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Damen’s jaw dropped while Stavros gaped in sheer disbelief.
“Our nanny’s down with a flu, but I’m sure you wouldn’t want us to cancel our celebration because of that. Right?” But he didn’t bother waiting for an answer. Pulling his wife to his side, he walked towards the doors, warning his children over his shoulder, “Be good.”
“Yes, Papa,” Dio and Ella said obediently, but they were also giggling, as if they had been instructed with a secret mission to give their godfathers hell once their parents left.
Kyr whisked his wife away amidst her faint protests, and together with his sad-looking cake, he took her hand and told her they were heading to their yacht.
The question in her eyes was also easy to interpret, and he answered with a smirk, “Just the two of us. I wouldn’t want anyone to know how hot you are for my body.”
She turned red, even as she lied in protest, “I’m not!”
But then he gave her a smoldering look under hooded lids. Her knees knocked against each other, and she found herself clutching his arm tightly to keep her balance.
He laughed. “Case closed, psaraki.”
“I hate you,” she mumbled.
“You hate me probably as much as you love that I’m yours.” Even though he was clearly taunting her, the seductive note in his voice still had her feeling hot and bothered. Releasing her hand, he tipped her chin up. “Ne?”
“Ne,” she agreed glumly, but it was hard to stay miserable when her husband’s sexy dark laughter played in the night like an invisible caress on her body.
Holding her hand again as they resumed walking, he asked her how her day had been while he had been slaving away in the kitchen because of his wife’s cruel demands.
“Cruel?” she couldn’t help scoffing.
He nodded emphatically, just because he had a lot of fun provoking his wife.
“I’m cruel?” Shaking her head at her husband’s sheer gall, Pollyanna muttered, “You’re the one who’s cruel, forcing me to study French.”
His lips compressed. Well, that had been cruel, considering how much his wife hated studying. But he had persuaded her to do so, telling her that it was one way they could still have adult conversations around the twins, who were at an age that they already understood most of what was being said around them, either in Greek or English.
Polly spied the look on her husband’s face and cried out, “See! I knew it! You are cruel!”
“You can’t deny having a third language helps—-”
“But it didn’t have to be French,” she accused him.
Ah, God. He did his best to control his mirth.
“You know it’s super hard—-”
This time, Kyr could no longer help it, his laughter escaping him. “Super hard, psaraki? Truly?”
She realized then how childlike she had sounded, and the color in her cheeks deepened. “It just slipped. Stop laughing. Seriously, it’s not funny.” Deciding to change the subject, she said quickly, “Do you know the twins and I visited my godparents today?”
And just like that, he had no desire to laugh at all. But because he knew it would look suspicious, Kyr managed to keep his smile in place as he said blandly, “No, I didn’t.”
She hesitated. “You’re not still mad at them, are you?” Even though her godparents and husband were always civil to each other, there was no denying that nothing had really changed between them either.
He ignored the question, saying, “Did the twins have fun at the farm?”
Accepting with a private sigh that it still wasn’t time to ask what had gone wrong between them, Pollyanna answered, “Yes, they did. They always do, and this time more so because Nono taught them how to plant tulips in the greenhouse.” She paused. “Things got a little awkward though, when I saw Nona crying in her bedroom. I didn’t mean to, but...” She bit her lip.
Her shamefaced look made his gaze narrow. “Spill it, psaraki.”
“She didn’t want to tell me what was wrong, but when she left to join the twins outside, I couldn’t help it.” She paused, then added in a small voice, “There was a letter on her bed, and I just wanted to see what was in it that made her cry.”
Tension coiled inside his body, and he knew right away what it was about. He started to tell her he no longer wanted to hear anything, but it was too late.
“It’s her daughter,” Pollyanna whispered. “Or I think it is because they do have the same last name, and well...the letter said Nona’s daughter is getting divorced.”
Chapter Seven
For the twins, a preschool designed to meet international standards had been built on the island, and Kyr had taken on the responsibility of driving them to and from school. Normally, Dio would be the first one to leave his side upon reaching school, but today was different. Ella was the first one to kiss her father goodbye and skip into class while Dio stayed behind, a visibly troubled look on his face, and with his hands clasped behind his back, the young boy looked too much like a brooding miniature of Kyr, it was uncanny.
