Chapter Seven #2
‘Very few people have because it’s my private island in Greece. We can start from there instead of Italy, if you wish.’
It wasn’t his imagination that caught a glitter of pleasure in her eyes because something flipped in his belly. And when the look evaporated he was struck with a fervent need to regain it.
‘What does “Apeiron” mean?’
‘Several things in Greek, but for my purposes it means “infinite”.’
The glitter slowly returned, weaker than before but there. ‘Because you believe your mightiness is infinite?’
Was she teasing him? The belly-flip recurred. ‘Exactly so.’
He caught the twitch at the corner of her plump lips just before she turned away to shower attention on their son.
He told himself he wasn’t jealous; that he was perfectly content just to watch their interaction; enjoyed how naturally she doted on him and saw to his every need. How…good she was with him.
But all the while Nelios was stingingly aware of the hunger prowling within him, seeking satiation. Of the voice repeating yet again, asking himself why the hell he’d agreed to that stupid, stupid celibacy clause.
Vayle hated herself for missing Nelios even before he had walked away after devouring his breakfast, with a request she be ready to leave by lunchtime.
More so for the giddiness that took hold of her entire being, making her feel as if she was permanently plugged into a low-voltage current.
Even when Agnes joined them to play with Angelos before the arranged driver took her back home, Vayle could barely concentrate on their conversation.
‘You’ll love Greece.’ The usual sadness tinged her words as Vayle kissed her goodbye.
Vayle finally forced herself to focus. ‘Will you be okay?’
Agnes nodded, her gaze drifting over Vayle’s shoulder, no doubt looking for the son who was resolutely ignoring her. ‘Things aren’t going as quickly as I’d like but… I have hope.’
A lump rose in her throat and she embraced Agnes. ‘I’ll call as soon as I can.’
Agnes shook her head. ‘Don’t hurry. This is a new beginning for you. And I have a feeling my son needs you more than he’s willing to let on. Take your time; treasure this new life you’re beginning.’
Vayle shook her head, clenching her belly against the acute yearning that struck her.
‘It’s not like that, Agnes. You know why we married.
It’s just for Angelos’s sake.’ She peered deeper into Agnes’s eyes, hoping to see understanding, perhaps even an agreement that it was truly unwise to build hopes on a marriage of convenience.
But Agnes gave a small but confident smile. ‘Don’t assume a door is locked before you’ve turned the handle, agapolou.’
The words echoed in her head long after they’d boarded a helicopter to the very airport where she’d breached security to stow away on Nelios’s jet.
And if the crew, which included Capaldi but was minus Andreas, was stunned to see her board with a baby in tow, they kept it well hidden.
In fact, they seemed to forget her existence just as quickly, their attention fully absorbed by Angelos, now learning to smile and collecting hearts in his little fists as he offered one toothless smile after another.
Vayle blinked as Nelios produced a snazzy pair of baby headphones and slotted them over Angelos’s head. ‘Noise-cancelling to protect his ears,’ he muttered, then dropped a kiss on his son’s head once the device was in place. ‘There’s a cot in the back too, for when he needs it.’
That softening threatened again. For some reason, Nelios’s demand two weeks ago as to whether he was a monster, and how her instincts had immediately rejected that idea, flared across her senses. She realised she was staring at him, unable to look away as the plane gained speed.
And, no, she didn’t trick herself with the lie that it was the steep take-off that took her breath away.
It was Nelios Petralis—fearsome, ruthless, towering and larger than life, but with a not so insubstantial vein of humanity buried beneath it all.
That was the man who held her in a thrall she feared would overwhelm her if she didn’t find a way to break it.
So she was grateful that they had indeed decided to start the tour in southern Italy rather than the luxurious splendour of his Greek island.
Nelios XIV glittered on the shores of the Ionian Sea, a masterpiece of graceful marble arches, sprawling hallways, hidden alcoves and centuries-old charm. The staff displayed the right amount of haughtiness, pride and reverence to their guests.
‘Something amusing you?’ Nelios drawled beside her as they followed the impeccably dressed manager who personally escorted them to their suite.
‘I think you might be coming a lowly second to the adoration of your own creation. They love your hotel more than they love you.’
He shrugged, supremely confident in his appeal even as a spasm of some strange emotion washed over his face. ‘It’s a lucky thing then that I don’t particularly desire to be loved.’
‘That’s rubbish. Everyone desires to be loved, on some level.
’ Her vehemence on the subject shocked her a little.
As did the rolling quakes that started in her chest and unfurled until they engulfed her whole body.
Because it was almost as if his observation…
frightened her. As if he had shut a door she very much wanted to remain open.
His sharp look confirmed that, yes, she’d been too fervent. That perhaps he’d even found it objectionable. ‘Desires are one thing. Accepting the reality of the hand we’re dealt is quite another.’
‘You haven’t struck me as the type to sit back and let someone else deal your cards, so that argument is hogwash.’ Why was she pushing this? Why not just accept his words at face value and save herself the trouble?
Don’t assume a door is locked before you’ve turned the handle…
His footsteps had slowed to match hers, their escort several steps ahead. ‘So you believe I should scramble about, petitioning for affection and attention?’
Her gaze dropped to the wide platinum band encircling his ring finger. The band she’d placed there. He followed her gaze, his features tightening again. ‘Or I supposed that boat has sailed for me, ne?’
She wanted to make a flippant remark about his potential to be supremely eligible again eighteen years from now, when by their agreement she would be free to walk away.
When she doubted he would still be anything but jaw-dropping, even as a silver fox.
But the words stuck in her throat, the vice around her chest constricting until she was terrified to take a full breath.
Luckily, they’d arrived at their designated suite.
And, when the double doors were thrown open and she stepped inside, a different urgency took hold.
She barely managed to bite her tongue until the manager had finished his elaborate spiel about the endless amenities available to them—including a makeshift nursery specially set up for Angelos—and left.
‘Is there a problem?’ Nelios drawled.
‘Do I need to point it out? There’s only one bed.’
His jaw clenched. ‘It’s the height of the summer season. I can have the second penthouse guests thrown out, if you wish?’
‘No, I don’t wish, and don’t make me sound like a demanding harridan. We spent our wedding night in separate beds. What makes you think I want that situation to change today?’
His nostrils flared. ‘I’m well aware how we spent our wedding night, yineka mou.’
Tension swirled as they froze, examining one another as if they were preying cobras waiting for the first sign of weakness to strike.
‘Nelios…’
‘The neutral venue for our wedding was quite different from my company, where there are eyes and ears everywhere. I didn’t think it prudent to crank the rumour mill this soon, especially around employees you might be managing in the near future. Do you?’
Put like that, it made sound sense. If she could only manage to put her sensibilities aside long enough to remember they’d signed an agreement to which they should be able to adhere with minimum fuss regardless of where they slept, since they were adults.
But… As she looked around, she couldn’t ignore the distinct sense that the suite had been specially prepared with newlyweds in mind.
Such as the console table brimming with an extra-large bouquet of her favourite blush-rose flowers.
Or the champagne chilling in an ice-bucket next to the picturesque fireplace.
Or the matching ‘his and hers’ silk dressing gowns and slippers draped enticingly near the bathroom doors.
The room screamed romance.
Her senses screamed for deliverance before she did something foolish.
Angelos wriggling his irritation gave her the perfect out.
He’d been an angel all through the two-hour flight and transfer from airport to hotel.
And she was ready to shower him with praise for it.
‘I need to feed Angelos and get him down for his nap.’
Nelios stared at her for a taut moment then, the corner of his mouth twitching, he ran a hand over his son’s head, a gesture he seemed to crave more and more, following it with a kiss. ‘Fine. We will do the tour later.’
Watching him turn away, she was struck again by that tightening in her chest. She hated watching Nelios walk away from her. Which was absurd…wasn’t it?
When he returned an hour later, it was with Capaldi in tow. Like Andreas at their wedding, he was now less rigid, even bordering on smiling.
‘If you’re comfortable leaving Angelos to sleep, Capaldi will stay with him,’ Nelios said.
At her obvious surprise, Capaldi shrugged. ‘I have three young ones of my own. A sleeping baby is a breeze.’
He might have been a near-stranger to her but he wasn’t to Nelios. And, after seeing the closeness between Nelios, Andreas and Capaldi, Vayle found herself nodding her agreement. ‘Thank you.’