Slowly, clumsily, Pixie got herself upright again and began to dry her hair. Apollo would be home in a couple of hours with the gynaecologist he was flying out from London with him and she refused to humiliate herself by behaving like an emotional wreck and letting him appreciate what a fool she had been where he was concerned. Her pride would never recover from such an exposure. And how could she have fallen madly in love with a male programmed from the outset to break her heart? How stupid was that?
And even worse she had that wretched party to get through. As if that was not enough Apollo had contrived to destroy Christmas for her as well for the two of them had been invited to celebrate Christmas with Vito and Holly in Tuscany. Of course she would cry off now. She had no plans to take the shine off the festivities by attending as a betrayed and broken-hearted wife, who had nowhere else to go over Christmas. Apollo would probably take Izzy Jerome with him instead. Of course, Izzy might not still be Apollo’s flavour of the month in three weeks’ time, she thought wretchedly. His interest in a woman rarely lasted that long.
Squeezing herself into a stretchy skirt, Pixie blinked back fresh tears. Why was she putting on weight so fast? According to what she had read she was supposed to be gaining weight very gradually, not piling it on as though she had been eating for an entire rugby team!
*
In London, Apollo paced beside his private jet while he spoke to Vito. Who could ever have guessed that marriage could be so stressful? His life pre-Pixie now seemed free as the air, a time of immaturity and egotism. Back then nothing had bothered him very much, not the scandals, not the grasping women, not even the horrendous rumours and gossip about his lifestyle. He hadn’t had to explain himself or defend his reputation to anyone because he truthfully hadn’t cared what anyone thought about him. It hadn’t mattered as long as he knew that he had done no wrong. But now he had Pixie and everything had changed out of all recognition. He had a wife who was pregnant and vulnerable and innately distrustful of him.
‘The way the paparazzi follow you around it was bound to happen,’ Vito contended. ‘And now that you’ve achieved your objectives and she’s pregnant…does it really matter?’
Pure rage slivered through Apollo. ‘If it hurts her, it matters,’ he breathed in a raw undertone. ‘Of course, it matters!’
‘You don’t sound quite as detached as you usually do,’ his friend commented.
‘Look, I’ll talk to you tomorrow,’ Apollo concluded, ending the call in sheer frustration.
Obviously, he wasn’t detached. He was in turmoil. He was thinking things he’d never thought. He was feeling things he had never allowed himself to feel and the result was a state of mind dangerously close to panic. He boarded the jet with the fancy gynaecologist and his small team, yet another source of worry to be dealt with. Dr Floros had suggested that he call in a consultant when Pixie’s blood tests had come back with an unexpectedly high count and the result had been forwarded to London. The scan would hopefully reveal whether or not there was any cause for concern. Apollo had persuaded the island doctor not to reveal that fact to Pixie in advance of the scan, lest it upset her, but he knew the older man was planning to share the result with her the following day.
When had his life become so impossibly complicated? An image of Pixie on their wedding day was superimposed over his troubled thoughts. But no, he reasoned, it had started even before then. From the very first day when she’d punched him Pixie had been different. She wasn’t impressed by him, she was never impressed by him…except occasionally in bed, he conceded abstractedly, a shadowy smile briefly relaxing the tense line of his sensual mouth.
Unlike other women, Pixie had only ever treated him as an equal. She judged him by the same rules she applied to everyone else. She didn’t make excuses for him or handle him with kid gloves. She didn’t believe that his vast wealth entitled him to special treatment. In fact she demanded more from him than any woman had ever demanded, only her currency of choice wasn’t cash or gifts. Apollo had learnt the hard way that cash or gifts were easy to give while everything else was a challenge demanding more than he was usually prepared to give.
During the flight random memories drifted through his mind. Pixie, grinning with triumph and punching the air after that insane dive she had made from the top deck of Circe. Pixie staring dreamily out to sea as the sun went down in splendour, saying, ‘You really don’t appreciate how lucky you are to see this every day.’ Pixie wandering round the picturesque narrow village streets on Nexos, admiring colourful flowerboxes, sleeping cats, starlit eyes wide with interest while she drank lemonade in the café overlooking the harbour and watched the fishermen bringing in their catch. She made everything fresh, Apollo acknowledged in growing bewilderment; she made him see things through less jaded eyes.
*
Pixie could feel her facial muscles lock as she descended the stairs to welcome the arrivals. She refused to look at Apollo but she was seethingly conscious of him standing back in a stylishly crumpled beige linen suit teamed with a white tee shirt. She showed the doctor, the technician and the nurse into the room where their equipment could be set up and Olympia brought a tray of tea and snacks out to the terrace for them.
‘Pixie…’ Apollo said then, having demonstrated unusual patience for such an impatient man. ‘Could I have a word?’
No, no way, she wanted to scream at him but she couldn’t let herself scream. There would be no discussion about Izzy Jerome or about the promise he had given about trying to stay faithful. What was done was done and there was really nothing more to say. All she had to do now was draw a line under their marriage as such and default to the useful guidelines printed in her pre-nuptial contract.
‘Your office,’ she suggested, stealing an involuntary glance at him.
He hadn’t shaved and he was still gorgeous. Dark stubble shadowed his strong jaw line and outlined his superbly kissable lips. His black hair was messy, his stunning green eyes glittering warily below his black velvet lashes. He was sexy as sin and a pang of wanton lust pierced her pelvis. Guilty colour washed her pallor away. He had cheated on her with a blonde beauty, so how could she still respond to him on a physical level? Self-loathing inflamed her while she picked her passage through the team of caterers fussing over the chairs that were being carried into the ballroom where the party would be held.
The mere prospect of the party made her grit her teeth. All those people would be attending primarily to see her in her role as the wife of Apollo Metraxis, people who would know he was already playing away with another woman, and yet Pixie would have to pretend that nothing was wrong because that was what she had agreed to do when she chose to marry him. Luckily pretending, however, would allow her to retain a certain dignity, she reminded herself doggedly.
Her visceral reaction was to scream, shout and claw at Apollo and from the curious glances he was angling at her she could see that a major scene was what he expected. But Pixie was determined not to lower herself to that level. Whatever else he was, Apollo was the father of her child and, whether she liked it or not, he would remain a feature of her life for many years in the future. She was determined not to embarrass herself in front of him by revealing that she had made the mistake of becoming emotionally involved.
‘I’m relieved that you’re giving us the chance to talk before Mr Rollins gives you the scan,’ Apollo murmured in an unusually quiet voice.
Was he ashamed? No, Apollo didn’t do shame or fidelity when it came to sex, she reasoned painfully. He was probably genuinely grateful that she wasn’t making a big scene.
Pixie stationed herself by the window that looked across the sloping gardens and over the top of the trees and out to sea. She steeled her spine. ‘I want us to separate—’
‘No,’ Apollo interrupted immediately.
‘It’s in the pre-nup agreement,’ Pixie reminded him. ‘Once I’m pregnant I can if I wish ask to live separately and I would like to return to the UK as soon as it can be arranged.’
>
Apollo was powerfully knocked off balance by that announcement. Yes, that was in the agreement because before he married her he had assumed that he would want his freedom back as soon as possible. Had ever a man been so bloody stupid and blind? he railed at himself in furious frustration. ‘That is exactly what I don’t want.’
Pixie rested icy grey eyes on his lean bronzed face. ‘I don’t care what you want.’
‘You’re not even giving me a chance to explain?’