Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

T HE DEEP PEACH dress with silver piping did very little to hide her pregnancy.

Not that she was trying to. On the contrary, Odessa loved nothing more than to smooth her hand over the soft chiffon and her swollen belly, her heart kicking when she felt movement beneath her touch.

Her much-enhanced cleavage did draw a blush to her cheeks—especially the way the silver piping moulded and emphasised her breasts, cinching beneath her bust before flaring to the floor. She loved the way the three silver rope spaghetti strap design emphasised her tan. Her hair, left to grow even longer over the past few months, was caught in an elegant chignon, a few sun-streaked highlights gleaming in the dark caramel tresses.

A nervous smile curved her light peach-glossed lips, and no matter how long and deep she inhaled, she couldn't quite catch her breath.

Because of what lay ahead of her.

Odessa wasn't entirely sure it was a good idea to combine the grand opening of Odessa Tower with attempting to put her marriage on the right track, but she'd made the decision and was determined to stick to it. Not least because the past four weeks had been hectic, with Ares cagily resisting her every attempt to find ten minutes to talk.

As if she'd conjured him from thought alone, she sensed him in the doorway. Nerves held her still and she didn't turn around immediately. Instead, she tried to compose herself, to think through how she would convince him to give them a chance.

If he said no...

Her heart lurched, but she pushed the feeling away.

If he said no, she'd have no choice but to revert to her initial plan to meet with her lawyer and fight for her children.

But, Dio mio , with every fibre of her being she hoped he didn't.

Thee mou , she looked glorious.

A delicious peach—pun very much intended—that every atom of his body screamed at him to devour. He hadn't paid much attention to the changes that happened in pregnant women until his own wife had fallen pregnant. He should have. Because over the months he'd been bombarded with surprises. Some unpleasant stomach-churning when her morning sickness had hit full-force and nothing had seemed to alleviate it. Then the very absorbing, carnal and viscerally primal impact of watching her body change. Seeing her belly swell with his child.

He understood now how some men were rampant with protectiveness.

A pregnant Odessa was sexy on a level that continued to baffle and flay him—which was why he'd grasped those nights she'd graced his bed with desperate hands. Until he'd ruined even that with his careless words.

Ares wasn't ashamed to admit he was both thrilled with and dreading her making good on her promise not to remain in Africa.

Ne , he knew he had a battle on his hands—he could see her determination to take him on brewing in her eyes. His mistrust had hurt her, and his past pain still had a stranglehold on him that was in danger of shattering his marriage.

But he'd face that battle soon enough.

At almost eight months pregnant she positively glowed . Her stylist had aced her appearance with that shade of peach. And the way the silver set off her beautiful eyes and the bodice hugged her breasts...

She spun from the floor-length mirror to face him, and Ares realised he'd groaned under his breath.

He straightened from leaning against the archway that led to her dressing room, silently watching her putting the finishing touches to her attire.

Shimmery silver earrings dangled from her ears, drawing his hungry gaze to the long, graceful line of her neck. With a savage punch of arousal he remembered that erogenous zone. His shaft hardened and his mouth watered.

Angling his body so his tuxedo hid the evidence, he forced his gaze from her breasts to her face. ‘We need to get going. Are you ready?'

His voice was husky and rough, and he watched heat flow up her gorgeous face. Biting back another groan, he locked his knees to stop him from charging across the room and tasting that erogenous zone once more. He feared it would be just the start.

‘Yes...' She lowered long, beautiful lashes and swept up her silver clutch. Then she darted another look at him. ‘Do I...?' She laughed and shook her head. ‘Never mind. I won't have time to do anything about it even if I don't look okay.'

A hard bark of laughter left his throat. ‘You're joking, right? You'll be the most beautiful woman there tonight.'

Her stunning eyes grew wide. ‘Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself.'

The smile that teased her lips snatched the rest of his breath away. For a moment he was thrown back to the girl who'd broken her father's rules and ventured into the forbidden part of the estate. The girl who'd hung around the garage, not afraid to get herself dirty while she washed the cars with him and his father. The girl he'd placed on a pedestal...which he was beginning to suspect was her rightful place after all.

‘Ares?'

He realised he was staring and caught himself, smoothly holding out his arm in silent command. She glided towards him, a goddess. And, hell, even the silver points of her heels playing peekaboo with her hem was sexy to him.

Could anyone blame him?

They hadn't made love since she'd uttered those two words that had shaken him to the soul. That had made him turn tail and flee, despite yearning to reach for her.

Have faith.

He deserved every second of this suffering.

‘Are you sure you're all right?'

He clenched his teeth, then failed immediately to resist. He pulled her scent into himself once more, tortured himself with the glorious softness of her skin.

‘I will survive,' he clipped, then tossed up a prayer that this would prove true.

For some reason that response sent a dart of hurt across her face. A common occurrence, he admitted, his own mood plummeting. Because this too was his fault, wasn't it?

Hell, he seemed to have lost his way along this journey.

Stances he'd taken had left him tossing and turning at night until he was certain he was being driven out of his mind. And for the first time in his life he was avoiding his own father, because the old man didn't fail to let him know by word or look how he was failing. Hell, Sergios had uncharacteristically called him a fool earlier on today!

Silence reigned until they were approaching the lift. Then she looked around, searching for the very man in his thoughts. ‘Is Sergios not coming with us?'

‘He claimed he didn't want to intrude, so he went ahead an hour ago.'

She sent him a searching glance. ‘You don't believe him?'

Despite his inner turmoil, his mouth twitched. ‘He's visited the tower twice and the restaurant three times this week alone.'

She smiled, taking his breath away. ‘He's excited.'

‘ Ne. He boasts to everyone who will listen that his daughter-in-law decorated the tower.'

Her stunning silver eyes widened. ‘Really? But I only designed a fraction of it.'

‘An important fraction to him. To me,' he tossed in after a second.

He sensed her gaze on his face, and with a compulsion he couldn't resist he met hers.

‘To you or to your team?' she asked, a touch hesitantly.

‘I am my team.'

And your husband.

Eyes still clinging to his, she swallowed. He wanted to trace the line of her throat with his fingers so badly he had to clench his fist to kill the temptation.

Because he was becoming painfully aware that he'd taken a wrong turn somewhere along this journey. That he'd clung for far too long to slights that had been out of her control. Her care and affection towards his father these last few months had been eye-opening. And even while they'd been apart she'd thought about them, prayed for him. The way she'd cared for herself and their unborn child during this pregnancy...

If he'd caused her irreparable harm—and he was fearing he had—did he deserve her?

The question shook him to his core, his whole body jerking in reaction to it.

‘Ares?'

He shook his head, feeling a rare panic—the kind he'd experienced only once before, when Bartorelli had seized her in Athens—crawling over his skin.

He'd been dealt with once and for all, thankfully. But what now? Would he succeed this time around? Or was he fated to let her slip through his fingers like she had all those years ago?

He glanced down at her, attempting to harden himself against impending pain. Because if he failed...

‘Everything is fine,' he reassured her, despite not believing a word of it.

He could fix things. Couldn't he?

Those two words plagued him all the way to their destination—his greatest business achievement to date.

Ares stepped out after they'd pulled up to the red carpet leading into the tower he'd spent three years pouring his vision into. He ignored the intense flashes of cameras as he helped Odessa out, and then he simply couldn't pull his gaze away as she stared up at the structure he'd named after her.

He'd wanted something unique, to stand out against the many stunning masterpieces of the Abu Dhabi city landscape. The end result far surpassed his exacting expectations.

Set entirely on a raised concrete platform, surrounded by a shallow lake that jetted plumes of water into the air, the soaring sixty-floor O-shaped design was set in ten concentric silver mirrored rings, each a reflection of her stunning eyes in every mood. Powerful spotlights lit the structure from below, while strategically placed lighting silhouetted it beautifully against the night sky. Reflections from the rippling water made the whole building glimmer, seeming to move in hypnotic beauty.

Not unlike the woman next to him.

Ares hadn't quite known—or perhaps had readily accepted—his subconscious's intentions when he'd selected the colour, but now he did.

Everything he did was influenced by her in one way or another.

It was time to stop fooling himself that she wasn't important. That all he wanted from her was the child she was carrying and the other children she'd agreed to provide him.

It was time to have faith .

Every other outcome left a searing hollow in his chest that intensified the panic gripping him.

‘I've never seen it at night-time. It's even more breathtaking,' she said, her voice low, husky.

Perhaps it was not meant for his ears alone, but he couldn't help hoping it was.

‘ Ne , it is,' he agreed, not shying away from the throb of emotion in his voice.

The flash from another camera drew her attention from his building and he was both irritated by the distraction and a little jealous of her open admiration for what he'd built.

He wanted her to look at him that way. Not to see the layer of wariness in her eyes when she glanced at him.

He wanted to be done with this opening that had attracted some of the most influential people in the Middle East and from around the world, all of whom wanted a piece of architectural history.

A deep sense of urgency gripped him all through the launch, but he throttled it down. Odessa, along with the design team, deserved her due for a magnificent job.

Pride filled him as he listened to gushing accolades about the decor his wife had helped create. As he watched her blushingly accept her due.

His wife.

That thing shifting and settling within him as he thought of her not as the woman carrying his child but as the woman he'd once imagined making a life with felt heavy.

Moving.

Significant.

And right.

Have faith.

Yes.

It was a huge relief when he claimed her four hours later, tugged her arm once more into the crook of his and firmly stated that his pregnant wife needed to rest.

‘Thanks for that,' she murmured as he walked them towards the magnificent doors and into the foyer of the tower. ‘My feet are killing me and my back feels as if it's made of concrete.'

He led them into the lift and pressed the button marked ‘Odessa Penthouse' .

‘Then you won't mind if we spend the night here and go home tomorrow.'

‘So we get to break in the tower?' she asked, eyes wide. And then a heated blush swept into her cheeks. ‘I mean...'

He laughed, welcoming the brief relief to the churning unease in his gut. ‘I know what you mean, eros mou . And, yes. We'll be the first to spend the night in Odessa Tower.'

His voice felt thick from the arousal surging through him, and he didn't bother to hide it. She looked infinitely delicious, and the hunger sweeping through him was fast reaching untameable levels.

It was both a relief and a torture to step into the privacy of the penthouse. Relief because he had a little breathing room to think, and torture because for the first time in his life he was terrified of how the next hour would go.

They stepped into the spacious and lavish caramel, silver and gold living room in time to see the night sky explode in bright colour.

‘Oh, I forgot about the fireworks!' Odessa exclaimed.

Suppressing a groan, Ares crossed over to the extensive liquor cabinet and poured a glass of alcohol-free champagne. Returning to where she stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows, he handed it to her, and then, simply because he couldn't help himself, he trailed a hand down her jaw and neck, fighting the punch of emotions as she shivered and swallowed.

She wasn't immune to this, he reassured himself. She'd boldly told him she'd prove him wrong in their agreement. That he'd regret it. And he did now. Surely it wasn't too late to make them a real family?

The tightening in his chest didn't ease when she raised her glass, then gasped at a particularly vivid firework, her eyes gleaming...

Ares wanted to experience these significant moments long after tonight.

‘Aren't you having a drink?' she asked.

He shook his head. ‘I've had enough of toasts tonight.'

Her eyebrows shot up. ‘Chomping at the bit to get on to the next project already?'

The slight quiver in her voice told him she sensed the undercurrents between them.

‘Something like that,' he answered easily, even while his stomach churned.

Because this would be his most important project yet.

She lowered her glass, her eyes shadowing slightly, and she winced.

‘What is it?' he rasped.

She grimaced, one hand reaching behind her to massage her back. ‘I know it's technically impossible, but I feel as if our child has gained another pound between dinner and now!' Her eyes widened as he relieved her of the glass, shed his tuxedo jacket, then dropped to his haunches before her. ‘What are you doing?'

He lightly grasped her ankle and unbuckled her shoe. ‘Relieving some of your stress—as is my right,' he said, and the pounding need for things he'd thought impossible but which now seemed imperative echoed in his voice.

Her lips parted, but she didn't protest at his assistance, instead bracing one hand on the glass wall and the other on his shoulder. ‘Thank you.'

He undid the other shoe and set it aside, then his hands trailed up her slim calves, massaging the firm flesh. His body roared at her husky moan.

‘I want to do more,' he offered.

And he meant so much more than easing her aches. Now that he'd given himself fuller permission to envisage their future, endless scenarios bombarded him. One in which the heartache of loss and rejection was frantically overcome with greater, deeper emotion.

Like love.

That soul-shaking feeling that had always clung to the edges of his existence and never gone away. No matter how much he'd willed it to. No matter how much he'd convinced himself that this woman wasn't worth it, that her actions were too reminiscent of his pain to ever be set aside.

But now shame stung him for condemning her so roundly. For tainting her and what they might have with the brush of his mother's heartless actions.

She sucked in a shaky breath, then nodded. ‘Okay.'

Dropping forward onto his knees, Ares continued his ministrations, digging into her tight muscles, and watched her head fall back.

‘Oh, God, that feels so good.'

Her whispered words sent a powerful sensation straight to his chest, then lower to his lately forsaken libido. He let in the sublime sensation, opening himself up to what could be.

Before he could drive himself insane with the promises whispering in his head he drew out his phone. Keeping one hand on her, and absorbing her every reaction, he sent the electronic command he needed to.

A few minutes later a familiar voice flowed through the inbuilt speakers: ‘Ares, your bath is ready.'

His wife's gaze snapped to his, her beautiful eyes wide in surprise. ‘Oh...is that my voice?'

He slotted the phone back into his pocket. ‘Yes. I programmed the penthouse virtual assistant to have your voice.' He rose and swept her into his arms.

Her eyes widened even more as her arms slid around his neck. ‘It's not in the whole tower, is it?'

Ares shook his head as he strode into the breathtakingly luxurious bathroom. ‘No. It's for just this penthouse. For my ears only.'

She shifted in his arms and heat intensified in his groin when another flush crept into her face.

‘That pleases you, doesn't it?'

Her beautiful lashes swept down, but he noticed her altered breathing. ‘There's something...hot about it,' she murmured sultrily.

‘Indeed,' he concurred, stopping next to a tub wide enough to hold six easily.

The lights had been set to a seductive ambience, emphasising her perfection as he reached behind her and lowered her zipper. She was braless, and once he'd disposed of her panties she stood before him, a ripe goddess whom he fully accepted had commanded his world since the first moment she'd stepped into it all those years ago.

‘ Thee mou , you're perfection. Aphrodite herself,' he breathed.

Mine. He remembered uttering that possessive on their first night together. That had been a claim from a position of dominance. Now it was more of a plea. A resurgent hope. And it was one he was determined to make a reality, because he was man enough to accept that everything he was, everything he'd achieved, was empty without her.

He glanced at the gently swirling scented water, felt sensation roaring in his ears. ‘Alone? Or together?' he asked gruffly.

Breathtaking silver eyes examined him, long and deep. Then she whispered, ‘Together.'

The word was barely out of her mouth before he was shucking off his clothes.

He helped her into the tub and washed her body while raining kisses on every inch of exposed skin he could reach. He revelled in her sighs.

Then it was his turn to gasp in wonder as his roved his hands over her swollen belly and felt their child move within.

‘He loves that...' She sighed, a captivating smile curving her sensual lips.

‘So he should. He's warm and happy.'

Her breath caught, and then she was tilting towards him.

Her eyes searched his again, shades of wariness making him stiffen a little. But before he could petition for himself, step on the road to making things right, she cupped his jaw. Inhaled shakily.

‘Ares. Take a chance on this. Take a chance on us ,' she whispered fervently against his lips.

And, sweet heaven, the way his heart leapt should have terrified every last cell in his body. But it was immediately channelled into a far more satisfying outcome. One he'd been starved of for too long.

A new beginning would work for them.

It had to.

He stepped out of the tub and scooped his wife out, his mouth greedily seeking hers as he marched with urgent feet to the bed.

‘Ares! I'm wet,' she protested huskily, beautifully, when he set her down next to the emperor-sized bed in the bedroom she'd designed so spectacularly with silver to match her eyes.

His lips curled in a smile he knew reeked of a very masculine satisfaction. ‘Yes. And you're about to get wetter, eros mou .'

Her deep flush was beautifully predictable. Infinitely arousing.

Ares wanted a lifetime of that.

Tomorrow, he vowed silently to himself, as soon as he was done with slaking this savage hunger, he would embark on making it so.

‘Please... Stop torturing me,' she moaned, after he'd spent an age exploring her.

He raised his head from her heated skin, drunk on her beauty. ‘But I like watching you come undone for me.'

‘Even if the wait torments you too?'

She reached for him, grasped him boldly, and stroked him with enough pressure to siphon the air from his lungs.

‘You're a witch.'

‘A little while ago I was a goddess,' she tossed back, her half-moon eyes glinting with feminine power.

‘Hmm...both are equally enthralling.'

It was the last thing either of them said for a very long time.

‘Wake up, sleepyhead.'

Odessa struggled to prise her eyes open. She moaned in soporific pleasure as firm, warm fingers threaded through her hair and gently massaged her scalp.

‘Oh, that feels so good...'

‘I'd love to keep going but we've landed. We need to leave the plane.' A soft kiss brushed her temple. ‘I'll deliver a full-body massage when we get home if you shift your delicious behind right now,' Ares said, deep amusement in his tone.

‘Promise?'

‘Ne.'

Opening her eyes, she focused on him. His hair was sexily dishevelled, his eyes sharp as he watched her. ‘How long did I sleep?'

‘Last night or this morning?' he rasped, with a touch of teasing.

She rolled her eyes. ‘It's not my fault you wore me out.'

Odessa tensed slightly when his lids swept down, and she felt the edginess she'd had since that telling plea in the bathroom last night return to shimmer over her skin.

She'd sensed something was brewing with Ares. But she'd fallen into an exhausted stupor soon after they'd made love last night and she'd slept in this morning, her heavily pregnant body demanding rest. She'd struggled to dress herself in time to make their plane, and made a beeline for the jet's bedroom as quickly as her waddle could carry her.

Now, after a little rest, she knew she couldn't put this off any longer. ‘Can we talk when we get home?'

His amusement evaporated, to be replaced by narrow-eyed intensity. Then he nodded. ‘Yes. There are a few things we need to settle, I believe.'

Her nerves intensified, but since she'd initiated this Odessa took a breath and powered through with a nod.

‘Kalos,' he breathed, and then, rising, swept her into his arms.

Surprised by the move, she linked her arms around his neck. ‘I thought I was meant to be walking?'

He shrugged his powerful shoulders and sent her a devilish wink as he exited the bedroom. ‘This way gets us moving more quickly.'

She couldn't disagree, so she clung on, hiding her face in his neck when she saw the pilot and flight attendants patiently waiting for them to disembark. She would probably never get used to this level of influential luxury. But she prayed that if it meant being given a chance to remain at Ares's side for the next several decades then she'd learn to live with it.

She was repeating that prayer when they swept into the driveway of his... their Athens home.

The promise of a massage—hopefully after she'd pleaded her case once and for all—was very much at the forefront of her mind as Ares sauntered into the large marble foyer of the mansion.

She was preparing appropriate words to express how much she wanted to stay married without the shackles of their agreement when she saw Sergios and a vaguely familiar-looking man approaching from the living room.

With a panicked gasp she realised she was staring at her lawyer—the man she'd only communicated with so far via video call. ‘Mr Georgiou. What are you doing here?'

Ares stiffened. ‘You know this man?'

Her heart leapt into her throat, both at the lawyer's presence and at the pain and disappointment etched on Sergios's face.

She knew the instant Ares deciphered his father's expression too. He went stiff, his movements careful but stilted as he set her down. A quick glance showed his intensified wariness.

‘What's going on?' he rumbled, his eyes scouring her face.

‘I... Can we talk in private, please?' she pleaded.

He slanted a glance at the short man, who was grasping rather quickly that his presence here was a big mistake. ‘Tell me who you are and what you want with my wife,' Ares demanded, his voice a thin, deadly blade.

The man cast her a deeply apologetic look, then introduced himself. ‘I'm your wife's lawyer. We had an appointment yesterday, and when she didn't turn up for our meeting, I thought I'd...'

He spread his hands expressively, while Odessa's heart plummeted.

She'd completely forgotten about the meeting she'd scheduled weeks ago.

The transformation in Ares was heart-stopping. Perhaps it was because it appeared as if he'd stopped breathing as he rounded on her.

‘Since when?' he seethed.

Odessa swallowed, her hand darting to her belly as her son chose that moment to kick her—hard. Wincing, she answered, ‘A while.'

‘How long is "a while"?' Ares demanded.

She cast her mind back, her senses reeling. ‘A few weeks.'

Sergios's expression grew harder and Ares sucked in a sharp breath. ‘Leave my house. Now.'

The bespectacled man mumbled a quick apology before he darted out through the front door. A purse-lipped Demeter was waiting to shut the door firmly behind him.

Ares's eyes blazed with a mixture of censure and...was it pain?

‘That talk you wanted. I'm guessing it has something do with this?'

She shook her head vehemently. ‘No! Not this. Ares—'

He stopped her with a raised hand. Glancing around them, he issued a swift order to his father and the staff. With another speaking glance that had her lowering her eyes, Sergios walked away, the staff scurrying after him.