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 a
s 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.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IT SHOULD’VE BEEN EASY.
He’d been on an emotionally destructive path, and he’d course-corrected. The same way he’d hardened his heart to his father’s stumbling apology, even though a traitorous part of him had urged him to allow it, should’ve been the way he dismissed Alexis’s audacity to tell him there was another way forward.
He didn’t deal in hope. Or require his father’s regret to heal.
Why couldn’t he stop thinking about Alexis’s words? Or forget the pain in his father’s eyes as he’d walked away from him? Why had he spent the last two weeks with the growing sensation that he’d made the worst mistake of his life?
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