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‘You have it all, Nikos. Surely women have been throwing themselves at you, looking for marriage? So why me? Why now?’ She pushed on, determined to clear the doubts that had begun to surface since she’d arrived, only to be pushed aside last night by passion. But as that passion had cooled those doubts had slipped back into her mind—like snakes slithering undetected through the long grass.
‘Why?’ His deep voice was harsh, causing a passing tourist to glance their way, and Nikos took her arm and walked her further away from the path and the crowds. He stopped and turned to look at her. ‘Do you really need to ask that?’
She drew in a deep breath, lifted her chin and met his glittering blue gaze. ‘Yes.’
She did need to ask. She needed to know if there was even an inkling of love there for her. Sally’s advice was fading fast as the reality of the deal he’d offered sank in. She didn’t think she could go headlong into marriage without knowing he felt some kind of affection for her. What if he later resented her, when he couldn’t attend parties like last night’s as a single man? What if he fell in love with another woman?
‘You are carrying my child. My heir.’
Fury spiked every word but she stood her ground. She had to know.
‘Nothing else?’ She pressed him further, ignoring the glitter of anger in his eyes.
‘Is that not reason enough?’
He turned away from her, looking out over Athens towards Mount Lycabettus and St George’s chapel reaching into the blue sky. His anger was in complete contrast to the sublime weather.
She moved to stand by him, her flat shoes crunching on the path, the sound so loud it was almost too much in the heavy and expectant silence which had settled around them.
‘Is it right for us to marry just because of the baby? What about the baby’s feelings? Should it grow up thinking it’s the mistake that forced us together?’
The pain and guilt of her own childhood poured from her heart, seeping into every word she said, but still he remained ramrod-straight, looking anywhere but at her. A small part of her wanted to tell him she knew what that was like, but lifelong guilt kept her silent. She couldn’t admit her part in her parents’ unhappy marriage—not out loud.
‘What do you want me to do? Declare my undying love for you?’ His voice was low, vibrating with anger. ‘You accepted my terms. You need this marriage and all it offers as much as I do.’
She balked at his mention of the deal he’d offered—the one she was prepared to take if it meant helping Sally get what she wanted. She still hadn’t told her sister yet. The thought of ringing her and telling her she could continue with IVF treatment was exciting, but explaining how it was going to be achieved was daunting. As was telling Sally of her own pregnancy. It was a conversation to be had face-to-face.
‘We can’t build a marriage on a child and a foundation of lust. What happens when that lust dies?’
She forced her voice to be strong and wished they weren’t surrounded by people of all nationalities, that this discussion was taking place in private—but maybe the restraint of being here was better.
He turned to look at her, his hands taking hold of her arms, forcing her to give him all her attention. Her skin burned where he touched her and a sizzle of undeniable attraction skittered down her spine. How could she find such a ruthless man so attractive?
‘Love dies too, Serena.’
His deep, accented words, said with such earnestness, forced her to search his eyes. They looked so black and solemn that a tingle of fear chased after the sizzle of attraction she’d tried so hard to ignore. The sombre tones of his voice left her in no doubt that he was talking from experience.
‘What happened?’ She wanted to reach for him, to soothe the pain which lingered in his eyes like dark shadows in the night.
He didn’t say anything, and nor did he break eye contact. Even when a particularly noisy party of tourists started posing for photos with Mount Lycabettus as a backdrop, intruding on their private moment, he remained rigidly silent.
He waited, and she hardly dared to breathe, sensing that the impenetrable barrier around him had opened just enough for her to slip through—if she dared.
‘You’ll find it on the internet, I’m sure.’
The spiked and curt words reminded her of the expression of regret she’d seen on his face yesterday, when he’d arrived from the office to find her working on her laptop. She hadn’t been searching for stories of him then, but knew that was what it must have looked like. What was in his past that was so bad? What was he avoiding?
