Chapter Eighteen
Ari
I stare out over the Port of Piraeus. Tankers and cruise ships dominate the docks.
A few ferries move in and out with ease, carrying tourists to islands like Santorini and Rhodes.
In three to four years, Hellas Shipping will deploy its new fleet of ammonia tankers, bringing the ammonia we create into Piraeus.
Tanker trucks will then take it to the ammonia cracking facility in Eleusis eighteen kilometers away.
A dream I’ve been working toward for over a year. Signing the contract is just the beginning. We’ll break ground for the cracking plant in two months. Our main plant in Iceland will begin adding on in late spring when the cold eases and the days are longer. But we’re moving forward.
My hands tighten on the railing. The sun is warm on my skin, the temperature a balmy twenty-one degrees Celsius. Yet inside I’m cold. Empty. There is no satisfaction, no sense of accomplishment, not even a flicker of happiness.
There’s nothing.
I keep seeing Diana as she looked back at me, framed in the doorway of the conference room. For a moment, I thought she would stay.
But then she walked out on me.
I hang my head and let out a harsh breath. I’m torn between wondering if I asked too much, pushed too far, and feeling rejected. When I think of how she pushed me the past few weeks to trust Xenakis, open up, I’m angry.
No, I mentally correct as I turn away from the port and stalk back into my hotel room, I’m furious. How dare she demand so much? Ask, ask, ask, yet keep her own heart hidden so deep no one can reach it, including the man who loves her.
I stop, scrub a hand over my face. I love Diana. I don’t believe in fairy tales. But I know I fell a little bit in love with her the moment I laid eyes on her in the museum, when she turned and whispered that husky hello that sank into my skin and wrapped itself around my heart.
A love that’s only deepened the past few weeks. Witnessed her dedication firsthand, admired her compassion, appreciated her strength and intelligence. Been humbled by her resilience, awed by her loyalty.
I woke up yesterday knowing I wanted to tell her.
It is fast, very fast, given that we only reconciled days before.
But I know how I feel. I never want her to question me, question us, the way she has other relationships in her life.
Want to offer her that security, that guarantee that as long as she wants me, I will never leave.
Then I walked into the bathroom. Saw her with that expression on her face, the one she’d worn when she walked into the restaurant with Liam in New York. So I stepped back, gave her space. I needed it, too, needed a moment to regroup after the sting of rejection. I assumed we would talk later.
And then she uttered those words at Hellas. Confronted me with the very real possibility she wouldn’t be able to overcome her past.
I want to understand. I want to give her the time she needs. But it hurts. It really fucking hurts. Even when I realized my father had no interest in me as a child, his rejection was dull, an ache for what could have been but never would be. I’d had my mother, had a good life to lean into.
Diana’s rejection ripped me in two.
I stalk back into the penthouse suite of my hotel. After Diana left, I had no interest in staying in the villa. Not when I could still smell her on the sheets. Could still see her on her hands and knees, see the raw vulnerability on her face as she shared the deepest parts of herself with me.
What happened between sunset and sunrise? Does she regret sharing herself with me? After everything I’ve done to overcome my own trust issues, can she not see that I’m not going anywhere?
My phone rings.
“Valdasson.”
“Góean daginn.” I wince as Xenakis chuckles. “How’s my pronunciation?”
I start to reply, then pause. “It was a good attempt.”
“How diplomatic,” Xenakis says, amusement in his tone. “My daughter’s in-laws have invaded the hospital and I need an excuse to leave. I’d like to move our tour up by an hour.”
“I can make that work.”
Xenakis is waiting for me fifteen minutes later in a stretch limo.
Three weeks ago, the sight of the gleaming white behemoth would have made me roll my eyes.
Now it makes one corner of my mouth curve up as a chauffeur opens the door for me.
The interior is done in gray leather with rounded lights built into the ceiling.
Xenakis is sitting in the rear seat, a pop-up table covering his knees as he types away on a laptop.
He greets me as I sit on the longer seat that runs the length of the limo.
“Coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
Xenakis puts away the table and computer as he reaches over to the bar and pulls out a small coffee cup and saucer.
“Greek coffee,” he says as he pours from a silver thermos. “Made with a small pot called a briki.”
“Usually served with foam on top?”
Surprised, Xenakis smiles. “Yes, kaimaki.” He reaches under the bar and pulls out a small box. “My personal favorite addition to a good cup of coffee—baklava.” He hands me the cup and saucer, then another small plate with the layered pastry. “You enjoy Greek cuisine?”
“I learned a great deal the past couple weeks.” I nod to my plate. “What I’ve had so far, I’ve enjoyed very much.”
“Your research included food?”
I inhale the rich, nutty fragrance of the coffee before I take a drink. “Miss North.”
One of Xenakis’s eyebrows arches up. “So we’re back to the more formal Miss North?”
My first instinct is to tell him it’s none of his damn business. But I bite back the nasty retort. Remind myself that Xenakis is more social than I am, more open to sharing aspects of his personal life in the course of doing business together.
“Yes.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
I pause, my cup raised halfway to my lips. “Why?”
“I hoped you and Miss North would finally admit how you felt.” This time his smile is slight, contemplative. “Find the happiness I had with my wife, even though I had her in my life for too short of a time.”
The thought of losing Diana grips me with a panic I haven’t felt since the ambulance whisked my mother to the hospital.
“Diana is an incredible woman,” I finally say.
“She is that.” Xenakis shakes his head. “She reminds me of my daughter. Fierce, strong, loyal, but beneath it all a caring heart that I sometimes worry carries too much.” He looks out the window.
“She caught on pretty quickly as a child that her mother had died after giving birth to her. I tried my best to let her know how loved she was, how neither her mother nor I would change a single thing if it meant not having Zoe here. But she still lived with that guilt for so long before I finally caught on.”
I’m not used to heartfelt conversations, especially with men I don’t know beyond a business setting. But the raw grief in Xenakis’s voice, the parallels between his daughter and Diana, prompt me to speak.
“Diana’s childhood made it hard for her to trust.” I glance out the window, at the buildings speeding by. “How did you help your daughter?”
“It wasn’t easy. There were times,” Xenakis says quietly, “when I was too impatient. I wanted her to be better. But I wanted it on my timeline, not hers. I wanted to help my daughter, yes, but I wanted her to get better for me, too.” He scoffs. “Selfish.”
I sit there, my body frozen as the car speeds down the road.
He might as well be describing me. I want Diana to trust me so she can finally let go of the pain and fear she holds on to so tightly.
But I wanted it for me, too. I wanted to know she wouldn’t choose fear over me. And in doing so, I pushed her away.
“I love her.”
“I know.” Xenakis chuckles. “You know, these past few months I’ve thought you were cold, rude, and dismissive. An immature young man who didn’t want to share.”
“Given that I thought you were overly dramatic and controlling,” I say with a slight smile, “I’d say we’re even.”
“But I’ve seen another side of you, too, Valdasson.
A young man who stepped up and took responsibility.
Who protected his people and his country.
Those are the kind of qualities I see in my son-in-law, and I consider him to be one of my own.
The kind of qualities that will make you a good partner.
I care for Diana,” he adds, his deep-set eyes intense. “I do not make these remarks lightly.”
My throat tightens. “Ευχαριστ?.”
“Much better than my butchering of your language this morning.” Xenakis inclines his head. “You’re welcome.”
“I’ll have to learn more before my next trip.” I glance at my watch. “Speaking of, I have to cut this trip short.”
Xenakis laughs. “I was hoping you’d say that.”