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She didn’t want him drawing into himself, or going off on a private Petronides guilt-fest.
Spiros kept his distance the rest of the night, but by the time he dropped her off at her apartment the self-disgust lurking in his eyes was gone and he even teased her about her study habits. Only he neglected to give her a kiss on the cheek goodbye.
She didn’t lament it too much, though. Her memories of the earlier real kiss were far too strong for her to worry about one small lost opportunity. Frankly, it would have surprised her if he had done it. And she wasn’t sure if she was prepared for any level of physical intimacy herself—even something as simple as a kiss goodbye.
The earlier kiss had done more than send her physical reactions haywire. It was still playing major havoc with her emotions and her thoughts. She had been so sure after so many years of unrequited love that Spiros could never have those sort of feelings for her. Now she knew irrefutably that he could.
It was hard to take, and even more difficult to trust…
Phoebe returned to the present, renewed in her determination to speak to her father about dissolving the promise between her and Dimitri. The only question in her mind was: would it be better to wait until after she and her father had discussed her job with the company?
Phoebe looked up when she heard her name spoken.
“You can go in now,” the secretary said.
Phoebe jumped to her feet and just barely remembered to keep her pace at a sedate walk as she crossed the reception area and knocked once before entering her father’s inner sanctum.
Aristotle Leonides came around from behind his desk to take her in a hug and give her a kiss of greeting on both cheeks, which she returned affectionately.
“So, how is my beautiful, educated daughter today?” he asked, with obvious paternal pride.
She grinned. “I am well. Thank you for inviting me to your office.”
His smile slipped and he nodded. “Yes. We need to talk, pethi mou.”
She nodded too, and made an effort to simulate his serious air, despite the happiness bubbling inside of her.
“Here—have a seat.” He guided her to a chair in front of his desk, and then went back around it to sit in his own executive chair.
She allowed herself a small smile. “I’ve always thought you looked like you ruled the world, sitting there.”
Sadness came over his features. “I only wish. In fact, if you cannot see your way to helping out the company, I will soon not be in charge of anything at all.”
She leaned forward earnestly in her seat. “You know I will do anything I can to help at Leonides Enterprises.”
His shoulders seemed to relax just a little. “I only hope that is true.”
“Of course it is, Papa. You have always been good to me, and the company is important to all of us.”
“I am glad to hear it. I told Theo I thought that would be the case, but it is good to hear you confirm your love and loyalty. I am a blessed man to have such a daughter.”
Tears pricked her eyes. Now was not the time for maudlin sentiment, but her father’s words meant so much. Though he had been more supportive of her dreams than many Greek fathers of their acquaintances would have been, he was still very traditional in some ways. He reserved most of his verbal approval for her younger brother.
“Whatever job you want me to do, I will do it,” she reaffirmed.
“While some women consider marriage a chore, I am not sure I have ever heard it referred to as a job before,” he said, with a return of some of his humor.
“Marriage?” What was he talking about? “I don’t think I understand.”
Again Aristotle’s demeanor became very serious, almost guarded. “This is not an easy thing for me to talk about. You understand?”
“Of course.” Though she didn’t. Not at all. She had no idea what he was referring to. But he needed her confirmation so she gave it.
“I have made some bad choices these past two years…they have affected the company in very detrimental ways.”
She began to understand his somber air. It would be difficult for most people to admit these kinds of mistakes, but even worse for a man as proud as her father. “I’m sorry.”
“Yes, I am also. Your grandfather—he wasn’t one for insurance. It was one of the few things he and Tio Theo used to fight about.” Aristotle let out a tired sigh. “It was an area I followed your grandfather’s example in. We’ve had setbacks—severe ones. This past year especially. And no insurance to cover the losses.”
