CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHT

A RISTOPHANES PACED OVER to the edge of the stone terrace and spent a moment gazing out over the olive groves and the darkening sea beyond Ithasos’ cliffs. The sun was going down, washing the sky in oranges and pinks and reds, an evening breeze carrying the scents of the sea and sun-warmed rock, and pine.

He glanced back at the table that stood underneath the vine-covered pergola. He’d had his housekeeper prepare and arrange the table just so, setting the scene for dinner with Nell, the island scenery and sunset a perfect backdrop.

It was all as it should be and he was pleased.

After the conversation they’d had in her bedroom on their arrival, he’d been thinking. In fact, he’d spent the whole afternoon thinking. About her and what she’d said. About her childhood and how she clearly didn’t view herself as being smart or intelligent or any of the things she thought she should be. Then teasing him with that silly nickname—‘Bear’, of all things—and then disagreeing with him about the importance of her job. Telling him why it was important, her dark eyes glowing with conviction...

He’d felt angry at her aunt and uncle for making her think things about herself that weren’t true, and then he’d been angry at himself for doing the same thing, because it was clear he had. He’d been less than complimentary about her job, but that was because he didn’t know anything about it, nor had he thought about it until she’d told him what it meant.

He liked intelligence in a woman, but he was beginning to see now that it was a very specific sort of intelligence. An academic intelligence, logical and cool. Nell wasn’t like that at all, but when she looked at him sometimes, he felt as if she knew things he didn’t. Mysterious things he couldn’t even conceive of, that made him uncomfortable and yet fascinated him at the same time.

She was smart, but not in the way he’d always thought about it.

That she seemed to doubt that she was worth knowing, though, had appalled him. He didn’t know why it mattered, or why he felt so strongly about it, but he did. Perhaps because it was that she was the mother of his children and he didn’t want her upset...

No. That wasn’t the reason and he had to be honest with himself. It mattered to him because he didn’t want her to think that way about herself. Because it hurt her, and he didn’t like her being hurt. It also wasn’t true.

He was interested in her and he was a genius, so of course she was worth knowing.

The way her mind worked intrigued him, and also she’d been brought up by people who didn’t value her, yet she’d defied them. She’d left her home, gone across the country to a new city, and found a fulfilling life despite them. That spoke of a bravery and determination, and a strength of character he found admirable.

He wanted to know more, much more. Even though being near her and not being able to do more than kiss her was a constant test of his control. Really, he should be absenting himself, taking the helicopter back to Athens for the night, not staying here, so close to temptation.

But he wasn’t going to. He wanted to do something nice for her, do something to make her happy since her well-being was his responsibility now, and he didn’t think she’d appreciate being abandoned so soon after arriving here.

So he’d organised everything like one of his dates, with dinner and conversation, and then they’d go to bed separately. Not exactly what he wanted, but that was the way it would have to be for the moment.

It was an interesting situation and one he’d never been in before.

Just then, Nell appeared in the doorway of the living area, stepping out through the French doors and onto the stone terrace. Her hair was curling in thick waves over her shoulders, and for once she wasn’t wearing a clinging dress, but a loose, cool-looking white linen caftan. It hid her body, including her little bump, but the wide neckline almost hung off one shoulder, revealing an expanse of creamy skin that made his fingers itch to touch it.

Ignoring the urge, he strode over to the beautifully set table and pulled out a chair for her. ‘Please,’ he invited. ‘Sit.’

She hesitated, then came over to the chair and sat down, the sweet scent of her hair and body surrounding him for a moment, making his mouth water. Knowing that he couldn’t take her to bed later seemed to make the desire sharper, deeper, and he had to fight to force it away.

Resolutely steeling himself, he pushed her chair back in and moved around the table to his own opposite hers, before sitting. The candles he’d ordered leapt and twisted in their glass holders, radiating a shifting golden glow. She looked beautiful in that glow, her skin gilded, her hair gleaming with red fire.

‘This is lovely,’ she said, glancing around at the candles, the light glittering off the crystal glasses, silver cutlery, and the elegant glass vase with sprigs of jasmine in it. ‘Did you do all this?’

‘My housekeeper did, but I decided to make an event of it, yes.’ He stared at her, unable to take his eyes off her. ‘This is just the setting though. The true beauty here is you.’ It felt natural to compliment her, even though he’d never been one for compliments, and he got his reward when she blushed, her lashes falling, her mouth curving.

He knew sensual satisfaction. He experienced it whenever he made her gasp aloud. But right here, right now, he knew another kind of satisfaction that wasn’t sexual. It was a pressure in his chest and the way his mouth wanted to curve as if her smile and the obvious pleasure she’d taken from his compliment made him want to smile too.

Emotional satisfaction. He couldn’t recall ever feeling anything like it. Perhaps once when that little cat he’d tried to adopt had first started lapping at the milk he’d brought her. And perhaps again the first time she’d curled up in his lap, purring as he’d stroked her. Satisfied that his presence had made a difference to another living creature’s life. That he’d given them some kind of emotional pleasure.

It was the most curious feeling. Addictive, even.

Nell’s lashes lifted, her dark eyes flickering with gold from the candlelight. ‘I’ve decided something, Bear. I’ve decided that if you want to know everything about me, I want to know everything about you, too.’

That seemed logical and yet...he was conscious of a vague reluctance. His past wasn’t a secret, and he wasn’t ashamed of it, so he shouldn’t feel...uneasy at the prospect of telling her. Then again, perhaps that had more to do with her clear-eyed gaze and that way she looked at him, as if she could read his mind.

He didn’t like it, not at all. It unsettled him, made him feel as if he were an open book that she could read with impunity.

But he was not an open book. He kept his thoughts hidden, his emotions under control. They had no place in the mathematical world, the world of algorithms and money, and he liked it that way. He wanted it that way.

Yet he couldn’t deny that, if she gave him pieces of herself, he would have to reciprocate. Perhaps he wouldn’t have thought that three months ago, but he did now. She wasn’t one of his dates, after all, but the mother of his children, and maybe it would even be a good thing if she knew his background. That would help her understand the things he didn’t want for them. He certainly didn’t want, for example, the kind of childhood Nell had grown up in for them. Not abusive, but traumatising in its own way.

‘Very well,’ he said, reaching across the table for the jug of home-made lemonade that sat next to the bottle of his favourite red wine. ‘What would you like to know?’ He poured the lemonade into a heavy cut-glass tumbler and pushed it over to her, before pouring himself some wine.

‘You mentioned being brought up in the foster system.’ She reached for the tumbler, took a careful sip, then looked at him in sudden delight. ‘Oh, this is very good!’

Again, satisfaction tugged at him, that she was pleased with what he’d given her. It made his chest burn. He tried to ignore the feeling, but his mouth twitched all the same. ‘Lemonade,’ he said. ‘My housekeeper makes it from the lemons in our grove.’ He nodded to a small bowl in the middle of the table next to some fresh bread. ‘That is olive oil from our olive groves.’

‘Looks amazing.’ She reached for the bread, tore a piece off it, then dunked an edge into the olive oil before taking a bite. ‘Mmm... And tastes amazing too.’

‘My housekeeper is an amazing woman.’

‘She is.’ Nell leaned forward, elbows on the table as she tore off another chunk of bread. ‘Okay, so tell me about you, Bear.’

Bear yet again. She seemed wedded to it, which was ridiculous. Then again, a part of him liked it. Cesare called him Ari, but that was as close to a nickname as he’d ever had. He’d never been a man to invite anything more intimate than that.

Bear, though, he could live with.

‘I was born in Athens,’ he said. ‘I never knew my father. He and my mother split up before I arrived. I don’t remember much from my time with her, but we had a large house in the hills. It had a garden. My mother was kind and loving—I never knew a moment’s unhappiness. Then one morning she took me to church and left me there.’

Nell, in the process of dunking more bread in the oil, went still. ‘What do you mean left you there?’

‘At the end of the service, she told me to sit still in the pew and she’d be back soon, so I did. Except she didn’t come back.’

Nell’s eyes widened. ‘What? You mean, not ever?’

‘Not ever,’ he confirmed, picking up his wine glass and leaning back in his chair. ‘I was eight. Eventually the priest came over and asked me my name, and why I was sitting there. To cut a long story short, they eventually discovered that my mother had gone. The house was empty, there was no sign of her. I had no surviving grandparents, no other family, so I was made a ward of the state.’

A crease formed between her brows, her eyes dark and soft with what he very much hoped was not pity. ‘Oh, that’s awful,’ she murmured. ‘How could she have left you?’

A question he’d asked himself many times. A question he would never know the answer to.

Aristophanes lifted a shoulder. ‘The why isn’t relevant, only that she did. So I went into the foster system and my experience was...imperfect, to say the least. I never stayed long with a particular family. I was always being shifted around. Eventually, I decided I’d had enough. I’d taken part-time jobs here and there while I was at school, and I’d managed to save quite a bit of money. I made a few astute investments and soon found I had a knack. I’d always loved mathematics as well, and the two seemed to go together for me. That was the start of my company.’

She stared at him as if fascinated, making the pressure in his chest take on a kind of warmth and this time he liked the way she looked at him. He liked it a lot.

‘You must have been very determined to leave all of that behind,’ she said.

‘Oh, I was. I wanted to leave my childhood behind, make my mark. I also liked numbers and the idea that you could make money with numbers. Money, too, is an interesting idea. You have physical money, obviously, but much of it exists in the ether. You have some, you lose some, you get more... It doesn’t really matter, because it wasn’t real to start with.’

‘I know plenty of people who would disagree with you.’

‘Of course. I’m talking about the idea of money, you understand. That’s not really real or tangible, but the effects of it are. I like making it, I like controlling it, and I like doing things with it. It’s a game.’

She leaned her chin in her hand. ‘But it’s not really about the money, is it?’

The question was unexpected and it made him think. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s not.’

Nell stared at him through the flickering candlelight. ‘What is it about, then?’

‘Challenging my mind, my intellect.’

‘Why is that so important to you?’ she asked. ‘Genuine question.’

‘Because there I have the most control,’ he said slowly. ‘I am the master of it. The numbers do what I say and on the rare occasions they don’t, I make them.’

‘Control is important to you?’

He shifted uncomfortably, finding the conversation vaguely unsettling. ‘Yes.’

‘I suppose it would be, considering how little control you had over your early life.’

‘The past is irrelevant,’ he said, a touch irritated and not bothering to hide it. ‘It doesn’t bother me. I didn’t have a family, it’s true, but I didn’t need one. I only needed what I found in my own head to survive, and I did.’

The crease between her brows deepened and he didn’t like the expression on her face, the pity in it. ‘It sounds very lonely,’ she murmured.

He shrugged. ‘As I said, I survived. Your childhood doesn’t sound any better, either, yet you survived too.’

‘I did.’ She took another sip of her lemonade. ‘But when I said it must have been lonely, what I meant was I can relate to that. Because mine was. Not that no one spoke to me or anything, it was more having no one notice that you were maybe a bit quiet today. Or that you were pale. Or that you looked happy. The feeling that you could just...not exist and no one would ever notice you were gone.’

A sharp and painful feeling threaded through him, as if she’d touched on an old and still festering wound.

You felt that too.

He had. Once. He didn’t feel it now, though, because he couldn’t not exist without someone knowing, because everyone knew who he was. He’d made sure everyone knew. So any pain he felt now was merely an echo, phantom-limb pain from a part of himself he’d cut out years ago. As was the anger that used to overcome him every now and then, formless and hot, with seemingly no cause.

He hadn’t felt that for at least a decade, not since he’d poured everything of himself into his business, using his ambition as the engine that drove his life. He’d needed a purpose and his life of numbers and money was it. That was why he had his schedule, so every second of his life was dedicated to using his intellect in the most efficient way and not getting sidetracked by...anything else.

‘People would notice,’ he said tersely. ‘They’d certainly notice if you were gone.’

Her gaze was very dark and she looked at him steadily, and for a second there was pain in her gaze. ‘Who would?’

At first he thought it might be another tease, but no, not with the way she was looking at him now, not with that pain. She really wanted to know.

‘ I would,’ he said. ‘I would notice you were gone and the world would be a poorer place for it.’

He meant it. She could see the force of his conviction in his steel-grey eyes, and a small hot glow started up in the centre of her chest.

At first, she’d wished the words back, because it had sounded too needy, too desperate. Yet he hadn’t treated it that way at all.

She could feel the tension between them again, the force of their chemistry and the need in his eyes that he didn’t hide from her. But they couldn’t act on it, not with the health of their children at stake. ‘You shouldn’t say such things to me,’ she said quietly.

‘Why not?’ His gaze didn’t flicker. ‘It’s true.’

‘Is it? You can’t sleep with me, remember?’

‘You think I’d only say that to sleep with you?’

She felt too vulnerable staring at him the way she was doing, but she was the one who’d started this conversation. The one who’d told him about her aunt and uncle, revealing much more than she’d meant to. She couldn’t falter now. ‘I don’t know—would you?’

A spark of temper glittered in his eyes. ‘I do not need to give a woman empty compliments to get her to sleep with me. I never give empty compliments, full stop.’

Of course, he wouldn’t. He wasn’t that kind of man. Every word he spoke was with intention and purpose, because he meant it. Which then must mean...

He was telling the truth about you.

She swallowed, her mouth dry. ‘You really do think those things? That the world would be a poorer place without me?’ Sometimes, in her darker moments, she’d wondered if anyone would care if she simply ceased to exist. Sometimes, she couldn’t think of one person who’d care.

Aristophanes’ gaze was almost ferocious. ‘Of course it would. Your beauty is incomparable, and I have never wanted anyone the way I want you.’

‘But those are just physical—’

‘I haven’t finished,’ he interrupted sharply. ‘You’re also strong and determined, and very stubborn. Which is annoying, but you stand up for what you believe in and you’ve never once let me intimidate you, which is a feat, considering I am much more powerful than you are.’ He paused a moment. ‘I wondered if perhaps you would be like my mother, but you aren’t. You would never abandon your child to its fate, which means you will be an excellent mother to our children. Also...’ His gaze intensified. ‘You are very perceptive, and I think you have far more intelligence than you give yourself credit for.’

Something quivered in her, something deep inside. It was ridiculous. She didn’t need a man’s praise to make her feel good about herself, yet it was his praise that made her feel as though she really was all those things he’d said. Not just any man, but him in particular.

You will be an excellent mother...

She’d wondered on and off, after she’d found out she was pregnant, whether she, who’d had so little love in her life, could even be a good mother. Whether she’d know how to show them how much they mattered, how important they were, and how much she loved them. She’d tried not to think about it though, because if she did, the doubt would eat her alive. Now she felt it like a fault line running through an essential part of her.

‘You really think I would?’ she couldn’t help asking, hating how needy she sounded and yet not being able to stay silent. ‘Make a good mother, I mean?’

‘I think,’ he murmured, ‘that a woman with as much to give as you have will make the most wonderful mother any child could ask for.’

Nell’s cheeks burned and she had to look away at last, unable to hold his gaze. She didn’t want to negate his praise by dismissing it or minimising it, but she wasn’t used to compliments, especially about her most deeply held doubts, and couldn’t think of a word to say.

In the end all she managed was, ‘Thank you. That actually...means a lot to me.’

A weighted silence fell.

She hadn’t realised until arriving here that the bleak feeling in her heart dogging her since leaving New York had been loneliness and doubt. And now he’d lightened that load somehow. Even though he’d insisted on her coming here, he’d taken time out of his schedule to show her around and then have dinner with her and while it might not seem like much, from what he’d told her about his schedule and about himself, she had the feeling that this was a big deal for him.

Perhaps he was lonely too. His childhood had certainly sounded as bleak as hers, probably bleaker since at least she’d had some sense of continuity with her cousins and aunt and uncle. But he’d had no one. No one at all.

Finally Nell lifted her lashes and looked at him again.

He’d leaned forward, elbows on the table, his wine in front of him, watching her. His grey gaze seemed unreadable and yet she could see the silver glitter of hunger there. Hunger for her, she knew, but that wasn’t news. She knew all about his physical hunger. However, now she suspected that there might be something more underneath that. Not sexual hunger, but a hunger for something deeper and more profound.

He was a man who prized his intelligence, his mind. A cerebral man, yet one who also enjoyed his physical hungers. But his emotional hungers... Did he know about those? Did he ever acknowledge them or understand them?

You know he doesn’t.

No, she was beginning to see that. And maybe that was where her power lay. She could see things in him that he couldn’t see himself. She knew things about him that he didn’t know.

He’s lonely. Profoundly lonely.

The thought ripped a hole in her heart.

‘If you don’t have family, who do you have, then?’ she asked softly. ‘Friends? Colleagues?’

He lifted one powerful shoulder. ‘I have one friend in Italy whom I’ve known for years, though I have seen less of him lately. He has a wife and a child now. As for colleagues, no. I have found it easier to work alone.’

‘So you have no one?’

He frowned. ‘In what way?’

‘Someone to talk to. Someone to spend time with.’

‘I have lovers whom I talk to. We have conversation over dinner, which is why I prefer an intelligent woman.’

Her heart squeezed tight. Not only was it clear he didn’t have anyone, he didn’t even know what she meant by that.

‘I mean someone who knows you,’ she said. ‘Someone who understands you. Someone you trust. Someone you care for. Someone you can be intimate with.’

His features hardened and his gaze shuttered. ‘No,’ he said tersely. ‘I do not. Nor do I need anyone like that.’

‘Everyone needs someone like that.’

He abruptly lifted his wine and took a long swallow before putting the glass back down with a thump. ‘I don’t.’

‘You had no one? Not one person?’

‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘After my mother left and I went into foster care, people weren’t interested in making connections with me. Which was fine. I was happier in my own head.’

She didn’t think it was fine, though. There was an insistence in his voice that sounded as if he was trying to convince himself as well as her. ‘What about friends at school?’ she persisted.

‘School was boring, the other children dull. They didn’t like me anyway, and I didn’t like them.’

An uncompromising man. Then again, she already knew that too.

She studied him, the hard lines of his beautiful face, the steely glitter of his eyes.

For a time she’d tried to turn herself into a child she’d thought her aunt and uncle would notice, such as being like her cousins. She’d dyed her hair blonde, taken up hockey. But it hadn’t worked, and it wasn’t until after she’d left Perth that she’d realised that she needn’t have bothered. Being like her cousins wouldn’t have helped, because she was still her . She was still the girl that had been dumped on them and nothing would ever change that.

But Aristophanes hadn’t bothered to change himself to suit anyone. He’d remained steadfastly who he was, resisting any effort to make himself more palatable to anyone.

It had made him lonely, yes, but he was splendid in his isolation.

She admired him for it.

‘That must have been hard,’ she said.

‘It was not,’ he said. ‘As I said, I survived.’

‘Survival isn’t living, Bear.’

He scowled. ‘What are you trying to say?’

‘Nothing,’ she said without heat. ‘I’m only sad for you that you had such a rough childhood.’

‘I wasn’t beaten.’ His voice was hard. ‘I wasn’t abused in any way. I had a roof over my head and I was fed. What more could have been done for me?’

‘You could have been loved,’ she said, not even knowing where the words had come from.

He stared at her a moment, the look in his eyes difficult to read. ‘Love,’ he echoed eventually, the word tinged with bitterness. ‘Love left me sitting alone in a church at eight years old after my mother abandoned me. I didn’t need love. I was better off without it.’

Her heart squeezed even tighter. It hurt to think about him as a lonely little boy. A boy who’d decided that love was just another word for abandonment, and who could blame him? He had reason. No one had ever given him the love he’d deserved, and he had deserved it. All children did. At least her memories of love had been good ones, happy ones. Even if she’d lost it and never found it again.

‘I don’t think you were,’ she said gently. ‘And your children definitely won’t be.’

A muscle flicked at the side of his strong jaw. ‘Are you saying that I won’t love them?’

‘No. I only mean that all children need love.’

‘And so I will,’ he said flatly. ‘Don’t worry about them.’

‘I’m not worried about them. I’m worried about you.’

‘Don’t worry about me.’ He stared at her across the table. ‘This topic of conversation is uninteresting, so let’s leave it. What are your plans for the future? Have you thought about it?’

She didn’t want to drop the subject, but it was clear she wasn’t going to get anything further from him, so she let it go.

‘The future? Uh...no. No, I haven’t.’ She really hadn’t. She’d been too busy thinking about how she was going to get through the next five months trapped on this island, let alone what would happen when the babies were born.

‘Well, I have,’ Aristophanes said, picking up his wine again and taking another swallow. ‘I think that we should get married.’

A pulse of shock went through her. ‘What?’

‘It’s a logical step. The twins will need both parents and we’re agreed on that, so why not make it official? Marrying me will give you some security and legal protection should anything happen to me, and it will give our children a family.’

He said the words with such dispassion, as if he was talking about a business arrangement. Which was perhaps what marriage meant to him. Certainly, from what he’d said about love, he wasn’t asking her because he was in love with her.

This was what you wanted, though. You wanted a family.

She always had. But she’d thought it would involve finding a man she loved and who loved her, not after an accidental night of passion, and certainly not with a man who found the idea of love abhorrent.

He’s not wrong, though. It will give you some security. And after the children are born, you will also have physical passion...

She took a breath. ‘What about you? What will you get out of it?’

The flickering candlelight reflected the silver flames in his eyes. ‘I will get a wife I very much want to spend time in bed with. Also, I will no longer need to schedule lovers to take care of my sexual needs so that will free up time to spend with the children.’

So. Sex and his damn schedule were all he cared about. She’d give him a couple of points for wanting to spend time with the children, but she had to deduct several million for being entirely blind to how it would affect her.

And how exactly will it affect you? You want what he wants, and this will be good for the twins. This is about them, not you. What more is there?

‘I... I have to think about this,’ she said uncertainly, her mind spinning.

‘What is there to think about? You get my name, my money, and the children will be cared for. We will be a family.’

A family...

The words echoed through her. Yes, she wanted that. She wanted a family like the one she’d lost when her parents died. A family held together by love.

A sharp, painful feeling gathered in her gut.

She’d spent her whole childhood mourning, not only the loss of her parents, but the loss of the love they’d had for her, leaving a void inside her that had never been filled by her aunt and uncle.

He won’t fill it either, not now you know what he feels about love.

‘It’s just...’ She paused, her throat tightening. ‘It’s not only children who need love.’ She steeled herself and looked at him. ‘I do too.’

Across the table, Aristophanes’ beautiful face remained hard. ‘You do?’ he demanded.

‘My mum and dad loved me,’ she said, her certainty gathering more and more weight with each second that passed. ‘I knew that before they died. And the day they died, I lost that love. I spent my entire childhood mourning that loss, and swore to myself I’d find it again. Find myself someone who loved me the way I loved them. So... Yes. That’s what I want in my future, Bear. I want a family. I want to love someone and I want them to love me, too.’

Steel glinted in his eyes. ‘And you will have that. The children will love you.’

‘The purpose of children isn’t so they can love you. The purpose of children is to have their own lives.’

He scowled, which she was starting to think meant he didn’t understand what she was talking about. ‘Does it matter what source the love comes from?’

‘Of course it does.’ She felt tired all of a sudden, her appetite gone, her patience with him running thin. ‘But I guess if you don’t know what I’m talking about, then this is a pointless conversation.’

‘Then explain it to me,’ he insisted.

But Nell’s energy had run out, and she didn’t know why she was arguing with him anyway. After all, it couldn’t be that she wanted love from him, it just couldn’t. He was as in touch with his emotion as a rock and equally articulate, and she didn’t want anything from him.

‘No,’ she said, putting down her lemonade glass. ‘You know what? I’m tired and I can’t be bothered, especially when you don’t even have the slightest idea what I’m talking about.’

He gave her a ferocious look. ‘Nell. Sit down.’

She ignored him, shoving her chair back and getting to her feet. ‘Goodnight, Mr Katsaros,’ she said.

‘Nell!’ he called after her as she strode towards the doorway to the salon. ‘Sit down and explain!’

But she didn’t.

She walked through the doors and back into the villa.