A Shameful Consequence(49)

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 …’