One Night...Nine-Month Scandal

‘I’m a realist. And I know you love kids. Weird, really; I just want to bash their heads together most of the time. Maybe you should just give me the money and I’ll resign. Four-million dollars! How come you didn’t know it was worth that much?’

‘I didn’t ask,’ Kelly mumbled. ‘The ring was special because he gave it to me, not because of its value. It didn’t occur to me it was that valuable. I wasn’t really interested.’

‘You need to learn to be practical as well as romantic. He might have been a bastard, but at least he wasn’t a cheapskate.’ Vivien sank her teeth into one of the apples that she’d tipped out of the paper bag, talking as she ate. ‘When you told me he was Greek, I assumed he was a waiter or something.’

Kelly flushed. She hated talking about it because it reminded her of how stupid she’d been. How naive. ‘He wasn’t a waiter.’ She covered her face with her hands. ‘I can’t even bear to think about it. How could I ever have thought it could have worked? He is super-cool, superintelligent and super-rich. I’m not super-anything.’

‘Yes you are,’ Vivien said loyally. ‘You’re—you’re, um, super-messy, super-scatterbrained and—’

‘Shut up! I don’t need to hear any more reasons why it didn’t work.’ Kelly wondered how anything could possibly still hurt this much after four years. ‘It would be nice if I could think of just one reason why it might have worked.’

Vivien took a large bit of apple and chewed thoughtfully. ‘You have super-big breasts?’

Kelly covered her chest with her arms. ‘Thanks,’ she muttered, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

‘You’re welcome. So how did Mr Super Rich make his money?’

‘Shipping. He owns a shipping company—a big one. Lots of ships.’

‘Don’t tell me—super-big ones? Why did you never tell me this before?’ Munching away, Vivien shook her head in disbelief. ‘This guy was multi-millionaire, wasn’t he?’

Kelly rubbed her foot on the threadbare carpet of her tiny flat. ‘I read somewhere he was a billionaire.’

‘Oh, right—well, who’s counting? What’s a few-hun-dred million between friends? So—don’t take this the wrong way—how did you meet him? I’ve been alive the same number of years as you and I’ve never met a single millionaire, let alone a billionaire. Some tips would be welcome.’

‘It was during my gap year. I trespassed on his private beach. I didn’t know it was private; I’d left my guide book somewhere and I was in a bit of a dream, looking at the view, not reading the signs.’ Misery oozed through her veins. ‘Can we talk about something else? It isn’t my favourite subject.’

‘Sure. We can talk about what you’re going to do with four-million dollars.’

‘I don’t know.’ Kelly gave a helpless shrug. ‘Pay for a psychiatrist to treat me for shock?’

‘Who bought the thing?’

Kelly looked at her blankly, worried that her brain appeared to have stalled. ‘Someone rich?’

Viven looked at her with exasperation. ‘And when do you hand it over?’

‘Some girl emailed me to say it would be collected in person tomorrow. I gave them the address of the school in case they turn out to be dodgy.’ She pressed her hand to the ring that she wore on a chain under her shirt and Vivien sighed.

‘You never take it off. You even sleep in the thing.’

‘That’s because I have a problem with my personal organisation,’ Kelly said in a small voice. ‘I’m afraid I might lose it.’

‘If you’re trying to hide behind the “I’m untidy” act, forget it. I know you’re untidy, but you wear the ring because you’re still stuck on him, and you’ve been stuck on him for four years. What made you suddenly decide to sell the ring, Kel? What happened? You’ve been acting awfully weird all week.’

Kelly swallowed hard and fiddled with the ring through her shirt. ‘I saw pictures of him with another woman,’ she said thickly. ‘Blonde, stick-thin—you know the type. The sort that makes you want to stop eating, until you realise that even if you stopped eating you still wouldn’t look like that.’ She sniffed, ‘I suddenly realised that keeping the ring was stopping me from moving on with my life. It’s crazy. I’m crazy.’

‘No, not any more. Finally you’re sane.’ Vivien sprang to her feet and flung her hair out of her eyes in a dramatic gesture. ‘You know what this means, don’t you?’

‘I need to pull myself together and forget about him?’

‘It means no more cheap pasta with sauce from a jar. Tonight we’re eating takeaway pizza with extra toppings, and you’re paying. Yay!’ Vivien reached for the phone. ‘Bring on the high life.’

Alekos Zagorakis stepped out of his black Ferrari and stared at the old Victorian building.

Hampton Park First School.

Of course she would have chosen to work with children. What else?

It had been the day he’d read in the press that she was planning on four children that he’d walked out on her.

With a grim smile that was entirely at his own expense, he scanned the building, automatically noticing the things that needed doing. The fence was torn in several places and plastic covered one section of the roof, presumably to prevent a leak. But the surroundings weren’t responsible for the ripple of tension that spread across his shoulders.

A bell rang, and less than a minute later a stream of children poured through the swing doors and into the playground, jostling and elbowing each other. A young woman followed the children out of the door, answering questions, refereeing arguments and gently admonishing when things grew out of hand. She was dressed in a simple black skirt, flat shoes and a nondescript shirt. Alekos didn’t give her a second glance. He was too busy looking for Kelly.

He studied the ancient buildings, deciding that his information must be wrong. Why would Kelly bury herself in a place like this?

He was about to return to his car when he heard a familiar laugh. His eyes followed the sound, and suddenly he found himself taking a closer look at the young teacher in the black skirt and sensible heels.

She bore no resemblance to the carefree teenager he’d met on the beach in Corfu, and he was about to dismiss her again when she tilted her head.

Alekos stared at her hair, fiercely repressed by a clip at the back of her head. If that clip was released and her hair fell forward…He frowned, mentally stripping off the drab garments so that he could see the woman concealed beneath.

Then she smiled, and he sucked in a sharp breath because it was impossible not to recognise that smile. It was wide, warm and generous, freely bestowed and genuine. Dragging his eyes from her mouth, Alekos took a second look at the sensible skirt. He could see now that she had the same long, long legs. Legs designed to make a man lose the thread of his conversation and his focus. Legs that had once been wrapped around his waist.

Shouts of excitement snapped him out of his perusal of her wardrobe. A group of boys had noticed the car, and instantly he regretted not having parked it round the corner out of sight. As they sprinted across the playground to the flimsy fence that separated the school from the outside world, Alekos stared at them as another man might stare at a dangerous animal.

Three little heads stared at him and then the car.

‘Wow—cool car.’

‘Is it a Porsche? My dad says the best car is a Porsche.’

‘When I grow up, I’m going to have one like this.’

Alekos had no idea what to say to them so he stood still, frozen by his own inadequacy as they rattled the fence, small fingers curling between the wire as they stared and admired.

He saw her head turn as she checked anxiously on her charges. Of course, she would notice instantly when one of her flock had wandered from safety. She was that sort of person. A people person. She was messy, scatty, noisy and caring. And she wouldn’t have greeted a group of children with silence.

She saw the car first and Alekos watched as the colour fled her face, the sudden pallor of her skin accentuating the unusual sapphire-blue of her eyes.

Obviously she didn’t know any other men who drove a Ferrari, he thought grimly. The fact that she was shocked to see him increased his anger.

What had she expected, that he’d sit by and watch the ring—the ring he’d put on her finger—sold to the highest bidder?

Across that stretch of nondescript tarmac, that school playground that was no one’s idea of a romantic venue for a reunion, wide blue eyes met fierce black.

The sun came out from beyond a cloud, sending a spotlight of bright gold onto her shining head. It reminded him of the way she’d looked that afternoon on his beach in Corfu. She’d been wearing a miniscule, turquoise bikini and a pretty, unselfconscious smile.