Chapter Fourteen
Olympia
I can’t get what Rafael said about love out of my head.
My thoughts circle around and around it, even as we settle to eat the Christmas dinner Rafael has prepared with his own hands.
There is turkey and stuffing, and mashed potatoes and all sorts of other delicious side-dishes, and yet all I can think about is that he doesn’t want love.
That he’ll love our child, but he won’t love me, and he was very clear about it.
I brushed it off, of course, telling myself that the disappointment I felt when he said that didn’t mean anything.
That a marriage to him without love is perfectly fine.
After all, he’s going to build me that beautiful studio he drew and he’s said that there are other nice surprises on the way, so there’s no point dwelling on it, and why ruin a perfectly lovely Christmas night arguing about love?
Also, his reasons for not wanting anything to do with love make sense.
It must have been horrific to lose his father in that way so no wonder he doesn’t want to put himself through it again.
I’m still telling myself that as we finish our Christmas dinner, then I’m distracted by what sounds like a helicopter. Rafael’s expression abruptly lightens. ‘Wait here,’ he says, then gets up from the dinner table and strides out of the room.
I’m tense, a little worried that the helicopter might be Ulysses making a desperate rescue bid. Then again, I told him not to come for me and hopefully he listened, and the helicopter currently touching down on the lawn outside the villa is here for other reasons.
Indeed, not ten minutes later, I hear Rafael come back inside, his deep voice issuing instructions to someone. Then the front door closes and there is silence.
I’m standing by the Christmas tree and looking at all the decorations on it, some of which appear to be handmade, when he strides suddenly into the living area, his arms full of bags and boxes.
I stare at him, open-mouthed, as he puts what he’s carrying down, then goes back out again, returning with yet more bags.
He does this a couple more times until the whole living room is full of boxes and bags emblazoned with logos from various extremely expensive clothing labels, not to mention jewellery and make-up brands.
Rafael points to the rug in front of the fire. ‘Sit down, dragonfly. I have some gifts for you.’
‘So I see,’ I say, staring at the vast array cluttering the floor. ‘When did you get all of this?’
‘Last night.’ He fusses around with the boxes to clear a space for me. ‘After we left Athens. I wanted to make sure you have everything you need.’
‘That’s an understatement,’ I murmur then fall silent, not knowing what else to say.
There are so many presents, but I have nothing to give him, nothing at all, and I don’t like that.
It feels one-sided. As if I’m still a poor, abused victim who can never be asked for anything because I’m too fragile and too broken to have any kind of demand placed on her.
‘Sit,’ he urges insistently.
Part of me doesn’t want to sit, let alone accept all of these gifts, but he’s obviously gone to so much trouble, I can’t refuse. ‘When you said you’d ordered me a whole wardrobe, you weren’t kidding,’ I say as I sit down in the one clear spot in front of the fire.
‘If it was up to me,’ he says, picking up a large white box and handing it to me, ‘you’d wear nothing at all.’
‘Good thing it’s not up to you, then.’ I take the box from him and he sits on the couch, watching me as I open it.
Inside is the loveliest gown I’ve ever seen. It’s of rich scarlet silk with lots of trailing draperies and I already know it’s going to be the perfect size when I put it on.
‘I thought you could wear that tomorrow,’ Rafael murmurs, his gaze dark and intent. ‘For our wedding.’
Ah, yes. The quickie wedding he mentioned earlier. I wanted to argue with him about the speed of it, but it was clear he’d made up his mind and wouldn’t be moved. So I dropped the subject. He said he didn’t want to fight and I realised I didn’t want to either.
Now, looking at this beautiful gown, I’m reminded again of it. ‘Tomorrow,’ I echo, looking at him.
‘Yes.’ There’s a steely edge in his voice.
Don’t argue with him, not now, not when you’re surrounded by all the gifts he got you. Anyway, what does it matter when you get married?
It doesn’t matter, not in the end. And after all, I did promise him.
Still, I feel a little railroaded. It reminds me of the times Ulysses would get me things or do things for me and, while they were always nice things, I would always feel a little annoyed by them, mainly because he would never ask my opinion about whether I wanted them or not.
And also because I knew he was getting them for me out of guilt.
Naturally, I’d then feel bad for being annoyed, because it wasn’t as if he was being awful. He was just trying to be good to me and, really, I should be grateful for all that he did for me.
Those complicated, messy feelings hit me again, though it’s different with Rafael.
He is the one who kidnapped me, so I don’t have to feel bad for feeling annoyed.
And I can say things to him that I’d never say to Ulysses, because Rafael isn’t eaten up with guilt in the same way my brother is.
In fact, Rafael was using me as a chess piece in his little game of revenge, so, really, I can say anything I like to him and I don’t have to feel bad in any way.
‘I hope you’re not expecting me to be grateful for all of this,’ I say bluntly.
‘No,’ he answers without hesitation. ‘Why would I expect that? I’m the one who kidnapped you.’
‘But you want me to be grateful for this wedding gown, for the wedding you organised, that you’ll force me to take part in.’
His eyes narrow. ‘I didn’t force you, Olympia. You promised.’
‘You bought me this dress. And you want me to wear it—’
‘I don’t give a shit about the dress,’ he interrupts sharply. ‘I got it for you so you’d have something pretty to wear, but if you don’t want to wear it, I’ll marry you wearing nothing at all.’
My heart is beating fast, the complicated mix of emotions roiling inside me. I’m not sure why I’m challenging him now. Maybe it’s just because I can, because he’s not Ulysses and I don’t have to be careful of his feelings the way I am with my brother’s.
A silence falls. I don’t want to apologise, but I also don’t want to spoil the evening with my own bad temper.
‘What is this all about, dragonfly?’ Rafael asks after a moment, his expression one of genuine puzzlement. ‘Is it the wedding? Or is it all the gifts? I got them all for you, but if you don’t like them, I can ship them all back. I won’t lose sleep over it.’
I let out a breath, and give him the truth.
‘My brother used to shower me with clothes and toys and…all kinds of things. And they were always nice things, but… I never wanted them and I didn’t ask for them, and I knew he was only getting them for me because of his guilt.
They weren’t for me, if that makes sense. ’
Rafael watches me, his dark gaze enigmatic. ‘And you didn’t like them?’
‘No, it wasn’t that. I did like them. But… I felt I couldn’t tell him even if I didn’t like them, because it would hurt him. I just hated that he felt guilty because of me and so I tried to be grateful, even when I wasn’t.’
There’s a long silence, then Rafael says very clearly, ‘Don’t ever feel that you have to be grateful with me, Olympia. I don’t want a facade. I want honesty.’
He really means that, I can see, and something tight inside me relaxes. ‘You want me to like this dress, though, don’t you?’ I say, only slightly teasing.
He smiles, making me feel warm all over. ‘Yes. I do. But if you don’t, that’s okay.’
Another thing he really means, and I can’t help but smile back, my bad temper fading. ‘I don’t like it,’ I tell him. ‘I love it. It’s beautiful.’
His smile deepens and that’s beautiful too. ‘Here,’ he says, picking up another box and handing it to me. ‘These go with it.’
I open it and there are some high-heeled red silk sandals, with red soles, and I love those too. My throat closes. ‘How did you know these would be so perfect?’ I ask. ‘And that I’d love them?’
‘I didn’t know,’ he admits. ‘I just thought of that night in Singapore, when we met, and how beautiful you were in red.’
It’s simple praise, but I glow all the same. I can’t help it. I love it when he calls me beautiful.
I open more boxes and bags, loving how each one isn’t the kind of gift I’d get from Ulysses.
Those were gifts to his sister, but none of these are sisterly in the slightest. They’re not for the girl I never had a chance of being or the broken teenager reverting to childhood for safety.
They’re gifts for a woman. Silky underwear in a rainbow of colours, sexy bras, negligees and knickers.
A couple of other gowns, one of emerald silk, with a high leg slit, and another of black, with a plunging neckline.
Skimpy bikinis that barely cover anything.
And that’s not all. There are form-fitting dresses, practical jeans and tees, and soft cashmere sweaters.
There are also other shoes, both sexy high heels and sneakers, and then boxes and boxes of make-up and toiletries, all high-end and all extremely expensive.
I love them all. They’re pretty, all to my taste, pregnancy-friendly, and I just know they’re all going to fit. And indeed, when he asks me to model them for him, they do fit, and superbly.
I waft around in the emerald-green gown, turning in front of him as he sits on the couch, his dark eyes burning.
‘Beautiful,’ he murmurs. ‘Dragonfly, you stop my heart.’
I give him a curtsey. ‘Thank you, kind sir.’
And this time it’s my heart stopping as he smiles. ‘Do you like them all, then?’ he asks. ‘Are there any you want me to return?’