The Greek Boss's Demand (10 page)

The candles lit, Nick started the boys singing ‘Happy Birthday'. Alex remembered her camera at the last minute and managed a shot of Jason blowing out each and every candle in one go. For once she didn't have to reach for the video camera. Nick was here to witness this birthday party after all.

‘Now,' said Nick, after the cheers had subsided, ‘make a wish.'

The boy looked at Nick, this man who all of a sudden seemed to be the one in control, a slight frown puckering his young eyebrows. Then he looked at his mother. Alex smiled and he seemed to relax a little. Then he squeezed his eyes shut for a good ten seconds.

Then he opened them and yelled, ‘Bags the biggest bit.'

Nick sliced the cake into man-sized portions the boys appreciated, and before the last one had finished parents were arriving to collect their exhausted and chocolate-smeared children.

Soon only the four of them remained. Alex dreaded what was coming as she started the cleaning up. She could sense the volcano that was building inside Nick, could see the tension rising in his dark eyes, and
though all remained calm on the exterior, she knew he was going to blow.

Tilly sensed it too, as they were washing up the last of the dishes in the kitchen. Nick was gazing out of the window at his son, still kicking the new soccer ball around. ‘I might wander off, sis, in a little while,' she said, drying her hands on a towel. ‘Do you think Jason might like to come to my place for a while?'

Nick looked up sharply. ‘No!'

Tilly recoiled as if she'd been slapped. ‘We'll be back, if that's what you're worried about. It just looks like you two have some unfinished business. Maybe it's better if you sort that out first, before involving my nephew.'

Nick looked at Alex. Did he really think she would try and spirit Jason away when at last they had finally met? But in his position maybe she'd be nervous about exactly the same thing. She didn't have a shiny track record in the keeping-him-informed stakes. ‘They'll be back. I promise.'

He grunted something about a couple of minutes and strode outside in time to pick up a deftly aimed pass from Jason. She watched him out of the window, noticed the tension dissolving in his shoulders as his muscles freed up and they kicked the ball to each other.

And it hit her like a soccer ball into her gut. Father and son together. The picture she'd never had in her mind was now being played out in the backyard. They could be any normal family on a public holiday week
end. Father and son kicking around a football while Mum cleaned up inside. The cliché brought a sardonic smile to her face.

Tilly picked up her bag and keys. ‘You be all right?'

She nodded. ‘Sure. Best to get it over with. It had to happen one day, I guess.'

Tilly kissed her sister on the cheek, gave her arm a squeeze and smiled. ‘I'll be back in an hour—okay? But call me on my mobile before if you need to.' She called to Jason and he came running, soccer ball in his arms. After a quick peck on his cheek, they were gone.

Alex waved from the front door and knew the moment he stepped up behind her—knew by the prickle of her skin, by the scent of man—hot, angry man. Every nerve cell screamed his presence. Except this time it was for all the wrong reasons.

This time she felt afraid.

‘Thank you for inviting me to my son's eighth birthday,' he said from behind her.

She closed her eyes, made a mental prayer for strength, and turned to face him.

‘I would have, if you hadn't bolted from my bed without a word.'

He glared at her. ‘You say that now. How am I supposed to believe you? You have lied to me for eight years—even longer! Why should you start telling the truth now?'

‘I never lied to you!'

‘So what do you call more than eight years of silence? Eight years of hiding my son from me. Eight years of depriving me of seeing my son grow up. What is that if not a lie?'

‘I didn't lie—'

‘And when would you have told me if I hadn't turned up in Sydney? If I hadn't turned up on your doorstep today? How much longer would you have made me wait for the truth? I would never have found out about Jason being my son. You would never have told me.'

He took a few steps around the room, picking up a photograph at random and moving on to the next.

‘I've already missed out on eight years of his life. How much more would you have had me miss?'

Suddenly she moved to an old chest of drawers in the corner of the room. She pulled out the bottom drawer. ‘Look,' she said, holding one of the stash of folders contained within. ‘I have photos—lots of photos—and…' She pulled out the next drawer. ‘Videos. Every birthday. Jason when he was newborn, in the bath, his first steps. I have them all on video…'

‘You have had my son for eight years and all you offer me is videos?'

She dropped the folder back in the drawer and pushed it shut, realising how pathetic her offer sounded. He was right. She'd been a fool all these years, thinking that somehow a picture every now and then or a few minutes of film was going to somehow make up for years of absence.

‘And where is his father in these videos? You have deprived my son of a father for eight years. How could you be so selfish?'

Selfish!
After eight years of struggling by herself to create some sort of security for her child—years when her own youth had been put aside so she could be a young mother to a child no one had asked for but was there to be cared for and loved nonetheless—to hear that word used about her stung deep. She swallowed down the burn at the back of her throat, fought the prick of tears that was threatening. She sniffed.

‘He's my son too, don't forget.'

‘How could I forget? He must be your son. Not once did you intimate that I might be involved.' He paused for a second, revelation bright in his eyes. ‘That's why you resigned, isn't it? So you wouldn't have to tell me. So I would never find out.'

She gulped, shook her head. ‘It wasn't like that…I can explain…'

In three strides he had crossed the room between them and stood before her, gripping her arms and glaring down at her so that she felt small and powerless.

‘Then what was it like? Why did you never tell me? Why did you let me believe he was another man's child? Why did you never tell me when he was born?'

‘I didn't think you'd believe me.'

‘What?'

‘We used a condom. He shouldn't have happened. Why would you believe me?'

‘But a baby. How could you keep that secret from his father?'

She swallowed back a sob. ‘I know. I rang the day he was born—remember. I rang to tell you. But it was the day—'

‘The day Stavros died,' he finished, dropping her arms and wheeling around. ‘We could have done with some good news that day.'

She laughed—a harsh, brittle laugh that sounded as if at any moment it would fracture in the tense, heated air between them.

She rubbed her arms where they still stung, as if he had branded her. ‘It wouldn't have been good news—not to your family.'

‘Not good news? My family lurched from one nightmare to the next after that. Don't you think we deserved a bit of happiness? Something to look forward to—a child for me—a grandchild for my parents?'

‘An
illegitimate
grandchild for your parents. The second—remember?'

He brushed her words away with a firm sweep of his arm.

‘That child was never Stavros's!'

‘But Stavros believed he was. He went against your parents' wishes. He married the mother, believing he was doing the right thing.'

‘She wanted his money—'

‘Yes, and so did her boyfriend. He wanted the family to pay up—hush money. But the plan went wrong and Stavros acted from the heart. So she won a bigger prize—she married into the Santos family and drove her boyfriend crazy with jealousy until he couldn't stand that she wasn't coming back and killed Stavros.'

‘What has this to do with you not telling me?'

She looked at him, momentarily dumbstruck.

‘Don't you remember how you felt all the months leading up to Stavros's death? Month after month you would tell me how the situation had worsened. How your parents would not accept the girl. How she flouted Stavros's will and spent his money as fast as she could, leaving the baby in the care of full-time nanny.'

She took a deep breath.

‘Then you told me how Stavros had realised what a mistake he had made. When I found out I was pregnant they had only just been married. I thought it was so romantic of him to defy his parents and marry for love. But I knew how much his family, including you, were against the marriage. And there was me, wanting so much for their marriage to work out.'

She stopped talking but he remained silent, totally unresponsive to her story. What impact her words had had she couldn't tell. His jawline remained firm and set and his eyes glinted with anger still. She ran her tongue over dry lips.

‘But things didn't improve. They got worse. And
as they grew worse I grew more and more afraid to tell you. I knew your parents would never believe me. I knew you would never believe me.'

‘How can you say that?'

‘Because you never believed her story either. Stavros had used protection, you told me. You thought she was lying. Why, then, should you believe me?'

‘She was lying!'

Her chin lifted a tad. ‘Absolutely. So you weren't about to fall for that old trick again.'

She could see his jaw working as his teeth ground together.

‘I still had a right to know!' he said at last.

She nodded in agreement, and when she spoke her voice was more resigned. She picked up one of the photos sitting on the mantel nearby. Jason had only been two days old, wrapped in his blue hospital shawl, his alert dark eyes absorbing everything. She smiled.

‘I know. That's why I rang the day Jason was born. I looked into his beautiful face and knew you had to be told. So I rang—' Her voice cracked as she remembered that day, the stresses, the excitement and afterglow of birth, and the anticipation of speaking to Nick and sharing their wonderful news. Only to hear of the family's shocking tragedy first.

When she looked up his eyes were shiny, blurred behind tears of pain, and she knew he was remembering too.

‘Do you think your family—you included—would have been interested in my news?' She hesitated. ‘You had suddenly become the heir. When you were the younger brother I had thought it possible—maybe, if Stavros could make it work—that you and me—and Jason—might make a go of it together. But when Stavros died I couldn't do it to you—not after that.'

‘So it seems Stavros and I have something in common. We both fell for women who were born liars.'

She shook her head.

‘She lied to trap Stavros. I never tried to trap you. I did everything I could to protect you.'

He spun on his heel and looked to the ceiling, his hands clasped behind his head and his chest heaving in air. It seemed like for ever before he turned, and by then the sheen in his eyes had gone and pure steel blazed out from them.

‘But eight years! In eight years you haven't tried to set that to rights. You have made no attempt to call or send news or even any of this vast photograph collection you claim to have been keeping for me. You have kept my child from me.'

She looked away, hanging her head. ‘I guess that's how it looks.' Then she looked up. ‘But that wasn't my intention, Nick. Never my intention. You have to believe me.'

‘No. I don't think I should believe anything you say. It seems you have hidden this secret for eight years. What else are you hiding?'

‘I don't know what you mean.'

‘Is there more you should tell me that you haven't? Has the boy suffered any serious medical conditions? Is he having trouble at school?'

‘What? You've seen for yourself he's perfectly well. And his grades are in the top ten per cent for his age. I have a folder with his school results. Do you want to see those?'

He waved her offer aside with a flick of his wrist. ‘Don't be so outraged. I can't trust you to tell me the truth. It's no wonder I have to ask directly. Expect many more questions as I come to learn about my son.'

‘
Our
son.'

His lips curled into a sardonic smile as he took a couple of steps towards her. ‘Oh? So now he's “our” son? How very generous of you.'

She shrugged off his sarcasm. He had a right to feel aggrieved, after all. Though that was no reason to forget Jason was still her son too. ‘I know you have some catching up to do. We'll have to make some arrangements. You can visit any time you like. I'm sure Jason would like that.'

He raised an eyebrow. ‘I'm sure he would. But I think after all this time we both deserve more.'

A cold sliver of fear wedged its way down her spine. ‘What do you mean?'

‘Simple. You've had my son for eight years. Now it's my turn. I'm taking him home to Greece.'

‘N
O
! Y
OU
can't do that!'

Pure dread clutched at her heart.

‘Why not? I see a certain symmetry in the plan—a certain equity, wouldn't you say? Eight years with you—eight years with me. You can come and collect him on his sixteenth birthday—if he still remembers you.'

‘You can't mean that!'

His lip curled at the edge and he shook his head fractionally. ‘You really believe I have become such a monster? Well, maybe I have.'

He turned his head away, so he wouldn't be distracted by the panic in her eyes, the ice-blue terror he could see welling there. But there was no other way. She'd given him no choice—not after what she'd done.

He would make it as easy as possible for the boy—Dimitri would have contacts. He'd arrange the best care, the best school. He'd find the top soccer coaches. His son would have the best of everything.

And he would have his son.

He turned back, his mind made up.

‘The boy will come with me.'

‘All the way to Greece? How can you do that to
him? Don't you realise what a shock that will be for him?'

‘But, my dear Alexandra, don't you appreciate what a good job you've done in preparing him for this? He plays soccer, our national sport, and he's already speaking Greek. He will be right at home.'

‘But this is his home!'

He looked around, as if assessing and finding it lacking. ‘I can give him more. I can give him his birthright. He doesn't need to live like this.'

Fingernails biting into her palms, Alex struggled to remember to breathe.

‘Like
what
, exactly?'

He shrugged. ‘All these years you've been doing it tough, getting by with what you have. Jason deserves better—he could have so much more—he
should
have so much more. I can give it to him.'

‘That's not fair. There's more to life than money.'

‘Don't talk to me about fair! You kept my child secret for eight years. Denied me what is rightfully mine. You're the
least
qualified person to decide what is and what isn't fair. My son is coming to Greece. It's settled. I'll make the arrangements.'

‘You can't just do that. He can't go. He doesn't even have a passport.'

That took him by surprise, she could see. He wouldn't have imagined for a minute that Jason wouldn't have a passport.

‘How long will it take to get one?'

‘One week, maybe two—
if
I agree to sign the papers.'

He moved up next to her and held the back of her head with his hand, so that she couldn't look anywhere but into his deep, dark eyes. Her hands pressed against his chest. She could feel the hard nub of his nipples with her fingers as she tried to stop her body colliding full length with his.

She could feel his heartbeat, slow and strong under her fingers, and knew that her own was beating crazily at least at twice the rate. For a second she thought he was going to kiss her, and confusion muddied her thoughts. Her lips parted, though whether it was from anticipation or the shock of his sudden proximity she couldn't be sure.

But instead of his mouth he brushed one finger over her lips, and breath infused with the scent of him stuck in her throat.

‘Oh, you'll sign. You've got a lot to make up for.'

From outside came the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. Nick's eyes were drawn to the window, but Alex didn't need to look to realise Tilly and Jason were back already.

‘Ah, my son is back,' announced Nick, letting her go and moving away. ‘I take it you haven't told Jason anything?'

Still too disturbed by his touch, she confirmed it with a nod of her head.

‘Then it's time we did.'

Alex raced after him as he headed for the door.

Five minutes later Tilly had departed and Jason had been settled on the sofa with a glass of milk, his free hand patting the soccer ball alongside.

‘We've got something to tell you, Jason,' Alex started, kneeling on the carpet near where he sat, her hands tightly clasped together to resist the temptation to reach out and flick the blade of grass welded to his knee. If she touched him now she'd be too tempted to pull him into her arms and protect him for ever from secrets and their consequences. But one sidelong look at Nick and it was clear nothing would protect either of them.

He shifted alongside, showing his impatience at her hesitation. She pressed her lips together, concentrating on the words to come. ‘Only it might come as a bit of a shock.'

Jason looked at them both in turn, his serious expression completely at odds with the milky-white smile left by his drink. Without saying a word he leaned forward, settled the glass on the coffee table in front of him, and sat back, his breath coming out in a huff. ‘Is this anything to do with Mr Sant—I mean, Nick being my dad?'

Alex reeled back, but still caught the shock flash across Nick's face. ‘Yes…but how did you know?'

‘I made a wish when I blew my candles—Er, am I allowed to tell you that, now that it's come true?' he asked sheepishly.

She mussed his hair. ‘Of course.'

‘Is he the man in those letters?'

‘Ah.' She licked her lips and looked to the floor.

Nick frowned. ‘What letters?'

‘Mum's got a box of letters in the cupboard from someone called Nick. She said he was her boyfriend before I was born. That was you—wasn't it?'

He looked at Jason and nodded. ‘That was me.' Then he looked at Alex, who shook her head.

‘I was…cleaning up. Had forgotten they were there.'

His face impassive, he looked back to his son and smiled. ‘So, Jason, how would you like to come and visit Greece with me—get some real practice with your Greek language skills?'

‘Greece? You mean it? That would be so cool. Wait till I tell the guys at school.'

‘Only if you're sure, Jason. It's a long way to go, and you might stay there for a while. You might want to wait till end of term?'

‘No way. How soon do we go?'

Alex tried to smile, but it was so hard, with her heart tearing its way through the floor, leaving jagged edges and bleeding veins in its wake.

Suddenly he threw himself forward, winding his arms around his mother's neck. ‘Thanks, Mum. This is the best birthday ever. Can I take my soccer ball?'

She sniffed and hung on tight, and tried to ignore the threatening stab of tears. ‘I'm sure you can,' was all she could manage.

‘Cool.' As quickly as he had jumped on her he
released her and picked up the ball. ‘Can I go play out in the back now?'

Alex nodded—it was easier than speaking with this huge sense of loss hovering at the back of her throat.

As much as she hated the idea of him leaving her, there was no way she could deny him a passport and the chance to see his other home. It was only fair that he knew both.

She would lose him as quickly as he had run out through that door. In a week or two, or however long it took, Jason would leave for the other side of the world and Alex would be left with nothing.

‘I hope you're satisfied,' she said at last, wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.

Nick grunted and slapped his legs with his hands. ‘So—tomorrow I want you to make arrangements for a passport. I'll arrange the tickets.'

She sniffed. ‘And then you will take my son away from me.'

‘Like you took him from me.' His words came as a harsh grating sound.

‘No. It's not the same thing. You didn't know he existed until now. I have loved this child for more than eight years—nurtured him, held him when he was sick and cheered with him when he achieved every new goal.' Her voice was a bare whisper but she had to continue. She had to make him realise what he was costing her. ‘For you to take him from me now, after all that, it's much, much worse.'

Her voice threatening to break, she had to stop.
Had to get out of the space Nick was consuming and into the kitchen. He had come into her house and consumed her and her life like a vacuum. He had sucked her life dry.

A month ago she'd had a job, a new home and a son she loved more than anything. Nick had turned all of that upside down. Now she had to find another job, some way of meeting her home-loan repayments. Now she'd lost her self-respect after a day of lovemaking that had left her with nothing but bittersweet memories. And now she was going to lose Jason, the brightest light in her life and the person who gave her a reason to go on. Nick was taking him away.

To think that two days ago she'd finally admitted she still loved Nick. What good had that realisation done her?

Nick had always been going to go back to Greece, and she had looked forward to the day with a mixture of anticipation and sorrow. His departure would have been bad enough to bear—to lose him for the second time. But now that pain would be surpassed by a greater, more devastating agony. Now he was taking their son with him.

Now she would lose them both.

 

Nick spent every chance he could in the following days to be with Jason and get to know him better. He even chose to play babysitter when Alex had her night classes. It was hard to begrudge him his presence as it was clear he was genuinely interested in their son.

On the weekend Nick decided on an outing—a ‘family outing', he'd said—and chose the zoo. Jason responded with his usual zeal for everything about Nick. Nick could do no wrong in Jason's eyes, ever since he'd appeared bearing his soccer ball gift.

‘Beware of Greeks bearing gifts.' The old proverb ran through her mind. How appropriate, she reflected, just a bit too late.

But part of her knew this was right. It was the way things should be between a father and a son, and Nick was taking to the role of father as if he'd been born to it. As for Jason, he was revelling in it. It was as if all his dreams had come true.

Alex suppressed a sigh. For her the nightmare was about to begin. In a few days Jason's passport would be ready and he would leave. She had no idea how she was going to survive after that. She could have avoided coming today, but she didn't want to miss a chance of being with Jason before he left.

She looked around, scanning the crowd for Nick, who'd gone to buy ice creams while Jason was entertained by the antics of a wild-haired orang-utan, climbing up and then jumping off his pole. Again and again he did the same routine, clapping when he reached the top of the pole, encouraging his audience to applaud likewise.

Jason gripped her hand tightly, pointing at the animal and laughing madly.

Without notice the orang-utan suddenly changed his routine. He jumped down from the pole, but in
stead of climbing right back up he made a dash towards his audience, took a flying leap, and crashed into the perimeter fence right in front of them. The entire crowd gasped and instantly recoiled, before spontaneously breaking out into laughter. Jason was no exception—he had all but leaped into his mother's arms—and shook with laughter as the orang-utan bobbed up and down in front of them, obviously feeling very self-satisfied.

Nick stood holding the ice creams just to one side, watching Alex hold Jason. She was laughing out loud, laughing so hard she had to wipe the tears from her eyes.

It was good to see her laugh. She hadn't been doing much of it lately. Her face looked drawn and her eyes were shadowed and dull. But for now she was laughing, her face bright and beautiful, her hands on Jason's shoulders as his own laughter subsided.

And something shifted inside Nick—something vague and harsh-edged tilted and swung, lodging into a place deep inside and grating with every intake of breath so that he felt himself frown.

He still wanted her, and after last week's lovemaking he wanted her more than ever. That surprised him. But what was more surprising was that he wasn't angry with her any more. Last week's cold fury had been replaced by something else—something that felt more like regret, that things hadn't worked out differently all those years ago.

Alex turned, the smile still on her face where it
froze, only her eyes showing surprise that he was watching them. He shook off the frown and the mess of unusual emotions crashing through him and smiled back, holding up the ice creams triumphantly. Finally her smile edged up near her eyes and she moved Jason's shoulders around so he could see what was coming.

‘Ice cream!' he yelled. ‘Cool!'

They wandered around the zoo, eating their ice creams and watching the animals. And when they'd finished their ice creams they walked hand in hand, Jason between them, around the park. They shared a picnic under shady trees with all the other families, and then Jason showed Nick how to feed the kangaroos and Alex took photos of the two of them until a man took the camera and snapped the three of them together. Then they walked some more, and somehow Nick ended up between Jason and Alex, holding hands as they strolled around.

It was nine-thirty before they were home and Jason had finally gone to bed, and Nick suggested a glass of wine to finish the evening.

She nodded. ‘Please,' she replied, feeling tired and dreamy. Usually she couldn't wait for Nick to leave, but today had been such a wonderful day—a day when they'd come the closest ever to being a family. It couldn't last—she knew that—and because of that she was reluctant to let it end.

In the still warm air they sat on the verandah, moths dancing around the soft outside light to the accom
paniment of the noises of a suburb settling down to sleep, and the distant whoosh of the slip of waves across the shore.

He set the wine glasses down on the table between them and sat down alongside. Neither spoke for a long time.

She was weary, but comfortable, and for once felt relaxed in Nick's presence. It was as if she had worked out her tension in the exertions and laughter of Taronga Zoo, and now she was content to just be there. Whatever happened, whatever her future, she would treasure today's memories for a long time.