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“What?” Spiros yelled.
“To your brother. I…I can’t do it, Spiros. Not after our kiss.”
Spiros’s agile brain whirled with the implications of what Phoebe was saying. Apparently her marriage to Dimitri played some role in saving Leonides Enterprises. And she had a problem with that because of their kiss. He could not allow that to remain an issue.
It was all so damn complicated. But he had to do the right thing. And there was only one right thing here, wasn’t there?
“Of course you can marry Dimitri. I told you to forget the kiss.”
“I can’t.”
“You must try.”
“Have you?” she challenged. “Forgotten, I mean?”
And for the first time in their relationship he lied to her. “Yes.”
Her eyes widened, as if she had not expected that answer.
“I kiss a lot of women, Phoebe.” That at least was the truth.
“But I thought…I mean…why can’t I marry you?” she asked, all in a rush.
Spiros felt like she’d knocked the air out of him. “You are promised to my brother.”
“But you’re the one I kissed.”
“As I said, I’ve kissed many women, but I have never ended up married to one of them.”
“But…”
“But what? Phoebe, it was a moment of weakness on both our parts. You should not let guilt drive you into doing something rash.”
“It’s not guilt.”
“What else could it be?” he asked. But he had no intention of giving her a chance to answer. He couldn’t afford to. If she said the words, they were both in trouble. “Love? I don’t think so. You’re as close to being my little sister as it is possible to get without sharing a blood relationship.”
That was also true…just not the whole truth. He felt nothing like her brother. Though he did feel like her friend. Her best friend. And, as such, it was his job to
do what was best for her…what was best for all of them.
“So the way you kissed me—it meant nothing?”
“It was pleasant.” Another damn lie. It had been world-shattering for him.
Were these lies necessary? Was any of this necessary? Then he remembered the ashen tone of his grandfather’s skin due to his heart condition. Spiros reflected on Dimitri’s determination to marry Phoebe. In this situation he—Spiros—had no rights. He had to remember that as well.
But it was so hard.
“Pleasant? Our souls connected. You had to have felt it.”
Now, that was not something he was willing to admit—even to himself. “You are an innocent…your reaction overwhelmed you. You must trust me when I say it was simply a kiss. As I have said, I have kissed many women and never proposed to one.”
“Dimitri has never proposed to me either,” she said, as if that were some insurmountable obstacle.
“I am sure he will get around to it, but until then Grandfather has acted in his stead.” He assumed that was what had happened. It was perhaps a bit old-fashioned, but certainly not beyond the realm of permissible.
Awfully cold, though. He would have to speak to his brother at the earliest opportunity. And if the thought of advising Dimitri on how best to treat Phoebe made the bile rise in Spiros’ stomach, that was his own problem.
