A Shameful Consequence - By Carol Marinelli Page 0,29

his mantra and it never failed him.

In crises at work, he simply silenced the voices, cut through the tape and dealt with what was, not what might be, not what had been, but what was.

Constantine, for now, was the issue.

If it was not his son … He looked around the kitchen, heard her footsteps walking above and knew that even if the baby were not his, he couldn’t simply walk away.

And if it was … Nico sat still for a long moment, wrestled with indignation, with the betrayal at not being told, which led to more anger against a woman who wanted to go alone, so he clamped his mind closed on those issues and fought to get to the vital point. If this was his child, what then?

She did not want him in her life.

His mind raced for an instant solution.

Declare her unfit?

Take the child?

To what?

For what?

Raw was his honesty.

His lifestyle was lavish, he ate out most nights, hopped on planes, and the only thing he had to think about changing was the time on his watch.

He looked at the dark hair on the back of the child’s head, to the white sheet over his shoulders, and it was a relief not to see his face, safer by far not to love him.

Love did not last. Something deep inside told him that.

‘You must go.’ Constantine was at the door.

He should, Nico realised. He should get up now and let her continue her miserable life and get on with his—except he could not leave it there.

‘Come with me.’

She gave a tired smile, but Nico wasn’t joking.

‘I mean it,’ Nico said. ‘Come back to my hotel.’ He saw her eyes shutter, no doubt thinking he was about to add to her exhaustion. ‘Separate rooms,’ he added.

Which just made her feel worse. Oh, she wasn’t up for a sexual marathon, but for him to so quickly discount her …

‘I’m not your problem.’

The baby might be, but he did not want to broach that, so he tried another approach. ‘I feel that I engineered this, that you would be married to Stavros if it were not for me.’

‘And I’d no doubt be feeling exactly the same,’ Connie pointed out, ‘with my little IVF baby and a husband that couldn’t stand to touch me—a little less tired perhaps, but still on the happy pills!’ She hated this, hated to be seen like this. Pride was her downfall, because she could beg and weep to her family, could go online tomorrow and tell the world how she was living and shame would move her family to bring her home, but she would not force charity. ‘It would be just as bad …’

‘It could not be as bad,’ Nico refuted. ‘It could not be worse.’

There were unexpected prices for pride, and she paid one now—because here was the man who had seen her so beautiful. Here was the man she escaped to in weary snatched dreams, looking more beautiful than she had dared ever remember, yet she had seen the shock in his eyes when she had opened the door, the bewildered start as he’d realised the swan had reverted, and now he was seeing her at her very worst.

‘If I had led you back to your room instead of mine, if I had not said those things about choices …’

‘I’m glad that you did.’ Her admission surprised even her, but now she thought about it, now she looked at how her life would have been without Nico’s intervention that night, despite all her problems, it was still here that she would rather be. She felt better for him being there, better for their talk, better now that she could see more clearly, and spirit rose within her. ‘Things aren’t great now,’ she admitted. ‘I know there will be struggles ahead, but I will get there.’

And there was still a glimmer of fire in her tired, dull eyes, and Nico was in no doubt now that with or without him she would.

‘This is temporary,’ Connie said, her voice firmer now. ‘Had I stayed I would have felt like this forever.’

‘Why didn’t you call?’ Nico asked the question he had when he had first arrived at her door, for he had given her his private number that morning at breakfast. Even then he had been worried to leave her.

‘Why didn’t you?’ Connie asked. She could never tell him the real reason so she went on the defensive instead—after all, he would have surely heard from his family