The Greek’s Hidden Vows by Maya Blake

CHAPTER TEN

ALEXISDRESSEDFORCostas’s party with equal parts anticipation and dread. Luckily for her, the dread had been given little room to grow over the past few days, but especially in the frenzied hours leading up to the festivities.

Nevertheless, she’d caught herself in quiet moments wondering if, despite all the precautions she’d taken, she’d set herself up for a life-shattering heartache. One set to surpass the last disastrous episode, which now seemed such a non-starter compared to what she had with Christos.

And what did she have, exactly?

Those searing, portentous moments of dread quickly dissipated when he pulled her into his arms in their bed at night. And, as much as she knew she was sinking deeper into whatever this emotional quagmire was, she’d welcomed him. Craved his lovemaking. While clinging on to the belief that things would go back to normal when they left the island.

Except...

Normal didn’t appeal any more. Normal came with a Christos-shaped hole that—

‘Are you ready, matia m—’

She spun around at his voice, then froze at the look in Christos’s eyes as he stood in the doorway to her dressing room. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘You look...stunning,’ he said, his voice hoarse and his attention...transfixed.

Alexis couldn’t stop her smile or the pleasure that filled her heart. The dove grey dress edged with silvery crystals was a halter-neck design that moulded her figure from chest to thighs before dropping in an eye-catching fall of silver sequins at her feet. ‘Then I guess the dress is doing its job.’

His lips twisted and he moved with a quiet urgency towards her. ‘It’s not the dress. It’s the woman inside it.’

‘I...thank you.’

His nostrils flared then, as if breathing her in. ‘A woman I want to be inside right now,’ he added thickly, one hand reaching out to cup her nape.

‘Christos...’

He lowered his head, brushed his lips over hers. ‘Thee mou, I don’t know why you do this to me,’ he muttered, his voice almost bewildered.

One small part of her leapt in delight, while the other wondered where her willpower had gone. Why she continued to stand there, an open flower absorbing the power of his sun without caring if she got burned.

Because she would get burned. That note in his voice that questioned his own craving of her was a warning not to hope. But he was cupping her shoulders, drawing her to him with ruthlessly carnal intent that made her tremble from head to toe.

‘I want you,’ he growled against her lips.

‘Christos...we need to be—’

‘Nowhere but here right now. I need to be inside you.’

The raw words sent another hot shudder through her. And when he walked her back against the cool wall of her dressing room, she was his willing captive. When he drew up her dress and tore off her panties, she lost the ability to think. ‘Hold up your dress for me, agapita.’

Her hands shook as she complied. And between one breath and the next, his trousers were undone, her legs were around his waist and he was driving hot and hard and mind-melting inside her.

His mouth covered hers and their tongues commenced a decadent rhythm to match the one due south. Then, their movement catching the corner of her eye, Alexis twisted her head. Christos followed her gaze and, together, they watched in the mirror as he thrust into her over and over.

But underneath the wicked hedonism of it, she caught something in her own eyes, something that went far beyond desire. Something sacred and precious she should’ve kept concealed but was now out in the open. So she quickly shut her eyes. When she exploded, her scream was muffled by his kiss, followed by the hoarse groan of his own release, before their urgent pants filled the room.

He lowered her to her feet and she was still coming down from the addictive high when she felt a cool touch against her throat. Her gaze dropped to see brilliant gems gleaming in his hand. Her breath caught as he fastened the diamond necklace around her neck, trailed a string of kisses along her jaw, before rasping in her ear, ‘This is what I came to give you.’

With her hair up in an elaborate knot the stylist had spent almost an hour on, her neck was exposed to highlight the magnificence of the diamond choker. ‘Oh, it’s beautiful.’ Her fingers shook as she reached up to touch it. But then the realisation of how deeply she was being drawn into this altered reality hit her hard. ‘But I can’t accept it. It’s...it’s too much.’

Displeasure hardened his eyes as he slid his semi-hard erection out of her. ‘You’re my wife. It will be expected.’

That hollow space inside that had never quite gone away expanded, and hurt poured in. The kind of hurt she knew she only had herself to blame for. ‘Of course, how silly of me to think it would be for any other reason. Well, since you put it that way, how can I refuse?’

He heard the bite in her voice and his eyes narrowed. ‘You can’t.’

He remained where he stood after rearranging his clothes back into pristine sophistication, blocking out her light, filling every corner of her senses. She needed a moment...several...to recentre herself after yet another emotional roller coaster. ‘Is that all?’

‘Alexis—’

‘We were already late before you came in. I think we’re now in danger of giving fashionably late a bad rep. I need to refresh my make-up. Not to mention the underwear you ripped off.’ Her face flamed as she said the last words, and she forbade herself from looking down, from giving substance to the reality of her shredded weakness.

For an eternity, he stared at her. Then he stepped back. ‘I’ll see you in the living room in five minutes.’

She watched him walk away, a new sensation of being in free fall with no parachute assailing her. She tried to push it out of her mind as she dug out fresh underwear, repaired her make-up and, after a few deep breaths that did nothing to restore her composure, ventured out to join Christos.

He stood with his back to the room, his gaze on the sleek yachts that had started arriving two hours ago. From the buzz around the villa, she knew they belonged to extended family and Costas’s close friends. The remaining guests had started steadily arriving half an hour ago.

Christos whirled at her approach, his gaze sweeping over her. It lingered at her hips and then he nodded and wordlessly held out his arm.

He didn’t speak, and she was too wrapped up in containing her dread and hurt, as they made their way downstairs and out to the west terrace where the party was under way.

The hundred-strong crowd turned in near-unison when they appeared, then the murmurs surged as, one by one, sharply suited men and their stunningly bejewelled women approached to greet Christos and his hitherto unknown bride.

Normally, Alexis trusted herself on her ability to retain names and details, but after what had happened upstairs, and the ever-intensifying sensation that she might be falling in love with Christos, she soon gave up any hope of recollection.

They finally reached the guest of honour and Alexis withstood his long enigmatic scrutiny with a tingling sensation before reaching down to brush a kiss on Costas’s cheek. ‘Happy birthday, Costas.’

He smiled when she straightened. ‘Ne, it’s turning out to be,’ he said cryptically, before turning to his grandson. Their conversation was conducted in Greek before he was drawn away by a small party of guests.

About to ask Christos as he handed her a glass of champagne what had just happened, she stopped when a man materialised in front of them.

He was short and stout, older by about a decade than Christos, but his sour expression nevertheless bore the Drakakis stamp. Accompanying him was a tall statuesque blonde, with overplumped lips and a bust that defied gravity. ‘Ah, Christos. Kind of you to grace us with your presence. I was beginning to think Costas’s mind was playing tricks on him when he said you were here.’

Outwardly, Christos remained unruffled, but the arm beneath hers stiffened. ‘There’s nothing wrong with his memory, Georgios,’ Christos answered and only a fool would’ve failed to catch the sharp warning in his tone.

Georgios raised his free hand in an exaggerated show of surrender. ‘Of course, of course,’ he said without any hint of remorse, then he turned to Alexis. ‘I’m Georgios Pantelli. This is my wife, Arianna. And this must be your elusive bride, Christos.’

Alexis held out her hand. ‘I’m Alexis. Good to meet you.’

Georgios held back from taking it a fraction of a second longer, enough to make her aware of the snub, before taking her hand in his faintly clammy one. His wife’s handshake was equally limp, her eyes mildly hostile as they held Alexis’s.

‘What a vision you are,’ Georgios said. ‘Were it not for my own stunning wife, I would think Christos was hiding you away because he’s afraid of the competition.’

‘I see you continue to set far too high a premium on your own importance, cousin,’ Christos bit out.

For a flash of time, Georgios’s eyes turned flinty. Then he was back to pretended suaveness and affability. He even threw in a belly laugh, attracting several gazes. ‘I have missed our little banters, cousin.’ He stepped closer, grabbed Christos’s arm then, in a low tone, added, ‘I have also not forgotten that while you may have had Costas’s attention as a child, it and Drakonisos is now mine, because I have proved myself whereas you have not.’

Christos bared his teeth in a semblance of a smile as he disengaged himself, a leonine action that sent shivers down her spine. ‘And how do you imagine you have done that?’

Georgios stepped back, all but preening as he adjusted his lapel. ‘I see you’re out of the loop yet again. Costas is craving a child or two from the next generation to run around this place. And I have a feeling the first one of us to provide him with one will get Drakonisos. And tomorrow morning, I will be proudly informing him that my wife is to bless me with a child in six months’ time. So, you see, I win.’

Several things happened in the next minute.

Christos turned statue-still beside her, his face bleeding several shades of colour. At the same time, Alexis’s mind spun a thousand miles an hour. Specifically, to the morning after their night in the cave. Then fast forwarded to tonight, that hedonistic episode in her dressing room.

Two occasions passion had completely engulfed them.

Two occasions they’d failed to use protection.

Grey eyes turbulent with shock and disbelief swivelled towards her. Then his expression slowly morphed to one of dread.

Her belly fell into a steep dive, just as another man approached. The muted roar in her ears made her miss the upsurge of the crowd’s murmuring. But as she fought to reassure herself nothing was wrong, that her utter foolishness couldn’t...wouldn’t be repaid with another life-altering consequence, the present arrived in a rush, and she felt Christos grow even stiffer beside her.

Alexis focused every last ounce of attention on the approaching man.

From the marked resemblance, he had to be Christos’s father.

Father and son stared at one another for a tight moment before, jaw clenched tight, Christos said, ‘What do you want?’

Bleakness flashed across the older man’s face before it turned as neutral as his son’s. ‘To have a cordial conversation. It is a party, after all.’

If anything, the icy anger vibrating off Christos multiplied by a thousand. ‘Cordial?’ he bit out. ‘I highly recommend you double-check the definition of the word before you apply it to yourself, Pateras.’

A tight little smile curved his father’s lips. ‘At least you still call me Father. I suppose that is a small blessing.’ His gaze shifted to her, then back to his son. ‘Are you going to introduce me?’ he asked.

Tense silence fell. Then, ‘No.’

His father’s gaze returned to hers. ‘I’m Agios.’

Once again she found herself holding out her hand to a relative of Christos’s she wasn’t sure she liked very much. ‘Alexis... Drakakis,’ she added at the last moment, the weight of it shaking through her.

This time she felt a different energy emanating from Christos. Felt his ferocious gaze on her face for one monumental second before he faced his father again. ‘You’ve made a show of yourself to the crowd. Feel free to leave.’

A hard, combative light filled his father’s eyes, then it died just as swiftly, leaving him a shadow of himself. ‘Five years I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me. I’d hoped tonight you would spare me a few minutes.’

That bit of news surprised Alexis. Everything she’d learnt of Agios so far had suggested father and son were mutually estranged. A quick glance showed Christos’s granite-hard face gave no indication of softening. ‘You were wrong. Excuse us.’

The fingers linking hers were stiff, his grip tight. Reeling from the twin bombshells, she allowed Christos to march her away, her surroundings blurring as stomach-hollowing possibilities filled her mind.

Once again she found her back pressed against a wall, a short distance away from the party. But where there’d been torrid passion in his face, now there was a rabid watchfulness, as if he wanted to mine the answers from every hidden corner inside her.

‘Is there something we need to talk about?’ he breathed. The same energy vibrating through him, the one that felt like a mixture of earthquake, lightning and nuclear explosion held together by the thinnest rope, unravelled inside her.

Her eyes darted over the guests, attempting to find something...anything to ground her. Because the no that should’ve fallen firmly from her lips was lodged in her throat.

‘Alexis.’ It wasn’t a question. More of a dire warning. And something else...

Something earth-shattering in its ferocity. And even though she knew it was the epitome of folly to look into his eyes in that moment, Alexis raised her gaze, met a cyclone of grey shot through with blinding, unholy light.

‘I... I don’t know.’

His face clenched hard before he exhaled. ‘I accept that I share responsibility for this...state we find ourselves in, but I need a better answer than that.’

‘That’s all I can give you right now. I’m not on the pill, and my period is...erratic at best,’ she confessed.

He seemed transfixed. ‘Thee mou,’ he breathed. ‘So you could be pregnant?’

‘Not necessarily. The odds are low,’ she said, mentally calculating frantically.

A look passed through his eyes, gone as quickly as it arrived. ‘When will you know?’

‘A week. Maybe less.’

Another eternity passed as he stared at her. Then his gaze dropped to her belly. Whatever thought went through his mind evoked a faint trembling in the fingers that raked through his hair a moment later.

‘It could be nothing, Christos.’

‘Or it could be...the opposite,’ he countered tightly. Laughter and the clink of glasses nearby intruded on their bubble. Mouth firming, he took a step back. ‘This isn’t the right moment to discuss it.’

They returned to mingle with a new, jagged awareness vibrating between them. Christos barely left her side throughout the long evening. He introduced her to guests with a hand around her waist, which lingered until, the yearning it created unbearable, she found an excuse to pull away.

Because with each moment that passed, it could be nothing tumbled through her brain, fighting against the soul-shaking need to be something. And each time he touched her, each time he introduced her as his wife and those stormy grey eyes swept over her, her heart yearned harder.

As the party wound down they gravitated back to Costas, who was holding court with a small group of guests. About to take a seat, she started in surprise when Christos pulled her into his lap. It took every ounce of composure not to stiffen or show her surprise. But she blushed at the few suggestive looks that came their way.

‘Relax,’ he commanded quietly, his hand planted possessively on her hip.

But she couldn’t relax. Besides the simple fact that she wanted nothing more than to melt into his arms, Alexis was also aware of Christos’s father’s frequent gaze, the regretful expression that lingered on his son when he thought no one was looking.

A nerve-shredding hour later, once a few more helicopters had taken off and overnight guests retired to their suites, she took the opportunity to make her escape. ‘I’m tired, I think I’m going to head up.’

She held her breath as Christos’s arm tightened momentarily before he released her. He got up and started to accompany her inside. ‘I’ll walk you in,’ he said smoothly, his hand capturing hers.

‘You don’t have to—’

‘Stop, Alexis. We’re past that,’ he interrupted.

She should’ve taken the hint. Instead, she paused on the first step of the sweeping staircase leading up to their wing, a different subject altogether tumbling from her lips. ‘What about your father? Are you past the right moment to talk to him too?’

His eyes turned arctic. ‘What?’

‘Are you going to avoid him forever? Or just wait until it’s too late to do anything about it?’

His eyes narrowed in warning. ‘Be careful, Alexis. You tread on dangerous ground.’

‘Do I?’ she dared, because that need wedged tight beneath her breastbone wouldn’t be silenced. The last hour had shown her the type of family she and Christos could have. The type she’d yearned for all her life. Sitting there, with the knowledge that their blind passion could have unexpected results, had only intensified that need. ‘I know what he did to you was painful, but I think he regrets it. You should give him a—’

She paused, catching movement behind Christos’s shoulder. A moment later, the man in question appeared.

Spotting him, Christos stiffened.

‘Christos, I really must talk to you,’ his father said, his voice ringed with authority she’d heard many times from his son.

Sensing he was about to refuse again, she spoke. ‘Go ahead, Christos. I need to call Sophie, anyway.’

He knew it was an excuse and his lips firmed. But before she could make her escape, he caught her hand, leaned in close and brushed his lips over her temple. ‘Enjoy your temporary reprieve,’ he murmured in her ear before pulling away.

He strode away briskly, not sparing his father a glance. But a minute later, she heard the study door open and shut. Only then did she run upstairs, her stomach muscles weak as jelly.

All through undressing and readying for bed, the jittery feeling continued. It was as she slid into bed, the luxury comforter enclosing her body, that she accepted the truth.

She was in love with Christos.

And against all the odds, against the self-preservation she’d sworn to keep in place after Adrian, she’d arrived in a situation that now promised to deliver the very thing she’d craved her whole life.

Beneath the covers, her hand slid over her stomach, a fresh shudder—this one of quiet awe—moving within her.

Pregnant.

She could be pregnant.

That thought beating an ever-increasing drumbeat inside her, Alexis expected to remain awake, her senses alert for Christos’s arrival.

Christos entered the study, impatience, anxiety and terror mingling in a toxic cocktail inside him. He’d thought himself immune to his father’s effect on him but the moment he turned to face him he knew he wasn’t. Perhaps he would never be. All the more reason to stay away from him. He started towards the door, cursing himself for listening to Alexis. ‘This was a mistake—’

‘Running away won’t resolve this, son.’

He whirled back, righteous anger replacing the dread. ‘Excuse me? How dare you!’

‘That’s right, get angry. I’ll take that over the silence and icy indifference,’ his father replied, shattered bleakness in his eyes.

‘Whatever it is you’re trying to achieve here, you’d better choose your words carefully,’ he warned.

Agios sighed, walked over to the sofa and dropped heavily into it. ‘I’m trying to say that I deserve your anger. That you have every right to feel it.’

Something attempted to crack open in his chest. He held it in place with sheer willpower. ‘Thanks for the permission,’ he replied sardonically.

His father’s lips twisted. ‘All the while I thought you’d been spared...’ He paused, shook his head. ‘I see you weren’t. You’re too much your father’s son, Christos.’

Icy dread froze his spine. ‘No! I’m nothing like you.’ He couldn’t be. Not when he’d striven to remove himself from the volatility of his upbringing. Not when he’d cut off all feeling lest he be plagued with the overabundance of the wrong type of emotion the way his parents had.

But what if he hadn’t escaped?

What if the child Alexis possibly carried was doomed because of it? The very possibility made his breath catch painfully.

‘Son? What is—’

‘Say what you want to say and let’s be done.’ He needed time to think. Time to wean himself off that traitorous swell of pure joy he’d felt when Alexis had laid the possibility that she might be pregnant at his feet. He needed to replace it with the far more acceptable reality that he couldn’t do this. He had neither the tools nor the road map to make even a halfway decent attempt at fatherhood. Because of the man in front of him.

Agios sighed again. ‘I want... I’ve wanted all these years...to ask for your forgiveness.’

That fracture returned. ‘Why?’

‘Because what I did to you, to your mother, was wrong. I let my bitterness get the better of me. The moment your mother threatened to leave me, I... I just...’ He stopped, shook his head. ‘We shouldn’t have put you in the middle of our problems. I know your mother feels the same—’

‘It’s too late,’ he snapped, because he was in danger of reverting into that little boy again, craving the affection and attention he’d sorely lacked. But he was a grown man. ‘You’re thirty years too late. You need to live with the fact that your actions created a monster.’ And because of that, whatever he’d been foolishly hoping might happen with Alexis could never be. She deserved so much more. More than he could ever give her. The truth shook through him until his guts threatened to turn themselves inside out. Until his very skin was icy cold with the realisation.

‘Christos—’

‘Goodbye, Father.’

He walked out, an altered man from the one who’d entered.

Because all the joy was gone. And yes, it was for the best.

Alexis opened her eyes to bright sunlight and the cold, empty space beside her. Unease rapidly built inside her when, sitting up and looking around her, she spotted the two large suitcases near the doorway to Christos’s dressing room.

The man himself entered from the living room a moment later. He froze, his gaze combing over her in fierce possession before he reeled himself under control. But in that split moment, she caught surprise, then resignation, which made the stone in her belly even heavier.

She clutched the sheet to her chest, trying to shake the confusion from her head.

‘You didn’t come to bed last night.’

Savage hunger blazed in his eyes for a nanosecond before his expression closed, his movements unhurried as he secured his favoured ultra-thin Vacheron Constantin watch on his wrist. ‘No.’

When she realised he wouldn’t elaborate, she pressed, ‘Why are you packed? Are you...are we leaving?’

‘I’m flying to Athens. Demitri’s ex has agreed to the terms. He wants to secure the custody agreement before she changes her mind.’

Alexis frowned, even as she shifted to get out of bed. ‘Okay, I’ll start packing—’

‘No. You’ll stay here.’

She froze, inside and out. ‘But... I’m your assistant. And I always travel with you. You’ll need me to—’

‘I don’t need you.’

She swallowed before she could speak. ‘Specifically for this? Or generally?’ she forced herself to say, aware of the barbs of anguish already eviscerating her.

A muscle rippled in his jaw, and he turned away. ‘I’ll return once I’ve dealt with the matter.’

‘You didn’t answer me. Is this because of last night? Because I urged you to talk to your father? What did he want to talk about?’ she asked, aware she was overstepping but not really caring. He was shutting her out, rejecting her in a way that was all too frighteningly familiar. What wasn’t as familiar was the urge to fight this time; not to accept her lot and slink away to lick her wounds.

For the longest time, Christos remained silent. ‘He stumbled his way through a mockery of an apology for how he treated me as a child. I have no intention of accepting it,’ he said finally.

Cold dread closed around her throat. ‘I’m assuming that didn’t take all night. So why didn’t you come to bed? Is it because you think I might be pregnant? Is it because you’re terrified of becoming a father?’

His head went back as if he’d been stunned with a taser. ‘You said the possibility of that is negligible.’

‘But what if it isn’t?’

His face went ashen, and while he was trying to collect himself, she ploughed on, ‘You rarely take cases with children. When you do you keep a close eye on those children, to ensure they’re being looked after. You’re running off to fight for your godson, and yet the possibility that I might be pregnant terrifies you?’

His jaw clenched hard, but the fire in his eyes was ablaze with warning. ‘You misunderstand, Alexis mou. I hate losing. Period. A child suffering because I haven’t executed my job properly signifies a loss to me.’

‘Is it really so hard to admit you care about anything, Christos? That there’s a heart beating in that chest of yours? A heart that aches at the thought of loss?’

His face tightened. ‘Alexis...’

‘A heart that will mourn Costas at some point in the future when he’s gone?’ she whispered, an urgent need to see the man from the cave and not this...cold, closed-off version of him. She rose from the bed, the sheet wrapped around her.

His face clenched harder, but, like last night, the hand he lifted to rake his hair shook. The small sign of vulnerability gave her wild hope. ‘Of course I’ll feel his loss. As I would any fixture in my life.’

‘Don’t try and throw me off with that. Your grandfather is not a car. Or a well-tailored suit. Or even your beloved Drakonisos. He’s flesh and blood and emotions. Just like me. Just like everything you seem hell-bent on cutting from your life.’

His hand slashed the space between them in a very Greek dismissal. ‘What is this, Alexis? What exactly do you hope to achieve by riling me this way?’

‘Oh, so you admit to being riled?’

He scowled. ‘You wish me to show you? Is that it?’

‘That you’re capable of emotion? I know you are. If you’re this upset when you lose a case, then you can feel. It’s a specific type of emotion I’m after.’

His nostrils flared. ‘Why?’

‘Because I want to know that all this has been worth it! That I haven’t been throwing myself on some callous altar with nothing to show for it.’

He looked stunned. Then furious. ‘There was never any promise of...whatever it is you’re searching for.’

‘If you don’t know what I’m searching for, then how do you know I can’t have it?’

He cupped his nape in a gesture of pure frustration. ‘Because I’m incapable of it,’ he snarled. ‘I lack the building blocks of your fancy emotions. I strategise. I win. That’s the only fuel I need.’

‘You love—’

‘I don’t.’

Her heart cracked, but she didn’t...couldn’t stop. ‘Your grandfather? Did you keep the true circumstances of our marriage from him because you hate him? Or because you care about his feelings enough not to want to hurt him?’

‘I care about possessing Drakonisos. That’s it.’

‘Why? It’s just a piece of dirt. Rocks and soil and plants and water. Why go to all these lengths over this particular piece of property when there are literally hundreds more you can spend your millions on?’

‘Because it’s special! And it’s mine! And you know how I feel about things that belong to me.’

‘Do I? Yes, you like winning. But then what comes after doesn’t matter to you. You’re fighting too hard for this piece of land and yet I bet, once you have it, you’ll never set foot on it again.’ Her voice wavered and broke and she hated herself for it. ‘Maybe that’s why Costas wanted you to prove yourself. Maybe he wanted to see if you cared enough.’

‘He knows I care. He knows this is the only place—’ He caught himself, veered away from her as if doing so would block the emotions bristling from him.

‘Say it. There’s no one to hear it but me, Christos. And I won’t betray you. You know I won’t.’

He gave a harsh laugh. ‘Does it even occur to you, up there on that little pedestal you’ve placed yourself on, that I don’t wish to make this confession to you?’

‘You can be cruel all you want. It doesn’t change the fact that, after what your parents did to you, the possibility that you might become a father yourself terrifies you.’

His pallor grew more ashen. ‘Enough. Stop.’

‘We can make it work together, Christos,’ she pressed. ‘What have you got to lose?’

‘Myself! Because you see too much! Because you make me—’

‘I make you what?’ She knew she was pushing him hard. But the need to do so was a live wire inside her, twisting with hunger.

‘It’s immaterial.’

‘If it was, you wouldn’t be leaving. And you certainly wouldn’t be leaving me behind.’

He stalked towards her, cupped her jaw between his hands. Fingers shoved into her hair, his gaze ferociously turbulent as he stared down at her. ‘Because you’re relentless, even when you don’t speak. Your eyes speak for you. And I don’t like that, at every turn, they threaten to turn me inside out.’

Her breath caught. ‘Christos.’

‘You want to know why I can’t forgive my parents? Because neither of them chose me, their son. I was merely the weapon they used to hurt each other. My mother made the error of taunting my father with wanting a divorce one too many times because she wanted his attention. Instead of taking it back—because she didn’t really want to divorce him—she stood her ground. He in turn was too proud to relent once he started down that road. He decided to teach her a lesson by ripping our family apart. Everything she asked for, he refused just to see her suffer.’

‘And she asked to keep you?’

‘At first. But even that became too much for her. And when they tired of using me, they dumped me here. The only reprieve from being in their firing line was when I came here.’

‘I’m...so sorry. But—’

‘But nothing, Alexis. There is no excusing treating any child like that. And I can’t risk...’ He stopped, shook his head.

‘He’s still your father, Christos. Do you know what a treasure it is to have one at all? And one who regrets the mistakes he’s made?’

His eyes shadowed, then his hands dropped. ‘I don’t presume to know your suffering. Don’t presume to know mine.’

She was beating her head against a wall. And she was breaking her own heart smashing it against an immovable object. ‘So, what, you expect me to remain here, the obedient, possibly pregnant wife, while you go and save the world?’

He shook his head and her foolish heart leapt. Then he flayed her with, ‘You haven’t had a proper vacation since you’ve been with me. You have access to my pilot and all my properties. Go wherever you want and take whatever time you need. I only ask one thing,’ he said, his face clenching with raw emotion.

She knew what was coming. ‘You want to know if I’m pregnant? So you can do what, exactly? You don’t want to risk your heart, so what do you have to give?’ she demanded hoarsely.

His hands slid into his pockets, his shoulders rigid. ‘I’ll take care of you, just like I have so far.’

She frowned, unsure why the words left a hollow ache inside her. He didn’t mean emotionally. No, of course he didn’t. Which meant...financially. She reared back. ‘You think I want your money?’

He looked alarmed for a moment. Then his lips turned down in the bitter way she was beginning to realise signified a return to old memories. ‘You wanted something in exchange for marrying me. If my offer offends you, you can make whatever demands you want. Another charity patronage, perhaps?’

Her dart of hurt turned into a throbbing bruise. ‘Why do I have to want something? Why can’t this be a gift we both treasure? A child we can both love, together. To raise, together. If I am indeed pregnant?’

Again he looked...stunned. As if such an idea hadn’t even occurred to him.

It was her turn to experience a quiet astonishment. ‘No one has ever given you something without wanting something in return, have they?’ she asked in a hushed wonder. ‘Is that why you end all your liaisons with lavish gifts? Because you think it’s expected of you?’ She pointed to the necklace she’d placed on her bedside table. ‘Is that what the diamonds are for? Because you think once you pay me off I’ll have no right to make any further demands of you?’

He stared at her for a frozen moment before he turned away. ‘I’m not sure when you think I signed up for psychoanalysis but, I assure you, it’s becoming exceedingly boring.’

Her reply was halted by a knock on the door. Alexis snatched the robe draped at the foot of the bed, avoiding his gaze as she secured the belt.

Then he was opening the door, instructing his staff to take his cases down.

Alexis stood frozen as he turned back. ‘Alexis—’

‘If you’re going to tell me again that I’m boring you, I don’t want to hear it. I think we’ve said everything that needs saying, don’t you?’ She held on to her anger, because it kept her upright. Kept her from crumbling.

His lips moved, as if to contradict her. But after a moment, he gave a terse nod.

Then he just...walked out.

Alexis staggered to the bed, sank on it, numb. After long minutes, she heard the helicopter take off and didn’t move. A knock on the door didn’t stir her. When whoever it was went away, she crawled beneath the sheets once more, her eyes on the ceiling.

The sense of loss seemed unsurmountable, the swiftness with which her world had come crushing down making her nauseous. But had it even been her world in the first place?

What did it matter now?

She’d gambled with her heart and she’d lost. Again.

The numbness remained over the next few days, the only times she roused herself the times she spent with Costas.

She sensed his gaze on her intermittently, but he never commented on his grandson’s absence. And she never volunteered information.

Before she knew it a week had passed and she was still in the dark as to whether she carried Christos’s child or not. Not that it dimmed the yearning in her heart.

And when the morning came ten days later that she accepted Christos wasn’t coming back, and that she might possibly need to face single motherhood alone, she packed her bags, summoned Christos’s jet. And said goodbye to Drakonisos.