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Costas felt the familiar helpless anger in the hollow of his gut. Perhaps if he’d truly loved her—
‘She had severe post-natal depression,’ his mother said. He felt her hand on his sleeve and looked down at her neat fingers against the dark fabric. ‘It was no one’s fault that her condition escalated so uncontrollably.’
‘I disagree,’ he countered. ‘My wife chose to disregard her medical advice and shun her family. If she hadn’t tried to drink and party her way out of her illness she wouldn’t have lost control and smashed her car.’
If only he’d been with her that night. He should have ignored Eleni’s slight fever and left her to her nanny’s care. He could have postponed the late teleconference to Singapore. He should have—
‘It was no one’s fault, son. You weren’t responsible.’ He heard the words as if from a distance.
‘And Eleni’s illness is no one’s fault either.’
Yet he felt the flare of guilt deep inside. The fear that he’d failed his daughter.
The silence was punctuated only by the harsh sound of his breathing as he fought a vice-like grip around his chest. It was as if iron bands constricted his lungs, cutting off his oxygen.
‘Don’t blame yourself, Costa. You need time to heal. To learn to trust again.’
Sharply he lifted his head. So, they were back to Sophie.
He wondered what his mother would say if she knew precisely how much his body wanted to trust Sophie Paterson. How completely she’d got under his skin, dominating even his troubled sleep. How impossibly strong was the connection he felt with her.
But he’d learned his lesson well. Trust and partnership were illusions he could do without. He knew not to fall for their spurious promise.
No matter how much he was tempted to believe.
After his marriage the last thing he needed was a new relationship. Especially with another girl from the house of Liakos.
His mother shook her head then turned away and began the ritual of hand-washing and donning mask and gown ready to visit Eleni.
Costas stood rock-still, trying to salvage the tattered shreds of his control.
His mother had dredged up memories he’d tried so hard to bury. And tenuous, seductive hopes that had no place in his life. He was off-balance, teetering on the brink of a black abyss of turbulent emotions.
What was happening to him?
He was always in control. That was how he operated. This sudden uncertainty—the wretched, unfamiliar feelings—he hated it.
Almost as much as he hated this waiting game, waiting to see if Eleni would live or die.
He shrugged back his shoulders and lifted his head, disgusted with himself. This was no time for weakness.
He watched his mother enter the private room. He wouldn’t follow her just yet. Eleni might pick up on his tension. Instead he’d go and check if the doctor was in. So far the medical staff had been cautiously optimistic, but noncommittal about Eleni’s long-term recovery. It drove him crazy. He needed something more concrete.
He was moving down the corridor when he heard the door open behind him. He heard a murmur of voices then footsteps. It was Sophie.
He stopped, unable to help himself.
Sophie avoided his intense stare as she removed her mask and gown. It only took a few seconds. She wished it took longer—anything to delay their inevitable conversation. She was a coward, she knew.
Especially when Costas Palamidis stood there, as imposing and as unapproachable as a stone idol.
She wondered what he was thinking. She hadn’t missed the speculation in his eyes when he’d found her sitting with Eleni.
She should be
furious with him for the way he’d treated her. She was furious.
But that insidious longing was stronger than ever. Shamefully so.
