Sam Morton dealt her a hurt look that made her flush with discomfiture. ‘Even from me?’
‘When I walked into your office that day and saw Cristo standing there it was such a shock that I wasn’t exactly thinking straight,’ she said apologetically. ‘I’m sorry. Maybe I should have come clean afterwards but it was very awkward.’
‘No, you’re quite right. Your private life should be private. I assume it was Cristo you were working for in London?’
Erin nodded. ‘I resigned when we split up.’
‘I should have made that connection from your original CV. But Donakis let you down badly when you were pregnant,’ Sam completed drily.
‘There was a misunderstanding,’ Erin declared, her eyes evasive. ‘Cristo had no idea I was pregnant and there was no further communication between us.’
‘But you tried very hard to get in touch with him,’ Sam reminded her.
‘It was just one of those things, Sam.’
Sam’s nostrils flared. ‘So, he’s forgiven for putting you through hell.’
‘It’s not like that. Cristo knows about the children now and we’re trying to work through that as best we can.’
‘Are you getting involved with him again? No, scratch that!’ Sam advised abruptly. ‘I have no right to pry.’
Erin thought about Italy and screened her expressive eyes. ‘I don’t know how to answer that question—it’s complicated?’ she joked uneasily.
‘I hope it’s the right thing for you. I’d hate to see you unhappy again,’ Sam pronounced feelingly. ‘You gave Donakis one chance. Who’s to say he deserves another?’
Well, her mother for one thing, Erin reflected wryly as she caught up with her emails ten minutes later. In her mother’s eyes, Cristo had gone from being the most reviled womanising male in Europe to being a positive favourite. And all within the unlikely space of a mere ten days! His regular visits, his interest in the twins, his good manners, his tactful ability to defer to her mother’s greater knowledge when it came to the children, his insistence that Deidre Turner join them when they went out to eat had all had an effect. Cristo had shone like a star at every opportunity and was piling up brownie points like a miser with a barn full of treasure chests. Erin, on the other hand, was finding the new order confusing and hard to adapt to.
Cristo was no longer her lover. That weekend in Italy, that single night of passion, did in retrospect seem more like the product of her imagination than anything that had actually happened. Now Cristo visited their home to see Lorcan and Nuala and stayed in one of his newly acquired hotels when he was in the area. He was wary and deep down inside that fact hurt Erin. She could remember another Cristo, a guy who had raced through the door to greet her eagerly when he’d been away for a while, unashamedly passionate, openly demonstrative, not picking his words, not hiding behind caution. This new Cristo was older and much cooler. He was polite, even considerate, but reserved when it came to more personal stuff. Even the confidences he had unexpectedly shared with Erin in the park still troubled her.
His wife’s termination had deeply wounded Cristo and possibly made him think more deeply than many men about what a child might mean to him. Now Erin was seeing the results of that more solicitous outlook in practice, for Cristo undoubtedly wanted to do as much as possible to help her with their children. When he visited, he played with them, took them out with Erin in tow and had even helped to bathe them one evening after Erin fell asleep on the sofa after work. He was demonstrating that he could be a hands-on father and the kids were already very partial to his more energetic presence. Erin was impressed but more than a little concerned as to where all this surprising attention was likely to lead.
What did Cristo really want from her? Acceptance of his role? Could it be that simple? Could Cristo, for possibly the very first time in his life, be playing it straight? Or was there a darker, more devious plan somewhere in the back of his mind? Cristo Donakis did not dance to other people’s tunes. He always had an agenda. Unfortunately for Erin she was unable to work out what that agenda might be and what it might entail for her and her children. In addition she was especially worried that Cristo still harboured serious doubts about her honesty. It was time she tackled Sally Jennings, she reflected ruefully. Somehow she had to prove her innocence of theft. But would Sally even agree to speak to her? It occurred to her that it might well be wiser to arrive to see Sally at Cristo’s flagship London spa without a prior announcement of her intent. She decided to take a day’s leave and tackle Sally. Would she get anywhere? She didn’t know but it was currently the only idea she could come up with.
The phone by her bed rang at six the following morning and, ruefully knuckling the sleep from her eyes, Erin sat up in bed. ‘Yes?’
It was Cristo. ‘Erin?’
‘Why are you waking me up at this time of the morning?’
‘A deputy editor I’m friendly with has just called me with a tip-off. Apparently there’s a story in the pipeline about you, me and the twins. The publication he named is particularly sleazy so I don’t think the article will contain anything that your family or mine would want to read.’
Erin’s face froze. ‘But why? Who on earth would be interested in reading about us?’
‘Erin …’ Cristo sighed, mustering patience for he was more accustomed to dealing with people who took tabloid attention in their stride and even courted it for the sake of their careers or social status. ‘I’m a very wealthy man, recently divorced …’
Lorcan darted through the bedroom door, scrambled under the duvet with his mother and tucked cold feet against her slim thighs. His sister was only a few steps behind him.
Erin was squashed up against the wall as Nuala joined them in the bed. ‘If it’s true, if there is going to be a story, there’s nothing we can do to prevent it.’
‘Yes, there is,’ Cristo contradicted. ‘I can get you and the children out of that house and put you somewhere the paparazzi can’t get near you for a photo opportunity. Then I can organise a PR announcement concerning my new status as a father and, once that’s done, the press will lose interest.’
Erin breathed in deep. She certainly didn’t fancy the press on her doorstep, but she was much inclined to think that he was taking the matter too seriously. ‘Cristo, I have a job. I can’t just drop everything and disappear.’
‘Of course you can. You work for me now,’ he reminded her. ‘Pack. I’ll make the arrangements. A car will pick you up to take you to the airport.’
‘But I haven’t agreed yet.’
‘I will do whatever it takes to protect you and the twins from adverse publicity,’ Cristo cut in forcefully, exasperation lending his dark deep drawl a rougher edge. ‘I don’t want some innuendo-laden piece appearing in print about us.’
‘We had an affair. I got pregnant. It’s not that unusual—’
‘Trust me,’ Cristo breathed. ‘You’ll be accused of having been a married man’s mistress and that is not a possibility I want to appear in print.’
A flash of temper and distaste at that prospect rippled through Erin because that was also a humiliating label that she
