Pairs VIII

by Connelly, Clare

  “Why don’t we watch something now?” Filip said, his smile beaming as he wheeled away from the table.

  “Sure.” Christos nodded at the same time that Elle said:

  “I’m sure Christos has work or something to do.”

  Filip laughed. “You’re the one who urged me to get to know him, Elle. And I did. And I like him. And I love you. So just relax! We’re family now.”

  Family. Stricken, Elle spun around and moved back into the kitchen, balancing plates on her hip.

  Family. Is that what they were?

  “Allow me,” Christos’s voice was right behind her. She startled and might have dropped the dishes if he hadn’t reached out and steadied them.

  “Allow you to what?” Her heart was beating like a jackhammer.

  “I’ll do the washing up. You cooked.”

  “That’s fine,” she demurred. “I don’t mind.”

  “Don’t be silly. Filip is showering. Let me help.”

  She pursed her lips in consternation and stalked to the kitchen door. Sure enough, the bathroom was occupied and the sound of running water assured her that Filip was performing his night time ritual.

  “He can do that on his own?”

  “Yeah. He’s fiercely independent. He’s taken everything in his stride.”

  “He’s a brave child.”

  “Don’t let him hear you call him a child,” she warned, only half-joking. “In his mind, he’s on the cusp of adulthood.”

  “I wish I knew him better,” Christos said honestly. “I feel we are so alike, and yet so different. He’s like me, but a stranger.”

  “You’ll get to know him,” she said simply. “You can’t force it.”

  Chapter 8

  It was entirely surreal being back in Greece.

  A week after they’d shared pasta for dinner in her apartment, Elle had arrived. She’d tried everything she could to get out of it, but Christos and Filip had formed an undeniable force. In the end, the concert she’d spied a poster for on her original trip to Athens sealed the deal. With Andre performing, and Filip begging her to join them, she found she had no recourse but to turn up.

  She could fly in, assure herself Filip was happy, satisfy Christos that she wasn’t afraid of him, and catch up with a dear friend. Then she could go home and get on with her life. Without Christos Rakanti, and possibly without Filip Bradley too.

  She pushed her suitcase out of the airport and breathed in the sultry air with a sense of recognition. It was achingly, bone-chillingly familiar. The last time she’d seen this landscape, she’d been fleeing in despair.

  Was this any different?

  Now she was returning, but it was still under duress. She was still suffering.

  She saw the sign with her name on it and her heart sunk.

  She hadn’t wanted this.

  Elle had chosen to fly commercial, at her own expense, rather than joining Filip on Christos’s private jet. She had promised herself she wouldn’t take anything from the man and she intended to keep that promise. Even though that resulted in her hard-fought savings being drained faster than she’d wanted.

  But the memory of how much a cab would cost to his villa still stung, so she begrudgingly dragged her suitcase to the uniformed chauffeur. “Hi. That’s me.”

  “Elle Bradley?” He asked, dubiously examining the woman in the denim shorts and black shirt.

  “Yeah. Do you need to see my ID?”

  He appeared apologetic. “No, ma’am. This way, please.” He took her bag effortlessly and beetled through the airport as though five dragons were hot on their heels.

  “What’s the rush?” She asked as they emerged into the sunlight and warmth.

  “I always walk fast,” he said with a grin. “’Ere we are.” He nodded towards a black Range Rover and lifted her suitcase in.

  She took her seat and tried not to examine the pervasive sense of disappointment when she confirmed the car was empty.

  No Filip.

  And no Christos Rakanti.

  The man drove as he’d walked – quickly.

  Elle tried to focus on the passing scenery but his off-track formula-one racing combined with the butterflies in her tummy left her feeling highly anxious. The villa was not far from the centre of the city and the driver seemed to know all the back streets to get her there in record time. It occurred to Elle that her taxi driver the last time had taken a purposefully circuitous route.

  “Thank you,” she said softly as he pulled her case from the boot and smiled at her.

  “Mr Rakanti is expecting you.”

  She nodded. Of course he was. “My brother’s in there.”

  “Nai,” the man nodded.

  “I carry this in.” He lifted the bag for her.

  It was on the tip of her tongue to demur when Elle closed her mouth. A sixth sense was warning her that there would be plenty of fights ahead and that she ought to choose which she entered into wisely. She smiled at him brightly and then pushed into the villa as though she owned the place.

  It was all bravado, of course.

  The same play-acting she’d employed the night she’d met Christos and she’d wanted to pretend that she was a woman of his world, who did casual hook-ups every night. But as she crossed the threshold, the mask was almost impossible to keep in place.

  She felt as though history was punching her in the gut.

  The home was achingly familiar.

  How, in a little over a week, had it begun to feel like a real home to her? How had she come to see the white leather sofa and marble kitchen benchtop as cornerstones of who she was?

  Uncertainty plagued her. Should she call out? Knock? Or walk straight in as though she didn’t feel like she was about to pass out.

  A splashing sound reached her and she frowned, gliding instinctively towards the pool. She didn’t look at the piano. She couldn’t. But as she passed it, she noted that the beautiful area they’d had dinner in each night – the lovely outdoor terrace – had been closed in to form a tower on the back of the home. A lift! She shook her head in wonderment at the efficiency with which Christos had done that.

  Then again, he was a powerful, wealthy man. He could probably do anything he wanted with the click of his fingers.

  “Filip?” Her heart began to race as she saw that Christos and her brother were in the pool together. They were talking, though about what she couldn’t tell. She could only tell that Filip looked happy. And in the water, he looked healthy – there was no sign of any physical defect or weakness.

  “What are you doing?” She ran quickly across the small lawn and pushed into the pool area. Thoughts of the morning he’d carried her in came flooding back as she went to jump in. Only Christos’s stern expression stilled her.

  “He’s fine,” Christos said assuringly.

  “Yeah, look.” Filip moved his powerful arms, all the more powerful for the workout they got on the chair, and dragged himself easily through the water. “This is amazing, sis. In here, I feel like myself.” His smile twisted her heart. In four years she hadn’t seen him this happy and it had taken Christos Rakanti and his multi-million dollar home a matter of days.

  “Is it safe?” She asked Filip, crouching down and putting her hand on his.

  “Yeah. We swim all the time.”

  We swim all the time. Such inclusiveness! Such togetherness. She stood up and stumbled back from the pool a bit. Christos watched her steadily and tried not to focus on her beautifully tanned legs and the perfect rear that was emphasised by the denim shorts.

  “I’m here,” Christos said, his voice deep, and for a moment she didn’t understand what he meant. Was he asking her to acknowledge him? To smile at him and thank him for having her? Her eyes were ice-cold when they met his. “I’m watching him.”

  She nodded, spinning away as comprehension dawned. “Fine.” She sat down on one of the loungers and flicked her glasses down too. “But so am I.”

  Christos’s lip lifted in a laconic smil
e as he turned to face Filip. “You were saying?” He prompted, as Filip cruised back through the water easily.

  “Yeah, right. So I think economics is what I’ll put down for. It makes sense. I love maths. Commerce. I’ve always had a thing for business.”

  Elle closed her eyes and pretended she wasn’t listening.

  “You should come with me to the office tomorrow,” Christos offered. “Get a feel for real-world business.”

  “Are you serious?” Filip stared at Christos. “That wouldn’t be weird?”

  Christos’s laugh sent tingles down Elle’s spine. “Not at all.”

  She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and pretended fascination with her social media. But nothing distracted her from the sight of Christos and his naked torso, arms that were bulked with muscle, skin that was tanned, and a covering of hair that ran down his chest in an inverted triangle. It was too easy to remember how it had felt to lay beneath him. Or to curl backwards against him and fall asleep listening to the beating of his heart.

  She shifted on the lounger, her blood boiling.

  “How was your flight?” Christos had tracked closer; his arms were resting on the pool-coping now.

  “Fine thanks,” she smiled tartly without looking up from her phone.

  He wanted to grab it and throw it in the water. He wanted her to look at him. He wanted her to smile at him. He wanted her.

  His gut clenched.

  “Why don’t you join us?” He prompted with the appearance of relaxed laziness, running his hands through the water.

  “Elle doesn’t like to swim,” Filip laughed, pulling through the water like a fish.

  “Doesn’t she?” Christos arched a brow, his intense gaze making her skin break out in goosebumps.

  “Or to run or hike or do anything that might cause her to break a sweat.”

  Christos’s look was pure sensual amusement and Elle knew what he was thinking. She’d sweated plenty with him. Their sex life had been the definition of active. She cleared her throat. “Is that so?”

  Filip pulled through the water, coming to prop beside Christos. “Nah. Who has time for sports when you’re living and breathing music, hey?” He flicked water out of the pool, sprinkling her feet. She moved her legs so they were crossed beneath her.

  “Filip,” she said warningly.

  “Come on, sis. When’s the last time we did anything together that didn’t involve that hunk of metal?”

  She looked guiltily at the chair and nodded. The hope in his expression wormed into her heart. “You’re right. I’ll go get changed.”

  Christos watched her disappear with impatience. She had behaved in a manner that he could never forgive, and yet he wanted her. And he couldn’t have said how she felt. Uncertainty was a foreign emotion to him; he did not welcome it.

  His mood wasn’t improved when she returned a few moments later in her bathers. They were perfectly modest – a black one-piece suit – but that only added to their allure.

  She slid into the water carefully. It was a warm day, and Elle was secretly thrilled at the feeling of the water lapping around her body. She smiled at Filip alone as she waded into the middle of the pool. He swam to meet her.

  “You don’t know how good this feels,” he grinned, paddling his arms.

  She laughed, but a strange emotion was cloying at her throat. “You look great in here.”

  “Like myself,” he nodded excitedly. “I know. I feel like myself.”

  She felt Christos’s presence behind her. “Filip was always the athlete of the family.”

  “My school has excellent programmes,” he said, regretting having teased Elle earlier over her lack of athleticism.

  “Your school did not?” Christos prompted, circling around them. Elle was immediately reminded of a shark about to attack.

  “Elle’s school?” Filip shook his head. “The only workout she got was running from drug dealers. Or the guys who wanted to date her.” Filip laughed, shaking his head. “I guess that would have kept you pretty fit actually. There was plenty of both.”

  “Filip,” she said with exasperation. “You’re making it sound worse than it was.”

  “Elle was always the most popular girl in school.”

  “How do you even know that?” She said with a frown. “You go to school miles away.”

  “Oh, your name was still enough to gain cachet for me. The older guys used to try to get on my good side just for a chance with you.”

  “That’s not true,” she said, flicking her eyes to Christos.

  His expression gave nothing away. It was unfeeling, though Christos felt deeply.

  “Then there was Chip.”

  Elle closed her eyes. “Okay. That’s enough walking down memory lane. Show me what you can do. Go.”

  Filip laughed. “Am I embarrassing you for a change?”

  She couldn’t help but return his smile. “Yes. And I don’t like it. All this water’s gone to your head.”

  “Yep. You’d better get used to it. This is the new Filip Bradley and you’re going to be seeing a lot more of me.”

  She paddled back to the step, content to sit in the shallow and watch as he swam. Christos did likewise, but from a safe enough distance that Elle didn’t immediately leave the pool.

  “My mother is coming for dinner.”

  “I see.” She nodded. She thought of meeting his mother and her stomach did all sorts of crazy backflips. She was unspeakably relieved that she’d organised to see her friend’s performance. It was a commitment she couldn’t shake, and she gripped it mentally like a talisman. “That’s fine. There’s something I wanted to do in the city anyway.”

  He looked at her strangely. “You will meet my mother.”

  She bit down on her lip. “I told you, there’s something …”

  “Oh? What is it? This thing you allegedly want to see?” He spoke quietly so that Filip wouldn’t hear the barbed anger in his words.

  “It doesn’t concern you.” She was being childish. She softened her response. “A concert.”

  “A concert?”

  “Andre Meyers is performing in Athens, but only for this weekend. I thought I’d …”

  “Not tonight.” He frowned as his brain connected the name in his mind. “The concert pianist?”

  “You can’t tell me what to do,” she said stiffly. “I’m here for Filip, and he won’t care that I’m out tonight. Especially given that I’m going to see this performance.”

  “I care,” Christos ground from between his teeth. “You are hiding from my mother because of what you did. But you cannot hide forever. The sooner you meet her the sooner it will be over.”

  “I’m not hiding from your mother.” She slashed him a dark glance. “She is nothing to me. Just as you are nothing to me.” She looked towards Filip and, confident he was still busy with his new-found strength, swam towards Christos. She stood right in front of him. “Don’t think you can push me around.”

  “I don’t want to push you around,” he promised. “I want to carry you inside and make love to you on that sofa, like we did last time we were in here together.”

  Her eyes widened. “It’s never going to happen.”

  His laugh was as sexy as sin. “Never say never.”

  She shook her head sadly. “I’m going inside.”

  “Dinner’s at eight.”

  She paused on the steps and turned around. “I’ll be gone by seven.”

  True to her word, just before that hour, Elle emerged downstairs dressed more formally than Christos had ever seen her. It was a stunning ensemble: a pair of wide-legged black trousers and a silky cream blouse teamed with strings of black beads. She’d pulled her hair into two braids and wrapped them around her head like a crown of sorts. Her heels were inches high; she looked like a Hollywood starlet.

  He stared at her for a long moment. “You are somewhat overdressed for dinner.”

  “Oh, I’ll probably just grab a burger before the concert,” sh
e murmured, deliberately appearing to misunderstand him.

  “What concert?” Filip asked, emerging from the lift, a book balanced on his lap. “Are you heading out?”

  “Yeah.” She smiled at him. “It suited both of us to catch up tonight.”

  “Both of you?” Christos prompted conversationally, though every part of him was on the alert. Was she meeting someone there?

  Elle nodded sweetly. “Yes, that’s what I said. Good night.” She crossed to her brother and pressed a kiss against his head. “Love you.”

  Christos felt a sharp ache deep in his abdomen. It was their easy affection, that was all.

  “I’ll walk you out.”

  “Oh, there’s no need.” Her smile, when she tilted her beautiful face to his, was ice. “I’ll never forget where the exit is having been frogmarched to it so well last time I was here.”

  She spun on her heel and sashayed from the room, leaving a bemused brother and a powerless ex-lover staring at her departing figure.

  “She certainly has not got a lot of time for you,” Filip said with a laugh, spinning on his wheels to come into the kitchen.

  “I’m gathering that,” Christos returned throatily.

  “She’ll get over it. Elle never stays mad for long.”

  Christos poured himself a wine and grabbed a soda for Filip. “You guys are close.”

  “You kidding? She raised me.”

  Christos pulled the meat from the fridge and put it on the chopping board. “Since your mom died?”

  “Nah. Even before we lost mom, Elle was in charge. Of all of us, really.”

  “All of you?” He prompted, hating himself for the way he was trying to get information about her through her brother. But what choice did he have? She had closed herself off from him.

  You’re a stupid whore, with nothing to offer a man beyond your body.

  He winced as those words came flashing back to him.

  “Hannah, Chip, me. If it wasn’t for Elle, God knows what kind of trouble we’d have gotten in to.” Filip threw his head back and drank half the can. “She must have been blown away when she saw this.” He nodded towards the piano.