Outside her apartment block, Sander sprang out and removed her bag from the car.
Across the low slung bonnet Tally clashed unwarily with his stunning dark golden gaze. It was one of those moments when Sander was unmistakeably CEO of Volakis Shipping, an international tycoon of considerable wealth and influence. He stood tall and straight, power etched in every masculine angle of his lean dark face.
‘We have to deal with this as a couple. We still belong together, yineka mou,’ Sander declared with admirable conviction as he reluctantly passed over the bag.
‘Like oil and water?’ Tally shot back at him, rage coming out of nowhere and surging up through her slim length like lava ready to overflow. Green eyes cutting as lasers, she glared at him. ‘And don’t call me that. Don’t remind me that I’m your wife. It’s hardly something I’m likely to boast about!’
Anger blazed hot as the sun in Sander’s expressive eyes. ‘Don’t insult me. I have been as honest with you as I know how to be, but please don’t forget that if you hadn’t walked out on our marriage last year that child would never have been born!’
Cut to the bone by that bold reminder, Tally slammed the car door with violence. There was too much truth in that retaliation for her to brush it off and the last thing she needed to feel just then was that she had brought her sufferings down on herself. Outraged by his audacity, she stalked away without a backward glance. It was a relief to close the apartment door behind her and know that he could no longer witness her reactions, but she paced the confines of her home like a lost soul unable to find a place to settle. She knew she ought to eat but she wasn’t hungry and when darkness fell she went to bed and prayed for sleep. Only sleep would give her solace, for at least while she slept she would not be forced to think any more.
Fate, however, still had one more punishment in store for her. Although it was a while since she had last had the nightmare in which she heard her son cry while she searched without success for him, she had a bad dream that night. A dream that ended with a different twist. In this new version she found the nursery where the baby was crying and rushed in, only to look down in horror into the cot at a totally unfamiliar child. That jarring experience woke her up with the sheet sticking to her perspiring skin. She was shaking so badly she could barely manage to switch the bedside light on. She had hoped those disturbing dreams, brought on by the grief that her mind was struggling to cope with, had gone for ever. The altered conclusion to the nightmare, clearly the result of what Sander had told her about his little daughter, Lili, was just one more slap in the face. She got up early and went for a shower, arriving at work well in advance of her staff.
Her mobile phone buzzed at eight-thirty. and she answered it. ‘There’s a story about Lili in the Daily Globe today,’ Sander informed her grimly. ‘Someone somewhere has talked out of turn. The paparazzi will be on your doorstep today looking for a reaction.’
Her strained face froze. ‘I’ll cope—’
‘I don’t think you should try. You should get out of London until the fuss dies down.’
‘Nonsense. I have a business to run,’ Tally fielded coldly, already in the act of searching on her computer for the online edition of the paper.
‘I’m sending a security team over to your showroom. If you take my advice—’
‘I won’t,’ Tally interrupted glacially.
‘—you’ll let them get you out of there before the proverbial hits the fan,’ Sander murmured. ‘With stories like this the paps can be very aggressive.’
‘Then you should try not to lead the kind of life that attracts them,’ Tally retaliated sourly. ‘Thankfully I don’t—’
‘It’s just unfortunate that you married me,’ Sander completed for her with sardonic bite.
She logged onto the newspaper’s website and immediately saw the headline that screamed at her: BILLION-POUND BABY! Beside it was a picture of a very decorative blonde carrying a baby seat into a famous London hotel, Sander’s tall, powerful figure recognisable several steps in her wake. The little girl’s face was not visible. Her heart in her throat, Tally clicked on the item and began to read. Evidently Oleia Telis had died a hugely wealthy heiress and had left everything she possessed, including her child, to Sander, who was referred to as the ‘hot-blooded Greek shipping magnate, currently pursuing reconciliation with his wife’. His relationship with Oleia was described as ‘volatile but enduring’ by a close friend who chose not to be named, the implication being that Oleia had become Sander’s mistress during his marriage. That was an idea that had never occurred to Tally before and it knocked her for six.
Stunned, she suddenly felt the need for some fresh air and as she stumbled out of the entrance to her showroom a flash bulb went off and startled her into a standstill. As she glanced up in dismay a man demanded to know why she was no longer living with her husband. Aghast, Tally sped back into her office where her assistant, Belle, lifted her hand to grab Tally’s attention and put the phone down saying anxiously, ‘The phone has been ringing off the hook … the media asking nosy questions about—’
‘I have no comment to make, no comment to make about anything,’ Tally slotted in stiffly, her heart quickening its beat as another man strode in, a fancy camera dangled round his neck.
‘I have some questions for Mrs Volakis,’ he announced.
Tally straightened her slim shoulders but her colour was high. ‘I’m not interested in answering questions. Please leave!’
But even as she spoke someone else was powering through the showroom door and asking loudly, ‘Mrs. Volakis, did you know about your husband’s baby by the Greek heiress, Oleia Telis?’
‘Either you leave now or we call the police!’ Belle threatened, standing her ground sturdily while the oafish young man attempted to push his way past her.
Something of a free-for-all was developing when the security presence that Sander had promised arrived in the persons of two, very large and powerfully built men who got rid of the obstreperous intruders with the minimum of commotion. By that stage, Tally had registered that there were now other paparazzi waiting out on the pavement and her earlier conviction that she could easily ride out any fuss was beginning to look naïve.
‘I’m Johnson, Mrs Volakis. We’ll take you out through the back entrance now.’
‘I have an appointment—’
‘I think you should take the day off,’ Belle remarked with a grimace as yet another photographer rapped loudly on the window to get attention. ‘If you’re not here, they’ll clear off.’
‘I’m meeting Lady Margaret at ten—’
‘I’ll call and reschedule,’ her assistant offered. ‘I don’t think she’d be too impressed if she had to wade through that scrum out there.’
Thinking of the very correct older woman, Tally was inclined to agree. While also thinking that such an unsavoury scandal would scarcely appeal to her clients and might indeed damage her business reputation. She lifted her bag and grabbed her coat to accompany the security men through the back entrance. As they tucked her into a big, black saloon car a man came running down the alley with a camera clutched in one hand. Her protectors threw themselves into the car and drove off at speed. Relieved to have escaped further harassment, Tally gave them her address.
‘Your husband is expecting you to go to his new country house, Roxburn Manor,’ Johnson imparted.
‘I want to go to my own home,’ Tally said firmly, while wondering when Sander had acquired the manor house. He certainly hadn’t mentioned the fact to her. On some level it still shook her to be reminded that Sander had been leading an entirely separate life for many months and she could not understand why she should be reacting that way.
Exasperation gripped her when she saw a photographer pacing outside her apartment building and the car had to accelerate away from the kerb again.
‘We’ll return to the original plan,’ Johnson pronounced.
After her disturbed rest the night before, Tally was tired and in no moo
d to argue. She didn’t want to go anywhere, she just wanted to vanish to a secluded place where she could feel safe from all the distressing elements currently infiltrating her world. Never had she felt as insecure as she did at that moment, she could not even take refuge in her apartment. Digging out her phone from her bag, she rang Sander.