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“What did you say?”
“You know how I feel about you,” he brushed that aside. “That’s not why I’m offering you this. In fact, you’d have to meet with the curator and interview formally for the position. Once you start, you’ll have nothing to do with me. My family would own the gallery—my brothers, and my mother. My own part in it would be insignificant. If it would make you accept the role, I would step back from any involvement whatsoever”
Her heart was growing, bigger and bigger and stronger and stronger and she felt the truth of his words and the beauty of his offer all at once. More than that, she felt the future shimmering right before her, a future she’d almost lost because of fear, that she was in danger of destroying altogether.
“Where would the gallery be?”
“We’re still scouting locations. Greece is the sentimental favourite.” He leaned closer. “I know that’s hardly convenient, given that you live in London, but our corporation has excellent relocation packages available. You’d have accommodation organised for the first three months, while you settled in.”
“I see,” she nodded, pretending to think about it. “And would you be based in Greece as well?”
He eyed her warily, as if assessing what she might want. “I can be anywhere,” he said after a beat. “If you were to turn down the offer, I’d probably spend more time in London.”
“Ah. Why?”
“I’m pretty sure you know the answer to that.”
Her heart thundered. “I like hearing you say it though.”
“Are you enjoying my torment?” He queried, with the ghost of a smile. With a smile that spoke not of happiness but of ruination, of doubt, and she understand that for all the power he wielded to hurt her, she held that same power within her hands. She couldn’t exercise it though. Not any longer.
“Sort of,” she lifted a hand to his chest and felt his own heart rushing to pump blood through his body. “Just a little.” Their eyes connected and a jolt of surety passed between them. “Do you promise this is based on merit?”
“Do you really need to ask that? You’re a walking art encyclopaedia and if you’d ever had the opportunity to pursue it, you’d be running your own gallery by now. I want you to have your dreams, but not because I don’t think you’ll find your own way to them, just because you deserve them now.” He hesitated. “I know that’s he wanted too. He wanted to make up for the cards you’d been dealt, because he understood what you were up against.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I know that.” She forced her gaze to Anastasios’, needing him to understand. “But he also knew why it was important to me to succeed on my own, just as he had.”
“Is that a ‘no’ to the gallery?”
She was being torn in so many directions. She’d wanted to keep Anastasios at a distance, but her heart was needing him to be close. She wanted to grab the art gallery opportunity with both hands, but caution was a ribbon, tying her in knots. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
“I will do whatever makes you comfortable,” he murmured. “Including giving you time to think. I’ll go right now, if you would like.”
It was crunch time. She could keep him at arm’s length, until she was sure that this was the right decision, or she could go with her gut, which already knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this was right, in every single way.
“I’ve been thinking about something,” she said slowly, staring at his eyes, losing herself in their depths. She felt only good things when she stared at him. There was no wariness, no pain. Instead, love, faith, trust and hope mixed inside of her, as well as excitement at the prospect of what they could do together. “My father was a very bad man. He hurt me often and I hated him.” She reached out, putting a hand on Anastasios’ chest. “That night in Italy, when we fought, I thought you were just the same as him, but you’re not. He was truly terrible, whereas you are a very good man, who made a mistake. You can’t promise you won’t make another mistake, and I won’t ask it of you. It’s enough to know that you will try.”
“Christos, Phoebe, I can promise you, and I do promise you. I will never hurt you, and I will never let anyone hurt you. My actions that night were out of character and I have spent a lifetime repenting them already.”
Her heart fluttered.
“Would you like me to leave, so you can think about things?”
Her heart twisted.
“No.”
His eyes flared. “Would you like to go for dinner?”
Her cells fired with pleasure. “Nope.”
“Then what would you like to do? The decision is yours, Phoebe. All yours.”
She looked over her shoulder, into her tiny bedsit, then back at Anastasios. “There’s not a lot of space, but seeing as you’re here—,”
The words hovered between them, and each knew there was so much more to what she was saying. Anastasios’ eyes were suspiciously moist, but when he spoke, his voice was pure, confidence billionaire tycoon.
“If you’re inviting me in, the answer, my beautiful, darling Phoebe, is a resounding yes.”
