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There had been far too many times over the last year when I’d regretted not doing so—not because of that infernal hunger that had long outstayed its welcome, but simply because it would have curtailed her actions.
But the past was the past. There was still the future to deal with. And my new reality.
My son.
‘For the sake of probability, and if I were in the mood to grant wishes, what exactly would you want, matia mou?’
Wariness made her hesitate, but slowly defiance laced with something else pushed through. ‘I’d want a divorce. As soon as possible.’
Stunned disbelief rose in me like a monumental wave I’d once ridden on the North Shore, and then just as swiftly crashed on the beach of her sheer audacity and shock. It was all so very dramatic.
I couldn’t help it. I laughed.
Her pert little nose quivered as she inhaled sharply. ‘What’s so funny?’
Affront and defiance flushed her skin a sweet pink, drawing my attention to her alluring features. My wife was now all woman. An arrestingly feminine woman who’d just demanded...a divorce.
‘Why you, my dear, and your continued ability to surprise me.’
‘I’m glad you’re amused. But I’m deadly serious. I want a divorce.’
Humour evaporated as abruptly as it had arrived. Leaning forward, I grasped her upper arms and fought not to be distracted by her smooth supple skin or the need to caress her and reacquaint myself with her.
My once sound argument about staying away from her had backfired spectacularly. I’d left her on Agistros thinking that she’d be safe and I’d be saved from temptation. Look how that had turned out.
Even with sex off the table I should have kept her close. I could have prevented her fleeing. Instead I’d borne the subtle snipes of those who had been quick to point out my failure. Quick to compare me to my grandfather and test me to see whether I’d crack under the same pressure.
With Calypso gone I’d experienced a taste of what he’d gone through—sometimes even with members of my own family.
Now she was back...and asking for a divorce.
‘We seem to have veered a little off-track to be indulging in hypotheticals. You’ll recall that, according to the agreement, this marriage needs to last at least twelve months.’
‘Yes, I remember.’
‘Twelve ongoing months. Not twelve absentee months.’
She swallowed and my fingers moved, some compulsion driving me to glide my fingers up her neck, trace the colour flowing back into her cheeks. She made a sound under her breath, bearing a hint of those she’d made on our wedding night.
Before I could revel in it she pulled back abruptly. My hands dropped back to her arms.
‘My father hasn’t contested the agreement,’ she said.
‘So you took the time to check on his activities?’ Disgruntlement rumbled through me at the thought.
Her flush gave me my answer. ‘What are you saying, Axios?’
‘I’m saying the clock stopped the moment you walked out. But, fortunately for you, your father is no longer in the picture. For one thing he can’t prove that you’ve been an absentee wife—unless you apprised him of your intentions?’
‘No, I didn’t,’ she muttered, her eyes not quite meeting mine.
I’d long suspected that while she might have avoided contact with her father, her mother was a different story. But Iona Petras had remained resolutely closed-lipped about the whereabouts of her daughter.
‘Good—then the ball, as they say, is in my court.’
She met my gaze boldly, read my clear intent and gasped. ‘You mean you have the power to give me a divorce but...?’ Her voice dried up, a telling little shiver racing through her body.
‘But I won’t, sweet Calypso. Not until a few things are set straight.’
