‘No.’ He lowered her leg to the floor. Pulled himself free of her embrace. Turned his back on her and walked towards the exit whilst he did up his zip. His belt. He stopped walking. Waited for her.
Her heels clicked over the floor as she moved to join him. She stood beside him. Her spine was straight. Her shoulders squared. Her feet planted.
It was a fighting stance that mirrored his own.
Konstantinos understood that tonight he’d lost the battle between them.
Hewasweak.
All the control had firmly been in her hands right untilhe’dended it. The risk was too great for them both. But if he’d had a condom. If he’d been able to double their protection. Reduce the risk…
He needed time to reinforce his self-control.
‘You’ll go home,’ he said. ‘To Greece.’
Her brow lifted. ‘Only me?’
‘You must…’
His jaw gritted.
He needed—
‘I need some time,’ he admitted truthfully, his voice hoarse. ‘Away from you.’
CHAPTER NINE
One Week Later…
Poppy took theplastic tip of the pin out of her mouth and pushed it through the purple petal. She stuck it onto Table 26. That table would be purple-themed. Delicate hues to complement the stark russet orange of Table 25 at the reception after they’d renewed their vows.
Konstantinos had hired a team to organise the ceremony.
She’d taken over the planning.
She neededthis.
Something to focus on.
Something to take her mind off…him.
She took a step back. Stared at the table arrangements. She’d taken over the lounge. Presentation boards, three of them, stood at the centre of the arched floor-to-ceiling window. Papers were scattered on the wooden floor beneath them.
She’d missedthis. Organising things. Mapping events to bring people’s lives together seamlessly. She’d been good at it. Her job. And that was how she was trying to look on the ceremony. As an event. An abstract thing where she wouldn’t be the focal point, and neither would he.
She hadn’t missed working for so long. Still didn’t. Not really. She knew this was a distraction at best. But so far, the distraction wasn’t working.
She knew what he’d done at Versailles. She’d done it. So many times.
He’d run away.
She took another flower and pinned it with a forceful jab into Table 27.
She hadn’t missed working when she’d married Konstantinos. She’d given up her job with ease the minute she’d accepted his proposal. Being a wife—his wife—she’d enjoyed it. All of it. The clothes, the jewellery, the social engagements, the business dinners, or intimate meals with CEOs and their wives, where she hadn’t had to take notes, or arrange a docket of who was attending to inform Konstantinos what he should know about their personal lives—the birth of a grandchild, or the death of a cousin.
She’d slipped into her new role, she knew, because of him.
He’d held her hand and led her into the spotlight of his life, and never had she felt as if she didn’t belong there. As if she wasn’t wanted. As if she was someone to be kept a secret. In the dark.
