‘I’m glad one of us finds this situation amusing!’
Eva wasn’t in the least amused at the idea of never seeing Markos again, but it was better than crying. She had already broken down emotionally enough in Markos’s company. She certainly didn’t intend to let him see her doing it now because she knew, despite everything, that she was in love with him. That would just be too humiliating.
She drew in a deep breath. ‘Can I take it that you would now be happier if another interior designer took over refurbishing the rest of your apartment?’
A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw. ‘You can.’
‘That’s what I thought.’ Eva nodded abruptly. ‘Well, it’s been…interesting meeting you, Markos.’ She slung her bag over her shoulder in preparation for leaving.
‘Don’t forget to send me the bill for the work you’ve already done,’ he reminded her flatly.
‘And don’t you forget to change the security code on your private lift,’ she said lightly.
He arched one dark and mocking brow. ‘Is there any danger of your ever wanting to come back here?’
‘Probably not,’ she acknowledged with a tight smile.
‘Then why would I bother changing the security code?’ He shrugged unconcernedly.
Eva hesitated. ‘I’m sure you’re not really interested, but I—I’ve now decided not to go ahead with my plans for IVF.’
A nerve pulsed in his jaw. ‘Why not?’
She gave a wistful smile, knowing she couldn’t tell Markos the real reason—that, having fallen in love with him, it was impossible for her ever to want anyone else’s child but his. ‘Maybe I’m no longer that selfish.’
‘I was wrong to say that,’ Markos spoke huskily. ‘After what you went through during your marriage to Cabot Grey it was not selfish to want a child of your own, Eva.’
‘Merely ill-advised?’ She grimaced.
‘Not that either.’ He gave a slow shake of his head.
‘Then what was it?’
‘I have absolutely no idea,’ he admitted evenly.
She nodded abruptly. ‘Goodbye, Markos.’
‘Eva,’ he returned tersely.
She wouldn’t cry, Eva told herself firmly as she walked over to step inside the waiting lift before turning to look across at Markos where he stood so tall and darkly handsome—and icily distant—across the room.
She would not cry.
She had loved and lost, yes, but she had no one to blame for that but herself.
It was a loss Eva had a feeling she was going to have to live with for the rest of her life…
CHAPTER TWELVE
EVA paced restlessly up and down her apartment the following morning, checking her watch constantly as she waited—and waited!—for what might be considered a reasonable time to telephone someone—to telephone Markos!—on a Saturday morning.
Seven a.m.
Seven-fifteen.
Seven-thirty.
Seven forty-five.