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CHAPTER NINE
WALKINGBACKINTO Alex’s stunning home in Athens felt different now, and not just because her skin was three shades darker courtesy of days stretched out by the pool. It was different because they were home, and home brought with it a crushing sense of reality. She would have been tempted to enjoy the sanctuary of his haven, where none of the real world intruded, none of the problems, none of the worries.
But that wasn’t practical.
Only she hadn’t banked on how pressing the real world would feel. She made a coffee and turned on her iPad and immediately it began to ping with news alerts. With a knot in her tummy, she opened them up, flicking past the fluff pieces—announcements of her marriage to Alex—and focusing on the fallout.
Jonathan, blissfully unaware that she’d remarried, courtesy of the show’s sequestering of its participants, continued to divulge secrets and lies from their marriage. There was nothing of particular importance, just gossip, but Tessa’s innate desire for privacy bristled at the casual way her name was being thrown around, so when Alex sauntered into the living room some time later it was to find Tessa pink-faced and jabbing at the screen, flicking an angry email to her lawyer. Surely there was a law against the press running articles without fact-checking them first? Some of the pieces were damned close to slander.
‘Problem?’
Yes. She had a problem. But being back here, in Athens, reminded Tessa forcefully of who she was, of who Alex was, and the realities of their marriage. The honeymoon was over. Now they had to get on with their lives.
‘No,’ she clipped in response, standing and casting her iPad aside. ‘I’m going to my studio to work.’ She looked around for her handbag and found it on a chair nearby. ‘I’ll see you tonight.’
He watched her go without evincing a single emotion. She was a free agent. If she wanted to work, of course she could. He had plans to return to the office himself, though he hadn’t been planning to rush in there today. In fact, there were many other things he thought he might enjoy doing far, far more. But Tessa had been withdrawing from him ever since they’d left Epíneio. She’d read her book on the boat, made polite small talk only when absolutely necessary, and then sat silently during the car trip back to his place.
He hadn’t pushed her.
Their situation was complex and the marriage new. They were both navigating it as best they could.
With a frown, he moved absentmindedly to the sofa, his hand brushing the back, where she’d been sitting, before his eyes landed on the iPad, a moment before the screen went black. But he’d seen it first—the picture of her and Jonathan with a splashy tabloid heading. Reaching for the device, he swiped it open and read the article with grimly held lips.
So her ex-husband was still spewing his disgusting nonsense? Just as Tessa had feared he would.
And their marriage hadn’t stopped the stories from leaking into the headlines. His first thought was of Tessa, but very quickly his mind shifted to her father, to the plan she’d had to save her parents from any further pain caused by her idiot ex.
This wasn’t working. Would it ever have worked? And if not, why had he agreed?
Then again, a quick Google search showed that the only place Jonathan’s indiscreet blather landed was in the most low-rent tabloids. No broadsheet masthead was remotely interested in his troublemaking stories. Their marriage had more coverage, simply because it had invigorated share prices for both companies as news of a corporate merger gained steam.
And?
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, staring into space as he considered that. Orion was getting older, and his heart was failing. Since Stavros’s death he’d returned to the role of CEO, but surely alleviating those pressures would be beneficial?
Would he agree to hand the reins over to Alex? And would Tessa think he was taking on too much, given the nature of their marriage?
He replaced the iPad with a growing sense of unease. The straight lines he’d planned to hold in place seemed to be starting to wobble, but Alex simply wouldn’t let them. He expelled a long, slow breath, retaking a grip on reality. Nothing had changed since that morning. They were married, in a very specific kind of marriage, and her issues were still there, just as they had been before.
It was just as they’d agreed.
He showered quickly and left for the office, seeking normality and escape from the direction of his thoughts.
Tessa painted with anger. She painted with grief. But she also painted beauty and pain and the inescapable presence of both in life, the euphoria of bliss shadowed by the threat of loss. She painted Epíneio, the shoreline, with white sand beaches and frangipani trees casting a telltale shadow. It was only when looking closely that one could see the dark depth of those shadows, the ominous promise of their presence.
She painted, the light in her studio perfect, the sun streaming in through the large windows of the disused fire station she shared with two other artists, and she worked tirelessly, ignoring the painting hanging to her left, the pair of eyes staring back at her that were now as familiar to her as her own had been.
She painted under Alex’s gaze, the painting she’d done in the week after they slept together, when he’d filled her mind and heart and soul and she’d yearned for him, and ached for him, and had wanted a piece of him even though she could never have him.
She wasn’t sure why she’d kept the painting all these years.
It wasn’t her usual thing.
She loved landscapes and still life. But his face had taken shape and she’d sculpted his features onto the canvas brushstroke by brushstroke, particularly proud of the cynical mockery she’d captured in his eyes, the derisive curl of his lips. It was how she’d always wanted to remember him—scathing. Hurtful. Because she’d known she could never forget.
Yet here she was, blissfully sinking back into a state of unawarness, allowing herself to delight in his company, to delight in him.
She dropped her head forward, into her hands, and moaned. Everything had seemed so simple, but it wasn’t, and, no matter how determined she was to maintain their contractual agreement, she couldn’t change the fact that he’d become a part of her all over again.
