The Greek Commands His Mistress

Lilah compressed her lips. ‘After the number of years that have passed since your mother’s death, and the years you lived in her home with Anatole, that’s very definitely her problem—not yours,’ she pronounced with conviction. ‘Don’t let anyone make you feel as though you don’t have the right to see your own father. You’re his son too.’

The fiery gleam that illuminated Bastien’s dark eyes only accentuated the worried frown stamped on his lean bronzed face. ‘I do want to see him. We’ll fly out as soon as I can get it organised.’

CHAPTER TEN

BASTIEN AND LILAH drove straight to the hospital from the airport. Lilah hung back a little as they entered the waiting room, because at first glance it seemed to be filled with people. Anatole was still having tests, and only close family would be allowed to visit him. The target of a slew of stares as she entered the room, Lilah flushed and acknowledged that she might be married to Bastien but she did not feel like a member of his family.

A small, curvy older woman, improbably dressed in a purple brocade evening coat and matching dress, and more diamonds than Lilah had ever seen outside a shop window, shot a look of derision at Bastien. ‘How dare you bring one of your whores to the hospital?’ she spat.

The very tall black-haired male standing to one side of this shrew stiffened and said something in Greek, while Bastien curved a strong arm to Lilah’s tense spine.

‘May I introduce my wife, Delilah? This is Cleta Zikos, my father’s wife...and my brother Leo and his wife, Grace.’

‘Your wife?’ the pretty redhead exclaimed in an unmistakable English accent as she surged forward. ‘When did you get married?’

‘Recently,’ Lilah responded, grateful that Leo’s wife seemed warm and friendly in comparison to his brother, who seemed stunned by the news, and Anatole’s sour-faced wife, who had merely grimaced, making it clear that any attachment of Bastien’s—married or otherwise—was not welcome.

Annoyance rippled through Lilah at the disturbing awareness that after his mother’s death Bastien had spent years living in Cleta Zikos’s home. Evidently Cleta had never tried to treat Bastien as a stepchild, but had preferred to despise him for the reality that his late mother had been her husband’s mistress.

Bastien’s brother, Leo, stepped forward to congratulate them. ‘Never thought I’d live to see the day,’ she heard him quip, half under his breath.

Apart from their similar height and build, the two men did not look obviously related. The awkwardness between them was apparent as they engaged in stilted chat, slipping into Greek, presumably to discuss their father’s condition.

Grace settled a hand on Lilah’s sleeve and urged her over to some seats at the far wall. ‘So, tell all, Delilah,’ she urged. ‘Leo was convinced that Bastien would stay single for ever.’

‘Everyone but Bastien calls me Lilah,’ Lilah shared with a rueful look.

‘We are both married to very stubborn individuals,’ Grace said with a grin. ‘Neither one of them gives an inch in a tight corner.’

Lilah glanced up as another woman arrived and Cleta Zikos rushed up to welcome the tall, shapely brunette with a flood of Greek.

‘Who’s that?’ she asked her companion.

‘Marina Kouros—an old friend of the family.’

Bastien’s first love, Lilah registered, her heart performing a heavy thud inside her chest.

Clearly Bastien had had good taste, even at the age of twenty-one, because the lively chattering brunette was a classic beauty. She watched Marina stiffen and pale, her animation taking a dip when she belatedly appreciated that Bastien was present. She didn’t smile at him and he didn’t smile at her. They exchanged a stiff nod of acknowledgement, but Lilah fancied that Bastien looked at his former lover longer than was necessary, and a twist of green jealousy shivered through her.

What was that old cliché about a man never forgetting his first love? Her attention roved down to Marina’s hand, which bore no rings, indicating that the woman was still single.

‘I propose that you, me and Marina take a break for coffee at our home,’ Grace suggested. ‘None of us are going to be allowed in to see Anatole anyway. Cleta, I would invite you, but I know you won’t leave the hospital until you’ve seen your husband.’