Chapter Five #2
She was right. He was being deliberately cagey, and he realised why.
He liked her not knowing who he was. He liked that she didn’t know about his money, his business, his empire.
He liked that they were sitting here, talking as two people, with shared experiences of grief, though she wasn’t aware of his.
But why hide the truth from her? He was Nikos Konstantinou, and he had no intention of hiding that from her for ever.
He split the difference, in the end, deciding to reveal some details without showing his full biography.
‘I have a small, old helicopter in a clearing behind the cabin,’ he said, voice neutral. ‘I can get the radio working, once the storm stops, get someone to come over for you.’
Her eyes widened. ‘A helicopter?’
He reached for his coffee, took a long drink, then glanced towards the window. ‘I doubt the weather will clear today, though. You’re stuck here a while longer.’
She nodded slowly. ‘I can deal with that.’ Her cheeks flushed pink, and it was easy to understand why.
To know what she was thinking, because his mind was going there, too.
They had very limited time together, and he wasn’t going to waste it.
He’d made his peace with the fact they’d slept together, because it was temporary and meaningless.
Except, maybe it wasn’t completely meaningless.
Oh, for Nikos it could never be more than a physical connection, but was it possible he could help heal the wounds her terrible excuse of a husband had created?
Could he help put her back together, in the way he should have been able to do for Isabella?
It would not cure his guilt, but at least it would be something.
An offering to the gods of karma, a righting of the scales, in some small, desperate way.
Genevieve stared at the ceiling, cheeks flushed, body covered in a fine film of perspiration, mouth unable to form words.
Brain barely able to conceive of them. What had started with coffee in bed had turned into something else entirely, and hours had passed with them exploring each other’s bodies.
His every touch, his kisses, his fascination with her, until a fever had gripped her and she was spiralling into a whole new dimension, unlikely to ever return to this one again.
At least, not as she’d once been. This version of Genevieve was completely different.
She was fire and flame, awoken and hungry.
It was as if he’d turned on a pleasure tap within her, and now she knew it existed, she had to accept that it was a part of her, and always would be.
How strange to have lived her whole life with no concept that she was a sexual person. With no idea that a single touch could set her skin alight.
Even stranger to see how she’d surrendered herself to this.
Because with every minute that passed, every raindrop that fell, the heavens were closer to exhausting their supply of tears, and that meant one thing, and one thing only: she would leave again.
She would leave this island, return to the small coastal town she’d rented a little room in, and go on with this holiday.
The ‘honeymoon’, she’d called it, because it was a trip she’d planned to mark a commitment back to herself.
It was a way of celebrating her freedom, and the second phase of her life.
Whatever that would look like.
And whatever her ‘freedom’ meant, because though she’d been able to divorce her husband, he still held the strings.
He was her puppet master, and would be until she was able to properly stand on her own two feet.
For as long as he held her mother’s medical expenses over her, Genevieve had no choice but to be the contrite, good ex-wife, toeing whatever line he asked her to.
Even to come away on this holiday, she’d had to barter with him.
Anger rushed through her, catching her totally unawares, because it was something she was usually able to keep under control. Except with Nikos, somehow, he’d uncorked the passion centres of her body, so now everything was heat and flame.
She pushed up onto one elbow, so she could face him. His eyes were closed, his face held tersely, and she frowned, realising that the last time they’d made love, he’d got straight up and gone to shower. Was he thinking about doing that again?
Was he holding back, for her?
‘If you need to go wash, you can,’ she said, pleased her voice sounded somewhat level.
He turned to face her, eyes landing on hers and causing her heart to thud. ‘That wasn’t about you.’
‘Wasn’t it?’
He reached out, brushing a hand over her cheek. ‘Where are you staying?’
She frowned, not immediately understanding.
‘You said you flew into Athens. Where are you now?’
‘Oh. Katanos,’ she said, naming a small coastal fishing village somewhere across the Aegean. ‘Do you know it?’
His smile was mesmerising. ‘I grew up about thirty miles to the south. I spent time there, as a child. It’s very beautiful. Why Katanos? It’s not really on the tourist track.’
‘No,’ she agreed. ‘But it’s where my parents went on their honeymoon.
We had a photograph of the harbour, in our lounge room, when I was a girl.
I used to look at it and imagine I was a mermaid, diving deep into the ocean, losing myself in that crystal-clear turquoise water.
I’m not sure when I consciously decided to come here, but after the divorce, I couldn’t think of anywhere else I wanted to be. Strange, right?’
‘Are you close to your mother?’
Genevieve’s heart twisted. She shook her head once. ‘She passed away a while ago.’ She cleared her throat. ‘She had a series of strokes,’ Genevieve said. ‘She was hospitalised for a long time, and then, one night…’
Nikos pushed up onto his elbow, so they were like bookends in bed, facing one another. ‘I’m sorry.’
He frowned, eyes roaming her face thoughtfully. ‘Did she like your husband?’
‘James,’ she said, slanting a glance at him, figuring it made sense for him to know her husband’s name, seeing as they were speaking of him so often.
‘My ex-husband’s name is James J. Wilson the third.
As you can guess from that mouthful, he’s from old money.
The prevailing opinion was that I was very lucky to have snagged him. ’ She rolled her eyes.
Nikos made a sound of disapproval.
‘And yes, my mother adored him. Once upon a time, my parents had money, too. My father came from one of those political families, so, on paper, we were a good match. But in reality, I hated that life and lifestyle. It wasn’t for me.’
‘Your father was a politician?’
She nodded, opening her mouth to speak, then slamming it shut.
She’d told James about her father, and he’d held that over her almost from that night, threatening to expose her father, to ruin his legacy.
But somehow, she just knew she could trust Nikos.
That he’d never, ever do something so unscrupulous.
‘He was a politician, yes, with a serious penchant for gambling, which wasn’t apparent until after his death.
We were left with a heap of debt.’ She closed her eyes. ‘I can’t believe I’m telling you this.’
He made a sound, querying that.
‘I never talk about it.’ Except for one time, and she’d lived to regret that. But with Nikos, it just felt…different.
He reached out, pressing a finger to her shoulder and shifting it downwards. ‘You worship him.’
Her smile was soft. ‘I suppose I do, yes. He was a kind man. I wish… His gambling, the fact he hid it all from Mom, was obviously wrong. I know he must have carried a lot of shame, and regret, but I wish he’d been honest with her.
Not least because she might have been able to help him,’ Genevieve added.
‘So when a rich, handsome senator came into my life and started pursuing me as though his life depended on it, Mom was all too keen to buy into the whole thing. A fairy tale, she called it. I think she had a fantasy of James being able to turn us back into what we once were. Instead, it turned into a horror show.’
Nikos moved forward, so their naked bodies were connected, touching leg to leg, chest to chest. His eyes bore into hers with an intensity that took her breath away. ‘Did he hurt you, Genevieve?’
‘No,’ she said, then frowned, because that wasn’t strictly true. ‘I mean, he never hit me or anything.’
‘That is not the only way to hurt someone.’
And there was something about this room, this man, the flickering fire, the heavenly sensations in her body, that made her open herself completely to him.
‘He was cold and cruel,’ she admitted. ‘Nothing I did was ever good enough for him. I was expected to be the perfect political asset and yet I constantly fell short of his expectations. Things between us…’ she flushed to the roots of her hair ‘…in bed, I mean, were…lacklustre, and he made it clear that was my fault.’
The scoffing sound Nikos made should have warmed her, but Genevieve was back in the past, the ice spreading through her veins, so she barely heard him.
‘He cheated, and blamed me. If I’d been a better wife, a better lover, more satisfying, he wouldn’t have needed to stray.
’ She said the words with disdain, showing how little she believed them now.
But at the time, when she’d been under his spell, and captive in his home, dependent on him completely, she’d taken each and every sledge to the heart, letting it shape her entire world view.
‘Bastard,’ Nikos ground out, his indignation bringing a small smile to her face.
‘Yes.’ How could she argue with that? ‘At first, he was careful to keep the affairs secret, and I pretended I didn’t know.
That I didn’t see.’ Her skin felt cold and clammy.
‘Then one of his mistresses went to the press. The story broke, and that’s when things got really bad.
Somehow, that was my fault too,’ she murmured.
‘I tried to leave him then, but he made it obvious he would make my life very, very difficult if I walked out.’
‘Difficult how?’ There was a darkness to his tone that set her pulse racing. A protectiveness that she’d never known from anyone. It wasn’t until that moment that Genevieve realised how long she’d been doing this on her own, fighting all her own battles, bearing her own scars.
‘Let’s just say he’s not someone I want to get on the bad side of.’
Nikos frowned.
‘I feel so stupid,’ she admitted. ‘I really wanted to believe him. To believe that he loved me, that we’d live happily ever after. I bought into the fairy tale, but he was a monster.’
Nikos made another noise, and then his mouth was claiming hers, kissing her until she tasted the salt of her tears.
‘You deserved so much better,’ he said, with so much darkness she felt it pierce something deep in her soul, conversely letting light in for the first time in years.
It didn’t occur to her—how could it have?
—that he wasn’t really speaking to her, so much as a figment of his past. It didn’t matter, anyway. The warming effect was the same.