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His face was immovable, except for his eyes, which stormed with emotions she couldn’t interpret. She didn’t notice, anyway.
“Every year of my life, my birthday has sucked, except for last year, when your beautiful dad made me feel so good, Anastasios. So important and valued.” She shook her head. “And then there’s you, and how you made me feel tonight. I’ll never forget it. So congratulations, in a litany of truly awful birthdays, you’ve managed to take the cake. Thanks for everything.”
It was churlish and unnecessary, but her heart was hurting, and she was lashing out from that wounded place, wanting to wound him when she suspected she didn’t have the power.
She stalked through the boat, towards the stairs. It was only when she reached the door to her room that she realized he’d followed.
“It’s your birthday?”
She glared at him. “Yes.”
“I didn’t know.”
“No,” she responded with a shift of her head. “You don’t know anything about me.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why? If you had known, would you have waited until tomorrow to humiliate and denigrate me?”
His eyes bore into hers, dark emotions swirling between them.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said with a shake of her head, all the fight leaving her. “I’m going to bed. I just want this over with.”
“Stop.” His word was commanding. “Let me show you something.”
He pulled out his phone and pressed some buttons, then handed it to her. A photo appeared with a familiar note. She gasped when she read it, for the feelings of warmth and affection that flooded back to her.
“How did you get this?”
His eyes sparked with hers. “The source who’s selling the story to the tabloids produced this as proof. My friend sent it to me.”
She shuddered at the gross invasion of her privacy, shoving the phone back at him. “And you believe that’s evidence of an affair?”
“There is also this photo.” He swiped his phone screen and a photo came up. She stared at it with disbelief.
“We were just talking,” she said, even when a part of her could see their obvious closeness, could understand that it could be misconstrued.
“These things, combined with the bequest, the statue, the painting, the weekly rendezvous, and now, the reference to a fabulous weekend, they paint a very clear picture.”
She nodded, not because she agreed with him, but because she understood the truth of their situation. She’d never be able to make him understand.
“When did you get this?”
“Does it matter?”
“I’m just trying to work out if you’ve been hating me this whole time, pretending to be sweet and kind and making me think—,” she clamped her lips together. “Or if you’ve been lying to me all along.”
“That’s a little rich, isn’t it?”
“I’ve never lied to you,” she whispered tremulously. “Not once.”
“I was told of the note’s existence only yesterday.”
“So all today,” she said with a shake of her head. “You thought this.”
“I’ve thought it all along,” he reminded her.
“Then what was that kiss today?” She challenged.
“Biology,” he said with a lift of his shoulders, brushing it off. “We were there, you were looking at me as though I was ice cream on a hot day.”
“Wow.” She blinked quickly. “Good to know.”
