Chapter Fourteen
IN ROMANTIC STORIES I love you was the catalyst for an answering declaration of love. The cue for a happy ending.
Good thing you’re not really a romantic, isn’t it?
Because instead Fotis stared, his mouth dropping open, before he shot to his feet and stalked away. Any faint hope that her announcement would prompt a similar one from him died.
He spun around, scowling down at her, that furrowed brow a perfect match for the dragon she’d drawn. Yet he didn’t look angry so much as perplexed. Stunned.
‘You really didn’t know?’
She wanted to stand and face him as an equal but her legs were wobbly, so she was stuck here, staring up at him.
Just as well. If you were on your feet you’d reach for him.
Would he feel that spark of passion ignite now? Rosamund had always believed it was something they shared equally. But could it be one-sided, like her feelings?
‘It’s not love, Rosa. It’s sex. And liking. You’ve been through a stressful time. Your emotions are—’
‘Don’t try to tell me what I’m feeling, Fotis.’
She loved him but he tried her patience. Was he wilfully blind? Did he really not feel this?
She forced her breathing to slow. ‘I mean what I say. I’m not prone to romantic dreams. Remember, I grew up knowing the reality behind the fairy-tale fantasy. Then my teenage love affair cured me of such yearnings.’
Or so she’d believed.
Rosamund read the sharp planes of his face—they looked harsher than usual—and felt herself melt. Even angry with him, she didn’t want him hurting. She stifled a desperate sob at the inanity of that. She was the one in mortal pain.
‘I didn’t mean to fall in love with you, but I have. It’s real, what I feel for you.’
He raised his hand to stop her words. ‘But I told you. I made it clear that I don’t do long-term relationships. I can’t.’
‘You did make it clear and I agreed because that was all I expected. I wasn’t looking for love.’ Her voice cracked. ‘I thought that was for other people, not me.’
She’d never said it before, even to herself, but she’d felt she didn’t deserve love. It was only with Fotis that she’d realised, despite her outward confidence, at heart she’d never felt good enough.
That was part of the reason she loved him.
He’d made her feel strong and confident as no one had since her mother.
He’d challenged her, fought with her, then cared for and supported her.
He didn’t belittle, he expected her to shine.
He raised her up until she felt she could take on the world as she’d always told herself.
Look how he’d just engaged with her about her work. He’d encouraged her, yet all the time…
Her throat jammed as pain overtook her. Finally she found the strength to surge from her seat.
Instead of closing the gap, she planted her feet, grounding herself as waves of anguish battered her.
‘Emotions can’t be controlled by rules, Fotis. My feelings for you sneaked up before I realised what was happening. I didn’t intend to love you, but I do.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, but—’
‘I’d love you even if we couldn’t have sex again, though that would be tragic.
I love the person you are. Complicated and intriguing.
I love your loyalty. When you give your word, you mean it.
I love your kindness and your drive. That sneaky sense of humour I didn’t think existed at first. I even love it when you go haughty as if your way is the only way, because I know that underneath—’
‘Enough!’ he barked, stepping back as if repelled.
That stole the air from her lungs. Rosamund stood tall but inside she felt herself shrivel. It had been an incredible risk, admitting her feelings, but being with Fotis had made her courageous, willing to put her pride on the line and more importantly, her heart.
Now her certainty faded. Not about her own feelings, they were immutable, but about his. How had she been so wrong? She’d looked into his eyes, felt his tenderness, and believed he felt the same.
He looked at her, aghast, as if she’d turned into a stranger. ‘I’m sorry, sorrier than I say. But I don’t feel the same.’
‘Because you won’t let yourself?’ She angled her chin. ‘Or do you really feel nothing for me?’
He scrubbed his hand around his neck, his scowl deepening. ‘I didn’t say that. I’m not a robot. Of course I feel. I like you, Rosa. I admire you and I’m deeply attracted, you know that.’
‘But not enough.’ Her voice was flat. He liked her.
She’d thought she understood him. This had begun as an affair but over time it had grown into so much more. She’d been sure his emotions were engaged too. Perhaps it wasn’t love for him but, she’d believed, it had become something strong and undeniable.
Maybe he had a voracious sexual appetite, lots of lovers, and he made them all feel…special.
She pressed a palm to her stomach as nausea welled.
‘I don’t want to hurt you, Rosa.’
Her gesture cut off his words. He hadn’t hurt her. She’d hurt herself, she realised abruptly.
What was it with her and self-sabotage? In her teens she’d fallen for a charming guy who wanted to get into her pants because it was a way into the royal family. Now she’d fallen for someone incapable of loving her.
Even so, she had to be absolutely, completely sure. ‘I see us together, Fotis, helping each other through the tough times and celebrating the good ones.’ In her mind she’d imagined lots of good times, lots of celebrations. ‘Building our lives together.’
But his closed expression confirmed her worst fears. ‘Weren’t you listening when I talked about my past? There are reasons I’m a solitary person. I need to be alone.’
Except for occasional sex.
All this time she’d imagined a growing bond but all he felt was the pressure to satisfy his libido. To be fair, she’d accepted those terms but then everything had transformed, for her at least.
Rosamund sucked in a shuddery breath and turned to the view, past the sun-baked plain to the village and glittering sea beyond. Above hung the vast blue sky, a reminder that she was merely a tiny speck on an immense globe.
She didn’t need the reminder. She felt herself shrinking, becoming smaller and smaller, wishing she could disappear.
Of course she knew about Fotis’ past. But, dazzled by her feelings, she’d managed to shuck off a lifetime’s insecurity and think she could help him move on. That they’d have each other’s backs so together they could cast away the shadows of the past.
That she’d be enough for him as he was enough for her.
What were you thinking, girl?
The contemptuous voice was her father’s, the sneer as vivid as if he stood there, glowering at her.
Her life had been a series of lessons in not being good enough. She’d never been able to satisfy her father’s high standards. As for having a man love her…
Fotis said something, his voice low, but she didn’t hear it over the rush of blood in her ears. She folded her arms tight around her body, failing to hold in the pain.
She wouldn’t have thought it possible but she felt worse than she ever had. Worse than her father had ever made her feel, or her first, deceitful lover. Worse than when the press portrayed her in the worst possible light. She felt as bad as when she’d lost her mother.
Because no one could inflict hurt as severe as someone you loved.
That’s why Fotis doesn’t want a relationship. He doesn’t want that pain.
She understood, but he had no right to make her feel like this. And yet she loved him. Loved, and at this moment almost hated him.
Rosamund turned, surprised to find him so close, hands dropping to his sides as if he’d been reaching for her.
Even now her imagination tried to paint the picture she wanted instead of facing the truth.
‘I had you wrong.’ Pain prompted the words.
‘If someone asked me for a word to describe you, I’d have said strong.
But you’re not, are you? You’re a coward.
You want to stay in your eyrie, cut off from people because you’re scared of loving.
Do you think your father and brother would have wanted that? ’
His head rocked back as if from a slap. He looked dazed, then his eyes narrowed to slits of blistering fire and his nostrils flared. ‘Don’t bring my family into this!’
‘I—’
‘Don’t talk to me about fear and hiding.
You’re proud of living the life you say you want, but are you really doing that?
’ His voice was unrelenting. ‘That last day in France we went out to lunch so you could show the world you were unfazed by the attack, enjoying yourself with your boyfriend at your side. You were so concerned about projecting an image you didn’t even give yourself time to recover from the shock of the attack.
Time you needed. You’re not in control, you’re running scared. ’
His expression softened to something that looked almost like pity. Her stomach spasmed. She didn’t want his pity.
‘You’re hiding, Rosa. Letting your dead father and the press dictate how you live.
You worry about the image you project instead of living your life.
You’d rather let the world think you’re a dilettante, living off the royal purse, than tell people about your work.
’ He paused. ‘But you’re strong, when you choose to be. You don’t need me to lean on.’
For the longest time she was incapable of speaking.
Never, in her wildest dreams, could she have believed today would see them hurting each other like this, ripping away protective layers and inflicting such pain.
She shoved her hands into her pockets where he couldn’t see them shake. ‘Don’t worry, Fotis. That’s one lesson I learned a long time ago. I don’t need a man to lean on.’
Couldn’t he see this wasn’t about propping herself up but about wanting to share and build together?
‘I don’t need a man at all.’ Particularly one who didn’t want her. She wanted to say it had been a mistake, she didn’t love him, but couldn’t do it. Her unrequited feelings were too deep to pretend.
She shoved her feet into her discarded sandals, gathering up her gear. But even with her heart crumbling, she couldn’t leave him like this.
‘Take a hard look at your own life, Fotis. You’re not responsible for your brother’s death. It wasn’t your fault. As for believing you can only survive as a recluse…’
She gestured towards the village. ‘You’re not alone. You’ve been forging connections, real connections with other people. Dimitria Politis and her grandfather. Tassos and his wife think the world of you. So do the other villagers.’
Before he could interrupt she continued.
‘Not because you’ve spent money improving the island’s infrastructure.
I heard them talk about you.’ Everyone had anecdotes about his quiet acts of kindness, how he got things done, how he listened.
Even rare examples of his dry sense of humour.
‘They respect the way you roll up your sleeves and help work. They like you. You’re not alone, Fotis, whatever you tell yourself.
You’ve got people you care about and who care about you. That makes you stronger, not weaker.’
‘Rosa…’ His voice was rough with warning.
She met those ocean-coloured eyes and knew they’d haunt her dreams. Stark emotion welled and she felt that telltale prickle behind her eyes. She’d never see him again.
‘Goodbye, Fotis.’ She spun away. ‘I’ll arrange my own transport.’
‘Rosa!’
She kept walking. There was only so much a woman could take. She’d reached her limit.