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She rolls her eyes. “It sounds so fun, Theo Jayson, but I think I’ll force myself to go out with Loukas and his friends instead of attending your party.”
I frown. “What party?”
“Caesar Kakos has invited us to a dinner party this evening.”
Smothering a groan, I know there’s no good reason why we shouldn’t go. We’ve got no other plans, and if Sophie’s going to be gone, I better not be alone in the house with Jayson. As much as I don’t want to hang around with his friends—the sharks—it pales in comparison to resisting Jayson’s urges.
And my own.
Despite giving the opposite impression, the draping of the dress I put on for the party conceals more than it shows. It looks almost as if it might fall off if I turn the wrong way. The sheath curves around, baring to low-back, and falls to the middle of my calves in a whisper of silk. The blue-gray shade reminds me of the Hudson on a stormy day, making me feel a little homesick.
To avoid another half-dressed encounter with Jayson, I brought the clothes into the nursery. My legs have a nice tan from the time spent on the beach, so I skip pantyhose in favor of some oily moisturizer that gives them a subtle sheen. I slip on silver heels, and sort through the small jewelry box I brought on the trip, looking for a pair of earrings Jayson gave me on our first anniversary. I know Sophie was behind this present and she felt terrible when I let that slip, but they’re still my favorite pair, nonetheless. A light, translucent silver wrap and my evening bag and I’m ready to go.
No more excuses.
With a sigh, I leave the nursery, not surprised to find Jayson waiting for me in the bedroom. The dark linen evening suit caresses his body the way my fingers itch to, and I try to occupy them by clenching my hand around the purse I’m carrying.
Sure, I can’t deny his attractiveness.
Nobody can.
And I’ll never be able to get over that, despite successfully eliminating any other inappropriate feelings I might have for my husband.
Chapter 26
Jayson
I arch a brow as I let my eye roam over her from head to toe. “Beautiful.”
She manages a small smile. “I’m ready if you are.”
I nod, but don’t move for another long second. “Our anniversary.”
Her eyes widen. “That was months ago.”
Shaking my head I go to her, taking her arm in what might have been a polite gesture, if I hadn’t pulled her so close against me. “I’m talking about the earrings. I gave them to you on our first anniversary.”
Harper blinks. “You remember that?”
I grin. “Of course. I also remember how embarrassed I was when Sophie accidentally told you she’d chosen the earrings.” Shrugging, I add, “But she has good taste. They look perfect on you.”
We leave the room, heading down the stairs to the car waiting outside. “It was no big deal. I’d already figured out the gift was her idea.”
Waiting for her to slide into the limousine before joining her, I wonder aloud,“Why?”
Her voice comes back in a careless, offhanded way. “Why would we celebrate milestones in a fake marriage?”
I grimace but don’t reply as the car drives away from the villa. The silence might have been welcome, but right now, it feels awkward and uncomfortable. Often we’ve sat in companionable silence, each of us usually involved in our own activities, but nothing feels easygoing about this quiet. As much as she might have wanted to avoid the evening’s party, she breathes a sigh of what seems like relief to arrive at the Kakos villa a few moments later.
“This landscaping is gorgeous,” says Harper as we exit the car. “The sheer number of plants! The home is lovely, too, but it can’t compare to the beauty of our villa.” She draws up short. “Your villa, I mean. Nothing of the Satyros empire belongs to me, of course.”
“Of course it’s your home,” I say quietly. I don’t add anything about the future. That will remain up to her.
“For now.” She smiles and looks away.
Warm lights lend a welcoming glow to the house as we walk up the stairs to the entrance. Harper stiffens when I take her hand. She tries to tug it away, but I tighten my grip just enough to let her know I want to keep it. The strength I exert isn’t enough to hold her fast, but just enough that she’d cause a scene if she wanted to wrench her hand free. She glares at me, resentment clear on her face.
Well, I can’t argue with her. Our usual performance involves walking together, but we have had a tacit agreement to avoid touching as much as possible. So what? She’s my wife, and after her reaction to that massage today, I’ll touch her hand. I know part of her likes my touch.
