chapter SEVENTEEN
NICO had screeched to a halt at the toll barrier, blasting his horn impatiently for the watchman to lift it, ready to spring out and raise the thing himself, and the wait did not calm him, the pendulum did not swing backwards. It just surged higher towards hatred, to filth, to violence, and the rule would be broken, Nico knew as his car swept into town, for this time the pendulum would never swing back.
No one would give him the address of Constantine’s parents. As he stopped his car and demanded to know, people shrugged and walked on.
Why would they give directions? Nico realised. Who would give directions to a man raging? He stopped the car and forced himself to think.
She had lived near the taverna, Constantine had told him that, but he could not knock on every door. Someone would warn the bastard, or ring the police. Instead, he would go to the taverna and get directions. He would not get Charlotte involved with this.
And he forced himself calm, to appear just another customer, and this time he did not take his coffee outside but drank it at the bar and chatted to the owner as he looked through the menu, saw hot peppered calamari and wished, how he wished, that he had tasted it with her. He wished they had bought it from here and then sat on the beach as young lovers rather than the nightmare that things were now.
Then he caught his reflection in the mirror, saw eyes that were his, that were surely the same as his twin’s, and eyes, too, that were Leo’s and Constantine was right—she should not have had to say.
He did not need to be told that Leo was his son.
Which meant he was a father. And even if his mind screamed for revenge, there was part of his mind that was stronger, that waited, that paused as he drank his coffee and, despite the hour, accepted the ouzo. He tasted the anise on his lips and his mind went to his twin.
He did not recoil at the thought now. At some level he had always known, had recognised the face in the mirror in a way that confused—and the jolt of surprise he had felt when he had seen Leo had not been a father’s normal reaction to his son.
Was that how he had looked?
He wanted names.
He wanted dates.
He wanted details.
A word to the owner and he had the address that would take him to them. Nico paid and left and walked past the beach where he would have held her, had he been allowed to have his life, and to the bush where first he would have kissed her. Then he looked up at the hill behind her home, where his car would have taken her, and what they had found that night was how it should have been—for it would have been their wedding night, Nico realised, feeling a fresh surge of anger towards the man who had stolen from him so many things.
He pounded on the door, but it was she who opened it.
Dressed in the same dress she had worn last night, but dishevelled now, and he could see that she had been crying, hear the shouts and protests coming from behind her, telling her to close the door, not let him in. But she stood there, holding it open, and he looked down at her nervous, brave but somehow still trusting face, and he felt like he would had he loved her.
‘Here.’ She handed him that which should never have been taken. He looked at the names for a long moment, found Alexandros Kargas, who had been born on the same day as him, and found out, too, the names of his parents. A piece of his own jigsaw slotted in easily.
‘It’s my grandfather’s home that I purchased …’ Nico looked at his mother’s maiden name. ‘I am almost sure of it.’ And hard as it might be, he was sure of one other thing as he looked back at Constantine—he had promised he would never hurt her.
‘Can I come in?’
She hadn’t expected him to ask, more that he would barge in, that there would be chaos, only Nico was deathly calm as he walked into the lounge. It was her father who leapt from his chair angry and confrontational, hurling his defence.
‘I did the right thing by you,’ was his uninvited response, for Nico had not said a word. ‘Your mother was a hooker, a drunk. You would have had nothing had you stayed with her.’
‘So I should thank you?’ Nico’s lips were white. With once sentence he silenced the man. ‘And my father?’ he demanded. ‘What do you know about my father and brother?’
‘They lived in the south. Your father was dirt poor, a brute who kicked you mom out. Should I have sent you back to him?’
And Connie learnt alongside him that his twin had long since left Xanos and his father had been dead for years.
‘I did you a favour,’ her father attempted, and she felt Nico tense, thought now the explosion would come, but still he stood there, told himself he fought only with equals, that a fist to an old man did not count and he would not break his code for a man so much beneath him. So instead he used words.
‘Never say you did me a favour, never try to justify what you have done,’ Nico said. ‘You sold me, the same way you sold your daughter. What lies and deals did Dimitri threaten to expose if you did not use your daughter to cover for his son?’ He watched her father grow pale as secrets were exposed and he clutched his hands to his chest, but it didn’t wash with Nico. ‘I am through speaking with you.’ He turned to Constantine, who stood in the middle, saw her tears, her pain, and just wanted her out of there, ‘Come with me,’ he said, because he wanted her home.
‘Talk to him, Connie,’ her mother pleaded. ‘Tell him how bad things will be for us if this ever gets out, tell him how bad things will look for his own son. Please, Connie …’
‘It’s Constantine,’ she corrected, because that was how he had found her. ‘And don’t try to use Leo to sway things. Nico will do what he feels he must, and I will support him.’
Paulo and Despina were waiting outside and, though they promised they would take care of her son, Nico thanked them instead and told Connie to bring him. She walked, carrying her son, through the streets and the life that had been denied them, but somehow they had found this life anyway.
‘What will you do?’ She was still worried for her father.
‘I will look for my brother.’
‘I’ll help you to find him.’ But he knew that was not all she had been asking and she was brave enough to voice it. ‘I cannot ask you to forgive my father when I don’t think I ever will be able to …’ She started to cry, because they had done things so terrible to the man she loved yet still they were her parents.
‘One day you will forgive.’ He took a deep breath. ‘As one day I hope I can forgive the people who I call my parents. I give you my word, I will never make you choose …’ She started to cry some more, but with a weak stream of relief, for it sounded as if there might be a future, but it all seemed too big. He held her in his arms, their son between them, and he was stronger.
So strong that he took the son he had feared loving and for the first time held him in his arms, felt the fear that came when you loved, but understood now the reward of it.
‘I came here to kill him, Constantine. I drove into town and I was raging …’ She knew that, had seen him leave, had spoken to the toll man, but she listened as he held her and breathed in every word he spoke.
‘I went to the taverna, to our taverna.’ And though they had never set foot in it together, as she looked up, her eyes told him she understood. ‘I walked past our places, the beach where we ate, to the bush where we kissed, and then I walked to your door to face your father … That should have been how it was,’ Nico said. ‘Had I lived here in Xanos, I would be asking him for your hand, you would have been my bride a long time ago, which should make me hate him even more.’ But walking that route, Nico had realised love was bigger, that somehow they were so meant to be, love had assured this moment. He knew that by hurting others he would hurt her, too, and he always kept his promise. ‘It is a measure of how much I care for you and Leo that I will not destroy him.’ And she started to cry again, only not with relief, because she knew how impossible those words she craved were for him—could see why he had not wanted love, for so many times it had been taken from him.
‘Tell me …’ she said, because she needed to hear those words. ‘Tell me you love me.’
‘I just did, I told you how much I care. Why make me say it? We both know …’ And then he took a breath and said the words he never had before and had never thought that he would. ‘I love you.’ He gave her a smile and one that was for only her, and he made her laugh on a day she had thought she never would, because, as he told her, there was also some good news.
‘We get,’ Nico whispered, ‘another wedding night, another night where you are my bride.’