Chapter Ten
Ares watched Bethan quietly knot, release, then re-knot a rubber band.
Tried not to think about how those nimble fingers had wrecked him yesterday.
The deepest sleep he’d had in years had followed.
He should be happy about that, no? That it had been all light play and laughter—the easiest burn of their lingering chemistry.
But now his stomach was knotting and unknotting itself as regret spiralled around him.
He wished they’d not yet arrived in Athens.
But his assistant Theo waited on the dock and drove them to the apartment.
Bethan went into the room she’d used the night he’d brought her here.
He set his bag down and stared out of the window. Then went to her door.
‘I need to go to the office to check the final arrangements. Do you have something to wear tonight?’
‘I can figure something out,’ Bethan said.
‘Take Theo. He’ll translate and pay for anything you need.’
‘Thanks.’ She smiled peaceably. ‘I’d like to present well for you tonight.’
The knots in his stomach doubled when she didn’t put up any resistance to his offer. Was she treating him with kid gloves? He shouldn’t have told her about the attack. Though she’d hardly taken it easy on him yesterday afternoon. It hadn’t been pity sex, but all passion. Maybe they could have more.
He went to work while he still had the strength.
He ran through the notes for his speech, messages, checked the decorations and other preparations.
Then went to his barber. Halfway through the trim, his phone chimed.
He looked at the message and felt the familiar disappointment kick.
This family would always reject him personally so this was no real surprise yet still stupidly painful.
He drove back to the apartment. Bethan wasn’t there but he wasn’t worried—she’d taken Theo, who’d sent an update. He showered, dressed, went out to the lounge, avoiding the crystal decanters, and brewed a thick coffee instead. Damn the doctors, he needed the hit.
‘Do I look okay?’
He turned and forgot the coffee. Didn’t need it because energy flooded every cell.
Bethan was in the doorway wearing a white, sexy, demure, delight of a dress.
One strap barely rested on her right shoulder, looking as if it was about to slip.
It was cut low across her fantastic breasts and hugged her waist before flaring into a full skirt that ended at her knees, displaying the full abundance of her hourglass, heavenly figure.
His mouth gummed. Desire took command of his brain—teasing him with a billion ideas of what to do with her in that dress, right now.
His beautiful wife—about to be ex-wife—was exquisite.
How anyone was going to concentrate on anything anyone said or did, he didn’t know.
He certainly wasn’t going to be able to.
‘Ares?’
‘I...’ He reached for a polite, appropriate response but the words wouldn’t come because he was stripped raw. Weakened by it. Honesty rose, entwined with total regret, and he sank back against the countertop. ‘You don’t have to come tonight if you don’t want to.’
Her eyes widened, pained.
‘You look beautiful,’ he rushed to add, realising his mistake. ‘It’s just that I shouldn’t have made you do this.’
She breathed. Moved closer. ‘You’ve not made me do anything I haven’t wanted to this whole week, Ares.’ Soft, proud, stunning.
He bowed his head, avoiding her too-forgiving eyes.
‘I realise I never finished explaining about the foundation,’ he muttered.
‘I don’t want my life to have been about making more money for a family I don’t even like.
I need something more. So Melina’s name is there and her story—in part—is told because I want other young people empowered and taken care of.
They should have a safe working environment and a decent support network.
’ He glanced up. ‘I’m deliberately holding it at Vasiliadis headquarters.
I’ve put a huge amount of company money in, much to the family’s discomfort.
My mother’s experience wasn’t unique unfortunately.
But for her to be erased—that’s not right.
I won’t let it happen any more. This night is for her. ’
‘Good for you,’ she murmured.
He gazed at the empathy shimmering in her eyes.
At her dignity. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
Showed her the message. ‘Apparently the family are all unwell with a viral infection. Flu or some such. Naturally they don’t want to pass it on to my guests so none of them are able to make it.
’ Not Gia or Dion, nor his aunt or any of the ‘cousins’ who enjoyed the compound. ‘Gia is sure I understand.’
It was a lie of course. Security told him Gia had been in and out of the offices all week and not been coughing or sneezing at all.
‘Ares—’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ He didn’t want pity.
Didn’t want to dwell on the fact that they would never accept or acknowledge his lineage.
That they would never support something he cared about.
They were interested only in him building the business into a bigger enterprise that just made them even more money.
‘Well, for what it’s worth...’ Bethan cupped the side of his face ‘... I’ll be there.’
Just like that she was the nearest thing to an ally he’d ever had. He caught her hand in his and felt the press of something hard against his palm. He bent to study her fingers. She curled them but he didn’t let her tug away.
‘I thought I should wear my wedding ring, seeing we’re acting as if...as if...’
Not just the wedding band, but the extravagant engagement ring he’d ordered in such a rush.
He stared at the platinum-set gleaming diamond he’d given her.
He didn’t know why he’d chosen that one.
He’d relied on the jeweller, gone traditional.
He wouldn’t now. She needed something with more colour and flare.
Perhaps a ruby to match her mouth, set in gold to rest against the warmth of her skin and heart.
But tonight the ice-like diamond was a stunning match not just for the dress but for her luminosity. She simply shone.
‘I can take them off,’ she muttered.
He tightened his grip. She’d brought them with her—probably to give them back. She wouldn’t want to keep them but they should be worn once more. ‘Leave it. It’s perfect. Thank you for thinking of it.’
Her lashes dropped, hiding her deep gaze, but he couldn’t stop staring as if hoping to read everything within her. Every person in the room was going to stare at her. And want her. Most especially him.
He’d never been more glad of his driver to get them both safely there, given his concentration was so shot, but his problems only deepened once they got there.
The place was already packed. Everyone had turned up to this most unusual of Vasiliadis parties.
One where no other members of his family appeared.
Everyone else was curious as hell about his mother.
Bethan didn’t anchor him, she was his North Star. She swept through the room looking an absolute goddess—bright and sparkling—drawing everyone’s attention and charming them. Charming him.
Several of the trainee crew from Artemis were there.
He watched her animatedly chatter with them.
Yes, she was not shy now—for a guileless artistic, sensitive soul, she could schmooze surprisingly well.
The awkward young woman he’d met on the jetty almost two and a half years ago now shimmered.
She’d clearly been living her best life in London for her confidence to blossom like this.
‘You’re magnificent,’ he murmured, unable to keep his distance. ‘My poor projects manager doesn’t know where to look. Everyone is trying really hard not to stare at you.’
‘Because they probably think I’m a ghost,’ she quipped. ‘Your missing wife.’
He chuckled. ‘You know you’re captivating them.’
‘I’m channelling my inner Elodie.’ She grinned up at him. ‘Wait ’til you meet her, you’ll see what I mean.’
He didn’t respond. A breath later she bit her lip and glanced away. Because of course he wouldn’t meet Elodie or the friend she was knitting all the baby clothing for. She would return to London, divorced, and resume her life. Her best life.
He stepped away again. Unsettled despite the clear success of the evening.
All the billionaires present—and there were several—had dug deep to bolster the foundation’s account.
All supporting the goal of ensuring a safe working environment—free from sexual harassment—for the yachting staff.
He glanced at the photo of his mother—displayed in the centre of the photo array.
It had been taken before she’d met Loukas Vasiliadis.
Before she’d given birth to him. She was on the water, standing in a small boat, her smile wide.
She looked happy and young with the world ahead of her.
He’d found it crumpled in a box thrown together by uninterested, careless workers.
There’d been only two boxes of personal papers.
The rest of her effects—her clothing, books, crockery—had been either donated or destroyed.
Ares hadn’t even been given the chance to return to their small apartment, to go through it himself and revisit those memories.
There had been good ones there. But he would not hide the circumstances of his birth any more.
Illegitimacy wasn’t his source of shame. That was born from his own treatment of his mother. He’d not been a good son. Not checked on her. Not helped her. He’d been hurt and angry.
He’d thought if he did this, if he ensured she was honoured, not forgotten, it might assuage some of that guilt, but now he had it didn’t give any true satisfaction. He still felt bad. It wasn’t enough and never would be. His mother would never see this. Futility swamped him. He was a failure.
* * *