by Dani Collins
Gideon only nodded at her chair, his expression shuttered yet insistent.
Adara dropped into her chair out of emotional exhaustion. For a few seconds she just sat there with her hands steepled before her face, eyes closed, drowning in despair.
“What do you want, Adara?”
She opened her eyes to find him statue hard across from her, expression unreceptive despite his demand she confide.
He was afraid it was something he couldn’t give, she realized. Like love?
A barbed clamp snapped hard around her heart. She wasn’t brave enough to give up that particular organ and had never fooled herself into dreaming a man could love her back, so no, she wouldn’t ask him for love. She settled on part of the truth.
“I want to quit feeling so useless,” she confessed, suffering the sensation of being stripped naked by the admission. “I’m predisposed to insecurity because of my upbringing, I know that. I’m not worthless, but I feel that way in this marriage. Now I can’t even bring children into it. I can’t live with this feeling of inadequacy, Gideon.”
He stared hard at her for a long moment before letting out a snort of soul-crushing amusement.
Adara couldn’t help her sharp exhale as she absorbed that strike. She tried to rise.
Gideon clamped his hand on her arm. “No. Listen. God, Adara...” He shook his head in bemusement, brow furrowed with frustration. “When you asked me to marry you—”
“Oh, don’t!” she gasped, feeling her face flood with abashed color.
He tightened his grip on her wrist, keeping her at the table. “Why does that embarrass you? It’s the truth. You came to me with the offer.”
“I know. Which only reminds me how pathetically desperate I must have seemed. You didn’t want me and wouldn’t have chosen me if I hadn’t more or less bribed you.”
“Desperate?” he repeated with disbelief. “I was the desperate one, coming hat in hand to your father with a proposition I knew he’d laugh out of the room. All I had going for me was nerve.”
“Someone else would have taken up the chance to invest with you, Gideon. It was a sound opportunity, which Papa saw after he got over being stubborn and shortsighted.”
“After you worked on him.”
She shook that off in a dismissive shrug, instantly self-conscious of the way she’d stood up for a man she’d barely known simply because she’d been intrigued by him. It had been quite a balancing act, truth be told.
“Don’t pretend you didn’t have anything to do with it.” He sat forward. “Because this is what I’m trying to tell you. You came to me with things I didn’t have. Your father’s partnership. Entrée into the tightest and most influential Greek cartels in New York and Athens. I needed that, I wanted it, and I had no real belief I could actually get it.”
“Well, I didn’t have much else to offer, did I?” she pointed out in a remembered sense of inadequacy.
“Your virginity springs to mind, but we’ll revisit that another time,” he rasped, making her lock her gaze with his in shocked incredulity.
Suddenly, very involuntarily, she flashed back to her wedding night and the feel of his fingers touching her intimately, his mouth roaming from her lips to her neck to her breast and back as he teased her into wanting an even thicker penetration. She hadn’t understood how his incredibly hard thrust could hurt and feel so good at the same time. Instead of being intimidated by his strength and weight, she’d basked in the sense of belonging as his solid presence moved above her, on her, and within her so smoothly, bringing such a fine tension into every cell of her being. His hard arms had surrounded and braced her, yet shielded her from all harm, making her feel safer than she’d ever felt in her life, so that when she’d shattered, she’d known he’d catch her.
Her body clenched in remembered ecstasy even as she was distantly aware of his hold on her gentling. He caressed her bare forearm and his voice lowered to the smoky tone he’d used when he’d told her how lovely she’d felt to him then. So hot and sweet. So good.
“Try to understand what it meant for me to form a connection to you.”
Her scattered faculties couldn’t tell if he was talking about her deflowering or the marriage in general. She shivered with latent arousal, pulling herself away from his touch to ground herself in the now.
“People knew I came from nothing,” he said. “You want to know why I only speak Greek when I absolutely have to? Because my accent gives me away as the bottom class sailor that I am.”
“It does not,” she protested distractedly.
He reached to tuck a tendril of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering to trace lightly beneath her jaw. “If you want me to talk, you’re going to have to listen. People respect you, Adara. Not because your father owned the company, not because of your wealth, but because of the way you conduct yourself. Everyone knew your father’s faults and could see that you were above his habits of lashing out and making hasty decisions. They knew you were intelligent and fair and had influence with him.”
“Now I know you’re lying.” She drew back, out of his reach.
“He didn’t sway easily, that’s true.” He dropped his hands to his thighs. “But if anyone could change his mind, it was you. Everyone knew that, from the chambermaids to the suits in the boardroom. And people also knew that you were being very choosy about finding a husband. Very choosy.”
He sat back, his demeanor solidifying into the man who headed so many boardroom tables, sharp and firm. Not someone you argued with.
“I didn’t appreciate what that choosiness meant until I was by your side and suddenly I was being looked at like I had superpowers because you’d picked me. Maybe it sounds weak to say my ego needed that, but it did. I went from being an upstart no one trusted to a legitimate businessman. I had had some success before I met you, but once I married you, I had self-worth because you gave it to me.”
“But—” Her heart moved into her throat. She wanted to believe him, her inner being urgently needed to believe him, but it was so far from the way she perceived herself. “You’re exaggerating.”
“No, I’m telling you why I’m fighting to keep you.”
“But people respect you. That won’t go away if we divorce.”
“Now they respect me. And perhaps that wouldn’t go away overnight, although I can guarantee I’d be painted the villain if we split. People would pin the blame on me because you’re nice and I’m not, but I’m not saying I want to stay married so I can continue using this knighthood you’ve unconsciously bestowed on me. It comes down to loyalty and gratitude and my own self-respect. I like being your husband. I want to keep the position.”
“It’s not a job.” She’d tried to treat Husband and Wife like spots on an organizational chart and it wasn’t that simple. Having a gorgeous body in a tux to escort her to fundraisers wasn’t enough. She needed someone she could call when her world was crashing in on her and she thought she was dying.
That unexpected thought disturbed her. She had learned very young to guard her feelings, never show her loneliness, be self-sufficient and never, ever imagine her needs were important enough to be met. Wanting to rely on Gideon was a foreign concept, but it was there.
Gideon was watching her like a cat, ready to react, but what would he have done if he’d come home to find her sobbing her heart out? He’d have tried to ship her into the sterile care of stiff beds and objectifying instruments.
And yet, if she had found the courage to ask, would he have stayed with her and held her hand at the hospital? Would it have made a difference if he had?
It would have made a huge difference.
Deeply conflicted, she pushed back her chair, fingers knotting into the napkin on her lap. She didn’t like feeling so tempted to try when there were so many other things wrong between them. “You make it sound so easy
and it’s not, Gideon.”
“We have a few days before your brother shows up,” he cut in with quick assertion. A muscle pulsed in his jaw. “I’ve cleared my schedule to the end of the week. We’ll spend time together and set a new course. Turn this ship around.”
She wanted to quirk a smile at the shipbuilder’s oh-so-typical nautical reference, but her system was flooded with adrenaline, filling her with caution.
“What if—” She stopped herself, not wanting to admit she was terrified that spending time with him would increase her feelings for him. He was trying to make her feel special and it was working, softening her toward him. That scared her. If she knew anything about her husband, and she didn’t know nearly enough, she knew he wasn’t the least bit sentimental. She could develop feelings for him, but they’d never be returned.
What was his real reason for wanting to stay married?
“Look how much we’ve weathered and worked through since this morning,” he reasoned with quiet persistence, showcasing exactly how he’d pushed a struggling shipyard into a dominant global enterprise in less than a decade. “We can make this marriage work for us, Adara. Give me a few days to prove it.”
Days that were going to be excruciating even without a replay of today.
Nerves accosted her each time she thought of seeing Nico again and in the end, her consideration of Gideon’s demand sprang from that. She would prefer to have him with her when she met Nico again. She couldn’t explain it, but so many things, from social events to family dinners, were easier to face when Gideon was with her. She’d always felt that little bit more safe and confident when he was beside her, as if he had her back.
“You’d really move over to my brother’s house with me?” she asked tentatively.
“Of course.”
There was no “of course” about it. He showed up for the events in his calendar because it was their deal, not because he wanted to be there for her.
At least, that was her perception, but she hadn’t really asked for anything more than that, had she? He’d offered to come to the hospital each time she’d told him about another miscarriage. She was the one who’d rebuffed the suggestion, hiding her feelings, not only holding him at a distance but pushing him away, too fearful of being vulnerable to even try to rely on him.
Which hadn’t made her less vulnerable, just more bereft.
She couldn’t stomach feeling that isolated again, not when she had so much of herself on the line. Still, she wasn’t sure how to open herself up to help either.
“If you really want to, then okay. That’s fine. But no guarantees,” she cautioned. “I’m not making any promises.”
He flinched slightly, but nodded in cool acceptance of her terms.
CHAPTER FIVE
GIDEON WAS A bastard, in the old-fashioned sense of the word and quite openly in the contemporary sense. When he wanted something, he found a way to get it. He wasn’t always fair about it. His “bastard” moniker was even, at times, prefaced with words like ruthless, self-serving, and heartless.
When it came to other men trying to exercise power over him, he absolutely was all of those things. He fought dirty when he had to and without compunction.
He had a functioning conscience, however, especially when it came to women and kids. When it came to his wife, he was completely sincere in wanting to protect her in every way.
Except if it meant shielding her from himself. When Adara’s brother, “Nic,” he had called himself, had invited them to take a room at his house, that was exactly what Gideon had heard. A room. One bed.
Normally he would never take up such an offer. Given the unsavory elements in his background, he kept to himself whenever possible. He liked his privacy and was also a man who liked his own personal space. Even at home in New York, he and Adara slept in separate beds in separate bedrooms. He visited hers; she never came to his. When she rose to shower after their lovemaking, he took his cue and left.
That had always grated, the way she disappeared before the sweat had dried on his skin, but it was the price of autonomy so he paid it.
Had paid it. He was becoming damn restless for entry into the space Adara occupied—willing to do whatever it took to invade it, even put himself into the inferior position of accepting a favor from a stranger.
Irritated by these unwanted adjustments to his rigidly organized life, he listened with half an ear to the vineyard manager’s wife babble about housekeepers on vacation and stocked refrigerators, trying not to betray his impatience for her to get the hell out and leave them alone.
The nervous woman insisted on orienting them in the house, which looked from the outside like an Old English rabbit warren. Once inside, however, the floor plan opened up. Half the interior walls had been knocked out, some had been left as archways and pony walls, and the exterior ones along the back had been replaced by floor-to-ceiling windows. The remodeling, skilled as it was, was obvious to Gideon’s sharp eye, but he approved. The revised floor plan let the stunning view of grounds, beach and sea become the wallpaper for the airy main-floor living space.
“The code for the guest wireless is on the desk in here,” the woman prattled on as she led them up the stairs and pressed open a pair of double doors.
Gideon glanced into a modern office of sleek equipment, comfortable workspaces and a stylish, old-fashioned wet bar. A frosted crest was subtly carved into the mirrored wall behind it. In the back of his mind, he heard again the male voice identifying himself when he had called the hotel, the modulated voice vaguely familiar.
It’s Nic...Makricosta. I’m looking for my sister, Adara. Gideon had put the tiny hesitation down to anything from nerves to distraction.
Now, as he recognized the crest, he put two and two together and came up with C-4 explosive. A curse escaped him.
Both women turned startled gazes to where he lingered in the office doorway.
“You told me your brother had changed his name. I didn’t realize to what,” Gideon said, trying for dry and wry, but his throat had become a wasteland in the face of serious danger to his invented identity.
“Oh,” Adara said with ingenuous humor. “I didn’t realize I never...” A tiny smile of sheepish pride crept across her lips. “He’s kind of a big deal, isn’t he? It’s one of the reasons I hesitated to get in touch. I thought he might dismiss me as a crackpot, or as someone trying to get money out of him.”
Kind of a big deal? Nicodemus Marcussen was the owner and president of the world’s largest media empire, not to mention a celebrated journalist in his own right. His work these days tended toward in-depth analysis of third-world coup d’état stuff, but he was no stranger to political exposés and other investigative reporting in print or on camera. Running a background check would be something he did between pouring his morning coffee and taking his first sip.
Gideon reassured himself Nic had no reason to do it, but tension still crawled though him as they continued their tour.
“My number is on the speed dial,” the woman said to Adara. “Please call if you need anything. The Kyrios was most emphatic that you be looked after. He’s hurrying his business in Athens as best he can, but it will be a couple of days before he’s able to join you.” She made the statement as she led them into a regal guest room brimming with fresh flowers, wine, a fruit basket, a private balcony with cushioned wicker furniture and a massive sleigh bed with a puffy white cover. “I trust you’ll be comfortable?”
Gideon watched Adara count the number of beds in the room and become almost as pale as the pristine quilt. She looked to him, clearly expecting him to ask for a second room. Any day previous to this one he would have, without hesitation. Today he remained stubbornly silent.
Color crept under her skin as the silence stretched and she realized if anyone made an alteration to these arrangements, it would have to be
her. He watched subtle, uncomfortable tension invade her posture and almost willed her to do it. He wanted to share her bed, but he suddenly saw exactly how hard it was for her to stand up for herself.
She gave a jerky little smile at the woman and said, “It’s fine, thank you,” and Gideon felt a pang of disappointment directed at himself. He should have made this easy for her. But he didn’t want to.
The woman left. As the distant sound of the front door closing echoed through the quiet house, Adara looked to him as if he’d let her down.
“Do we just take another room?” A white line outlined her pursed mouth.
“Why would we need to?” he challenged lightly.
“We’re not sharing a bed, Gideon.” Hard and implacable, not like her at all.
“Why not?” he asked with a matching belligerence, exactly like himself because this issue was riling him right down to the cells at the very center of his being.
Her gaze became wild-eyed and full of angry anxiety. “Have you listened to me at all in the last twenty-four hours? I don’t want to get pregnant!”
“People have felt that way for centuries. That’s why they invented condoms,” he retorted with equal ire. “I bought some before we left the hotel. Do you have an allergy to latex that I don’t know about?”
She took a step back, her anger falling away so completely it took him aback. “I didn’t think of that.” Her brows came together in consternation. “You really wouldn’t mind wearing one?”
He stood there flummoxed, utterly amazed. “You really didn’t think of asking me to use them?”
“Well, you never have the whole time we’ve been married. I wasn’t with anyone else before you. They’re not exactly on my radar.” She gave a defensive shrug of her shoulders, averting her gaze while a flush of embarrassment stained her cheekbones.
Innocent, he thought, and was reminded of another time when they’d stood in a bedroom, her nervous tension palpable while he was drowning in sexual hunger.