His own family had been fractured at a young age, his siblings split up after his father’s death and farmed out to relatives, his mother working hard as a cleaner to keep body and soul together, and not much else. Family had never meant anything to him except inevitable disappointment, inherent rejection.
But this time it could be different. He certainly wouldn’t abandon Niko the way his parents had, in different ways, abandoned him and his siblings. Resolutely Alekos knocked on the door.
The housekeeper he’d met briefly last night answered it, her wrinkled face set into lines of obvious disapproval. She gave him a short nod. ‘Kyrie Demetriou.’
‘I am here to see Iolanthe and Niko.’
The woman pressed her lips together. ‘What business do you have with my mistress?’ she burst out and Alekos drew back, surprised and affronted by the temerity of the question.
‘I don’t believe that’s any of your concern.’
‘It is my concern because she is my mistress and she has been through enough these last ten years,’ the housekeeper declared. ‘You seem like you will only cause her yet more grief.’
‘I have no intention of doing anything of the sort,’ Alekos answered, although he was surprised and a little shaken by the housekeeper’s words. He realised how little he knew about Iolanthe’s marriage. She’d said she hadn’t loved Lukas, but had Lukas loved her? Or had it merely been a marriage of cold expediency—the boss’s daughter in exchange for accepting her bastard child? Alekos didn’t like to think of her marriage at all. Incredible that after a single night and ten years, he could feel so much as a twinge of jealousy.
Iolanthe met him in the drawing room where he’d seen her last night. Now, instead of looking casual and touchable in jeans and a lacy top, she wore a pair of tailored trousers and a high-necked blouse, clothes she clearly considered a defence against him. She’d drawn her hair back in a clip and although her lips were bright with lipstick her face looked pale. She was nervous, but then so was he. He was going to meet his son.
‘I’ve told Niko you’re a friend,’ she said without preamble. ‘For now. And that you’re interested in computers. He loves them.’
‘All right.’
Iolanthe clasped her hands together and met his gaze, her eyes bright with anxiety. ‘I told you he’s a bit different...’
‘I know.’ Alekos held up a hand. ‘Let me meet him, Iolanthe, and see and judge for myself.’
She nodded as she released a low breath. ‘Okay,’ she said, and bit her lip, still clearly nervous.
Alekos had the bizarre urge to comfort her, even hold her. He was amazed at how natural it would feel, to pull her into his arms and stroke her hair. To tell her it was going to be okay, that he would take care of her.
He shook his head to clear it of that unsettling impulse. He wanted to marry Iolanthe for Niko’s sake, but he didn’t want to care about her. He knew where indulging in that kind of emotion led. His only interest was in his son.
‘Where is he?’
‘Upstairs, on the computer. It’s probably best if we go up there.’
‘Very well.’
Once again they climbed the staircase, this time with bright sunlight pouring through the window. Alekos took the opportunity to examine what he saw of Iolanthe’s house, her life, but he couldn’t tell much from the tasteful prints on the walls or the antique furniture. It looked bland to him, the home of someone rich and important, nothing else.
‘Niko...?’ Iolanthe called as she knocked on the door of the room next to his bedroom. ‘Remember I told you Alekos was coming to meet you?’ Shooting a quick, anxious smile at Alekos, she pushed open the door and entered the room.
Alekos followed, his gaze arrowing in on the little boy who sat in front of a computer monitor, his expression closed and wary.
‘Hey.’ Iolanthe smiled and stepped aside so Alekos could come more fully into the room. ‘This is Alekos. A friend.’
Niko eyed Alekos silently. His eyes, Alekos saw with a jolt, were golden-brown, a similar colour to his own. He was slightly built, but then Alekos had been at that age as well. One hand rested possessively on the keyboard.
‘Did you know my father?’ he asked Alekos.
‘I knew of him, but we’d never really met.’ It took effort to keep his voice mild and friendly. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about Lukas.
‘You work with computers?’
‘Yes.’ Niko’s gaze flitted towards him and then away again, as if he was uncomfortable meeting Alekos’s eye. Alekos tried not to feel the sting of rejection. He was too emotional for this meeting, too raw. ‘Your mother told me you like computers?’
‘Yes.’ Niko had already turned back to the screen, clicking the mouse, having summarily dismissed Alekos.
‘Niko...’ Iolanthe began. ‘Alekos is here to talk to you...’
‘I don’t want to talk to him.’
Alekos drew his breath in sharply at such rudeness. Iolanthe, he saw, looked pained but not surprised. So his son was badly behaved.
‘He came all this way...’
‘I don’t want to.’ A new, sharper note had entered Niko’s voice and his hand clenched on the mouse. From across the room Alekos could see the tension in the little boy’s body; he was practically vibrating with it.
‘All right, Niko, all right,’ Iolanthe soothed. She threw Alekos an apologetic and faintly panicked glance. He felt as if he was missing part of the conversation; something was happening that he didn’t understand.
‘We can talk later,’ he offered, and Niko didn’t reply. He had started to rock a little back and forth, one skinny arm wrapped around his middle. Iolanthe stepped towards her son.
‘It’s okay, Niko. You don’t have to talk to anyone now.’ She put her hand on his shoulder and Niko flinched away.
‘Don’t.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Biting her lip, she withdrew. ‘I’ll come back later, okay?’
Niko didn’t respond. Iolanthe turned to Alekos and motioned for them both to go out of the room.
Alekos waited until they were back downstairs before he asked the question that was burning in his chest. ‘What’s wrong with him?’
‘Don’t say that.’ Iolanthe whirled around, her expression savage, her voice a crack of a whip that he hadn’t expected. Alekos blinked with the force of its sting.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...’
‘Yes, you did,’ she stated flatly. ‘Do you know how often I get that question? How people look at him?’ She drew a ragged breath and he realised she was near tears. He felt suddenly, overwhelmingly repentant.
