An expectant hush fell over the crowd. Gemma started to walk to the wings, still facing the audience, waving, smiling until her cheeks hurt. The crowd started to buzz.

She turned to see what had caught their attention.

Angelo was on stage, coming towards her, his arms filled with a huge bouquet of red roses.

Joy twisted through her.

And then she remembered. This tribute was meant for Stella. Not her.

Stella’s red roses.

Meaningless. Nothing to do with love. Nothing more than a goodwill gesture of appreciation.

Angelo reached her. He held a microphone in one hand. “That was a marvellous performance.” The audience erupted into a burst of clapping. “Yesterday, I asked Gemma Allen to be my wife. Now, I’d like you all to celebrate her answer with me.”

He held the microphone towards her.

The silence was absolute. The audience waited. Angelo, waited, his body taut.

Gemma gave him a despairing glance. What was she to say? How could she marry a man who took mistresses rather than a wife? A man who didn’t-would never-love her?

Then a woman in the front row jumped up. “Say yes, Gemma.”

Startled Gemma squinted into the lights. The woman was unfamiliar, blonde. She smiled, gave her a little wave.

“Ignore my mother,” Angelo murmured.

“Your mother?”

Her voice boomed out over the microphone. Gemma blushed as the audience tittered. Out of the darkness came an indecipherable bit of advice.

Gemma ignored it.

She knew what she was going to do.

She was going to marry Angelo. For the sake of her baby. And for her sake…because she loved him.

“Yes.” Her voice was strong and clear and the crowd whooped.

Then the roses fell from her grasp as Angelo swept her up into his arms, his mouth meeting hers in a kiss that held hunger and a touch of desperation.

Gemma wasn’t acting as she grasped his shoulders and gave the best-and most public-performance of her life.

There was a Christmas party after the show. Lucie came rushing over with a tray of glasses filled with champagne as soon as she and Angelo arrived. Gemma laughed. “You’re making me feel quite the celebrity.”

“You are! You are! How could you keep-” Lucie flashed a sideways glance at Angelo “-such a secret from me?”

Angelo grinned. “I only asked her to marry me yesterday. I wasn’t going to give her a chance to say no.”

“Really? You railroaded her in front of all those people. Oh, naughty man.”

Even Gemma laughed at Lucie’s antics. And Angelo held her close to his side, his grip possessive, his hand heavy on her hip. For a while Gemma started to think that this could work, that even though he didn’t love her, her love…and the baby…would be enough to meld them together.

Angelo went to fetch her a drink and Mark materialized at her side. “Your worry that the crowd would be disappointed by Stella’s absence was all for nothing. Angelo’s proposal gave them a once-in-a-lifetime show.”

Gemma smiled at him. “At least the fans weren’t disappointed.” But it set her thinking. Had Angelo thought of it as a publicity stunt? She didn’t think so. Her experience of him revealed an intensely private man, who as much as he liked a gorgeous woman by his side, treated that woman like a goddess. He was far kinder, far more complex than she’d expected.

The Angelo she’d read about in the gossip columns was not the kind of man who would’ve married his pregnant mistress, and she struggled a little with the vast dichotomy between the playboy public profile and the complex man she’d come to love.

It wasn’t long before he returned. But he wasn’t alone. “My mother, Connie.”

Gemma’s eyes widened as she took in the slim, tanned woman. Connie looked liked she’d just stepped out of a beauty salon. Immaculate. Tanned. Not a hair out of place. And she certainly didn’t look old enough to be Angelo’s mother.

“Hello.” Gemma smiled uncertainly.

“I am thrilled to meet you. Angelo told me all about you.”

Gemma shot Angelo a questioning look. How much had he told his mother? Not everything, she hoped.

“I met your sister, once, briefly. The resemblance is remarkable.”

So Angelo must have told his mother about her deception. “We were very close-even though we had little in common.”

“Except my son.”

“Mamma.” Angelo’s tone was furious. Gemma was too embarrassed to even look at him.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Connie’s hand covered her mouth, her nails perfectly manicured. “I can’t ever seem to keep my thoughts to myself.”

Angelo’s eyes were clouded as he said, “But you can try. At least until Gemma gets to know you a little better.”

“I’m sorry, Gemma. Forgive me?” Connie’s long manicured nails rested against her arm. “Come, let’s sit down somewhere, the three of us. You can tell me about the names you are thinking of for the baby.”

So Angelo had told his mother about the pregnancy, as well. His mother seemed to have taken it well. No drama about a grandchild ageing her. Gemma let out a sigh of relief. On the plus side it looked like her future mother-in-law was totally without guile.

“Angelo, a glass of champagne for me please, and-” she turned “-what would you like, Gemma?”

“Water would be fine.”

“Make it Perrier, my son.” When Angelo wound his way into the throng she said, “Tell me about New Zealand. I have never been there. Are the men good-looking?”

Gemma laughed. They chatted for a while, Angelo brought their drinks and joined them for a while before he was dragged away by a staff member to welcome a big spender who had flown in to try out the Apollo Club and heard about the Christmas party.

“I’m thrilled Angelo is getting married. He always said he never would.”

“It’s the baby-I don’t think he would’ve married me otherwise.” What was the point of hiding why Angelo had proposed?

“So you are aware that Angelo is illegitimate?”

“Yes.” Gemma reached out to touch Connie’s hand. “But you don’t have to-”

“I do. You need to understand the man you’re marrying.” Connie sighed. “His father was a handsome man, an entertainer, a singer of love songs. I fell in love with him. He was charming…a show man. I was eighteen. An heiress. Too sheltered. I became his mistress. Within the first month I was pregnant. The relationship did not last. I came home to Athens, to my disappointed parents.

“My father arranged a marriage for me to Mario Apollonides. To give the baby a name. My father built the house on Strathmos for me and my son and my new husband. The truth was hushed up. But, of course, there were rumours and lots of speculation. Too many people knew about my passion for Angelo’s real father. Needless to say, the marriage lasted less than five years. So you see, my dear, why my son would never marry a woman just to give a baby a name.”

Gemma stared at Connie. What was Connie telling her? Was there another reason why Angelo had proposed? He’d insisted that no child of his would grow up a bastard. Was Connie mistaken? Why would Angelo lie?

“Nor did my staying secluded on the island work,” Connie continued. “Before long, I’d met another man-a business associate of my father, a millionaire. I became his mistress.”

“And what of Angelo?”

“He stayed on the island…with his governess. When he was old enough I sent him to an English boarding school to get him out of the fishbowl that Greek society is. My father wanted Angelo to live with him, in Athens. But he already had another boy in his care, Zac. I was afraid that Angelo would grow up in his shadow.”

Gemma remembered Angelo speaking of school, of the isolation. “He was a long way from home.”

“Yes. It was hard for him, of course, coming from such a prominent family. I was linked through his school years with quite a few high-profile men.”

Angelo would’ve hated that. But it explained his attraction to glamourous, sophisticated women who wouldn’t demand more than he was prepared to give. Emotionally or by way of permanent commitment.

And his love-them-leave-them image was born.

“And being illegitimate made it worse. Once, when he was about six he asked me why I hadn’t married his real father. I told him I’d made a mistake, met the wrong man. But that I needed to get married, because society demanded it. He told me that he wouldn’t make a mistake like that, he would never marry the wrong person.”

Gemma stared at his mother.

So why had Angelo told her he wanted to marry her for the sake of the baby? Angelo was so self-contained, how was she going to find out?

Gemma was no closer to an answer when Christmas Day finally dawned.

By the time she’d dressed, the rain had set in, echoing her pensive mood, bringing back memories of Mandy’s tragic death. She made her way through to the kitchen and stopped in astonishment at the sight of Angelo preparing breakfast.

“Merry Christmas.” He grinned at her and leaned over to kiss her cheek. He looked so happy and relaxed that her own mood started to lift. “My mother called, she will join us for lunch-that gives us some time alone. The coffee is already on the go and the table has been laid.”

They ate a breakfast of thick Greek yogurt and honey and fruit topped off with fried eggs and bacon. Afterwards they took their coffee mugs through to the lounge and settled beside the Christmas lights. Christmas…Gemma closed her eyes and thought briefly of Mandy.

Be happy for me, sister.

When she opened them, the lights on the tree winked at her, as if to say Mandy had heard her plea. Thank you.

When she looked up Angelo stood in front of her holding a gaily wrapped parcel. Gemma was relieved that she’d had the foresight to purchase a book on Greek legends for Angelo for Christmas.

She unwrapped his gift and took out the beautiful silk sarong. “It’s beautiful,” she mouthed.