Sarah Morgan - One Night...Nine-Month Scandal

‘Why did you sell my ring?’

‘Why did you leave me on our wedding day?’

He inhaled sharply. ‘I’ve told you.’

‘You were doing me a favour—yes, I heard you. You have a warped sense of what constitutes generous behaviour.’

For once he seemed to be struggling to find the right words. ‘It was difficult for me.’

‘Tell me about it. On second thoughts, don’t bother. I don’t even want to know.’ Kelly decided that she couldn’t bear to hear him list all the reasons she was wrong for him. Couldn’t bear to hear him compare her to the skinny, sophisticated blonde she’d seen in the magazine. ‘Come in, if you must. I’ll get the ring and then you can go.’

He stood still, immovable. ‘I know I hurt you—’

‘Gosh, you’re quick, I’ll give you that.’ Kelly snatched the keys back from him and opened her door. She wished he’d just give up and go away, but Alekos didn’t give up, did he? It was that unstoppable tenacity that had made him into the rich, powerful man he was. He didn’t see obstacles; he had a goal and he pursued it, ploughing down everything in his path if necessary. Yet he was praised as a truly innovative businessman with inspirational leadership-skills. And as for his skills as a lover…

Refusing to think about that, Kelly pushed open her front door, wincing slightly as the door jammed on a pile of magazines. ‘Sorry.’ She shoved at the door. ‘I’ve been trying to throw them away.’

‘Trying?’

Kelly stiffened defensively. ‘I find it hard, throwing things away. I’m always scared I’ll get rid of something I might want.’ Stooping, she gathered the magazines, looked hesitantly at the recycling box and then put them back down on the floor. ‘And some of these magazines have some really interesting articles I might want to read again some day.’

Alekos was looking at her intently, as if she were a fascinating creature from another planet. ‘You always did drop everything where you stood.’ The faint amusement in his eyes was the final straw.

‘Yes, well, none of us are perfect, and at least I don’t deliberately try and hurt people,’ Kelly snapped—then gasped in horror as he smacked his forehead hard on the doorframe. ‘Oh—mind out! Poor you—are you OK? Are you hurt? I’ll get you some ice.’ Sympathy bubbled over until she remembered she wasn’t supposed to feel sympathy for this man. ‘These cottages are old. You need to bend your head coming through there.’

Rubbing his fingers over his bronzed forehead, he grimaced. ‘You need to warn people before they knock themselves unconscious.’

‘It’s not a problem for anyone under six foot.’

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