he slid in, he glanced at her one last time. ‘Have fun revelling in your role of grieving widow. But when the crowd is gone and you think of reprising your other role, be sure to stay away from Macdonald Hall. Before the hour’s out, I intend to supply the management with your name and ensure you’re never allowed to set foot in there again.’
* * *
Fugue state.
Perla was sure that perfectly described her condition as she drifted through the wake, shaking hands, accepting condolences and agreeing that yes, Morgan had been a lovely man and a generous husband. On occasion, she even smiled at a distant uncle or great-aunt’s fond anecdote.
The part of her that had reeled at Ari Pantelides’s scathing condemnation an hour ago had long been suppressed under a blanket of fierce denial with Do Not Disturb signs hammered all over it.
At the time, she’d barely been able to contain the belief that he thought her some kind of scarlet woman or a trollop who frequented bars in the hope of landing a hot body for the night.
She audibly choked at the thought.
Mrs Clinton, who’d faithfully stuck by her side once they’d returned to the house she’d shared with Morgan and now shared with his parents, gave her a firm rub on the back. ‘You’re almost there, dear girl. Give it another half hour and I’ll start dropping heavy hints that you should be left alone. Enough is enough.’
She glanced at the old dear’s face. Perla had never confided the true state of her marriage with Mrs Clinton, or anyone for that matter. The very thought of it made humiliation rise like a tide inside her.
But she’d long suspected that the older woman somehow knew. Seeing the sympathy in her old rheumy eyes, Perla felt tears well up in hers.
Suddenly, as if the bough had broken, she couldn’t stop the tide of hot, gulping tears that rose from deep inside.
‘Oh, my dear.’ Warm arms hugged her, providing the solace she’d been so cruelly denied throughout her marriage. The solace she’d imagined she’d found in a luxury penthouse suite three days ago, but had turned out to be another cruel illusion.
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t...I didn’t mean to...’
‘Nonsense! You have every right to do whatever you want on a day like this. Propriety be damned.’
Hysterical laughter bubbled up from her throat but she quickly smothered it. When a glass containing a caramel-coloured liquid that smelled suspiciously like brandy appeared in front of her, she glanced up.
The exquisitely beautiful woman who’d introduced herself as Brianna Moneypenny, soon-to-be Brianna Pantelides, held out the drink, sympathy shining from her expertly made-up eyes.
Perla wiped her own eyes, acutely conscious that she was messing up the make-up she’d carefully applied to hide the shadows under her eyes.
‘Thank you.’
‘No need to thank me. I’ve helped myself to a shot too. This is the third funeral Sakis and I have attended in the last month. My emotions are beyond shredded.’ She sat down next to Perla, gracefully crossed her legs and offered a kind smile. ‘It’s nothing compared to what you must be feeling, of course, and if there’s anything we can do, please don’t hesitate to ask.’
‘I...thank you. And please extend my thanks to your fiancé and...and the other Mr Pantelides for taking the time to come...’ Perla’s voice drifted off, simply because she couldn’t think straight when her mind churned with thoughts of Arion Pantelides and the accusations he’d thrown at her. And even though she’d seen him get into his car, she couldn’t stop her gaze from scouring the room, almost afraid to find out if he’d returned to tear a few more strips off her.
‘Arion has left but I’ll let him know,’ Brianna said. A quick glance at her showed a sharp intellect that made Perla hope against hope that the other woman wasn’t putting two with two and coming up with the perfect answer.
As it was, Perla felt as if she had the dreaded letter A branded on her forehead.
‘Of course. I appreciate that he must be busy.’ She didn’t add that, in the light of what Morgan had done, they were the last people she’d expected to attend his funeral. Instead, she took a hasty sip of the brandy for much needed fortitude, and nearly choked when liquid fire burned down her throat.
‘Well, he is. But he volunteered to come down here when he thought Sakis couldn’t make it. And yet he seemed to have a bee in his bonnet about something. To be honest, it’s the first time I’ve seen him that ruffled.’ The speculation in her voice made Perla wish she’d worn her hair down to hide the colour rising in her face. ‘It was quite a sight to behold.’
‘Um, well...whatever it is, I hope he resolves it soon.’
‘Hmm, so do I—’
‘Brianna.’ Sakis Pantelides chose that moment to approach them and offer his own condolences. Perla fought to find the appropriate response despite the nerves tearing through her stomach.
Then she watched as he turned to his fiancée, his face transforming with a very visible devotion that made Perla’s heart lurch with jealousy and pain.
She’d long ago harboured hopes that someone would look at her like that. She’d foolishly believed that someone would be Morgan. Instead, he’d married her and blackmailed her into deceit and humiliation.
As an orphan, tossed from foster home to foster home all her childhood, she’d learned to mask the raw pain and despair of being the odd child that nobody wanted. But the hollow feeling in her belly had never gone away.
Meeting Morgan and suddenly finding herself the sole focus of his charm and wit had tricked her naïve self into believing she’d finally found someone who loved and cared for her, not out of duty, or because the state was paying them to do so, but because she was worth loving.
He’d roughly pulled the wool from her eyes within days of their wedding. But, even then, she’d foolishly believed she could salvage something from the only steady relationship she’d ever known. But weeks had dragged into months and months into years and by the time she’d accepted that she’d once again been cast aside, like a broken toy no one wanted to play with, it’d been too late to leave.
Her shaky breath drew glances from Sakis and Brianna but she couldn’t look them in the face. She’d revealed so much already. She feared opening her mouth would be catastrophic, especially as she could feel Sakis Pantelides’s keen gaze boring into her.
God, please don’t let him guess what I did with his brother.
‘I think it’s time we left Mrs Lowell in peace, Sakis,’ Brianna murmured.
Sakis nodded. ‘My lawyers will be in touch with the paperwork regarding your husband’s employment entitlements. But if you need anything in the meantime, please do not hesitate to get in touch.’
She glanced at him and immediately glanced away when his gaze narrowed.
He can’t know!
Panic clawed at her. Surely Arion hadn’t told him?
From
