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He loosened his black tie, his chiselled features sombre. ‘So who’s going to look after him while you’re out all day studying? You need to think about whether that’s what you really want.’
‘Don’t you dare patronise me!’ She glared at him. ‘I’ll sort something out!’
His eyes had narrowed into jet-hard shards. ‘You’re looking very pale, Mia,’ he said. ‘This isn’t a conversation we should be having now and you’re not packing anything tonight. What you need is a drink.’
It was Theo taking control again. Theo being strong and masterful—and if she hadn’t been so bone-tired, Mia might have challenged him. But the thought of going upstairs to remove her shabby suitcase from the luxurious wardrobe wasn’t an enticing one, so she let him lead her out to the veranda.
The air was warm and thick with the scent of jasmine and the crystal glass into which he poured the brandy was as heavy as lead. She almost choked as the strong spirit burned its way down her throat, but at least the drink dissolved some of the tension which had been tightly coiled inside her all day. Or maybe it was just a sense of relief that her grandfather was at peace at last, which began to loosen some of her inhibitions.
This was her last night, she realised.
Her last night in Greece.
Her last night with Theo.
Tomorrow she would go back to her world, and he to his. She wondered how difficult it was going to be to forget him this time around. She wondered whether he would even give her a second thought.
Easing her feet out of her shoes, she glanced across the table at him. He had removed his black tie completely now, and although he had poured himself a glass of brandy, she noticed he hadn’t touched any. His features were granite hard, his dark eyes unreadable. He looked sounknowable, she thought. And so remote. Just as he’d always been. As if what had happened between them hadn’t made a dent in his iron-hard exterior. Had it?
‘Before I go, can I ask you something, Theo?’
‘What?’
Her voice was quiet. ‘Have you cried yet?’
His eyes narrowed with a dangerous glitter, but his voice was deadly calm. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Don’t do that haughty thing, Theo,’ she said softly. ‘After tomorrow, you’ll never see me again so why can’t we talk about it? My grandfather meant a lot to you and grief is supposed to be cathartic, isn’t it? So...’ She put her brandy down. ‘Have you cried yet?’ she persisted.
‘Honestly?’ He gave a short laugh. ‘I have never cried.’
‘What,never?’
‘Never, ever, at least that I can remember.’ The look he shot her was tinged with cold defiance. ‘Satisfied?’
‘Not in the least.’ She studied him curiously. ‘So, why not? Because you’re a man and big men don’t cry?’
He made an impatient sound with his tongue and for a moment she thought he was going to avoid the question, when suddenly he spoke.
‘Because abandoned orphans have to fight to stay tough,’ he informed her, his voice like gravel. ‘And crying doesn’t help you survive. Being rejected is bad enough but compound it with tears and you make yourself completely unlovable.’
It was the most candid admission he’d ever made and something about the raw and painful delivery of his words made Mia want to weep. But she didn’t offer him the sympathy she suspected he would misinterpret as pity. Wasthatthe reason why he didn’t do love? she wondered. Because deep down he considered himself unlovable, even after all this time? Unwilling to give up, she tried a different tack. ‘You’re going to miss my grandfather,’ she said.
He nodded, as if relieved by the sudden change of subject. ‘I certainly won’t miss his contrary nature or argumentativeness,’ he said drily. ‘But yes, I will miss the old rascal. He was...’
‘What?’ she prompted as he lapsed into silence.
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
She thought it did, but she let that one go. Her elbows on the table, Mia clasped her fingers together and rested her chin on them, her gaze very direct. ‘Do you know the first thing he said to me, every time I went to visit him?’
‘Since I’ve never been gifted with clairvoyancy, obviously I don’t,’ he drawled sarcastically. ‘Is it relevant?’
‘I think it is.’ Her voice softened. ‘Each time, without fail, he would look over my shoulder, and say, “Where’s Theo?”’
‘So?’ he demanded brusquely. ‘What of it? He probably wanted me to query something on his bank statement.’
‘No, it wasn’t that.’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘What I said the other day was true, Theo. You really were like a son to him—’
