CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER TEN
L EX WATCHED P ORTIA survey the icon, hands clasped and head tilted, totally enraptured by the old painting.
He couldn’t take his gaze off her.
It had been an inspired choice, bringing her to this small but impressive museum. Art really was her thing.
‘It’s magnificent,’ she whispered.
‘Some people find icons too stylised, a little stern.’
The painting of mother and child, several hundred years old, was both those things.
‘Doesn’t that just show a reverence for the subject?’ she countered. ‘Anyway, the formality only makes her tenderness more moving. You can see it in her eyes and the way she’s holding him. You can feel the love.’
He surveyed the icon and nodded, surprised. In the past he’d barely noticed. Now he registered the emotion both in the image and himself.
Because the bond between parent and child had never felt so personal to him? His relationship with his own mother had been problematic.
Is that why Portia was so fascinated by it? Because of the way it portrayed motherly love?
Lex had a vision of Portia holding their baby in just the same way, nestled in the crook of her arm. She’d smile down at it, her expression tender and beguiling and he...
What would he be doing?
His pleasure faded, replaced by an unsteady churning in his belly.
If she had her way he’d be in another country, getting updates on the child’s progress from afar.
His mouth tightened. He wouldn’t let that happen. One way or another, he’d persuade Portia that their futures were so entwined separation wasn’t an option.
His son or daughter wasn’t going to be raised far away from him. His child would know the security of a mother and father. It wouldn’t have a life marred by secrets or relationships broken by distance. These last years he’d experienced familial love and he wanted that for this baby. With his father as role model he’d learn to be a good dad.
Lex rarely let himself think of the years he and his father had missed out on, or the siblings he hadn’t known until his twenties, because to do so brought bitterness and regret. But that knowledge made him absolutely determined to convince Portia to his way of thinking.
Instinct urged him to move swiftly and secure what he wanted. But his knowledge of Portia told him to take his time. Ordering her about, as her father had, only provoked obstinacy. He needed to be persuasive. Yet patient.
After ten days on his island she looked better, with more colour in her cheeks and the shadows almost banished from beneath her eyes.
Whereas he wouldn’t relax till he had a ring on her finger and her promise to build the sort of family he’d never had. But it was more than that. Having her under his roof, forced to play the mild-mannered host, was torture. He’d spent his nights imagining her back in his bed.
It was a wonder she hadn’t noticed the tension riding him, the brittle shell cloaking his visceral hunger.
His gaze skated hungrily over her. She looked fantastic in a cinnamon-coloured dress with cream polka dots. Chic but casual. Incredibly alluring.
She shifted and he was so close that her scent teased him. The faintest fragrance, like bluebells, fresh and beguiling, stirred his senses in an altogether earthy way. Years ago he’d thought it was a perfume she wore. Now he wondered if it didn’t come from a bottle but was intrinsic to Portia.
Lex’s flesh tightened and that ever-present urgency notched higher.
You’ve never responded this way to any other woman. Just a drift of scent or the hint of a smile or the fleeting brush of satin-soft skin...
He wanted to take her to bed. Now.
He had a one track mind where Portia was concerned. Pregnancy hadn’t altered that. In fact, it made him want her more. He wanted to protect her and bed her and persuade her.
Lex shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, rocking back on his heels. He was locked in a continual battle between mind and body. The urgent need for intimacy and the knowledge that this relationship, fractured and full of pitfalls, was too important not to get right.
‘Are you ready for lunch?’
Finally she transferred her attention from the painting to him. Was that why he’d interrupted her reverie—because he wanted her attention back on himself ?
‘I am hungry.’
She sounded surprised but he knew how little she ate for breakfast. She’d explained about morning nausea and there’d been a few days where even at lunchtime she’d barely nibbled at her food. It was a relief to see her looking forward to a meal.
‘No morning sickness?’
‘Not today. It hasn’t been quite as bad in the last couple of days.’
‘Then we need to make the most of it. Come on, I know just the place.’
He led her through the building but instead of exiting through the main door, ushered her up to roof level.
Her eyes widened as they stepped out onto the flagstone roof terrace. The building was an elegant old villa. But the space here was modern with its café, potted plants and wonderful view over the centre of Athens.
‘It’s not peak tourist season so it’s quiet. It’s not a proper restaurant but I thought you’d like somewhere casual.’
It was a good place to avoid the paparazzi too. Soon word would get out that he was in Athens and wasn’t alone. He wanted to shield Portia from that attention. He’d arranged discreet security for them and was grateful that for now the protection detail could give them space. He suspected she hadn’t even noticed their minders.
‘Casual is perfect.’ She drifted to the parapet, taking in the view of the botanical gardens and the parliament building, with the Acropolis rising above the city. ‘Thank you, Lex.’
That smile.
Something inside unknotted and pleasure sighed through his veins.
She mightn’t be ready to marry yet but that unfettered smile had to mean something. It was almost like the way she’d looked at him years before. When they’d been everything to each other.
His pulse skipped.
What would have happened if they’d carried through their original plan to elope? Would they still have been together? Or would the passion of first love have petered out?
They’d been too young. The fact he’d been able to move on and build a new life proved it wouldn’t have worked between them.
He thought of all the good that had come from his move to Greece. Finding his family, his roots. Finding his way professionally. If he and Portia hadn’t been ripped apart he’d probably not have made it to Greece. How much he’d have missed. His family meant so much.
Except Portia hadn’t betrayed him. She’d been a victim, even more than he. He’d been the one to betray her by believing her father’s lies.
Lex watched her settle at a table and pick up a menu. With her blonde hair loose around her shoulders, she barely looked older than the teenager he’d known at Cropley.
Something punched him in the belly. A writhing ball of emotion that seared his gut.
Portia still made him feel so much.
It wasn’t just the baby he wanted to look after, but her. He cared about her. He’d let her down once; he wouldn’t do it again. He owed her his protection.
She was alone with no one to support her if anything went wrong.
Except him. He’d be there, he vowed.
‘Lex?’ She frowned up at him. ‘Are you going to eat or stand there brooding?’
Half an hour later, replete, he sat back as she finished her juice. Funny how he could happily just watch her. Usually his mind buzzed with business plans and priorities. He’d always had a lot of energy to expend. But around Portia it was easy to let go of the busyness of his life and just be.
Lex smothered a grimace. He’d never been one for just sitting. He’d be meditating next.
‘Why art history?’
He’d held back from asking since she shied from discussing herself. But it was time to chip away more of those barriers.
‘You find it a strange choice? But you’re an art lover. I’ve seen the pieces you have in your home.’
His eyes narrowed as she channelled attention back to him. ‘Why are you afraid to talk to me about it?’
‘I’m not afraid . I just... It’s personal. I’m not used to sharing my hopes and plans.’
He stiffened. Having a baby together wasn’t personal?
Was she reminding him their renewed relationship had been based on sex alone?
His mood dipped. The bright, sunny girl he’d known had altered. Once she’d have shared her plans, excited to discuss them. Was it just their broken relationship that stopped her?
Or something more elemental? She’d changed, withdrawing into herself. What had happened in those intervening years?
Something stark pulled his skin tight.
Portia focused on the straw she used to stir her drink. As if the fresh juice were more interesting than her future. ‘If you must know, I want a career in the art world.’
‘So you’re still sketching?’
He’d remembered her love of art but now, suddenly, he recalled the sketchbook she’d often carried. The deft drawings she’d done while she waited for him to finish his chores. Of spring flowers. Of the horses. Of Cropley through the changing seasons.
Anything but portraits. She’d said she couldn’t get faces right, though to his eyes her attempts had been outstanding.
Why hadn’t he thought of that sooner?
Because you decided years ago to chop her from your life.
Because lingering on the past was no way to get on with the future. How much else had he deliberately forgotten?
‘No, not an artist. I don’t have enough talent. But I love art.’ Her voice lowered. ‘It can bring such solace, don’t you think?’
Lex met her earnest gaze and felt something shift between them. At last she was letting him in. When had she needed solace? Just when he left? He wanted to press for details but was wary of pushing too hard.
‘I totally agree.’
His appreciation of art had begun after meeting his father and being exposed to his private collection. Though they had differing tastes, Lex had enjoyed accompanying his baba to exhibitions and auctions, over the years developing a particular interest in sculpture.
‘So if you don’t want to create your own art...?’
She abandoned her stirring, her expression guarded. ‘Eventually I want to work in an auction house or museum. Once I’d imagined being an art restorer but now I’ve set my sights on curation and maybe valuation.’
‘That’s very specialised.’
Her lips curved in a smile that looked more like a grimace. ‘Is that a polite way of saying my chances of getting work are slim? I already know that.’
‘It was just an observation, though I imagine it’s a small jobs pool. Lots of competition.’ It surely wasn’t the easiest of careers.
‘You think that should put me off?’
Portia’s expression was assessing.
‘Because it’s not easy?’ Lex shook his head. ‘I’m a believer in following your dreams.’
Already he was reviewing his contacts in the art world, wondering how he could help.
She sat back, nodding as if he’d given the right answer. ‘Is that why you started your business, because it was your dream?’
Once more she turned the subject away from herself. Lex itched to know more. But answering her frankly, helping her know him better, could only bring them closer.
‘I didn’t have a long-held dream to work in medical technology. I saw the opportunity and I was interested, very interested in the concept. But it was more that I wanted to shape my own destiny, not work for someone else.’
He’d had enough of taking orders in his youth, working long hours for little pay or thanks. He didn’t mind long hours. He’d never worked harder than in setting up his own business. But now he got to make the decisions.
‘Not even for your father.’
It wasn’t a question and normally he’d have left it there. But he was determined to bring Portia closer.
‘I considered it. The thought of contributing to an enterprise founded by my family and continued through the generations...’ For a guy who hadn’t even known he had a family, it was heady stuff.
Lex looked into pansy-brown eyes and decided to share something he never had before. It felt almost too intimate but the stakes were high and if opening up to her pushed through her spiky defences, it was worth it.
‘I care for my family deeply and that’s reciprocated.’ Their warmth had been remarkable. ‘I was too young when I left Greece to remember them, but my half-siblings are older and remembered me. They’d all been concerned when my mother took me and vanished. Apparently my sister had nightmares about it for years. My father spent years searching for us but in the wrong places.’
‘It must have been terrible for him, for all of them.’
Lex picked up an olive and munched on it. Once upon a time he’d wondered if his father were a brutal man who’d scared Lex’s mother into leaving. Now he believed some of her mental health issues had been exacerbated by pregnancy and the stress of adapting to a new culture and language in Greece.
He frowned. Was he asking too much of Portia, suggesting she make her life here with him? But it was the only good solution. He had to make her see that.
‘Lex?’
‘We were talking about the family business and why I didn’t join.’ Anything was preferable to discussing his mother. ‘I felt I had something to prove. To myself as much as anyone else. I didn’t want to be a freeloader.’
Portia’s snort startled him. ‘As if you’d ever be that. You’ve always worked hard, especially when your great-uncle grew frail. You were basically the breadwinner for three people.’
He was pleased she respected his work ethic at least.
‘I’m sorry my father took such a set against you, and that others took their lead from him. To have everyone about you so negative, it must have been—’
‘That was a long time ago.’
No need to agree that he’d carried a chip on his shoulder. It had put fire in his belly and given him a mutinous determination to prove everyone wrong.
Had his planned elopement with Portia grown as much from the need to thumb his nose at her father as the way Lex had felt about her?
Shock rippled through him. Could that be true? Surely not! How callow had he been at nineteen?
He forced himself to smile despite his roiling gut. ‘That’s something else we have in common, not opting for the easy road. I can see this art course is important to you.’
She twisted her now empty glass. ‘I’ve dreamt of it for a long time. I know it will be tough and perhaps I won’t get the career I’d hoped afterwards, but it’s important to have dreams, don’t you think? Sometimes...’
‘Sometimes what?’
Portia shook her head, her mouth turning down. ‘Nothing. I was rambling. Tell me about this party tomorrow.’
What had she been going to say? Why were dreams so important? Because they were better than the life she’d led?
Again he felt that steely thrust of shame that he’d fallen for her father’s deceit and left her when she needed him. It stifled the question on his lips.
‘The party.’ He dragged his thoughts from the past. ‘It will be at my father’s home in Athens. My two brothers and their wives and my sister and her husband will be there along with their children.’
‘Quite a few then.’
Lex watched her smooth down her skirt. A nervous gesture?
‘They’re all very nice and eager to meet you.’
‘How much do they know about me?’ Her voice rose a notch.
‘Only that you’re a friend from England.’
Portia sighed. ‘They’re bound to be curious about us.’
‘Naturally. But they’re too well-mannered to give you the third degree.’ They’d save that for him. His sister in particular would be eager for details. ‘After the family dinner the other guests, wider family and close friends, will arrive for the party.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Just how formal is it going to be? I packed for a quiet island holiday, not for dressing up.’
Of course Lex had a solution to her lack of suitable clothes for a billionaire’s birthday bash. He organised a personal shopper to bring a selection of items to the penthouse.
Portia bit her lip, surveying the racks of expensive clothes filling her spacious bedroom.
Instead of feeling excited, she found it daunting.
It was one thing to let Lex pay for her outfit, since her budget didn’t run to glamorous party clothes. But it was yet another reminder that his world bent to his whim. Where shops came to you and no expense was too much if it saved you time and effort.
Her family had been wealthy, at least in the beginning, but Lex’s money was on a whole different level. It reinforced how unequal their relationship was.
How could they ever be real partners? If they married would she always be the wife he had to have in order to get his child? Her spirit rebelled at the idea.
‘Where would you like to start, Ms Oakhurst?’
‘Portia, please.’
‘Thank you. And I’m Angeliki.’ The personal shopper smiled, suddenly looking much younger, and the jittery feeling in Portia’s stomach eased. ‘I know you want something for an evening party. But what do you like?’
Portia looked at the huge array, from trousers and tops to full-length formal gowns and everything in between. There were sequins and satins, linens, beading, ruffles and lace.
‘Something simple.’ She drew a slow breath, then added, ‘But something stunning.’
Not because she’d be mixing with well-heeled guests. But because she wanted Lex to see her through new eyes.
The baby had motivated his proposal. But she was more than the person carrying his child. She wanted him to see her and to be bowled over.
How appealing it would be to nudge him out of his comfort zone, even just a little.
Portia was tired of him being so reasonable and effortlessly considerate, the perfect host, as if keeping his distance was easy while she found it almost impossible.
She wanted to see the heat of desire in his eyes again and know he missed their intimacy as much as she did.
It was contrary, she knew. She’d insisted on physical distance. She should be delighted that he respected her enough not to press her.
But she missed his urgent desire. Missed the affirmation that at least sexually, they shared something.
Instead of appreciating his easy charm and the space he gave her she’d grown fretful and needy.
Blame it on pregnancy hormones.
Easier to do that than investigate why it matters so much.
‘Simple and stunning.’ Angeliki grinned. ‘We can do that!’
It turned out to be fun, shopping without any thought for the cost. Trying on things she’d never have considered, egged on by Angeliki who did have a wonderful eye. Laughing with her over some over-the-top couture creations.
Then they found it. Portia knew it as soon as the silk settled over her hips and she heard Angeliki’s sigh.
Turning to face the mirror, Portia froze, eyes widening.
It was simple. A sheath that loosely moulded her body to just below the knee. She didn’t have a name for the colour. It wasn’t purple nor scarlet nor russet but somewhere between them. The deep, rich hue did wonderful things for her complexion and made her eyes glow.
The narrow shoulder straps consisted of a narrow band of deep gold that also ran around the neckline. The band consisted of tiny beads, stitched in an intricate scroll design.
‘That one,’ whispered Angeliki.
Portia smoothed her hands over the fragile material. ‘Yes.’
She’d worn pretty dresses at Cropley but never anything like this. She felt...
Seductive.
Powerful , she added as movement in the mirror caught her eye. The door had opened and Lex stood there, one hand still on the handle.
His gaze was fixed on her with an intensity that scorched. His eyes were dark, colour streaked those high cheekbones and his nostrils flared as if he worked to drag in oxygen.
Fire raced through Portia’s blood and her senses hummed.
She lifted her chin, holding his stare. Revelling in his expression. It was the look of a man undone. The look of a man who wanted, more than wanted. A man who craved...
Her.