The Married Mistress (16 page)

‘An affair?’ Damon pounced on the word like a tiger on its prey. ‘What the devil are you talking about? An affair with who?’

‘Oh, stop pretending, will you? Stop it!’

Sarah actually stamped her foot hard on the polished wooden floor, drawing even more eyes in the direction of their small group.

‘You can’t lie about it any more! I know! I’ve known all along. Your father told me! He said—’

‘My father!’

Damon’s thoughts whirled. Now he knew! Oh, yes, now he knew.

He should have realised that his father had had a hand—or, rather, a voice—in all this somewhere. Should have realised that the bitter old bigot would never have sat back
and let the marriage that he hadn’t wanted survive—or, rather, take place. Because, as far as Aristotle Nicolaides had been concerned, his son and Sarah Meyerson weren’t yet married.

His son and the granddaughter of the man he had hated all his life. The granddaughter of the man who owned vital Nicolaides land and would never hand it over.

‘My father!’ he repeated on a dangerous note. ‘And just
what
did my father tell you? Exactly what lies did he use?
Tell me
!’

‘I— He—’

‘No, on second thoughts,’ Damon broke in savagely as Sarah struggled for words, ‘don’t tell me. At least, not here. We’ve provided a public spectacle for long enough. Come with me—let’s get out of here and talk this over in private.’

‘No.’

Sarah shook her head determinedly, russet hair flying wildly with the movement.

‘No way! I’m not going anywhere with you ever again. I don’t want to be somewhere
private
, and I don’t want to talk to you any more! I want this over—over and done with. I—’

‘Sarah!’ Damon cut in on her in exasperation. ‘Don’t be stupid! Come with me…’

‘No.’

She held out her hands before her, using them as a shield and a warning as he took a couple of hasty steps forward.

‘Damon, I said no!’

‘And I said yes!’

Beyond thinking straight, beyond any thought at all, he only knew he hated the look in her eyes. Couldn’t bear to see her backing away from him like this.

‘Sarah…’

He reached out in his turn, caught hold of her hands, gripping them tight.

‘OK, that’s enough!’

Rhys Morgan’s cold, incisive tones sliced through the heated atmosphere like a blade of ice.

‘Stop that right now, Nicolaides! I’ll not stand by and let you treat Sarah this way. How can you claim her as your lover and—?’

‘My
lover
!’

It was part laugh, partly a sound of total exasperation, part admission of defeat, and even Damon couldn’t have said which one was uppermost. He only knew the feeling that he was fighting for his life—his emotional life at least.

‘My lover!’ he repeated ferociously, shaking his dark head almost as vehemently as Sarah had done. ‘My
lover
! You don’t get it, do you? You really don’t know. Well, I’ll tell you. Sarah isn’t my lover—she isn’t my mistress—never has been. She’s my
wife
. The woman I married a year ago.’

‘Damon!’

Sarah’s cry of shock and disbelief fell into an atmosphere so thick that it was almost impossible to breathe.

And as Damon came slowly back to himself, as the red tide that had flooded his mind slowly ebbed, leaving his eyes capable of focusing once more, his brain able to function, he realised that the stunned silence was not just surrounding them.

It filled the whole room. And every single person present had abandoned any pretence at continuing with their normal morning and was staring straight at them, mouth agape and eyes wide with fascination.

‘Damon!’
Sarah repeated, on a very different note this time.

And as she did so there was the sound of movement, and a blinding flash as some opportunistic photographer who had somehow managed to con his way into the lounge under the pretence of being there as a guest stepped forward,
pointed his camera in their direction and snapped the frozen tableau.

Oh, hell! Damon groaned inwardly. Oh, hell and damnation! He’d really done it now!

S
HE’S
my wife.

Sarah couldn’t believe she’d heard right. Had Damon really said what she thought he had—and out loud, in front of all these people?

One glance into the depths of those jet-black eyes soon told her the truth. He
had
said it. And clearly he was every bit as shocked as she was herself. More, in fact.

And no wonder. It had to be the last thing he should have said. The very last thing that he wanted anyone to know about. Because his whole aim had been to marry her, gain the land, and then divorce her without anyone—and preferably particularly without Eugenia—ever finding out.

He had realised what he had said too. And he was muttering a savage curse in violent Greek as someone stepped forward. The camera bulbs she had come to hate flashed and she flinched backwards, trying to bring her hand up before her face, only to remember that Damon had hold of them and was clearly not prepared to let them go.

‘Is this true, Mr Nicolaides? Is it true, Sarah?’

The lone reporter was intent on making the most of his opportunity for an exclusive, asking questions as swiftly and determinedly as possible before the hotel management could get Security to come and throw him out.

‘Are you
married
?’

But Damon didn’t honour his question with an answer. He didn’t spare him a glance. He didn’t so much as blink. Instead his attention was fixed on Sarah, his burning gaze locked on to her shadowed green one. 175

‘Sarah—darling—
ghineka mou
… We have to talk about this. Only talk. I won’t hurt you.
Please
come with me.’

Sarah blinked hard in stunned confusion.

Please.

Had Damon truly said ‘please’ in that—that almost desperate way?

‘I…’

‘Sarah, no,’ Rhys put in. ‘Don’t—’

‘Sarah…’ Damon cut across him. ‘Trust me on this. Believe me…’

Believe me.
It was as if the two words had created some sort of time slip so that she had gone backwards, back to the previous night, when she had been in the bedroom with Damon and she had told him the truth about Jason.

And he had believed her.

Illogically and irrationally and with just a leap of faith, he had believed her without question.

Just as she now believed him.

He wouldn’t hurt her. At least not just now. Because hadn’t all the hurting been done in the past? Hadn’t he already done the worst he could?

‘All right,’ she said, never taking her eyes away from his. ‘Let’s talk.’

Damon allowed himself just one brief hint of a smile, then he twisted her hand in his so that he was holding it gently but firmly as he led her from the room and out into the foyer.

As he went, he pulled his cellphone from his pocket, flicked it open and spoke into it in rapid, authoritative Greek. He must have been calling his chauffeur because only a few moments later a sleek silver car drew up outside the hotel and Damon ushered her out to it, one arm at her waist.

He sensed her hesitation, the rising apprehension as the
crowd of paparazzi surged forward and the pressure of his hold increased, his grip tightening.

‘Don’t say a word—just walk…’

Whenever we go out, whenever you have to face them, I’ll be right there, at your side, to see you through it.

And he was with her this time too. He drew her close, so that her face was against his chest, one hand protecting her from the intrusion of the cameras. The other arm around her waist guided her wavering footsteps forward and towards the car so that she didn’t have to see for herself, simply follow where he led.

He wasted no time on smiles or answers to the hundreds of questions that bombarded them from all sides, but kept a strict, stony silence until they were in the car, with the door firmly shut, and edging away from the entrance as carefully as the crush would allow.

‘Where…?’

Sarah’s voice failed her on the question. But she didn’t need to ask it because in that moment Damon leaned forward and addressed the driver, speaking in Greek. But there was one word that Sarah caught, and understood, making her stare at him in confusion and disbelief.

‘Aerodhromio!’
she echoed faintly. ‘The airport! Damon, why…?’

‘Trust me,’ was all he said, once more looking deep into her face.

She had little choice. The car was rocketing through the traffic-filled streets; there was no way she could escape. She could do nothing physically but sit where she was and hope for some sort of explanation before too long.

But at least she could protest.

‘Just what’s going on? I want to know what’s happening.’

‘You will—I promise. Just bear with me… But first—
tell me who my father said I had as my mistress. Who was I supposed to be having an affair with?’

‘I don’t really have to say, do I? You know—there was only one person you really wanted to marry.’

A strange expression crossed Damon’s face, one that made him look as if she had actually said something that he
wanted
to hear. That he had been expecting all the time.

‘Eugenia?’ he questioned sharply.

And when she nodded, his reaction was totally unexpected. He threw back his dark head and laughed. And the laughter seemed strangely real, his amusement genuine.

‘Eugenia!’ he declared in some satisfaction.

The next moment his hands were busy on his phone again, punching out numbers with an urgency that spoke of some desperate emergency.

‘Eugenia?’

The sound of the Greek woman’s name had Sarah sitting up stiffly, every muscle pulling tight. Her eyes turned to Damon again, clouding thickly with hurt. But he shook his head at her and continued with his conversation.

‘Genie—speak English—it’s important. I have Sarah here. Yes—Sarah…’

Pausing, he listened intently while Sarah clenched her hands tightly in her lap, nails digging into her palms. Her sharp teeth bit down hard onto her bottom lip, struggling to hold back the bitter reproaches she wanted to fling into his stunning face.

‘That’s exactly what’s happened,’ Damon continued. ‘So I need your help. I’m going to pass her the phone, and I want you to talk to her.’

‘No!’
Sarah couldn’t hold back the protest. ‘No way!’

‘Yes,’
Damon insisted. ‘Eugenia will talk and you will listen. Genie—I’m calling in that promise you made me. A little early, I know, but I need it now! I want you to tell
Sarah—tell my wife—exactly what you’ve been doing today.’

Without further conversation he pushed the phone at Sarah, who could only stare at it in blank confusion.

‘Take it! Talk to her!’

What
was
he doing? ‘My wife’, he had said.
Tell my wife…

And yet his father had been so insistent that Damon’s true plan was to marry Eugenia. So why would he risk ruining that by admitting that he was already married?

‘Take it!’

Sarah reached for the phone as gingerly as if it were a poisonous snake that might rear up and strike at any moment. With her eyes fixed on Damon’s taut, intent face, she lifted it to her ear.

‘Sarah?’

She recognised Eugenia’s voice at once. The big surprise, the stunning, unbelievable fact, was that the other woman sounded—happy. She didn’t seem in the least bit shocked or bewildered at the fact that Damon had announced he was married—to someone else. Instead, Eugenia seemed bubbling over with excitement, amusement, and delight.

‘Yes…’ she said cautiously.

‘Did you hear what Damon said? I have to tell you what I’ve been doing today. But you have to promise me something. You must not tell my
papa
. Not till I get a chance to do so. You promise?’

‘Yes…’ Sarah said again, wondering just what was coming.

‘Well, then—today I got married!’

It was the last thing she had expected. It was so stunning, so unbelievable, so totally confusing that she actually fell back in her seat at the sound of it.

‘You…’

Her dazed eyes went to Damon, sitting darkly silent and watchful at her side, his face turned to hers, his concentration on her total.

‘But Damon…’ she tried, and heard Eugenia’s laughter.

‘Not to
Damon
, silly! Why would I want to marry him? He’s like my big brother—nothing more. Oh, I know our fathers wanted the marriage—they wanted to merge our two families, the two fortunes! But it would have been purely a business deal, nothing more. And besides, Damon never wanted me. He hasn’t wanted anyone since he set eyes on you.’

‘He hasn’t…’

It was just a raw croak, her throat so dry that she had to force the words out. And the look she saw in Damon’s eyes only made matters so much worse. She had never seen such raw emotion in anyone’s face, let alone this strong, capable man who had always seemed so much in control. Never seen such hunger, such need, such
fear
—a desperate, uneasy fear that she might not believe what he was trying to tell her.

‘So what’s the truth?’ she whispered, directing her question at Damon, ignoring the fact that Eugenia was still at the other end of the phone connection.

It was weak with shock and confusion, just a tiny thread of sound almost drowned in the purr of the car’s engine. But Damon caught it and something sparked in the darkness of his eyes as he answered.

‘The truth is that Genie and I understood each other.’

His voice sounded bruised and flattened, but there was no hesitation in his speech, no unevenness or frailty in his words.

‘We both wanted to marry someone our families wouldn’t approve of. And we didn’t want to marry each other. Genie was in a worse position because her father was so ill. She couldn’t risk him finding out that she was
in love with a Frenchman—Maurice—so I promised to help them.’

‘He let my
papa
believe that we were thinking of marriage—covered for me when I saw Maurice…’

Eugenia had caught Damon’s explanation and took up the story.

‘I made him swear to me that he wouldn’t tell anyone about my romance. That was before he met you. I never anticipated that he would be the one who got married first. I never thought he’d fall in love. He’s been helping me meet Maurice in secret—even helped me arrange my marriage. And today I officially became Madame Maurice Messenguer….’

If Eugenia said anything more, Sarah didn’t hear it. Her hand had started to shake terribly, so much so that she almost dropped the phone. Reaching forward, Damon took it from her gently. He murmured some words of thanks, said goodbye, switched it off.

And still Sarah hadn’t moved. Still she sat there, white-faced, wide-eyed, staring at him. If only he knew what she was thinking. If only he could see what was in her mind!

‘Sarah,’ he said roughly, unevenly. ‘Say something—please!’

Didn’t she know she held his whole future in her hands? That she had the sort of absolute power that he had never, ever given to anyone else but her?

‘Your father…’

The way she stumbled over the words made his heart lurch in hope, but he didn’t dare to put any real hope in it. Not yet. He needed more before he knew that he was safe.

‘Your father lied.’

‘Yes.’

It was low and rough and husky. As he spoke the car swung round a corner rather wildly and Damon put out a
hand to steady himself against the door, but his eyes never left her face.

‘Yes—I’m so sorry, sweetheart—if I’d only known! He must have guessed—he must have seen that you were important. That you were a real threat to his plans to combine the two dynasties of Nicolaides and Stakis. I should never have left you alone with him.’

‘And I should never have listened to him! Oh,
why
did I ever…?’

But Damon knew the answer to that one. He didn’t want to admit it but he had put the weapon into his father’s hands and he had only himself to blame if the old man had used it against him.

‘The land,’ he said simply, and saw her head go back in shock.

‘Of course. The land.’

Aristotle Nicolaides was a canny old devil. He’d known that Damon had only come looking for her in the first place because he’d wanted that piece of land so desperately. He’d known that she would believe that, and so, naturally, she would think that everything else he said was true. Feeling desperately low already at the realisation that her inheritance meant more to Damon than she did herself, she had already been wounded and vulnerable, open to the final, the mortal blow.

She’d even challenged Damon about it and he’d admitted…

‘The l-land!’

It was a very different sound now. A high-pitched, wavering cry of pain. And bitter, burning tears stung at her eyes.

‘Oh, why…?’

Damon half reached out, then let his hands drop without touching her, in an oddly defeated gesture.

‘I can explain that, darling,’ he said very quietly. ‘I swear
on my life that it wasn’t how you think. I came to see you to try and persuade you to part with the land, yes. But I took one look at you and fell in love. I lost my heart and I lost my head—my mind just wasn’t functioning. I forgot all about the land and the reason I was there. All I wanted was you.’

He sighed deeply, despondently, raking one long hand through the crisp darkness of his hair.

‘I just wanted to get you to marry me as quickly as possible. I thought that then I could explain everything. But I didn’t dare to tell you the truth for fear that you’d turn your back on me—walk away…’

‘As I did,’ Sarah put in softly. ‘When your father said…’

‘And when you accused me of only coming to you for the land—I couldn’t deny it. It was the truth after all.’

But not the whole truth, Sarah saw that now. Oh, if only she could have seen it at the start. But Aristotle Nicolaides had chosen his weapons well. He had studied her closely and he had seen that she was vulnerable. That the chink in her armour was that she didn’t quite believe that someone like Damon could love her. Truly love her.

And he had used that fear with deadly intent.

But Damon understood. He truly understood just why she had been so vulnerable.