by Lynne Graham
Slowly, clumsily, Pixie got herself upright again and began to dry her hair. Apollo would be home in a couple of hours with the gynaecologist he was flying out from London with him and she refused to humiliate herself by behaving like an emotional wreck and letting him appreciate what a fool she had been where he was concerned. Her pride would never recover from such an exposure. And how could she have fallen madly in love with a male programmed from the outset to break her heart? How stupid was that?
And even worse she had that wretched party to get through. As if that was not enough Apollo had contrived to destroy Christmas for her as well for the two of them had been invited to celebrate Christmas with Vito and Holly in Tuscany. Of course she would cry off now. She had no plans to take the shine off the festivities by attending as a betrayed and broken-hearted wife, who had nowhere else to go over Christmas. Apollo would probably take Izzy Jerome with him instead. Of course, Izzy might not still be Apollo’s flavour of the month in three weeks’ time, she thought wretchedly. His interest in a woman rarely lasted that long.
Squeezing herself into a stretchy skirt, Pixie blinked back fresh tears. Why was she putting on weight so fast? According to what she had read she was supposed to be gaining weight very gradually, not piling it on as though she had been eating for an entire rugby team!
*
In London, Apollo paced beside his private jet while he spoke to Vito. Who could ever have guessed that marriage could be so stressful? His life pre-Pixie now seemed free as the air, a time of immaturity and egotism. Back then nothing had bothered him very much, not the scandals, not the grasping women, not even the horrendous rumours and gossip about his lifestyle. He hadn’t had to explain himself or defend his reputation to anyone because he truthfully hadn’t cared what anyone thought about him. It hadn’t mattered as long as he knew that he had done no wrong. But now he had Pixie and everything had changed out of all recognition. He had a wife who was pregnant and vulnerable and innately distrustful of him.
‘The way the paparazzi follow you around it was bound to happen,’ Vito contended. ‘And now that you’ve achieved your objectives and she’s pregnant…does it really matter?’
Pure rage slivered through Apollo. ‘If it hurts her, it matters,’ he breathed in a raw undertone. ‘Of course, it matters!’
‘You don’t sound quite as detached as you usually do,’ his friend commented.
‘Look, I’ll talk to you tomorrow,’ Apollo concluded, ending the call in sheer frustration.
Obviously, he wasn’t detached. He was in turmoil. He was thinking things he’d never thought. He was feeling things he had never allowed himself to feel and the result was a state of mind dangerously close to panic. He boarded the jet with the fancy gynaecologist and his small team, yet another source of worry to be dealt with. Dr Floros had suggested that he call in a consultant when Pixie’s blood tests had come back with an unexpectedly high count and the result had been forwarded to London. The scan would hopefully reveal whether or not there was any cause for concern. Apollo had persuaded the island doctor not to reveal that fact to Pixie in advance of the scan, lest it upset her, but he knew the older man was planning to share the result with her the following day.
When had his life become so impossibly complicated? An image of Pixie on their wedding day was superimposed over his troubled thoughts. But no, he reasoned, it had started even before then. From the very first day when she’d punched him Pixie had been different. She wasn’t impressed by him, she was never impressed by him…except occasionally in bed, he conceded abstractedly, a shadowy smile briefly relaxing the tense line of his sensual mouth.
Unlike other women, Pixie had only ever treated him as an equal. She judged him by the same rules she applied to everyone else. She didn’t make excuses for him or handle him with kid gloves. She didn’t believe that his vast wealth entitled him to special treatment. In fact she demanded more from him than any woman had ever demanded, only her currency of choice wasn’t cash or gifts. Apollo had learnt the hard way that cash or gifts were easy to give while everything else was a challenge demanding more than he was usually prepared to give.
During the flight random memories drifted through his mind. Pixie, grinning with triumph and punching the air after that insane dive she had made from the top deck of Circe. Pixie staring dreamily out to sea as the sun went down in splendour, saying, ‘You really don’t appreciate how lucky you are to see this every day.’ Pixie wandering round the picturesque narrow village streets on Nexos, admiring colourful flowerboxes, sleeping cats, starlit eyes wide with interest while she drank lemonade in the café overlooking the harbour and watched the fishermen bringing in their catch. She made everything fresh, Apollo acknowledged in growing bewilderment; she made him see things through less jaded eyes.
*
Pixie could feel her facial muscles lock as she descended the stairs to welcome the arrivals. She refused to look at Apollo but she was seethingly conscious of him standing back in a stylishly crumpled beige linen suit teamed with a white tee shirt. She showed the doctor, the technician and the nurse into the room where their equipment could be set up and Olympia brought a tray of tea and snacks out to the terrace for them.
‘Pixie…’ Apollo said then, having demonstrated unusual patience for such an impatient man. ‘Could I have a word?’
No, no way, she wanted to scream at him but she couldn’t let herself scream. There would be no discussion about Izzy Jerome or about the promise he had given about trying to stay faithful. What was done was done and there was really nothing more to say. All she had to do now was draw a line under their marriage as such and default to the useful guidelines printed in her pre-nuptial contract.
‘Your office,’ she suggested, stealing an involuntary glance at him.
He hadn’t shaved and he was still gorgeous. Dark stubble shadowed his strong jaw line and outlined his superbly kissable lips. His black hair was messy, his stunning green eyes glittering warily below his black velvet lashes. He was sexy as sin and a pang of wanton lust pierced her pelvis. Guilty colour washed her pallor away. He had cheated on her with a blonde beauty, so how could she still respond to him on a physical level? Self-loathing inflamed her while she picked her passage through the team of caterers fussing over the chairs that were being carried into the ballroom where the party would be held.
The mere prospect of the party made her grit her teeth. All those people would be attending primarily to see her in her role as the wife of Apollo Metraxis, people who would know he was already playing away with another woman, and yet Pixie would have to pretend that nothing was wrong because that was what she had agreed to do when she chose to marry him. Luckily pretending, however, would allow her to retain a certain dignity, she reminded herself doggedly.
Her visceral reaction was to scream, shout and claw at Apollo and from the curious glances he was angling at her she could see that a major scene was what he expected. But Pixie was determined not to lower herself to that level. Whatever else he was, Apollo was the father of her child and, whether she liked it or not, he would remain a feature of her life for many years in the future. She was determined not to embarrass herself in front of him by revealing that she had made the mistake of becoming emotionally involved.
‘I’m relieved that you’re giving us the chance to talk before Mr Rollins gives you the scan,’ Apollo murmured in an unusually quiet voice.
Was he ashamed? No, Apollo didn’t do shame or fidelity when it came to sex, she reasoned painfully. He was probably genuinely grateful that she wasn’t making a big scene.
Pixie stationed herself by the window that looked across the sloping gardens and over the top of the trees and out to sea. She steeled her spine. ‘I want us to separate—’
‘No,’ Apollo interrupted immediately.
‘It’s in the pre-nup agreement,’ Pixie reminded him. ‘Once I’m pregnant I can if I wish ask to live separately and I would like to return to the UK as soon as it can be arranged.’
>
Apollo was powerfully knocked off balance by that announcement. Yes, that was in the agreement because before he married her he had assumed that he would want his freedom back as soon as possible. Had ever a man been so bloody stupid and blind? he railed at himself in furious frustration. ‘That is exactly what I don’t want.’
Pixie rested icy grey eyes on his lean bronzed face. ‘I don’t care what you want.’
‘You’re not even giving me a chance to explain?’
‘No, that kind of discussion would challenge my ability to be civil to you,’ Pixie admitted hoarsely, because inside herself where it didn’t show she was breaking apart. She hated him and yet she still wanted to be near him. She loathed him for betraying her and yet her weak, wanton body still hummed in direct response to the insanely hot attraction he exuded. The very thought of not seeing Apollo again for months on end threatened to rip her into tiny pieces but she knew the difference between right and wrong and she knew what she had to do to restore the boundaries she needed to feel safe.
And she could never ever feel safe with an unfaithful man. It didn’t matter that it had only happened once, what mattered was that she had made the mistake of thinking of their marriage as a real marriage and now she was being destroyed because she loved him. But he hadn’t asked her for her love or her possessiveness and he had even warned her that fidelity would be a struggle for him. How far in those circumstances could she blame him for what he had done? She had fallen for him and that was her mistake, not his.
‘This is crazy…’ Apollo breathed with sudden rawness, big brown hands settling over her slight shoulders. ‘You won’t even look at me!’
‘I’m being polite.’
‘That isn’t you… I don’t know you like this!’ Apollo growled in frustration. ‘Shout at me, kick me…whatever!’
‘Why would I do that?’ Pixie forced a frozen little smile to her lips. ‘We’ve enjoyed a successful business arrangement. My brother is safe and learning how to live without gambling and I’m carrying a baby I want very much. Now you can return to the freewheeling life you prefer.’
Even though his temper was cruelly challenged by that speech, his big hands withdrew from her tense shoulders and dropped away to slowly ball into fists by his sides because he genuinely didn’t want to argue with her and upset her. ‘Mr Rollins should be ready for you now,’ he pronounced with savage quietness.
Pixie chewed at her full lower lip, blaming him for the fact that the scan she had been eager to have had now been horribly overshadowed by his betrayal and her heartbreak. But maybe seeing the shape of her baby on a screen would restore her and cure the agony clawing up inside her. It hurt so much not to have Apollo any more. It hurt not to be able to allow herself to touch him. But a kick, never mind a kiss, would have released the pent-up rage and hurt she was holding back.
She wanted to tell him that she had gone down to the animal rehabilitation centre on the outskirts of the village while he was away and had met the staff and occupants as well as spotting a little dog very similar to Hector. She had wanted to share that with Apollo but then she wanted to share everything with Apollo, had in fact got used to treating him like her best friend, and in the wake of his infidelity that was a really terrifying revelation. What had happened to her pride? But now she could feel the new distance forming inside her and she clung to that barrier in desperation.
Having set up the equipment, the nurse and the technician were ready to give Pixie her scan. She got up on the mobile examination table, rested her head back on the pillow and pushed down her skirt to expose her tummy while the consultant talked smoothly about what she could expect to see. He referred to her blood test, which surprised her. Clearly he had consulted the island doctor for that result and she wondered why.
The gel the technician put on her stomach was cool and she shivered, eyes flying wide when Apollo moved forward and closed a hand over her knotted fingers. The amazing racing sound of the baby’s heartbeat filled the silence and she smiled in sheer wonder. The wand moved and then the heartbeat surged again.
‘Two babies, Mrs Metraxis.’
‘Two?’ she echoed in astonishment.
‘Twins. I suspected a multiple pregnancy when I saw the results of your first blood test…’
Shocked, Pixie locked her eyes to the screen while the consultant outlined the shadowy forms of her children. Children, not one child as she had simply assumed. It was an enormous change to get her head around. She wondered if that explained the heavy nausea she was enduring and the physical changes that were already altering her body.
Apollo studied the screen in horror. Two of them? Two babies struggling to make space in Pixie’s tiny body? How could that be? That had to make everything more dangerous.
Pixie yanked her hand from Apollo’s because he was crushing her fingers. She glanced up at him, reading the raw tension etched in his hard features. He wasn’t pleased. But then why would he be? He had only needed one child and two would presumably be more hassle and expense. The nurse wiped off the gel and helped her back to her feet. She took a seat for yet another blood test and shut her eyes tight sooner than see the needle while Apollo took up position behind her and rested his hands down heavily on her shoulders.
She told the consultant about her frequent nausea. He explained that that could occur in a twin pregnancy and that it should settle down by the end of her first trimester, but that if it began to impact on her health she would need support. He mentioned that the twins each had their own placenta, which lessened the chance of complications. The information he gave her was very practical and Pixie was happy to thank him and leave while Apollo demonstrated a dismaying eagerness to stay behind and talk to the medical team.
Apollo’s blood had run cold throughout his entire body when the word ‘complications’ struck him like blow. He felt sick. Mr Rollins informed him unasked that sex was still perfectly fine. Ironically, Apollo had never felt less horny and he was suddenly feeling very guilty. If anything went wrong it would be his fault. He had planned this pregnancy, done everything possible to make it happen and now that he had he was discovering that he had hitched a ride on a rocket that he could no longer control. Not since his troubled childhood had he been made to feel so helpless. By the time the medical team departed on the helicopter to head back to the airport, Apollo was in a seriously sombre mood.
Pixie settled down happily with a pot of tea on the shaded terrace with Hector at her feet. Two babies, my goodness, weren’t they going to be a handful? She was in shock but, after hearing her babies’ heartbeats, she was excited and pleased as well. She sipped her tea and wondered if the twins would be identical or non-identical and whether they would be boys or girls or even one of each. It was a huge relief to have something other than Apollo to think about.
Apollo strode out onto the terrace and surveyed her. ‘I can’t let you leave me,’ he intoned grimly. ‘I have to be part of this. They are my children too. I need to be sure you’re healthy and looking after yourself.’
‘What about what I need?’ Pixie countered, eyes narrowing as she looked back at him because he was standing in sunlight, tall and bronzed and muscular as a god in stature and so beautiful he didn’t seem quite real to her.
‘You need my support.’
‘No, I don’t. I’ve been independent all my life,’ Pixie traded without hesitation.
Apollo leant back against the low wall separating the terrace from the garden and tossed a squeaky toy at Hector, who bounded after it with glee. ‘I don’t want you to be independent.’
‘Tough. We made a business arrangement,’ Pixie reminded him. ‘Getting pregnant is my get-out-of-jail-free card and I’m playing it.’
‘You’re being unreasonable.’
‘I love the island. I like my life here but this is your house, your island and I don’t want to live in your house on your island,’ Pixie explained without apology.
Apollo breathed in slow and deep and practised a patienc
e that he was in no way accustomed to practising. ‘We’ll discuss it after the party tomorrow.’
Her life had fallen apart, Pixie thought, suddenly losing the high of finding out that she was carrying two babies. She was about to become a single mum, which most poignantly was something she had once sworn she would never be. But that was life, she told herself, knocking you back on your heels and changing things without warning. And she would be a liar if she argued that she couldn’t have foreseen the breakdown of their marriage. After all, that breakdown had been foreseen in the pre-nuptial agreement she had signed and all the conditions for that breakdown laid out in advance. She had read the terms and she had even read the small print. She knew that she had rights and that Apollo couldn’t ignore them.
Apollo crossed the tiles towards her and studied her with gorgeous glittering green eyes. ‘I don’t want this marriage to end. I don’t want a divorce,’ he declared. ‘I don’t want you to leave Nexos either.’
After a noisy pummelling session with his squeaky toy, Hector sneaked across the floor and hovered uneasily near Apollo’s feet before he gingerly dropped the toy there. Muttering something shaken in Greek, Apollo stilled and then he bent, scooped it up and threw it and Hector went careening after it. ‘He brought the toy to me. He finally brought it to me!’ he exclaimed in amazement.
‘I never said my dog had good taste,’ Pixie remarked, in no mood to be captivated.
*
The following morning, the day of the party, Pixie was following her usual routine of being horrendously sick when Apollo joined her in the bathroom. ‘Go away!’ she shrieked furiously.
‘No, this is my business,’ Apollo declared, crouching down to loop her hair out of the way and support her.
