The Stephanides Pregnancy

CHAPTER FIVE

BETSY lifted the phone and heard the broken dialling tone that let her know that she had messages to collect on the answering service.

She listened to her messages. Cristos three times over: Cristos angry, angrier and even more angry. Cristos, who could not believe or accept that she would not speak to him. He was amazingly persistent and unbelievably stubborn in the face of repeated rejection. The guy whom she had believed was so special. The guy who had taken gross advantage of her naive trust. She blamed herself more than she blamed him, though. Had ever a woman contributed more to her own downfall?

Cristos had only been interested in sex. Cristos had not even pretended that he was interested in anything else. A small example of that reality was that, in spite of spending virtually every waking hour with her for the best part of a week, Cristos had still never got around to asking her what sort of a business she hoped to start up. He had been careful to keep things unemotional and impersonal on his side of the fence, but she had got far, far too personal when she'd fallen in love with him.

It was only three weeks since she had returned from Greece. Her life had been turned upside down. She couldn't sleep, had lost interest in eating and had to drag herself out of bed in the morning. She felt like a fake person running round behind a plastic smile.

Inside herself she was hollow with misery and aloneness. But on the face of it, her life was virtually the same as it had ever been.

The kidnapping had been hushed up. Why, she had no idea, but she suspected that there might be a lot of truth in that phrase, 'money talks.' A Stephanides lawyer had met her when she'd landed in Athens. He had assisted her through the process of proving her identity and getting herself home. He had also informed her of the helicopter crash, which had taken the life of Joe Tyler and the men with him. She had returned to work to discover that the limo she had crashed had already been repaired. Her boss had been advised to keep the matter quiet and inform the curious that she had gone off on a last-minute holiday. The Stephanides family had gone to considerable lengths to cover up the evidence that a crime had been committed.

In an effort to distract herself from her unhappiness, Betsy had decided it was time she took the plunge and focused her energies on opening up a garage specialising in classic car restoration. It was two years now since her grandfather had died and his estate had been divided between Betsy and Gemma. With a healthy savings account, Bet~ knew the chances were good that the bank would give her a loan.

Yet she had still not made that all-important appointment at the bank. Why? Her period was a few days late and she was terrified that Cristos might have got her pregnant. Yet she had still not worked up the courage to go and buy a pregnancy test because she was praying that fear was making her fanciful. After all, Cristos had been reasonably careful. She blinked out an uneasy recollection of the passion that had led to one or two oversights. Furthermore, Cristos had checked on the dates of her menstrual cycle and, while freely admitting that he had never made such calculations in his life, he had been of the opinion that they were really safe from repercussions…

Betsy was in the anxious act of wondering whether her vanished appetite might relate to more than a broken heart when a knock sounded on the door of her bedsit. It was Rory and she was really surprised: in all the years since they had broken up and he had set up home with her sister, he had never come to visit her. His blue eyes were red-rimmed with tiredness and his smart suit was crumpled. Once she had believed he was pretty attractive. Now, she registered that to her he just looked ordinary.

'What's up?' she asked. 'Is Gemma ill?' 'We've split up…'

Eyes rounding in disbelief, Betsy stilled. 'You're not serious?'

'I thought you'd be the last to know.' Rory grimaced. 'But I don't have anything to hide. I moved out yesterday.'

Betsy was shocked and could not think of how best to greet such an announcement from Rory. In truth, she just wanted him to disappear into thin air. His very presence on her doorstep meant trouble. Gemma would throw a fit if she found out that her boyfriend had gone to visit her sister and Betsy had no desire to get involved in the fallout. 'That's awful. I’m sorry,' she said stiltedly. 'But hopefully it's just a temporary blip--'

'It's no blip,' Rory informed her heavily. 'Your sister has another man. Aren't you going to invite me in?'

Trying to look more welcoming, Betsy stood back. 'There's got to have been a misunderstanding, Rory.'

'No, he's her boss and he's married. All the evenings that Gemma was supposed to be going to her fitness class she was actually with him. Do you know how I found out?' Rory prompted bitterly. 'The night your parents were told you'd been kidnapped they came round to our apartment and I rushed out to the college to fetch Gemma home early. The teacher hadn't seen her since last term!'

Betsy tried not to wince. 'Gemma would hate you telling me this stuff-' Her doorbell buzzed and, highly relieved by the interruption, she went to answer it, praying that Rory would take the hint and leave.

It was Cristos. The unexpected sight of him welded her to the spot. Sheathed in a caramel-coloured suit that shrieked designer tailoring, he was taller, broader, darker, and altogether more gorgeous than she had allowed herself to remember and, like a foodaholic on the edge of starvation, she couldn't stop staring. His stunning dark golden eyes met hers in an almost physical collision.

'I must talk to you… who's that behind you?' Cristos suddenly shot at her rawly, striding forward and setting her bodily out of his path to confront Rory. 'Who are you?'

Totally unprepared for his hostile behaviour, Betsy spun round in bewilderment. 'This is my sister's boyfriend, Rory.'

'What the hell are you doing here?' Cristos growled, hands clenching into fists, rage rolling up through him like volcanic lava seeking a vent. Rory, the guy, she said she loved, here alone with her. While he was being treated like the plague for being engaged, Betsy was entertaining-in a room with a bed in it-the louse who had cheated on her with her own sister. Where was the justice in that?

Dwarfed by Cristos in size and never having been the physical type, Rory backed up against the wall. 'Betsy and I are good friends.'

Without the slightest warning of the aggression to come, Cristos closed two powerful hands into Rory's jacket and lifted him right off his feet. 'You're no friend. I saw the way you look at her and I'm a possessive man. I don't want you near her. Is that understood?'

'Have you gone mad?' Betsy screeched in horror at the scene before her and hauled unavailingly at Cristos' suit jacket. 'Let go of him!'

'Drop me… preferably all in one piece,' Rory advised drily, but his complexion was as colourless as the white painted wall behind him.

'Cristos!' Betsy exclaimed fiercely.

Cristos lowered the smaller man to the floor again, backed off a step, twitched his cuffs straight while hoping that his target would do the manly thing and take a swing at him.

'I could have you charged with assault,' Rory informed him instead, straightening his tie.

Disappointed, Cristos thrust the door wider. 'Get out…'

Trembling, Betsy gulped in a sustaining breath. She was appalled by Cristos' conduct. Rory hovered, visibly keen to be gone but reluctant to back down in front of another man.

'I'll be fine… it'll be better if you leave.' She was quick to give Rory his escape clause.

Cristos stood at the window. He was thrown by his own loss of control and shaken by his very sincere desire to hammer Rory to a pulp. He prided himself on his self-discipline. He could not understand what was wrong with him. Nothing had felt right since he'd returned home and all too many things roused him to impatience and annoyance.

His grandfather, Patras, had been blunt. 'You're like an angry bear looking for a fight. When you walk into a room, 1 feel 1 should take cover. What happened to you on that island?'

'I want you to leave… I'm not talking to you,' Betsy said doggedly, breaking into his ruminations.

Cristos devoured her in a long, lingering scrutiny.

She had lost weight. Her eyes looked too big for her pale face. Her jeans and shirt were downright drab. But she was one of those rare women whose pure nattural beauty would always outshine any frame and any physical flaw. Her unhappiness was also as apparent to him as his own seething frustration. 'What was Mr Sad doing here with you?'

An embarrassed flush lit Betsy's cheeks. On the island, Cristos had got chapter and verse on Rory's transfer of affections to Gemma out of her. It was, when she thought about it, the only personal topic he had pursued with the slightest interest.

'Rory and Gemma are having problems… he wanted someone to talk to-'

'I shouldn't think their problems will be solved by your personal intervention,' Cristos spelt out with contemptuous clarity.

'You're misjudging me,' Betsy murmured tightly, but ironically she was content for him to continue believing that she was still keen on Rory. While he believed that, he was unlikely to suspect the much more humiliating truth. 'And if you won't leave, I'm going out.'

'I want you to give me five minutes… that's all.' Cristos sought and held her evasive gaze and finally she jerked her chin in grudging agreement.

Restive as a jungle cat on the prowl, he paced across the room and, while he wasn't looking at her, she took the opportunity to feast her eyes on him. No. matter how angry and bitter she was, she still craved him with every wretched fibre of her being.

Cristos spread fluid hands in a fatalistic arc. 'We're good together, pethi mou. 1 have missed you-'

'The sex… that's what you missed. You'll survive,' Betsy countered stonily.

'I miss your company almost as much. I have never said that to a woman before.' Cristos surveyed her as though he was expecting her to be so impressed she would pass out at his feet.

'You're engaged. You're not free to miss me.' Snatching up her fleece jacket and her keys, Betsy opened the door.

Cristos caught her hand in his. 'I won't quit…1 can't quit. 1 want you. As my mistress, you would have everything.'

'Except the right to call you mine-' 'No woman has that privilege-'

'Except the right to walk down the street with you and be introduced to your friends as an equal.' Her voice had got thin and shrill and she was ashamed that she was actually answering him as if he had offered her a normal relationship.

What was normal about a guy who in all seriousness offered you the hallowed position of mistress in his life? And not in a tone of apology? He was spoilt rotten, she thought with fierce bitterness. So many women must have said yes to Cristos. His fiancée was equally to blame for giving him the freedom to do as he liked. He was rich, successful, breathtakingly handsome and fantastic in bed. Lots of women would bend the rules for him. A good few of those same women must have been as foolish as Betsy had been at the outset of their affair: quietly hopeful that his anti-love and -commitment warning was just defensive whitewash. She had learned the hard way that she was dealing with a cool and ruthless womaniser.

'Betsy… '

Betsy trailed her fingers free of his hold. 'Stop saying my name like it's something special because you treated me as if my feelings were of no account. 1 wasn't a person to you-'

Hard golden eyes challenged hers. 'That's untrue-' 'Then explain why you never even asked what type of business 1 was planning to set up? Classic car restoration, by the way! Or why I'm in the job I'm in. You cheated me too,' she condemned in fiery addition. 'I had the right to know that you were engaged to another woman. I would never have got mixed up with you if I'd known that-'

'Theos mou… ' The merest hint of discomfited colour emphasising the sculpted slant of his superb cheekbones, Cristos vented an angry laugh of disagreement. 'Neither of us was able to fight the desire we felt for each other-'

'You didn't even try-'

'For your information, 1 walked away the first time 1 saw you,' Cristos reminded her furiously" lean, strong face taut. 'You were a chauffeur… do you really think 1 was keen to pull you when I realised that?'

'Oh, you patronising, snobbish jerk!' Enraged by that admission, Betsy stalked out onto the landing and headed down the stairs. 'Pull the door after you!' she called over her shoulder.

Above her the bedsit door slammed and Cristos strode in pursuit. 'I was not patronising you, I was being honest. Since when has it been a crime to be honest?' he demanded, following her out onto the street.

'It's a hanging offence when you've got no diplomacy and an exaggerated idea of your own importance!' Betsy launched back at full volume. 'And how dare you refer to yourself as honest? You were deliberately, sneakily, calculatingly secretive about the fact that you were engaged!'

Impervious to the fact that his bodyguards were open-mouthed with astonishment at the spectacle being acted out in front of them,. Cristos drew level with Betsy. He was in a black fury that consumed all awareness of his surroundings. 'I won't phone you again,' he bit out.

'Promises… promises… ' Betsy shot him a gleaming look of catlike provocation.

'I won't come here again either,' he gritted in a wrathful undertone. 'Next time you will come to me-'

'Only in your dreams!' she swore, stalking round the comer into the next street.

He was a step ahead of her. He splayed one hand against the wall to prevent her moving on and the other behind her. With an exaggerated sigh belied by the brightness of her gaze, she slumped back against the bricks. 'Haven't you had enough yet?' she asked, shamelessly, helplessly exhilarated by the cut and thrust of fighting with him.

'Nowhere near enough… ' Scorching golden eyes assailed hers and the equivalent of an electric shock triggered inside her.,

'Meaning?' Furious as she was with him, she was mesmerised.

Hands braced either side of her, he lowered his arrogant dark head and pried her lips apart in a kiss so hot she saw flames and sparks and inwardly burned.

Cristos lifted his head again, his stunning gaze radiating primal male satisfaction. 'I can wait, pethi mou. You'll come to me…'

Betsy walked on down the street on legs that were threatening to fold under her. She felt as if she were leaving part of herself behind. She also felt almost dizzy with rage. He was turning her into a split personality. She hated him but at the same time she craved him like an addictive drug. Furious tears prickled behind her eyes and she blinked them back, angry with herself for being so weak. She would get over him, she told herself. After all, she had managed to get over Rory without even noticing her achievement.

The following day when Betsy finished work, she found Gemma waiting for her outside Imperial Limousines. Her sister had a tight defensive set to her pretty face that made Betsy's heart sink.

'Have you seen Rory?' Gemma asked stiffly. Betsy very rarely told a lie but her backbone crumbled at the prospect of confessing that Rory had called round the night before. 'Why would 1 have?' she asked with what she hoped was a convincing show of surrprise.

Gemma looked so relieved that Betsy knew that lying had been the right thing to do. Her sibling dragged her across the road into a bar and proceeded to tell all about her big bust-up with Rory. Unaccustomed to such a sisterly confessional, Betsy was nonetheless very pleased.

'I wanted to make him jealous because he's been taking me for granted. But of course 1 haven't been having an affair.' Gemma tossed her blonde head. 'I just wanted to light a fire under Rory.'

'Well, you've certainly done that.'

'He wasn't supposed to pack his bags and move out!' Gemma snapped. 'I got fed up with the evening class and started going off for a quick drink with a mate instead. Rory's had a thing about my boss ever since he saw me flirting with him at last year's Christmas do. We had a fight and 1 wanted to hurt him, so I let him think the worst.'

Betsy was feeling a little nauseous and preoccupied. 'Do you smell that perfume?' she whispered across the table. 'Isn't it overpowering? I swear it's making me feel sick.'

'It's not bothering me. But I was very sensitive to certain smells when I was carrying Sophie,' Gemma confided. 'Anyway, as I was saying, I was testing Rory-'

Betsy had paled at that casual reference to Gemma's pregnancy. 'Testing him?'

Gemma gave her a defiant look. 'He's never told me he loves me. But then he probably got fed up telling you and being treated like a doormat-'

Tired of being attacked, Betsy said, 'For goodness' sake-'

'You walked all over Rory! First you gave up that terrific job you had without even consulting him, then you signed up as a limo driver and then you told him you needed time to think about whether or not you wanted to marry him. You were much too bossy for him,' Gemma informed her smugly.

Betsy compressed her lips. It was an unfamiliar view of her relationship with Rory and, even if it did contain glimmerings of truth, Betsy was weary of the past being constantly rehashed. 'Haven't we moved on from all that yet?' she asked quietly. 'It is a long time ago.'

The rebuke made Gemma colour angrily. 'It's been no picnic for me following in your footsteps. Always feeling second-best, always wondering if he's only with me because of Sophie-'

'But Rory loves you,' Betsy countered levelly. 'He's never said so.'

'You can see it,' Betsy assured her.

'Honestly?' Her sister's face lit up and Betsy. was surprised to appreciate just how insecure the younger woman still felt. Insecure and jealous, she saw for the first time. 'I think I'll ask him round to talk tonight…'

Soon after that, Gemma was about to take her leave when she began rustling in her handbag. 'I almost forgot. I thought you'd be interested in seeing this…' 'Seeing what?'

Gemma handed Betsy a magazine clipping that carried a photograph of Cristos dancing with a blonde woman. The blood drained from Betsy's face.

'I can't get over the fact that you never even mentioned that Cristos Stephanides is a mega-sexy

hunk…' her sister was scolding. "-

Her stomach churning, Betsy read the inscription below the photo: 'Greek tycoon, Cristos Stephanides, with his fiancée, heiress Petrina Rhodias, opening the Stephanides charity ball in Athens.

"He's very good-Iooking-'

'Yeah,' Betsy cut in tightly, staring fixedly at Petrina, a stunning Nordic blonde in a fabulous white ball gown, diamonds sparkling at her throat. Talk about being outclassed! The photo really said it all! Petrina was Cristos' equal in looks, status and wealth. Betsy's throat closed over and she snatched in a great gulping breath in an effort to contain her agony.

'Are you… Betsy?' Gemma gasped.

'It's very warm in here,' Betsy mumbled and she hurried outside where the cold breeze cooled the perspiration beading her brow.

'I didn't know you and he… I swear I didn't!' her sister muttered uncomfortably. 'I'd never have given you that photo if I'd had the least idea-'

'I don't want to talk about this,' Betsy interposed flatly, mastering her tempestuous emotions.

'It's hard not to… I mean, you don't seem to have much luck with men,' Gemma pointed out. 'Rory and that thug, Joe… and then-'

'Rat of the century, Cristos Stephanides? Let's not go there either,' Betsy advised curtly and, for once, her sister was silenced.

On the way home to her bedsit, Betsy bought herself a pregnancy test. That evening the packet containing her purchase sat in solitary state on the table. It was the last thing she looked at before she switched out the light and the first thing she noticed in the morning. She did not sleep well. Telling herself to act like a grown-up instead of a scared teenager, Betsy did the test. It came up positive and the shock was so great she burst into floods of tears.

How on earth was she going to cope as an unmarried mother? She didn't earn enough to pay for fulltime childcare. There was no way she could juggle a new baby and restore classic cars either. She would not be in a position to live on a shoestring and put in the long hours that any new business demanded. In short, her goose had been well and truly cooked and who had thrown her independent, perfectly free and happy life to the lions? Cristos Stephanides!

Why was it that the one time she had decided to take a risk on a guy she had been well and truly punished? It had taken Cristos little more than twenty-four hours to talk her into bed. She had been a very easy conquest. Shame made her squirm. At the time it had seemed so brave to throwaway all caution and follow her feelings. Now she just felt plain stupid. She had acted like a slut, she thought painfully. Was it any wonder that Cristos had had no respect for her and the neck to offer her a place in his life as his mistress?

But what about all those fine promises he had made to her? About how he would be with her every step of the way if she fell pregnant? About how she could trust and depend on him… oh, yeah, and all the time he had been engaged to another woman! How could he have done that to her? From where had he got the nerve to approach her again? Had Cristos no sense of shame? Tears blinding her, she rocked back and forth on the side of her bed.

Why had she had to find Cristos so irresistibly attractive? Every time he'd smiled, she had carried on like a teenager. She had cooked for him and hand washed his shirts. Without effort, he had turned her into a domestic slave. Poor Rory had been told that if they got married he would have to do his own washing and that it was about time he learned to cook so that he could take a turn. Had she made Cristos take a turn on the domestic front?

No, having fallen in love, she had been all sweetness and light. She had wanted everything to be perfect for him. Now she was going to have a baby, his baby. She imagined that that news would be one of the biggest shocks that Cristos had ever had. At their last meeting, he had been so blithely unconcerned by the possibility of consequences that he had not even bothered to ask her if she was all right. Cristos exuded the cool expectation and confidence of a male who had always led a charmed life. The kidnapping had been a major shock to his equilibrium. However, she thought it painfully typical of Cristos' charmed existence that when he was kidnapped he had been put on an idyllic island in luxury accommodation with good food and a willing bed partner thrown in.

On the other hand it seemed that his luck had ended there, Betsy conceded unhappily. Evidently her luck had been at its lowest ebb too. Cristos would not find it easy to handle her news. It would not be any easier for her to tell him. After all, how pleasant could it be to inform a guy who was engaged to someone else that you were carrying his baby? A baby he couldn't possibly want? A baby that would only be a source of annoyance and an embarrassment to him?

Betsy breathed in deep and scolded herself for getting so upset. After all, she could not afford to be oversensitive. Cristos would have to be told. She had to be sensible and consider the baby's needs and her own. Furthermore, it took two to make a baby, which meant that he was as much to blame as she was…