don’t do laundry,’ he said.
‘Clearly,’ Connie said as she dragged out the ironing board.
‘You want to be a martyr …’ He shrugged. ‘Go ahead.’
And she didn’t want to be a martyr so, for the first time, rather than ironing them, she put away the board and she just folded them instead.
‘Rebel,’ Nico said, glancing up, and she felt something she hadn’t in a very long time—a move on the edge of her lips that was almost a smile as she left the wretched laundry and sat on the only seat left in the kitchen, the one on the sofa beside him. It was horribly awkward, staring ahead at the news when she wanted to turn and stare at him, wanted to talk, but scared what might come out if she did.
‘Why don’t you go to bed?’ Nico suggested. ‘While he sleeps, shouldn’t you rest?’
‘I shall go to bed as soon as you’ve gone.’
‘Oh, I’m going nowhere,’ Nico said. ‘I’m not givingyou a chance to come up with a million reasons why you can’t leave in the morning. I’m staying right here.’
‘What about your hotel room? What about—?’
But Nico wasn’t going to argue. ‘Go to bed.’
And she sat there.
‘Go on,’ he said, and her face burnt, and she bit back tears. Neither victim nor martyr did she want to be, but dignity was sometimes hard to come by.
‘You’re sitting on it.’
And to his credit he said nothing, did not act appalled, just headed over to the kitchen and prepared the second cup of instant coffee he had ever had in his life, then perched himself on the barstool.
‘There is a bedroom.’ She felt the need to explain. ‘It’s just Henry moans if …’ she hesitated a moment ‘ … the baby starts crying. He can’t hear so much if we are down here.’
And there was the longest pause so he was determined not ask, but more than that, he wanted to know. ‘What’s his name?’
‘Leo,’ Connie said, and swallowed, because by tradition he should be Vasos after Nico’s father, and though she had ached to name him Nico, it would have been too much of a constant reminder, so instead she had named him Leo, for it was in August that he had been made.
‘Sleep,’ he ordered, and she unravelled a blanket.
And she tried to sleep.
Turned her back on him and faced the faded patternof the sofa, tried not to think about the man in the room and that tomorrow she would leave here with him.
Tried not to fathom her scary future.
Because, even with Nico’s offer, the future was scary. Scarier, in fact, than going it alone, because the truth would out—deep down she knew that.
She was just in no position to run from it.
CHAPTER NINE
S URPRISINGLY , she slept.
Despite his presence, despite her anxiety about the next day, with Nico in the room, a strong, quiet presence, somehow her exhausted mind stilled. Somehow she fell asleep to the whir of the tumble dryer and washing machine and did not think about what the next day would bring.
Even in the night, when her baby awoke, Constantine hardly did. Nico watched in silence as, surely more asleep than awake, she dragged herself from the sofa at Leo’s first murmur, crossed the dark room and changed her child then went back to the sofa with him. She curled on her side, hardly a word spoken, just a hush to her baby and then the sound of him feeding, and after a while, when the room was silent, he watched her sleepwalk her baby back to his crib. It happened again early in the morning, but this time the feed was interrupted by the incessant demands of the old man.
‘I could go up for you?’ Nico offered, the third time she dashed to the stairs.
‘And scare the life out of him.’
He was more tempted than she could know, but he held onto his temper. Nico even sat quietly while Constantine rang the employment agency, watching her fingers rake through her long hair as she explained that today she would be leaving.
‘Next week?’ Connie said, and Nico’s jaw tightened and she knew, just knew, he was about to take
‘Clearly,’ Connie said as she dragged out the ironing board.
‘You want to be a martyr …’ He shrugged. ‘Go ahead.’
And she didn’t want to be a martyr so, for the first time, rather than ironing them, she put away the board and she just folded them instead.
‘Rebel,’ Nico said, glancing up, and she felt something she hadn’t in a very long time—a move on the edge of her lips that was almost a smile as she left the wretched laundry and sat on the only seat left in the kitchen, the one on the sofa beside him. It was horribly awkward, staring ahead at the news when she wanted to turn and stare at him, wanted to talk, but scared what might come out if she did.
‘Why don’t you go to bed?’ Nico suggested. ‘While he sleeps, shouldn’t you rest?’
‘I shall go to bed as soon as you’ve gone.’
‘Oh, I’m going nowhere,’ Nico said. ‘I’m not givingyou a chance to come up with a million reasons why you can’t leave in the morning. I’m staying right here.’
‘What about your hotel room? What about—?’
But Nico wasn’t going to argue. ‘Go to bed.’
And she sat there.
‘Go on,’ he said, and her face burnt, and she bit back tears. Neither victim nor martyr did she want to be, but dignity was sometimes hard to come by.
‘You’re sitting on it.’
And to his credit he said nothing, did not act appalled, just headed over to the kitchen and prepared the second cup of instant coffee he had ever had in his life, then perched himself on the barstool.
‘There is a bedroom.’ She felt the need to explain. ‘It’s just Henry moans if …’ she hesitated a moment ‘ … the baby starts crying. He can’t hear so much if we are down here.’
And there was the longest pause so he was determined not ask, but more than that, he wanted to know. ‘What’s his name?’
‘Leo,’ Connie said, and swallowed, because by tradition he should be Vasos after Nico’s father, and though she had ached to name him Nico, it would have been too much of a constant reminder, so instead she had named him Leo, for it was in August that he had been made.
‘Sleep,’ he ordered, and she unravelled a blanket.
And she tried to sleep.
Turned her back on him and faced the faded patternof the sofa, tried not to think about the man in the room and that tomorrow she would leave here with him.
Tried not to fathom her scary future.
Because, even with Nico’s offer, the future was scary. Scarier, in fact, than going it alone, because the truth would out—deep down she knew that.
She was just in no position to run from it.
CHAPTER NINE
S URPRISINGLY , she slept.
Despite his presence, despite her anxiety about the next day, with Nico in the room, a strong, quiet presence, somehow her exhausted mind stilled. Somehow she fell asleep to the whir of the tumble dryer and washing machine and did not think about what the next day would bring.
Even in the night, when her baby awoke, Constantine hardly did. Nico watched in silence as, surely more asleep than awake, she dragged herself from the sofa at Leo’s first murmur, crossed the dark room and changed her child then went back to the sofa with him. She curled on her side, hardly a word spoken, just a hush to her baby and then the sound of him feeding, and after a while, when the room was silent, he watched her sleepwalk her baby back to his crib. It happened again early in the morning, but this time the feed was interrupted by the incessant demands of the old man.
‘I could go up for you?’ Nico offered, the third time she dashed to the stairs.
‘And scare the life out of him.’
He was more tempted than she could know, but he held onto his temper. Nico even sat quietly while Constantine rang the employment agency, watching her fingers rake through her long hair as she explained that today she would be leaving.
‘Next week?’ Connie said, and Nico’s jaw tightened and she knew, just knew, he was about to take
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