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ghtly. ‘I see,’ he murmured.
Somehow Gemini doubted that!
And she didn’t care for the way in which Drakon was now regarding her so sceptically with those piercing coal-black eyes of his from between narrowed lids.
No doubt he already thought she was slightly deranged after her behaviour in the reception area, without her now claiming that Bartholomew House wasn’t Angela’s to sell, and then admitting that it was! Except it wasn’t. How could it be, when Bartholomew House in London had been owned by a Bartholomew since—well, for ever? And Angela wasn’t really a Bartholomew. The other woman had been the second wife of Gemini’s father, and only married to him for three years before his death six months ago—how could Angela possibly begin to understand the sense of tradition, of belonging, that a Bartholomew living in Bartholomew House had given to her family for hundreds of years?
As Gemini knew only too well, it wasn’t a question of her stepmother not understanding those things; Angela didn’t want to understand them, and had made it more than clear these past few months that as she was Miles’s widow the house was legally hers. As such, she could do whatever she wanted with it. And if that involved selling Bartholomew House to Lyonedes Enterprises, to the powerful, mega-wealthy man she had implied was her lover, then that was exactly what Angela intended to do!
Gemini scowled her complete frustration with the situation. ‘I realise that you and Angela are…involved, but—’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Drakon raised an arrogant dark brow.
‘Oh, don’t worry.’ She waved a placatory hand at his frowning countenance. ‘I don’t consider your having a relationship with my stepmother so soon after my father’s death as being any of my business.’
‘If that’s true it’s very…magnanimous of you,’ Drakon said slowly.
‘Oh, it’s true,’ Gemini assured him—even if, now that she had met him, she couldn’t help but wonder how such a powerful and charismatic man could possibly find a woman like Angela attractive.
Her father at least had had the excuse of deep feelings of loneliness after the death of Gemini’s mother just a year before he and Angela had been introduced, as well as being deeply flattered by the attentions of a beautiful woman over twenty-five years his junior. But Drakon Lyonedes was as rich as Croesus, for goodness’ sake, and as handsome and powerful as any of his Greek gods. As such, he could surely have any woman he wanted. So why would he bother with a mercenary like Angela? There really was no accounting for a man’s taste!
‘Please continue,’ Drakon invited coolly.
‘I’m not sure that I should,’ she said, suddenly wary.
He shrugged those broad shoulders. ‘You obviously disapproved of your father’s second marriage…?’
‘No, that wasn’t it.’ Having started this conversation, Gemini now felt uncomfortable revealing too much of her family history to a man she had, after all, only just met. Especially as, if Angela was to be believed, that man was involved with her. ‘I just thought perhaps my father should have waited a little longer before remarrying. He was feeling pretty low when he and Angela met—my mother had died the previous year, after thirty years of marriage, and he was desperately lonely.’ She shrugged. ‘It seemed to me to be a typical on-the-rebound thing.’
‘But your father did not agree?’
Gemini winced. ‘He had been incredibly unhappy since my mother died, and he seemed so happy with Angela that I just didn’t have the heart to voice any of my doubts to him.’
‘You loved him very much?’
‘Very much,’ she confirmed gruffly.
‘So he and Angela married despite your misgivings?’
She nodded. ‘I just wanted him to be happy again. I’d tried my best to fill the gap that she left, but no matter how close we were it really isn’t possible for a daughter to take the place of a life-mate,’ she added sadly.
A life-mate…
Having witnessed his own parents’ long and happy marriage, Drakon was not unfamiliar with the concept; he had just never heard it described in quite those terms before.
In retrospect, it was a fitting way to describe the closeness that had existed between his own parents—their marriage had been one of friendship and trust as much as love. A love that had encompassed both their ‘sons’, and which now caused his long-widowed mother to resort to constant lectures on the wonderful state of matrimony whenever he or Markos visited her at her home in Athens and she encouraged at least one of them to marry and give her the grandchildren she so dearly longed for. Unfortunately neither Markos nor Drakon had found a woman they could even contemplate spending the rest of their lives with, let alone be that elusive ‘life-mate’ Gemini Bartholomew had referred to.
As a child Drakon had just assumed that everyone’s parents were as happily married as his own, that their deep love and friendship for each other was the norm. In his teens and twenties, as the Lyonedes heirs, Drakon and Markos had enjoyed dating and bedding a variety of beautiful women, with no thought of falling in love and marrying. It had taken Drakon years to realise that he hadn’t felt even the beginnings of love for any of those women—that in fact the type of love his parents had for each other was the exception rather than the norm.
Now, at the age of thirty-six, Drakon believed himself to be too hardened and cynical ever to welcome that emotional vulnerability into his life. Even if he was lucky enough to find it.
‘You and your father were close?’ he prompted softly.
‘Very.’ Tears flooded those sea-green eyes.
‘I did not mean to upset you—’
‘It’s okay,’ she assured him gruffly. ‘I just—I still miss him so much.’
