resistance, the two of them having some pretty urgent sex up against the wall, since that bed looked way too small to accommodate two people. Unwilling to let her go just yet, he’d planned to take her back to Greece, thinking that a few months more of his feisty spouse would be enough to get her out of his system.
But now he recognised that he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t pick her up and put her down, using her like his own sexy little toy. To do that would be to dishonour and disrespect her—and damage her further. Didn’t she deserve every bit of his respect after what she’d been through? His heart clenched, knowing that if he wanted this to work—he was going to have to give more than he’d ever given before. He was going to have to have the courage to open up and confront his feelings—just as she had done with him.
‘You know that with you, it’s like it’s never been for me before,’ he said softly.
Her emerald eyes clouded with suspicion. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I’m talking about you. How different it is with you. It’s been different from the start, Tamsyn—in every way. You’re fresh and feisty and original—and more fun than any other woman I’ve ever known. And we’re alike. I see that now. We both grew up rejected by our mothers. We didn’t know how to express love because nobody had ever shown us how.’ He sucked in a deep and unsteady breath. ‘The thing is that I think we could be good together. Not for three months, or a year—but for ever.’
‘For ever?’ she echoed, as if this was a concept beyond her comprehension.
He nodded. ‘It won’t always be easy and it won’t always be fun. There’ll be bad times as well as good, because my married friends tell me that’s what life is like. But I think we can be strong for each other and supportive of each other, if the will is there.’
He saw the brief hope which flared in her face before it was banished by that determined little expression of mutiny once more. ‘No. It won’t work. It can’t work,’ she husked. ‘It’ll all end in tears, I know it will. So do yourself a favour, Xan—and get away from me.’
‘Sorry.’ He shook his head again. ‘No I can’t do that. You aren’t going to sabotage this, Tamsyn—no matter how hard you try. And even if you continue to glare at me and send me away—I’ll just keep coming back until you give me the answer that both of us really want. Which is that you will be my wife for real.’
She chewed on her bottom lip as her eyes swam with green tears and it took a full minute before she could form the words. ‘You...you really mean it?’ she whispered.
He slammed his palm against the left side of his sternum. ‘From the bottom of my heart.’
At this she started crying again but this time the tears were different and her mouth was trying to smile instead of wobbling with pain and Xan pulled her into his arms and kissed her with a tenderness he hadn’t known he possessed. For a long while they just stood there, locked in each other’s arms as their mouths connected in kiss after kiss, and not long after that, Xan made the discovery that the bed was plenty big enough for what he had in mind.
Efficiently, he stripped off all their clothes and it wasn’t until he had filled her with his seed and heard her choke out her own cry of fulfilment, that he finally felt as if he was exactly where he needed to be in the world. That everything he’d ever wanted was right here, right now. They lay there, quiet and contented and Xan was stroking Tamsyn’s tumbled curls when he tilted her chin to look at him.
‘One thing interests me,’ he said.
Dreamily, she looked up into his face. ‘Mmm?’
‘Why didn’t you make a claim on Jonny’s estate, which presumably you didn’t? You could have been a very wealthy woman.’
Tamsyn shook her head. Even Hannah had told her she should try to get something from Jonny Trafford’s property portfolio and his back catalogue of songs,, but Tamsyn hadn’t wanted to know. ‘It all just seemed too sordid,’ she said slowly. ‘I knew there would be publicity and DNA tests and inevitable opposition to my claim and I couldn’t...’
‘You couldn’t face them?’
‘That’s right. It wasn’t worth it. All the money in the world wouldn’t have tempted me to put myself through an ordeal like that.’
He flinched. ‘Yet you were willing to marry me for a price.’
She met the question in his eyes and shrugged. ‘To be honest, it wasn’t for me. I was worried about my sister.’
‘Hannah?’ He looked at her in bemusement. ‘Who’s married to one of the wealthiest men on the planet?’
She nodded. ‘At the time I wasn’t sure if her marriage to the Sheikh was going to last and realised I needed funds to help her if she needed to get away from him. That’s why I did it.’
He pulled her closer and his eyes were darkly blue. ‘Oh, I love you, Tamsyn Constantinides. I love you because you’re strong and brave and loyal. You are the bright fire in my life, my love—and the world would be a very dark and cold place without you.’
Tamsyn swallowed, knowing that there was one thing more which needed to be addressed. ‘It doesn’t matter what my reasons were, Xan,’ she said quietly. ‘I still married you for money, didn’t I? All your life you’ve been pursued by women who know how wealthy you are and maybe at heart, you think we’re all gold-diggers. I can’t blame you for that, Xan. If I were you, I might even think the same!’
He traced his finger thoughtfully over the trembling outline of her mouth. ‘Okay. Let’s sort this out once and for all. Will you answer me just one question, Tamsyn, with all the honesty you have already demonstrated today?’
She hooded her eyes suspiciously. ‘Just one?’
‘Just one.’ He looked her straight in the eyes. ‘If I didn’t have a cent in the world, would you be lying with me now, like this?’
It wasn’t a fair question because there could be no equivocation about her answer and more stupid tears sprang to Tamsyn’s eyes as she nodded. ‘Of course I would,’ she whispered. ‘Because I love you for you, Xan—you and only you. All the other stuff simply doesn’t matter.’
His face was serious as he kissed away her tears and only when her cheeks were dry did he turn his attention to her mouth. And the kiss which followed was like no other. It wasn’t about sex, or ownership or possession. It was seeking and tender. It spoke of compassion and true intimacy. It spoke of the powerful trust which existed between them now. It spoke of sanctuary and a golden future.
And for the first time in her life, Tamsyn felt safe.