CHAPTER EIGHT

"WHATISIT that you want from my grandson, Dr. Jaafri?" Thea Skalas demanded, startling Laila out of a pleasant daydream where she broke Sebastian's new self-control like a sorceress and brought him to his knees.

She sat up and wiped her mouth with her napkin in case she'd been drooling, swallowing the foolish answer that rose to her lips for that first question. Given she'd barely had any sleep over the past few days—both boys had molars coming in—she hadn't seen much of Sebastian except in late-night silent meetups. Definitely not for any "only them" kind of encounters. Zayn clung to her during nights and while he was usually okay to play by himself during the day, it was Nikos's turn to want his Mama.

She was tired, cranky, horny and...confused. Sebastian had said he wanted to explore this thing between them, and yet, in a week, he hadn't made a move. He certainly seemed preoccupied with something. Laila wanted to ask him about him, but she was wary of making him think she was doubting him again.

The constant drama of her parents' marriage and her mother's erratic behavior every few weeks—her restlessness that either resulted in a reckless shopping spree or a night out on the city ending up at some wild party or calling up some old friend for a glamorous date—all those memories and the fears they'd left behind in her kept intruding on the decision she had made to trust him. The niggling feeling that she was right in her Baba's place, setting herself up for heartbreak, wouldn't leave her alone.

Which shouldn't be a problem at all because she wasn't involving her heart, right? At least, that's what she had told Sebastian. So why was she constantly looking at the past instead of moving forward with her own life?

There wasn't an hour that passed since that day at the boutique without her reliving the pleasure he'd strummed through her so easily. He'd even admitted that he hadn't wanted another woman in three years. Uncharacteristic enough for his lifestyle and the public playboy.

He gave of himself freely. Or at least he was smart enough to spin that illusion. Only now did Laila realize that he hadn't told her anything more about his migraines or what caused them or how long he'd had them. Neither had he let her bring Guido up again. God, she was going to drive herself half-mad with these circular thoughts.

And at the end of it all came anger with herself. Did she have so little trust in herself? As the old woman had pinpointed, what was it that Laila truly wanted?

"Dr. Jaafri?"

Laila sighed.

The reprieve Sebastian had been able to give her—from his grandmother, from the media, from the outside world—was apparently over and she only realized now how much effort he'd spent holding his twin and his grandmother, his family lawyers and the entire world at bay, so that she wasn't overwhelmed.

At breakfast this morning, Alexandros had mentioned the need to release a formal statement to the public regarding their presence in Sebastian's life, before the paparazzi got hold of the news and spun it into a narrative that none of them could control.

He talked of appointing a secretary for Laila who could organize her life to include things like photo shoots—because he insisted it was important to release a PR-approved photo of the boys and her and Sebastian to the media to reflect a "happy situation"—and schedule her travel. Because Laila shouldn't go back to the university or her Baba's old house or anywhere for that matter on her own willy-nilly. And to organize a party soon with all of the Skalas extended family and friends to announce Nikos and Zayn's joining the family.

All she'd been able to do was to turn to Sebastian like a helpless little fish flip-flopping on the land. The very idea of having a PA or performing little stunts for the media or having someone organize her very boring, very mundane life...was her worst nightmare come true. All of it bringing to head the constant doubts she chewed through about Sebastian and her belonging to different worlds, the constant taunts from Nadia that she didn't belong in her world and their mother's.

God, she hadn't even told her mother and half sister for fear of having to face their reactions. For fear of cold reality crashing through whatever foundation she was trying to build with Sebastian.

Sebastian had responded by scolding his twin for ruining their appetites and informed him that Laila and he would come up with a plan together that was convenient and comfortable for them.

Before Laila could wrap her mind around all the things Alexandros demanded and how out of control her life suddenly felt, Thea Skalas had arrived, a month to the day since Laila had shown up.

The older woman's frail outward appearance had made Laila concerned for her until two minutes later, Thea had launched her campaign about the boys needing to be legitimized first thing at breakfast. The one thing Laila couldn't find fault with her was that whatever her beliefs about Laila, she'd openly and with tears flowing down her face welcomed Nikos and Zayn into the family.

"What would seal the deal in legitimizing my great-grandsons as Skalas heirs, once and for all?" Thea demanded, her impatience growing at Laila's silence.

Fortunately, Nikos and Zayn were seated far enough at the table now—near their papa and uncle that afternoon—so they didn't hear their great-grandmother's imperious demands.

"Grandmama!" Sebastian said, in a deceptively soft voice so that it didn't catch the boy's attention but delivered the warning anyway.

Thea turned her steely gray gaze toward him, even as she, too, kept an easy smile on her lips. "You might have spent your entire life mocking the Skalas name, Sebastian, but I know you damn well want it for the boys. Family matters to you too much to let it go. For whatever reason, you are letting her set the pace."

Family mattered to Sebastian.

It was an admission he'd made himself to her and yet, it landed in a different way falling from Thea Skalas's lips. Almost like an entity that held value in some abject form instead of gritty reality. Which she had handed him, part and parcel, by not only seducing him, then getting pregnant—yes, he'd played his part—and giving him two sons. Like he had himself ordered a nice, ready-made family off Amazon.

Sebastian turned to Laila, that small tilt to the right corner of his mouth.

Despite the unending string of questions in her head, that look he cast her was an instant injection of adrenaline. She adored it when Sebastian left the field to her—whether it was about the boys or other matters that concerned their life together—or when he didn't minimize her fears. For the first time in her life, she felt like she was part of something bigger than herself, like she belonged to a team or a unit, rather than operating alone as she'd done for so long.

"Maybe because he agrees with me," she said, addressing Thea, "that jumping into an outdated arrangement for the simple purpose of legality is less important than making sure the boys aren't caught up in something we're not ready for."

Thea pursed her lips while Alexandros said, "I thought you were simply taking time to get to know each other."

Laila heard his poorly concealed outrage in his tone—he disliked the fact that his nephews were not legal Skalas family members yet. Thank God, Annika had been too tired to join them for this elaborate meal. She had no doubt her friend would take Laila's side in this particular argument, and it would only alienate Alexandros toward her even more.

The last thing Annika needed was more strife in her life because of Laila's...reluctance for matrimony. Neither was she unaware that her active resistance to the idea had already morphed into vague reluctance.

Sebastian peeled an orange and handed the juicy kernel to Nikos, who fed it to Zayn, immediately making a game of it, then stretching his pudgy palm toward his papa, for more.

"This matter is no one's business but mine and Laila's." Then he turned that intractable gaze toward his family members. "When did I ever give the impression that I will do as you two or the media or the entire damned world pleases?"

"I see you have him wrapped around your finger already. I must commend you for that," Thea said, shocking Laila yet again.

Something about her gaze said she meant it. She knew it was pointless to engage the older woman, but Laila couldn't help it. Plus, she wanted these people on her sons' side, which meant she needed them to respect her, if not like her.

"I have no intention of controlling Sebastian in any way. It's a partnership that I want."

"Ah... So you're a modern woman who doesn't respect the institution of marriage?"

"No, Grandmama," Laila said, testing the words on her lips. The older woman's gray eyes—so much like her grandsons'—gleamed with pleasure before she buried it.

"I have seen instances where it works—like Ani and Alexandros. And I have seen where it has burned down families. Sebastian and I have enough hang-ups without adding unnecessary, arbitrary structure to the mix. If I were you, I would back off. Because believe me when I say we're doing our best to make sure the boys have you all in their life."

Thea cackled and banged her palm on the table. "Fine, Dr. Jaafri," she said, respect glinting in her gaze. "You have my vote. If anyone can straighten out my useless grandson, it is you. Fate works in strange ways, ne?" she added as an afterthought.

Sebastian laughed, which set off Nikos chortling, which made him spew most of the orange he'd half chewed onto his uncle's shirt in a capture-worthy projectile.

Alexandros froze. Then slowly, he rubbed the toddler's face, then wiped some of Nikos's chewed-up orange from his shirt with a napkin. But the set of his face was so serious, his mouth so flat, that Nikos sobered up, watched around with those big eyes and, in two seconds flat, started wailing using all the lung power he had.

Laila sighed, knowing he was overstimulated. Her happy, easygoing baby never cried like that.

As Zayn watched his twin go off into a tantrum, his lower lip trembled dangerously but somehow, he held the incoming storm at bay, her brave, sensitive boy. Turning away from his uncle, Zayn handed another piece of orange to Nikos, who took it amid his cries and promptly started chewing on it, his chin now dripping with drool, snot and orange juice.

"Cristos, Alexandros!" Sebastian said, shooting to his feet with a violence she rarely saw in him. "It's just a piece of orange. You need not look like he did that to you on purpose, as if to insult you. He's just a little boy."

Alexandros Skalas, the mighty banker that all of Europe feared, looked like his brother had stricken him out of nowhere. "Of course I know that," he said, his tone whispery soft, even as he radiated tension. "I don't care if he...vomits on me, Sebastian. I'm not used to kids and I didn't even look at him straight because I was unsure of what to say or do and—"

"Yes, well. You better start learning how to handle them soon without that horrified, frozen expression or I'm going to have to raise your daughter, too," Sebastian threw back at him, only half-jokingly.

While Laila didn't much like Alexandros—so much for thinking they were similar—she felt a rush of sympathy for him. His expression made it clear that Sebastian's taunt hit where it hurt the most, and worse, it had basis in truth. Those gray eyes, so much like his twin's, watched Sebastian with such open envy that Laila had to look away. Thank God Annika hadn't been there to see it.

Laila turned to Sebastian, surprised at his cruelty toward his brother. But her chastisement never formed on her lips.

With such tender care and patience that it caught even his grandmother's attention, Sebastian was busy wiping Nikos's mouth and hands with a wet napkin, all the while talking gibberish to him, trying to make him smile, and then picked him up out of his chair. He bent down to pick up Zayn, too, as if he'd done it for years, but pulled back at the last minute, face set into a fake smile he usually put on to show that Zayn's resistance didn't get to him.

The moment struck her again with the question that came to her in those rare, quiet moments where her thoughts wandered here and there. How endless was his capacity to feel that Zayn's reluctance to warm up to him still bothered him? Would he love a woman like that, too, or was it only limited to two innocent children, who were his blood and flesh?

Tucking Nikos against his side, he looked at Laila. "Nap and pool later? I'll get this one settled down," he said, switching Nikos from side to side as if he were a basketball.

Her firstborn giggled uncontrollably, causing a string of drool to drip over onto his papa's designer shirt.

Laila nodded, still in awe of Sebastian's near-miraculous capacity to love and care for his two sons.

He gave a nod to Zayn, always making sure to include him, then raised Nikos high above his head and swooshed him this way and that as he left the terrace. Her heart jumped into her throat and a protest rose to her lips, but Laila cut it off as she slowly picked up Zayn.

Her sons needed the safety of their papa's strong arms as much as they needed to learn to fly high and take risks, knowing in their hearts that he would never let either of them fall.

It came to her then—how this whole instinct thing worked. Because her trust in Sebastian's ability to be what Nikos and Zayn needed was absolute. If only she could feel the same sense of trust that he wanted her in his life...and as more than a part that would complete the vague picture he had for a perfect family. That day at that boutique, his admission that he hadn't wanted another woman in three years, that she'd become an obsession rang true, too. But obsessions were not...whatever it was that she wanted to be to him. It sounded too much like one of Mama's fancies, unreliable and bound to be replaced soon by a new one.

Neither could she forget that his "obsession" with her might have risen from the fact that she had pulled one on him. Once he had her assent to this marriage, once she unraveled for him in all the ways she couldn't resist, would he toss her aside? Would he push her to the margins of his life like he seemed to do with most everything and everyone? And if he did, was she okay with that?

For the first time in her life, Laila felt like her logic and rationale were of no use, and her heart definitely wouldn't follow her head.

The long summer day was finally coming to a spectacular end with the setting sun streaking the horizon with splashes of fiery orange when Laila decided to seek out Sebastian a few evenings later.

He had disappeared again, for a few days after Thea's arrival, although this time, he'd informed her that he'd be working and unavailable unless it was an emergency.

Laila had missed him—with even Zayn asking after his papa—and worried about him. Which, in itself was alarming because she was used to being alone, used to not needing to check in with anyone for days at a time. Even when Baba had been alive, he'd either be working or immersing himself in his books, putting together painstaking research on his favorite subject of Arab art of the nineteenth century.

Her intense dislike for playing the big boys' games at work meant she made few friends there. Outside of work, her life had been consumed by her sons. And yet already, she was too used to ending the day chatting with Sebastian. Already, she felt very little resistance about saying whatever came to her lips.

She had missed not only his steady presence with them, but also the wicked invitation in his eyes when he looked at her. When he rubbed the pad of his thumb against her lower lip. When she knew he wanted her but, for some reason, was playing a waiting game.

If he was struggling with another migraine coming on, she wished he would confide in her. But for all his seemingly open nature, there was a wall she sensed in him and a host of subjects that were forbidden to her.

When Paloma had informed her that he'd returned to the villa after the boys had been settled into bed this evening, she threw on a white cotton dress with halter neck straps, another perfectly fitting dress that had been delivered as part of her new wardrobe, and pulled her unruly hair back with a clip, chiding herself all the while for dressing for him.

But she refused to be brought down by the negative voice in her head—that she was only beginning to realize now sounded too much like Mama, as if she'd internalized all the things she was always saying to Laila in the form of "self-improvement advice."

Laila had enough of letting that voice drowning out all the good things she knew about herself, all the wonderful things that Baba and Guido had pointed out about her, again and again.

She'd spent most of her teens playing second fiddle to her half sister, Nadia, always falling into her shadow, always being measured against Mama and Nadia's beauty, and coming up short. After losing Baba, she'd buried herself in her studies, in looking after Guido and Paloma. She'd never indulged in the simple pleasure of putting on a pretty dress, doing her hair, using a flick of lip gloss so that her wide mouth shimmered invitingly. She'd never primped herself, wanting to catch a man's gaze, never seen herself as an object of desire.

She did all these things now, and she did them with Sebastian's gray gaze and wicked smile in mind. It was the simplest of thrills and yet, she'd never experienced it before him. Never felt the need at all.

It was a new freedom from her fears that had tethered her for so long, a new identity even, as more than the brainy freak, the crow in the cuckoo nest, more than a caregiver for her sons and others.

As she pushed her feet into designer flip-flops, there was a zing in her belly, a pep to her step. She walked down to the beach, feeling not only carefree and relaxed for the first time in ages, but with anticipation throbbing through every inch of her. For the evening ahead and for the future.