Chapter Six #3
They exchanged a fond look before the usual wave of anguish washed over Agnes’s face.
‘I may have lost a son I will never get back, but I gained a daughter despite all my failings. I love you, Vayle. You and Angelos, you mean everything to me. I’m saying it now in case I never get the chance to atone for my… ’
‘Of course you will have many more chances. I’m not going anywhere and neither is your grandson. Concentrate on working things out with your son.’
Desolation crossed her face. ‘What if he never forgives me?’
‘You won’t know until you try.’
She sucked in a shuddery breath. ‘What did I ever do to deserve you?’ Her eyes brimmed with tears.
Vayle blinked away threatening tears of her own.
‘You saved me. You loved me even though I wasn’t yours.
Family is originally blood, but often it’s also the people we meet and help and love along the way.
You didn’t turn your back on me when you could have.
You made me feel more loved than my own flesh and blood did.
I will always love you for that. But you also need to not give up on the other family you do have. ’
Wrenching anguish kept hold of Agnes for the longest time.
Watching her battle through it brought a heavier lump to Vayle’s throat.
But the woman who had given Nelios Petralis life, who had had some hand in shaping him despite his insistence that only his trauma had forged him, finally emerged.
A steel spine shimmered into being, a little fragile and bendable perhaps, but steel nonetheless.
With a firm nod, Agnes grabbed one last tissue and dabbed her damp eyes.
‘We’ve kept him waiting long enough. Let’s get our game faces back on and you up the aisle, yes? ’
Vayle gulped as the butterflies reawakened. ‘Yes.’
Agnes walked her down the aisle—another condition Vayle had insisted upon, especially since Andreas the Ogre was Nelios’s best man.
In the rush to this wedding, she’d crossed paths with Andreas only twice.
She’d sensed he had something to say to her but she’d distanced herself from the interaction, not wanting her already unsettled emotions to be toppled by his caustic opinions.
On both occasions she’d been with Nelios, who had also seemed reluctant to leave her alone with his right-hand man.
So, yes, she chalked it up to a win as she proceeded arm-in-arm with Agnes down the aisle.
Of course, all thoughts of winning, losing or otherwise fled the second she clapped eyes on Nelios, in the finest hand-made suit, with his hair combed off his forehead to better display the sheer force of his male beauty. Everything faded to sepia while he blazed in vivid, living colour.
She couldn’t even pick one thing that reigned supreme above another: his eyes, his jaw, his unabashed ferocity; the pristine whiteness of his collar against the rich dark-blue of his wedding suit; or the resolute power that snaked out and compelled her to him, her every step seeming to echo his silent, unyielding intonation of mine, mine, mine…
She scarcely felt the exquisite bouquet being tugged from her hold, or barely saw Agnes and Andreas retreat to their seats.
She did feel the electric power of his touch when he took her hand and propelled her that last step to his side.
Felt every word of the simple yet weighty vows they exchanged.
He slid the diamond-and-platinum wedding band onto her finger that perfectly matched the priceless engagement ring, drew her into his arms, fused his lips to hers and rasped, ‘It is done.’
Oh yes; Vayle very much felt that too.
He was married.
As he led his new bride across the dance floor, Nelios finally allowed the landscape to settle; allowed himself to open his mind to what he’d negotiated for these past weeks. What he’d vowed when he’d held his son for the first time.
As he’d looked into Angelos’s eyes, and sworn to do the polar opposite of what had been done to him, he knew he’d allow very little to stand in his way. Even if it meant having to deal with his mother and hear more lies from her treacherous lips.
To gain his son, he realised he would even withstand that torture, and more.
It would only be a few hours of his life, after all, compared to a lifetime of ensuring that his offspring never suffered as he had.
As exchanges went, Nelios believed he’d got the better part of the bargain.
So why did that chafing still lurk within him?
Why did it feel as if this mission wasn’t quite complete?
As he guided Vayle back across the dance floor, his gaze connected with his friend’s. Andreas still hadn’t lost that shadowed tension in his eyes ever since their heated conversation a month ago after he’d delivered Vayle and Angelos back to her apartment.
It took a lot for his only friend to accept blame, because he’d rarely ever stepped out of line.
So Nelios had been mildly stunned when Andreas had come to him and immediately offered his sincere apologies for keeping Nelios from Angelos.
He’d thought he was doing the right thing by having his friend’s back, thinking he was protecting Nelios from a threat they’d both faced before from women who’d made spurious claims of being pregnant by them, with only grasping avarice in mind.
In their world, gold-diggers like that were ten a penny.
Andreas had thought he was dealing with yet another one in Buenos Aires, so he’d ignored Vayle’s calls, had had her emails deleted unread and had discarded her letter.
Nelios truly believed it had been a misunderstanding on his friend’s part, and he’d had to accept that he too had dropped the ball, when all was said and done. He’d also had to accept that missing his son’s momentous milestones thus far was perhaps his penance. He’d grudgingly let it go.
But clearly Andreas hadn’t, if the guilty grimace he slanted Nelio’s way was any indication.
‘Things not all rosy in friendship land?’
He dropped his gaze to Vayle and, despite the tension lurking in her own features, some of the chafing eased.
His own grimace he kept to himself. He hadn’t fooled himself into believing this wedding would be an especially happy occasion but, while he didn’t really care what his specially selected business and social acquaintances thought, he didn’t want to start off his marriage anything but impeccably.
Her eyes held a faint wariness but it was the fire in them that snagged at him. That promised that, whatever lay ahead of them, it would be far from boring.
Nelios found himself anticipating that challenge, even welcoming it. His eyes dropped lower to the diamonds encircling her neck and the hint of cleavage that made other parts of him tighten. ‘Have I said how exquisite you look?’
The concoction of ivory satin elevated her glow, and the faint flush to her cheeks and the diamonds only harnessed her stunning beauty.
But more than that there was an ephemeral quality to this woman that had enthralled him from the start.
That, he was a little disturbed to admit, he’d gone searching for in others, and had failed to find.
‘Not going to answer my question?’ she replied.
‘The issue has been explained and resolved,’ he offered.
‘Has it? And no one bothered to tell me?’ she said sarcastically. ‘What is your deal with Andreas anyway?’
His gaze sharpened. ‘What?’
She shrugged and his gaze moved over her smooth skin again, hunger slowly prowling its restlessness through him.
‘I looked him up like any sane person would when you started your antics. I looked you both up, in fact. There is very little about him on the Internet.’
‘Because he is a private man. But our origins crossed at a crucial point which aided the forging of an unbreakable friendship.’
Curiosity sparkled in her eyes and Nelios couldn’t drag his gaze away. ‘What happened?’ She used that same soft, empathetic voice she always used when advocating for Agnes. He shouldn’t have fallen for it, yet he felt a certain…give in his chest.
Which he immediately suppressed by shaking his head. ‘This is neither the time nor the place for confessions, yineka mou.’
‘What does “yineka mou” mean?’ she muttered.
He felt that hungry flame burning brighter as he stared down into her eyes. ‘It means “my wife”. And I would rather talk about us, not Andreas.’
Was it his imagination or did a shiver run through her? Dropping his gaze, he saw the pulse at her throat speed up and his whole body felt charged, that anticipation building. Which was why he almost growled when a hand tapped his shoulder.
Speak of the devil.
‘It’s my turn to dance with the bride, I believe,’ Andreas murmured.
The right, civil thing to do would be to hand over his wife. But Nelios didn’t feel particularly civil.
‘No can do. I’m not quite done dancing with my wife. If you’re in need of a dance partner, Agnes is free, I believe.’
His friend barely managed to keep his surprise from showing, and after a moment nodded and turned to Vayle.
‘In case later isn’t good for your husband either,’ he said with a hint of a wryness, ‘I’d like to take this opportunity to apologise for my actions over the last year. I’ve been rather…over-zealous in my gatekeeping.’
Vayle watched him and let him stew for a few several seconds before she nodded. ‘Apology accepted. As long as you’re cordial to Agnes, we won’t have a problem.’
The baffled knot in Nelios’s gut tightened as his friend walked away to do his wife’s bidding.
‘You’re staring again.’
He bit his tongue against a trite response about her beauty, or something primeval, such as he was allowed to look at her now she was his. Instead he found himself blurting, ‘You really do insist on seeing the good in everyone, don’t you?’
She stiffened for a moment, then lanced him a challenging glance. ‘I’m hardly Mary Poppins, but really, isn’t stomping about gathering all the dark clouds around you exhausting for you and everyone else?’
For the wildest, most absurd second, Nelios felt laughter bubbling up in his chest at the image she conjured up.
And perhaps she caught a glimpse of it, because her tension eased and her eyes dwelled on his face for much longer than he was strictly comfortable with.
But the moment she glanced over his shoulder, her eyes softening at seeing Agnes on Andreas’s arm, Nelios wanted her attention back on him.
‘I assure you, it’s not a chore or burdensome at all,’ he drawled, then exhaled steadily when her eyes returned to his. ‘Thunderstorms keep everyone on their toes. But they also bring cleansing rain and new starts. In the past, I’ve had no choice but to forge several of my own.’
Her eyes softened further and Nelios felt the ground beneath him soften along with it, like clouds lifting him, making him feel…buoyant for the first time in a very long time. It was a deceptively addictive feeling. One he knew he needed to resist.
But maybe not just yet.
One song drifted into another as his new wife looked up at him. ‘As great as that may be, surely sunshine after all that rain makes things look and feel so much better?’
Again a touch of humour lightened his chest. ‘What next, Vayle—a debate about the benefit of rainbows?’
She blinked at him in mock annoyance. ‘I love rainbows, and I won’t have them disparaged.
So why don’t I go about sunshining to my heart’s content and you thundercloud all you want?
And if we happen to clash…’ She shrugged smooth shoulders, her body moving under his touch, reminding him what lay beneath the layers of satin.
Just a little while ago he’d speculated that this marriage would be far from boring, but maybe he’d underestimated that sentiment. Maybe there was room for…more. Such as renegotiating the no-sex clause he’d foolishly agreed to…
‘Thank you for allowing her to be here.’
Humour and thoughts of sex and rainbows fled as he followed her gaze to Agnes. ‘She has my wife to thank for that.’ Why did using that term settle something primal inside him?
‘I know. But you still could’ve objected. I know what you’re capable of.’
His eyes sharpened on her face. ‘Is that supposed to be an accusation?’ he asked with a touch of disappointment he sensed was directly connected to losing the pleasant connection they’d shared a minute ago.
The dismaying hollow in his belly wanted that warmth back.
He was disgruntled to admit that the exhausting weight of this bitterness he harboured for Agnes—the constant anger-tinged shadows of grief for not being granted the opportunity to face his father and show him the man he’d become despite him—was all so very exhausting.
Thee mou, there was that word again. His wife had planted it in his head, and now it was all he could feel.
She firmed her lips. ‘It was truth-stating.’
He barely stopped his teeth from gritting. ‘It’s our wedding day, Vayle. Let’s not ruin it by arguing.’
She nodded. ‘Agreed. But you will still talk to your mother, yes? Attempt to put the past behind you?’
The earlier rush of winning, of embracing his new landscape, dimmed a little as he looked into her eyes. What if he failed? What if this would be him two decades from now, gazing at his own son after having failed him?
No. That would never happen. Not as long as he had breath in his body and a memory to keep him firmly on the new path he intended to choose. Snatching his flailing emotions back under control, he refocused on Vayle.
‘That’s what you negotiated on her behalf. So, yes, I’ll stick to it even if I don’t hold much hope of being swayed by anything she has to say.’ His smile felt mirthless and tight. ‘But you’ll do well not to push me.’
The end of the music punctuated his statement and he escorted her back to their table, despising that fervent wish to wind the clock back to five minutes ago.