She spotted a person she recognised as being one of Nikos’s assistants and asked him where Nikos was. He led her to another room, where a scary-looking bouncer opened the door.
Maggie gasped. It was a whole other world. It was like a scene from a James Bond movie. There was a bar and a raised dais, where men and women sat around an oval table. This must be the high-stakes poker game.
Nikos was there. Bowtie undone. Sleeves rolled up. There was something incredibly weary about him that caught at her before she could chase it away. Nikos didn’t need her concern and he wouldn’t welcome it.
He wasn’t smoking, but a cloud of cigar smoke hung in the air. Maggie waved a hand in front of her face to clear it. Nikos looked up and saw her—and there it was. The flare. Before he blanked his expression again.
But it must have been her imagination. She knew something had been irrevocably broken between them.
He sat back in his chair. ‘Ladies and gentlemen—my wife, Maggie.’
Everyone turned and looked at her. She blushed and glared at Nikos.
He stood up. ‘Come join me. I need good luck.’
Against her better instincts Maggie went over and climbed the steps. Nikos reached for her and sat down again, pulling her into his lap. Her bones liquefied. His thighs were like steel. He hadn’t touched her since Madrid and she could feel the ever-present need. Embarrassing.
She held herself rigid.
He wrapped his arms around her and said, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I can highly recommend getting married—I’m a transformed man.’
His mocking tone was too much. Maggie didn’t like it—and she didn’t like Nikos’s volatile energy.
She stood up, but he pulled her down again. ‘Don’t go... I need you.’
She looked at him and said, for his ears only, ‘You don’t need me—that’s the problem.’
She stood up again.
‘I just wanted to make sure you were all right.’
She went back down the steps and he said from behind her, ‘Don’t wait up.’
She turned and looked at him. It was as if he’d morphed back into that louche playboy she’d first met.
‘I won’t,’ she said. And left.
Dawn was rising outside when Nikos returned to the suite. It was quiet. He felt hollowed out. Like a husk. He threw down his coat and heard a sound. He looked up. Maggie was standing by the window.
She was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved top. Her hair was up in a messy knot. She looked tired. Pale. There was a jacket on the chair beside her. Daniel was in his baby seat, asleep.
‘What’s going on? Why are you up?’
Maggie lifted her chin and something about that tiny movement threatened to break something apart inside Nikos. But he clamped down on it. Hard.
‘We’re getting an early flight back to Ireland, via London. I’m just waiting for a taxi. Marianne is in bed asleep. She’s going to go back to Paris later—she’s taking a holiday until we figure out what we’re doing.’
Nikos shook his head, a cold feeling spreading through him. ‘What are you talking about?’
She said, ‘You told me we’d talk about things after the event, but you stayed out all night.’
Even though Nikos knew he’d precipitated this very scenario, something that felt like desperation and panic curdled in his gut. ‘So let’s talk now.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s too late. This isn’t working, Nikos. Daniel is my priority and he’s starting to teethe. He needs to be in one place—not moving around. The apartment in Paris isn’t suitable. We need a home, and clearly you’re not ready to change your life to accommodate that if last night is anything to go by.’
Nikos felt a sense of futility wash over him. This was what he wanted. Maggie was too close. She saw too much. She needed to get away from him.
‘What will you do?’ Nikos asked.