CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER TEN

A RISTOPHANES SAT ON the terrace of Cesare’s villa in Rome and watched as Cesare’s daughter, Maya, ran over to where Nell was sitting at the other end of the long table with Lark. They’d been at Cesare and Lark’s for a couple of nights on their way to London, and Aristophanes had felt a burst of possessive pride at how much both Cesare and his wife liked Nell, as did their daughter.

Now the little girl leaned against Nell as she showed Nell the picture she’d drawn. Automatically Nell had put her arm around her as she asked Maya questions about the picture, listening intently as Maya explained.

He could see why Nell was so good with children. She gave Maya all her attention and was endlessly patient with the little girl’s chatter.

Cesare was talking to him about something, but Aristophanes wasn’t listening. All he could see was Nell, imagining her with their own son and daughter, talking to them about the pictures they’d drawn or playing with them, or even just holding them. It made his chest tighten, made him feel possessive, hungry almost, wanting things he couldn’t articulate.

Just then, Nell looked over at him and smiled before whispering something in the little girl’s ear. Maya instantly picked up her drawing and ran over to where Aristophanes sat, clambering up onto his knee without any apparent shyness and demanding he look at her picture.

Nell leaned on the table, her chin in her hand, watching him with a kind of gentle amusement that held such warmth that for a moment he couldn’t breathe. And he had the strangest sense that he knew exactly what she was thinking, and it was the same thing he was, about their children and what it would be like to have this. Them, together, with their son and daughter.

He smiled at her, he couldn’t help it, and his heart clenched when she smiled back in a perfect moment of understanding.

How can you understand, though? When you don’t know what love is?

The thought was an ugly one, so he ignored it, and concentrated on Maya and looking at her drawing instead.

That perfect moment of understanding he’d experienced, however, lingered, the warmth of it colouring the rest of their visit with Cesare and Lark, and it was still there a week later, when Aristophanes had the limo pull up outside the sweeping stone steps of the deconsecrated church that had been turned into a five-star event space. The gala—a charity fundraiser—was being held there and already a sizeable crowd of onlookers and paparazzi had built up around the entrance.

It was going to be an exclusive event and Cesare had informed him that it was one of the highlights of London’s social calendar and thus well attended, which satisfied him immensely. He wanted the crowd to be large and the event important, so he could present Nell to as many people as possible. As he’d told her back in Greece, he wanted the world to see what a beautiful woman he’d managed to snare.

Now he stared out through the limo window, noting the press standing by the stairs, and feeling that same deep sense of satisfaction, plus an anticipatory thrill that he never experienced when going to social engagements.

It was her, of course. Tonight she would be on his arm, and for the first time in his life he found himself actually looking forward to getting out of the limo and walking up those stairs, to entering the venue, and having people notice him. Having them notice her.

Looking forward to showing her around and showing her off. Introducing her to people and having them be charmed by her instead of having to make awkward conversation with him. They would be captivated by her and how could they not? Especially when he was.

Completely and utterly.

He felt her hand rest briefly on his thigh and he turned to look at her, sitting beside him in the limo.

Good God, she was lovely.

He’d had gowns brought to his London residence in Knightsbridge for her to try on, and they’d all without exception been spectacular. But the one she’d eventually chosen was truly remarkable, of deep red silk that he’d thought would clash with her hair, yet somehow didn’t. The gown had little sleeves that dropped slightly off her shoulders while the bodice gently cupped her lovely breasts, the skirts flowing down gracefully over her little bump.

Her hair had been gathered on top of her head, with one long lock curling around her neck and falling down to graze the rise of her breasts, and she wore the simple waterfall necklace of glittering rubies that he’d bought for her.

She looked beautiful. Exquisite. And so luscious he wanted to take a bite out of her.

‘You really don’t like these things, do you?’ she asked quietly, a crease between her brows as she studied him. ‘Why not?’

He didn’t know how she managed to always know what he was feeling. It was as if she had some kind of inbuilt radar automatically attuned to him, and he should have found it as annoying as he had a couple of weeks earlier, when she’d first come to him in New York with news of her pregnancy. But for some reason, he didn’t now. He had, after all, given her a little piece of himself back in Greece, when he’d first revealed his London plans to her, revealing that he didn’t like social engagements.

You didn’t have to tell her you were broken, though.

No, he didn’t. But he hadn’t been able to lie to her, tell her he could give her something that he couldn’t. She had to know that there was a part of him that didn’t work properly, that couldn’t be fixed. It wasn’t fair otherwise.

He put his hand over hers where it rested on his thigh, the warmth of her skin a comfort he hadn’t anticipated. ‘I find them a waste of time. Small talk is pointless and no one wants to talk about anything of any value.’

She smiled. ‘You must be fun at parties.’

‘I don’t like parties,’ he said.

Her dark eyes sparkled. ‘I’m teasing you, Bear.’

He couldn’t think when she smiled at him that way. There were literally no thoughts in his head right now except how velvety and soft her eyes looked, and how biteable her mouth was, and how silky her skin seemed. How her smile made him want to check the sky through the window to see if the sun had somehow come out, even though it was night.

And a sudden realisation caught at him in an intense, breath-stealing rush: he couldn’t let her go after this. Not after they got back to Greece, and definitely not after their twins were born. He couldn’t let her go. Not ever.

He wanted to tell her, right here, right now, that she wasn’t ever to leave him, that she couldn’t, but he bit down hard on the words. Not now. Later, after the gala, he’d tell her. When they had some privacy enough that he could convince her to take his ring. He’d tell her anything she wanted to hear if it meant she’d agree to be his wife.

They couldn’t stay long here anyway, not given her condition. The doctor had okayed the event, but told him that Nell could stay only a couple of hours at most, and that she wasn’t to be on her feet the whole time.

So he didn’t speak and instead gripped her hand, and when the driver opened the limo door, he got out first, then helped her from the car and into the glare of the paparazzi’s cameras.

She was smiling as she stared around, gripping tight to his hand, and the paparazzi began calling his name and taking pictures. Wanting to know who she was and what she was wearing, all the usual things.

Strangely, he found himself smiling too, watching her excitement at all the fuss.

‘Do I tell them who I am?’ she asked as they walked up the stairs hand in hand.

‘Do you want to?’ he murmured back. ‘Or would you rather be my mystery woman?’ He’d thought she might prefer that, but he hadn’t been sure. Yet her mischievous smile confirmed that he’d been right, which made him feel extremely pleased with himself.

‘Definitely your mystery woman,’ she said, and gave him a look from beneath her lashes that nearly incinerated him with desire on the spot. He didn’t know how he was going to last the next few months of her pregnancy without touching her. It would likely kill him.

But while not touching her was a torture, the gala itself turned out to be the best he’d ever attended in his entire life. It had nothing to do with the venue or the occasion, and everything to do with Nell.

Nell’s hand in his and her excitement as they went inside and she kept pointing out celebrities, politicians, and the odd royal. Then her asking questions about who the other people were—CEOs like himself and other industry leaders—and so he spent a good deal of time telling her who they were and explaining what industries they were in.

Nell, and how she glittered as brightly as her ruby necklace, catching fire from the auburn glints in her hair and the deep red of her mouth.

Nell, and how she somehow managed to make the conversation with people flow so easily and so naturally, it made him wonder why he’d ever found it so difficult.

Nell, who made him find out what charity this was in aid of and then, when he discovered it was a children’s charity, wanted to be introduced to the CEO and then had a long discussion with them about children in need.

He stood by her side, watching her, unable to take his eyes off her. Listening to her talk confidently about kids and what they needed, and how important it was to the future of society to look after the children of today.

It mystified him how he could ever have thought that she was somehow less intelligent than any of his dates. Bewildered him how he could ever have looked down on her choice of career. Puzzled him how he’d managed to get this far in life without her in it.

Because if she wasn’t in it, he didn’t know if he could survive.

That’s why you have to hold onto her. She can’t leave you. She can’t ever leave you, yet you know she might. After all, your mother left you...

Ice wound through him, turning his fingertips numb. No, that thought was wrong. Nell wouldn’t leave him. How could she? He was the father of her children; she had to stay with him. She didn’t have the support she needed at home and, also, she was happy; he was certain of it.

There was no way she could leave. He wouldn’t allow it. He’d just keep on making her so happy she’d never leave him.

Yet no matter what he told himself, the icy feeling in his gut wouldn’t go away.

A reminder on his watch went off, letting him know it was time for Nell to sit down again, so, gripping her elbow and murmuring a few excuses, he steered her away from the charity CEO and over to a comfortable-looking couch placed in a nook by a pillar.

‘This is getting tiresome,’ she said as she sat down. ‘I was enjoying that conversation.’

‘I know. But you will have plenty more opportunities to talk once the babies are born.’ He sat down next to her, keeping her hand in his, not wanting to release it. ‘We should probably go. You need rest.’

‘I’m fine.’ She squeezed his hand reassuringly. ‘How are you?’

‘Tonight’s occasion has been surprisingly bearable,’ he said, trying to force down the strange pressure that had been building in his chest. ‘You will have to come with me whenever I’m invited to these interminable things.’

She smiled and the pressure increased, making his heart feel full of air, inflating hard against his ribs. ‘Of course. Just buy me another pretty dress and a gorgeous necklace like this one, and I’ll go wherever you ask.’

She was teasing him, making him feel as if living weren’t quite as heavy as it was. As if there were something light to be found in it, something joyful.

Happiness. Was this what she meant when she said she wanted to be happy? This effervescent feeling, as if he were full of champagne bubbles, all rising and bursting and rising again. It made him want to keep this moment, lock it in amber somehow, her dark eyes full of warmth and tender amusement, her mouth curving in the most beautiful smile and all for him.

Your mother smiled at you, too, remember? Just before she walked away.

Ice pierced him and his fingers around hers tightened. ‘You can’t leave, Nell,’ he said far too abruptly, the ice closing around his throat. ‘You can never leave.’

A brief look of shock flickered through her eyes. ‘What do you mean never leave?’

‘You can never leave me.’ He held onto her hand even tighter, feeling all at once as if he would drown if he let her go. ‘You can’t. I won’t let you.’

She stared at him, her smile fading, the excitement vanishing.

This is what you will do to her. What you do to everyone. It’s no mystery why your mother walked away. You lack something fundamental that makes anyone want to stay.

His heartbeat in his head sounded like a funeral march.

‘Bear?’ She looked concerned now. ‘What’s wrong? Why are you talking like this?’

He’d make her smile fade, make her go pale. He’d keep her on the island, imprison her so she’d never leave, yet in doing so, he’d suffocate her.

He would keep her from what she wanted most.

Love.

Pain knifed through him all of a sudden as another thought came to him.

The babies, his children. His son and his daughter. He’d thought loving them would be automatic, but what if it wasn’t? Cesare loved his daughter, but then Cesare loved his wife too. What if Aristophanes couldn’t? What if he couldn’t love his children? He remembered that moment the week before, at Cesare’s villa, when he’d met Nell’s gaze and known that they’d both been thinking about how they would be together as a family. But...what if he couldn’t do that? If he couldn’t love Nell, how could he love them?

Nell raised her free hand and laid her palm against his cheek. ‘Bear?’

It took everything he had, but he managed it, opening his hand and letting her fingers slide from his. Then he took her palm from his cheek and laid it back down on the red silk of her lap.

‘You were right,’ he said roughly. ‘You were right all this time.’

‘Right?’ Not even a ghost of a smile turned her mouth now. ‘Right about what? What’s going on, Aristophanes? You’re scaring me.’

He’d never hated his name more than he did in that moment. ‘You do deserve to be loved, Nell. You deserve to have the family you lost, and you deserve happiness. You deserve much more than anything I can give you.’

Her eyes went wide, as if he’d slapped her. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘I can’t give you the love you want.’

‘I know, you told me—’

‘And I don’t think I ever will,’ he said, cutting her off. ‘I told you: I’m missing something...inside me. Something important. Something vital.’

‘You’re not missing anything.’ The rubies of her necklace glittered in time with her quickened breath, her dark eyes searching his face. ‘You’re just hurt. Wounded.’

He shook his head hard. ‘No. It’s not a wound, Nell. It was already there. It had to be. Why else would my mother have walked away?’

‘You can’t know—’

‘I can’t love you, Nell. I don’t know how. I don’t know if I can even love our children, and I can’t— won’t —allow that possibility.’ He took a breath and steeled himself because he knew what he had to do now. The only thing he could think of that would save her. ‘You have to leave me, understand? You have to walk away from me and never look back.’

Shock, cold as ice, seeped through her as she stared into his eyes.

He was so certain. She could see that. He believed it totally. That there was something missing from him, something broken. He’d told her as much back in Greece, and it had hurt her then. It hurt even more now. More than she’d ever thought possible.

‘You’re wrong,’ she said in a tight voice, emotion almost strangling her. ‘I don’t know why your mother walked away, but it was the worst thing in the world a mother can do to their child. You were eight years old and there was nothing wrong with you.’

‘The other foster families—’

‘You were traumatised,’ she interrupted, reaching for his hand again. ‘You were abandoned by your mother, then shipped to live with complete strangers. You were bounced from one to another, and no one made an effort with you. No one bothered to connect with you. But that’s a trauma, Bear. That’s a wound. It doesn’t mean you’re broken.’

But he was shaking his head, removing his hand from hers yet again, because she was wrong. ‘I wasn’t wounded when she left me in that church,’ he said roughly. ‘I was whole then. Or at least, I thought I was. Logic suggests otherwise.’

It felt as if he’d reached inside her and it wasn’t her hand he was squeezing now, but her heart. Making it ache. Making it hurt. ‘You can’t think these things,’ she said desperately. ‘You can’t ever know why—’

‘No.’ The word was a growl. ‘I can’t do it. I can’t risk it. Something dark in me wants nothing more than to keep you and the twins, and it will do anything in its power to make sure you can never leave. But I can’t do that to you, Nell. There will never be happiness for you if that happens.’

She swallowed, her throat thick, her chest aching at the desperation she saw in his eyes. ‘You don’t even want to try?’

‘I could, but what if it doesn’t work? What if there is something wrong? What if the babies are born and I feel nothing for them? What would that do to them? What would that do to you?’ He shifted suddenly, putting some distance between them. ‘I thought I would love them automatically, but I could be wrong. Some people don’t love their children, Nell.’ His gaze had darkened, going from brilliant silver to tarnished steel. ‘My mother didn’t love me, did she? If she did, she wouldn’t have walked away.’

Nell had never wanted to slap someone as hard as she wanted to slap the woman who’d left her little boy sitting alone in a church. Left him to be given to one family and then another, like an unwanted present. Was it any wonder he felt this way? With a childhood like his?

She ached and ached for him.

He was so beautiful in the black evening clothes he wore. Simple, exquisitely tailored, showing off his broad shoulders and narrow waist. His black hair, his silver eyes. His focused intensity, his electric presence.

He’d been at her side all night, holding her hand, and she’d felt him watch her, as if he hadn’t been able to look at anyone else. So many celebrities and famous people here at this gala, and all he’d been interested in was her.

He’d bought her the most beautiful gown to wear and the glorious necklace. Yet even without them, she’d still feel the way she had that first night together. Beautiful. Special. Like a treasure he’d uncovered and couldn’t believe was his. Because it wasn’t the gown or the jewels that made her feel that way. It was the glittering intensity in his eyes whenever he looked at her, the flickering heat, the desire. As if she was the only woman for him.

He’d cleared his schedule for her and she knew what that meant to him. He’d introduced her to his friend, Cesare, and his wonderful wife, Lark, and their adorable little girl. And she’d had a moment watching him as Maya had hauled herself into his lap, waving her drawing in his face, and the granite lines of his face had softened. Then he’d looked over at her and smiled, and she’d been able to see him all at once, with their own children, a patient, caring father.

He’d even handed her an organised itinerary of their visit to London, each part of the day set aside for different activities. It was very Aristophanes. But some blocks of time simply had ‘Nell’s choice’ on them, which she’d been delighted by.

He’d made an effort, she understood. Made an effort to get to know her, to understand what she’d meant when she’d said she’d wanted to be loved. An effort to make her happy.

She still wanted those things. Yet she was also beginning to understand that it wasn’t just any man she wanted those things from.

She wanted him to make her happy, because she wouldn’t be happy with anyone else.

She wanted him to love her, because it didn’t mean anything if it wasn’t him.

No other man meant anything except him.

You love him.

Of course she did. Perhaps she’d loved him that moment she’d opened her eyes on the pavement in Melbourne, and found him leaning over her, her hand in his, the warmth and strength of him flowing into her.

He was aggravating, oblivious, arrogant, and wanted his own way far too much. But he was also caring, honest, protective, and, maybe even more than all of those, he wanted to understand.

This man wasn’t broken. He was wounded. He’d put his emotions away in a box so they didn’t hurt him any more and had carried on with his life as if they weren’t there. But they were there, and now they were escaping the box and he didn’t know what to do.

Her eyes filled with tears; she couldn’t help it. Tears for him. For the little boy he’d once been, who’d been abandoned in a church. A church like the one they were sitting in right now. And for the man he’d become, armoured and closed off and yet, despite all of that, still caring. Still wanting a connection. Needing it. She could see the strength of that need in his eyes. Had felt it in his arms late at night too. He had love inside him, a whole ocean of it, but he couldn’t access it, that was his problem. He didn’t even know it was there.

‘You can’t let what your mother did define who you are,’ she said. ‘You’re more than just a genius, Bear. You’re kind and protective and caring. You have everything you need to be a wonderful father and I have no doubts at all that you will be.’ Her throat ached. She could barely swallow. ‘I don’t want to walk away from you. In fact, I’ve changed my mind. I think I do want to marry you after all.’

The expression on his face lit with something so bright she could barely look at it, and then it vanished, gone as if it had never been. ‘No. I can’t allow it. I can’t give you what you want, remember?’

‘But what if I don’t need it?’ She blinked fiercely, not wanting to cry. ‘What if me loving you is all I need?’

He stared at her. ‘You love me?’ he asked blankly.

There was no reason to deny it and she didn’t want to. ‘Yes. I think I loved you the moment I opened my eyes on that pavement in Melbourne and saw you leaning over me.’

‘Nell—’

‘It’s enough. It’s enough for both of us.’ She reached for him a third time. ‘Let’s try. I want to.’

He’d gone very still, making no move towards her hand, the expression in his eyes one she couldn’t interpret. Then abruptly, everything about him went dark, shadows in his eyes, across his face, his features hard as rock.

‘No,’ he said. ‘There is no point in trying if you can’t do it. And I can’t do it.’ He turned away from her, staring stonily ahead. ‘Leave, please.’

She blinked. ‘Bear, please—’

‘Leave,’ he said, with so much quiet emphasis he might have roared it.

Shaking in every part of her, Nell slowly got to her feet, looking down at the man she loved. And a sudden lash of anger caught at her. ‘That’s it,’ she said. ‘Make me be the one to walk away. Turn me into the bad guy, turn me into your mother. It’s easier, isn’t it, to order someone to leave you than ask them to stay?’

‘You aren’t the bad guy,’ he said. ‘I was the one who told you to go. It’s better for you and for the babies. Better for all of us.’

‘But you’re not giving me a choice, Aristophanes. You’re deciding for me.’

He turned then and looked up at her, his eyes nothing but dull grey iron. ‘Now you know why I’m not the husband for you.’

‘It’s not better,’ she said, trying one last time. ‘It’s not better for me or our babies if you’re not there.’

‘Yes, it is,’ he said tonelessly.

She stood there for a moment, feeling as though her world were shattering slowly into pieces. ‘For all that you’re supposed to be a genius,’ she whispered, ‘you’re actually a very, very stupid man.’

Then she turned and left him sitting there, on a bench in a church, alone.