Chapter Eleven
Ares glared out of the window, ignoring the calming tea cooling on the table behind him.
He counted but it was an exercise in pure futility.
The pain in his chest hadn’t just returned, but was bigger than ever.
Once more he regulated his breathing, trying to loosen the crushed sensation, yet the vice-like grip beneath his ribs only tightened.
It didn’t matter if he counted to four or forty.
This was different—not a stress attack from too much coffee and too many hours of work.
This was sheer dread. He never should have touched her again.
I’ve only ever had you.
Possessive triumph raged through his blood as her broken admission echoed in his brain—a satisfaction he had no right to feel.
Because the flip side hit less than a second later—a burning devastation that smacked him down.
Why hadn’t she met someone else? Hell, he almost wished she had.
Because now he knew she didn’t understand the reality—that by staying with him, she was accepting less than what she could have had.
Now he realised that her choice this week—to let him in again—hadn’t been an informed decision.
He’d thought she’d lived a little more of life and, sure, in several ways she had.
She’d held her own with the elite at last night’s party and he knew she would thrive—beautifully—in any kind of society now.
Not because she was in any way better than before.
She was as kind and as strong and as wonderful—it was simply that she actually believed it now.
She was so much more confident than when they’d first met.
Since then she’d grieved for her grandmother, found a new family of friends and built a career she loved.
.. The problem was she was still na?ve when it came to men.
To relationships. To him. He’d never been fully honest with her.
He’d never admitted his limitations—while she’d bloomed, he still lacked.
And for all her flourishing, she’d not learned what more she might have from someone else so she hadn’t consciously chosen the less he offered.
And the fact was, he could never be all she really wanted or needed.
The first time round he’d assumed he could be fairly absent and it wouldn’t matter.
She would live on the island where she’d been vibrantly happy.
He could keep her—and any children—safely away from his family of vipers.
He’d go at weekends so he’d be close enough but not too intimate.
Good sex but minimal emotional impact. He’d thought that it could stay light and easy.
She would have a warm home with space for her art where she could love her children and teach them to sail. ..
But her doubts were raised the second she’d heard Gia’s ludicrous suggestion that he’d only married her to avoid the pressure to marry Sophia. Or maybe she’d already had doubts, given she’d barely trusted him enough to ask for his side of the story—rather she’d asked only the one direct question.
Do you love me?
The stark misery in her eyes had savaged him.
Already twisted up by being at the damned compound, by his cousins’ watchfulness and Gia’s stupid games, he’d not been able to answer.
Certainly not the way she’d wanted. And because she was stronger than he’d realised then, she’d run. She’d been right to.
She was even stronger now. That meant she would fight him today.
It was also why he had to win. Because his wife deserved to be with someone who offered more than money and nice houses and good sex only at the weekends.
He’d not realised how badly the prospect of his absence had hurt her.
But now he understood that she’d grown up with her father often away and she didn’t want that for herself again.
Or for her children. Bethan today wouldn’t just ask for more, she would demand it.
As she should. But that ‘more’ was something he couldn’t ever give.
And even if she chose to stay now, ultimately she would leave again. Again, as she should. But he wouldn’t survive losing her then.
Only now could he admit to himself how bad it had been last time.
He’d buried his anger in ice but with her coming back this week, it had melted.
At its core was pure pain from her absolute rejection that day.
And it was still raw. He’d failed his mother and couldn’t ever make it right.
He couldn’t fail Bethan again. Certainly never any children.
He couldn’t hurt her children in that way.
He wasn’t emotionally equipped to be what they needed.
So he needed to follow through on his promise now.
He needed space. He needed to be alone. He would be again.
* * *
Bethan paused in the doorway of the lounge and braced. Ares stood stiffly by the window, framed by the brilliant blue sky, his dark three-piece suit a masterclass in formality. He didn’t just have those metaphorical walls up, he was in full armour.
‘I’ve filed the paperwork and made my declaration,’ he said the second he turned and saw her. ‘Theo will take you to your lawyer and then to make your filing. He’ll then take you to the airport.’
Bethan breathed through the impact of verbal hit after hit. She’d known he could be ruthless but she’d not expected him to be quite this cold. Not after last night. It hadn’t just been amazing, surely it had changed everything?
No. He still wanted to end their marriage.
Still wanted her to leave. He didn’t want her in his life long-term.
How was that possible when last night—when this whole week—they’d shared—so much more than their bodies?
When she’d fallen for him all over again only even deeper this time because this time they’d truly talked and now she understood—?
‘This is what’s best for you, Bethan.’
‘No, this is what you want,’ she flared at his patronising tone.
She didn’t believe him. She couldn’t—
‘I need to go.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I have meetings.’
So he could spare only a few seconds to slice her from his life? Was he really going to leave without talking this through? He’d just made a stupid snap decision and now they both had to live with it?
She refused to move, suddenly realising that was what she’d done last time. She’d flipped out and walked. Was this payback for her doing that? Or was talking more pointless because he really didn’t care?
No. They wanted each other. They were dynamite together. And now they knew and understood each other so much more so she wasn’t going anywhere. She would stay and fight this time.
‘So you’re leaving because you don’t want...’ She trailed off expectantly, forcing him to explain why.
His nostrils thinned, somehow he stood taller and straighter but she was right in his way unless he picked her up and set her to the side. He didn’t. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and glared at her.
‘You deserve better.’ He ground out the most clichéd brush-off ever.
Bethan stepped closer and summoned more courage. ‘I don’t want better,’ she said softly. ‘I just want you. All I’ve ever really wanted was you. Just you.’
Desperately nervous, she gazed into his face, trying to read his reaction.
But there was none. It wasn’t that he’d assumed his cool expressionless mask—he was simply deadened.
Hollow. He shook his head, crushing her bravado without so much as a word.
Her brain turned sluggish. Everything seemed to be happening weirdly slowly.
‘Why?’ she whispered.
He closed his eyes briefly. ‘I can’t give you what you want.’
‘What do you think I want?’ she muttered. ‘What else is there?’
She’d just said she only wanted him. None of the fancy things others expected of him. She didn’t give a damn about dollars or properties or how many people he was in charge of. She just wanted to be with him.
‘Children.’
Rigid, she stared at the bleakness in his eyes and refused to breathe. ‘You don’t want children?’
‘And you want love,’ he added hoarsely. ‘You deserve love.’
Pain whistled through her and she found herself asking again—a variant on the question that had caused her so much heartache already. ‘And you can’t give me that?’
‘Not the kind you deserve.’ He folded his arms across his chest. ‘When we married I thought you’d be happy on the island. That if we had children, they’d be there with you. I would only be there on the weekends. Now I know that wouldn’t be enough for you but I can’t offer more.’
He’d wanted to compartmentalise—his home life, his work.
He’d wanted to keep her away from the Vasiliadis compound back then, not because there was something wrong with her, but with his family.
Now she understood the loneliness and pressure he’d endured there, she could see why he’d wanted to protect her.
Had it been more? Had he wanted her to be his sanctuary—to be at that villa like his safe haven?
So why then would he want to see her so little?
Would he really have been happy to share her bed for only a couple of nights a week?
Maybe all he’d wanted was for her to give him heirs so he’d carry on that damned Vasiliadis lineage, while he lived it up in Athens with affairs?
No. Ares was faithful to the bone. He would never do that. And he was so damned determinedly independent. So hope wouldn’t die within her.
‘Why can’t you be with me all the time?’ she pressed. ‘Why did you really want that distance?’
His face paled but his gaze didn’t waver from hers. ‘I can’t be an involved father,’ he muttered.
‘Because...?’ She waited.
In the long silence her brain fired up, desperately searching for reasons in the face of his compressed mouth.
‘You don’t want to be like yours was? Because you never had a decent example... Is that why?’ she asked.
He finally broke from her gaze and bowed his head and didn’t deny it.
His father hadn’t just been absent, he’d rejected his role altogether.
While his grandfather had been a bully. Ares would be so much better than either of those men—surely he knew that?
She frantically tried to think of solutions—straining to convince him.
‘You know I’ve never had an example of a real working relationship—only the romantic, idealistic memories my father fed me, and my grandmother.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t learn how to get through the complexities of marriage. You could learn with me.’
He was so very still. ‘I’m not able to do that, Bethan.’
‘Because you don’t want to,’ she breathed. He didn’t want her enough.
‘Because I can’t give you the lifestyle with the kind of family you want,’ he reiterated.
‘Because you don’t want to be there—not all the time. You really think you’re incapable of that?’
He clenched his fists. ‘I’m not going to stand in the way of your dreams.’
‘You really think ending this is what’s best for me?’
‘Yes. I want what’s best for you, Bethan. I like you.’
Like. Not love. It punched. But she didn’t believe him.
‘Yet you made love to me last night.’ Rebellious—resentful—she lifted her chin in the face of his icy demeanour. ‘That is what you did, Ares. And I made love right back to you.’
‘We both knew it was the last time,’ he said flatly. ‘That’s why it felt...’
She waited but he didn’t finish. She could guess the rest anyway—why it felt special.
He was wrong. He was grasping for reasons to push her away. The problem was she now hurt too much to be able to think—too confused and flustered to fight effectively.
‘Just go to the lawyer now,’ he ordered harshly. ‘The divorce should be processed in less than a fortnight. I need to go to work.’ He strode past her.
She didn’t try to block him. There was no stopping Ares when he was this determined but her words escaped anyway in a final futile attempt.
‘You’re running away. You’re a coward.’
He paused but didn’t turn to face her. ‘I’m sorry, Bethan. I can’t be what you want.’