The Secret Wife

‘Wham-bam, thank you ma’am. No romance, no affection, no feelings. No wonder Anton was mortified by your attitude to women!’

Constantine went white beneath his bronzed skin.

‘Christos...’ he ground out raggedly, hanging on to his temper by a hair’s breadth.

In similar shock at the attack she had made on him, Rosie dropped her fiery head. But imagine falling in love with a guy like that! she thought. Her mind ran on unstoppably ... A cold, unfeeling swine who talked smoothly about exchanging physical satisfaction and who desired no deeper connection in a relationship. Listening to him made her blood curdle in her veins.

‘I see nothing wrong in my views.’

‘What about love?’

‘I have never been in love ...’ Constantine dealt her a slashing look of driven impatience. ‘I don’t believe in it. Now, if you were to talk to me of infatuation or lust—’

‘No, thanks. I think you’ve let yourself down enough for one day.’ Rosie picked up her knife and fork to embark on the first course of her meal. Somehow she just didn’t want to look at Constantine any more. He had never been in love? Even with Cinzia Borzone? But then he probably wouldn’t recognise the emotion unless it came with a fat price tag attached and was offered via his mobile phone!

Her preoccupied gaze strayed from the elaborately presented dish to the ring lying on the white linen tablecloth. She dropped her cutlery with a noisy clatter, snatched up the Estrada emerald and whispered uncertainly, ‘Why are you giving it back to me?’

‘Don’t flatter me. I was merely the courier. You left it behind in England.’

‘The last time I saw this ring, it was in my jewel case.’

‘I think not. Maurice found it on the windowsill in the kitchen.’

Rosie reddened with guilty discomfiture as she threaded the ornate gem back onto her finger. ‘I don’t remember leaving it there. I honestly did think that I had put it away. I’m sorry I accused you of taking it,’ she muttered in a very small voice.

‘He also accepted full and complete responsibility for that newspaper article.’

Rosie’s chin came up, her wide eyes pained. ‘No!’

Constantine studied her shocked face with cool, dark, incisive eyes. ‘You’re incredibly naive in some ways,’ he mused. ‘You put Maurice in possession of a story worth a great deal of money. He went for the money—’

‘I can’t believe that... I just can’t!’

‘He admitted it to me.’ Constantine held her distraught gaze steadily. ‘I owe you an apology for calling you a cheat.’

Rosie dropped her head again. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘It matters to me,’ Constantine murmured levelly. ‘I misjudged you. But why did you pretend that you were responsible?’

Rosie struggled to swallow the thick lump forming in her throat. ‘I... I—’

‘Every move you make seems to be based on a pathetic need to protect a man who betrayed you without a second’s hesitation,’ Constantine drawled with derision.

Rosie rose almost clumsily upright. ‘I’m not feeling very hungry,’ she muttered unsteadily, and walked out of the room as fast as her feet would carry her.

It hurt so very, very much to believe that Maurice could have sold out their friendship for profit. Yes, she had always known that money was important to Maurice and that he was very ambitious, but his business was booming and he was anything but short of ready cash! Peering with tear-filled eyes into a room that seemed to be bustling with people fussing with office equipment, Rosie cannoned blindly into a uniformed maid and then fled out of the open front doors into the sunlight. Even the courtyard wasn’t empty, and she raced past the van being industriously unloaded and out into the garden, seeking cover and privacy in the same way that an injured animal seeks darkness.

A convulsive sob was torn from her then. She covered her working face with her spread hands and from behind her came two supporting arms which inexorably turned her round. Gasping, she went rigid, a long shudder of repressed emotion quivering through her.

‘Don’t be scared, pethi mou ... it is only me,’ Constantine murmured roughly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world that he should attempt to hold her close in a comforting embrace. ‘It hurts when people let you down...’

‘He’s the only man I’ve ever trusted ... apart from Anton,’ Rosie framed, fighting a losing battle against the tears pouring down her cheeks.

Constantine drew her hands down from her face but with a sudden jerk Rosie pulled away, turning her narrow back defensively on him.

‘How long have you known Maurice?’

‘Since I was thirteen ... And it was weird,’ she whispered thickly in recollection. ‘Before I got to know him, I was more scared of him than I was of any of the other boys in the home.’