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Her anger returned, fueled by love and pain. Who did he think he was, just showing up four months later and demanding privileges? He should have been here weeks—months—ago. “I don’t know yet.”
One of his black eyebrows lifted. “Whatever makes you the happiest—”
Outrage rushed through her. “You are so wrong, and so unfair, on so many levels,” she choked, spotting the large leather folder in his hand. The divorce papers. He’d brought them to her himself. Her heart tumbled to her feet. Hot tears prickled her eyes. “Just give me what you have come to give me, and go.”
“No. Not until we talk.”
“But I don’t want to talk anymore. You’ve made me wait for months—”
“I was still...working...on things.” His lips twisted. “Working on...me.”
She stilled, caught off guard by the very American-sounding expression. Greeks didn’t work on themselves. “What do you mean?”
“Could we please do this inside? Somewhere more private than Vallejo Street?”
She turned away and walked to the living room, where she took a seat, determined to be calm, and cool, and as unemotional as possible, which wouldn’t be easy because everything inside her was going haywire. She’d missed the arrogant bastard so very much, and she was only now realizing just how much she wanted him to still want her. How much she wanted him to fight for her. And how devastated she’d be when he gave her the divorce papers. “What have you brought with you?” she asked tightly, when he joined her in the living room.
“These are for later. I’ll leave them with you when I leave.”
“You don’t want to discuss them now?”
“No.” He took a breath. “I want to discuss us, and our marriage.”
“Which means, you’ve come with another lecture on how I disappointed you, and how I wasn’t a proper Greek wife.”
The corner of his mouth curved, and yet there was no hint of a smile in his cool gray eyes. “No lecture today, sorry.”
“You’re not sorry.”
“But I am. I’m here to apologize. I’m here to ask for a second chance. I’m here to fight for us—”
“Why? When all I’ve done is disappoint you? I can’t count the number of times you told me you didn’t even want me...that I’d forced myself on you.” Tears filled her eyes and she swiped them away furiously. Pregnancy hormones weren’t helping her resolve to be calm and collected. “You were constantly lecturing me and trying to change me—”
“I was wrong. Forgive me. Who am I to teach you anything? How could I possibly teach you about being a proper wife, when I haven’t been a proper husband?”
The air caught in her throat. She blinked hard, scrubbing away the remaining tears, even as hope warred against hope. Did he know what he was saying? Did he mean what he was saying? “Then what are those papers?”
“Ignore the papers, please. The papers don’t matter right now. The only thing that matters is you understanding that I was an ass, and wrong, and hurtful because I was scared. You were making me feel and feelings confuse me. I didn’t want feelings, but I did want you.”
“No, you wanted the best daughter, the one my father promised you.”
He reached out and lightly touched her knee. “I was promised the best daughter and I was given the best daughter.”
“But you said—”
“I know what I said, and it wasn’t true. I was hurt and angry and lashing out at you. I’m sorry about that and ashamed. I’ve spent months—” he broke off, drew a short, sharp breath “—talking, trying to work through my anger and I’ve come to you, finally, to say that I have never, ever been disappointed by the Dukas I married. Any disappointment I have felt, and continue to feel, is disappointment in myself. I loathe myself for the pain I have caused you, and I am deeply sorry for behavior, and the choices I have made.”
She’d found it hard to focus on anything after he’d said that he’d spent months talking. Her forehead furrowed as she looked at him. “Who have you been talking to?”
“A therapist. You said I needed help, and so I got help.”
“You did?”
He nodded, expression somber.
“Why?” she breathed.
“I hoped that if I changed, you’d come home. I’d like you to come back. It’s not home without you.”
She held her breath as he spoke, afraid that if she made a sound, he’d disappear, and this would all be just a dream because Damen was saying everything she’d wanted to hear. He was saying exactly the words she needed. Was this a trick? Was this real? “You never came to see me on your other trips to San Francisco.”
“I was trying to let you be in charge. I was trying to let you control the relationship, but as weeks turned to months, I became increasingly fearful that you truly wanted out of our marriage, and the thought was unbearable.”
“I was waiting for the divorce papers.”
“You would have been waiting forever. I had no intention to ever file for divorce. You are the only wife I will ever have because you are the only woman I love. I couldn’t imagine ever being with anyone else. You are mine. You are absolutely who I want and need at my side, for the rest of my life.”
She felt a tremor course through her. His words were powerful and overwhelming. “I don’t know what to say. You are so different. It’s almost as if you are a different man.”
“Words are still not easy for me, but trying to live without you was far more difficult than learning how to be a better husband and a better communicator.” He hesitated. “But I’m not here today to try to force you into making a decision that you might regret later. I’d rather we take this slow so that you can be confident and comfortable that I really am the husband you want. I have had months to think about what I need, but it’s important we make sure you have what you need. With that in mind, I prepared papers that I will leave with you to read after I go, as you don’t need me to read anything to you—” He broke off, and a flicker of a smile warmed his eyes. “Because you’re quite a good reader. Just know that there are a number of different documents and agreements in the envelope, and each of them have been created with you in mind, so that no matter what you eventually choose—to come home with me, or to remain here, independent of me—you are secure, and protected, and taken care of.”
She rose, and he did, too. “I don’t want your money, Damen. I only ever wanted you.”
The smile faded from his eyes and a shadow crossed his features. “I realize that now. And it might be too late for us. I hope it’s not too late for us. I have no intention of letting you go, but at the same time, I won’t force you to stay married to me if it’s not the right thing for you. And saying that, I also recognize that you deserve more than what you’ve ever been given and while I can’t right all the wrongs, I can make an attempt to correct the balance of power, so the future is nothing like the past.”
He closed the distance between them and pressed a kiss to her temple and then another to her cheek. “I love you, my heart,” he murmured, his fingers brushing lightly across her jaw, “but I want you happy. You deserve to be happy. You deserve all the joy and the love in the world.”
And then he walked out, leaving the leather folder on the chair where he’d been sitting.
Kassiani sank back down and stared at the folder. She’d waited four months for this conversation, and it had been even more wonderful than she could have imagined, except—was it too good to be true?
She hated her doubts, but she was terrified to hope and open herself to love, only to be crushed when he reverted to the same cold, brusque behavior again.
Hands shaking, she reached for the folder and pulled out the various documents. There were three different sets of documents, each with an original cover letter.
As Kassiani read through each of the letters, she discovered
Damen hadn’t given her money. There was no allowance or settlement on her per se. Instead, he’d given her three different options—all included a hefty stake in his businesses, and none of the options was contingent on her remaining married to him. All three options were still hers, even if she chose to divorce him.
Option 1: Live independently in San Francisco and join Dukas Shipping’s Board of Directors, taking an active leadership role in Dukas Shipping.
Kassiani paused, her gaze riveted to the words Dukas Shipping. Was he not going to change the company’s name? Had he possibly changed his mind?
Option 2: Take a management position at Dukas Shipping, and provide management and leadership for the company, living in either San Francisco or Athens.
Option 3: Work at Alexopoulos’s corporate office in Athens in a management capacity, providing leadership for both Dukas Shipping and Aegean Shipping.
Kassiani sat back in shock. He wasn’t giving her money. He was inviting her to become part of the shipping industry. He was giving her an opportunity to do what she’d always dreamed of.
She skimmed one of the cover letters until she found what she was looking for. Damen’s mobile number. She called him immediately. He picked up immediately.
“It’s Kassiani,” she said.
“I know,” he answered.
“How?”
“I have you saved in my Favorites. You’re number one.”
“Stop.”
“It’s true. You are my favorite.”
She went hot all over, and it was hard to focus when her heart was racing so. “Those options,” she said breathlessly. “They’re...amazing.”
“If anyone should head up Dukas Shipping in the future, it’s you.”
“When you say Dukas Shipping, do you mean to leave the name in place?”
“It all depends.”
