CHAPTER EIGHT
AFTERAFRUSTRATING night when she’d tossed and turned, trying to understand the incomprehensible events yesterday, Emmie stared at her husband, scared to breathe, scared to break the spell. Was he finally, actually going to reveal his secrets?
Theo’s jawline, dark and unshaven, clenched as he looked toward the open porthole, out at the moon-swept sea. Outside, she heard the plaintive call of seagulls.
“The ruin was once my home,” he said softly. “Mine and Sofia’s.”
“In a mansion? On Lyra?” Her lips parted. “I thought you were found by your uncle, roaming the streets of Athens.”
“I was—later.” His lips curled humorlessly. “It’s only because I had so many names as a boy that no one’s ever learned the full story. Technically Sofia is my half sister. I was ten when she was born.”
“She lives on Lyra?”
He exhaled.
“Paris,” he said finally.
Honestly, it was like getting blood out of a turnip.
Clasping her hands in her lap over the king-size comforter, Emmie tried to control her desire to know more. She thought of the emotion she’d seen yesterday as Theo and his sister had watched the destruction on shore. To the untrained eye, he might have seemed stoic, but she’d seen his jaw tighten, his hands clench, his dark eyes blink hard and fast. Someone who didn’t know him well might have thought he was angry.
But she’d seen Theo angry. Many times. He’d even been angry at her once or twice, when she’d been distracted by her mother’s latest cancer prognosis and accidentally double-booked an appointment, then put a call through from an ex-mistress he was trying to avoid.
But what Emmie had seen in him yesterday went far beyond anger. There’d been an undercurrent of something powerful. Something he hadn’t known how to deal with. She’d watched his tender concern for his young sister, who’d seemed devastated. And Emmie had known, whatever this dark cloud was over the siblings, it was so awful it had changed the course of their lives.
Very gently, she asked now, “What happened?”
Sitting abruptly on the bed beside her, Theo searched her gaze, and for a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he said in a low voice, “I’ll tell you. Then you’ll never ask me about it again. Ever.”
“All right.”
“You know my father died when I was a baby.” Theo looked down, twisting the plain gold band on his left hand. “My mother was an addict. Not just drugs. She was addicted to falling in love. She made...bad choices. My stepfather was the worst. He was handsome, rich. After two divorces, when she met him she thought she finally had the fairy tale. I was ten when we went to live on Lyra. But his money didn’t last. He started blaming her. Hurting her. Then he hurt me when I tried to get between them. Then finally...” His throat seemed to close. He said hoarsely, “There was a fire. I was only able to save my sister.”
“Oh, Theo,” she whispered, reaching out to touch his arm. He didn’t seem to notice.
“My mother always thought love would save her,” he whispered. “It only brought her grief. And in the end...she died from it.”
Emmie saw the tightness in his black eyes, heard the faint wildness of his breath in the shadowy bedroom of the yacht.
“I finally was able to take possession of the house. What was left of it. And Sofia and I needed to see the final demolition. To remember.” His lips twisted. “Or maybe to forget.”
She could feel the violence of repressed emotion radiating from him in waves. Theo looked up, his handsome face stark.
“Is there anything more you want to know?”
Emmie’s heart was pounding. Did she need to know more? Did she even want to?
“Theo—”
Then she felt a hard kick beneath her ribs and sucked in her breath. She felt the kick again, and her lips lifted. Every time it happened, she felt the same sense of wonder. “Our baby’s kicking.”
He frowned. “Now?”
Pushing the covers away, she grabbed his hand and pressed it to her belly over her nightgown. “Feel it?”
His dark eyes widened, and then his jaw fell as he looked down at her. “That’s our baby?”
She smiled. “That’s him.”
“Is that normal? I mean,” Theo hesitated, “does it hurt? Do I need to call a doctor? Should I—”
“I’m fine,” she said, laughing. “And yes, it’s normal. I’m glad you felt it. I want you to be part of everything. Part of our lives.”
Their eyes locked, with her hand resting over his larger one, entwined over her baby bump. Emmie’s heart twisted. She suddenly realized what courage it must have taken for this intensely private man to tell her so much. She caressed his rough cheek.
“Thank you for telling me. I’m so sorry about what happened.” She paused. “But I’ll protect you now. For the rest of our lives.”
Theo looked down at her in the bedroom filled with shadows. His dark eyes flickered, and the air between them suddenly crackled with electricity.
Cupping her face, he leaned forward and kissed her. No brief, timid peck, but a deep kiss full of yearning. Full of emotion and need.
Beneath her cotton nightgown, her breasts turned heavy, nipples tightening, as desire coiled low and deep inside her. She kissed him back hungrily, clinging to him across the bed.
She felt him shudder. His lips were hard on hers, ravenous, as if he’d been starving and she alone could save him. Then he wrenched back, his eyes gleaming, his voice low.
“Are you sure?”
In answer, she kissed him, pulling him back against her body, her fingertips gripping into his shoulders.
With a repressed gasp, he pushed her back into the pool of moonlight on the bed. As they kissed, they held each other tight, gasping for breath. Suddenly, they were tearing at each other’s clothes. His shirt disappeared, then her nightgown, then the rest.
She wanted this. She was no longer afraid. Now she knew that, caring for him as she did, she was going to suffer anyway. Why deny herself what she wanted most? Why deny them both? Avoiding pleasure would not avoid pain.
As he stroked and kissed every inch of her, Emmie held her breath, trembling with need. Her body was taut, aching. She gripped him closer, wanting more, more, to feel him inside her, to finally possess him and make him her own. He was the man she’d always wanted. And now he was her husband. Hers forever.
Theo had never needed anyone like this.
He’d never felt so close to her. To anyone.
The shock of emotional intimacy, of being seen and accepted by the woman he respected most, had cracked through Theo’s frozen soul. He’d taken the leap to reveal part of his history to her, and she hadn’t let him fall. Holding her naked body against his now was so utterly sweet it was almost unbearable. He’d thought he wanted her before. That had been nothing, a grain of sand in a beach, compared to the way he wanted her now.
As the dark Aegean swayed beneath the yacht, it took every inch of Theo’s self-control not to take her hard, now, now, now.
But she was pregnant. He had to be gentle, even if the effort cost him everything he had.
Taking a deep breath, he spread her body across the soft blankets of the bed. Lowering his head, he savored each rosy nipple, cupping her breasts, pale in the moonlight. Until she started to sway beneath him like the waves.
He moved past the mound of her belly, gently stroking her there, placing himself between her legs, parting her thighs with his hands. He felt her shiver and shake as he tasted her, until she gasped for breath, gripping the blankets beneath her to steady herself. She cried out her release into the dark shadows of the bedroom, echoing inside the yacht, beneath the opalescent moonlight, along the ancient Greek sea.
Then, and only then, did he allow himself to slowly push inside her. Before, he’d wanted to take her hard and deep to chase his demons away.
Now he felt...different.
I’ll protect you now. For the rest of our lives.
Emmie was his woman. His pregnant wife. It was his job to protect her and take care of her.
He felt a sudden flicker of fear. He’d already failed at protecting those he loved. People had died because of him.
Theo pushed the thought away desperately. This time would be different. He would make sure Emmie was always safe and cherished—
Lying down beside her on the big bed, he reached for her, lifting her over his body. Her weight was nothing, even though she was pregnant, but his hands shook with the effort it took for him to maintain his self-control as he slowly lowered her over him, her thighs spread to straddle his hips.
She gasped as she felt him push inside her, inch by hard inch, until finally she was pressed to the hilt, stretching her deep. For a moment, he held tight to her hips, not letting her move, as he exhaled, his body tight.
Then, slowly, she began to move, tentatively at first, then riding him harder and faster. His eyes opened, and he looked up at her, seeing her beautiful face with her eyes closed in bliss, her breasts swaying over her belly, her body tight. She tensed again, gripping his shoulders, and he heard her cry out even louder than she had before—
And he lost it. He exploded in ecstasy that he’d never known, in pleasure he’d never imagined even possible. He heard a moan rise to a shout and realized it was his own.
She collapsed over him, sweaty and spent. Exhausted, still dazed by euphoria, he stroked her back. For a few sweet moments he just held her. He felt sated. Safe. Cherished.
For those few sweet moments, he felt like he deserved to still be alive.
The morning sea air was fresh against Emmie’s skin as she sat alone at the deck’s breakfast table. She touched her lips, still bruised from her husband’s hungry kisses.
“Will there be anything else, Mrs. Katrakis?” a young, uniformed crewman asked respectfully, tucking his tray under his arm.
“No, thank you.” As he departed, Emmie sipped sweet, creamy decaf coffee and took another bite of bougatsa, a buttery, flaky pastry, crunchy and sprinkled with powdered sugar on top, filled with sweet custard. She’d had two big pieces already, along with eggs and fruit.
She smoothed the napkin over her baby bump beneath her simple white shift dress. Brushing her long hair back from her shoulders, she sat back, looking out at the crystal blue sea. She should feel exhausted, with the way she’d spent the last two nights. But she didn’t. Sleeping was wonderful, but not half so glorious as being awake with Theo.
They’d been docked here for two days now, just outside Santorini, and she’d never been so happy. Santorini, she thought. Another name for heaven.
“Good morning.” Her husband fell into the chair across the small table with a wicked smile.
Golden sunlight poured over his high cheekbones and freshly shaven jaw. His open shirt revealed his powerful chest, tanned and caressed by light, shadows etching his muscled pecs and the taut six-pack. Emmie’s eyes fell to the line of dark hair tracing down his belly before disappearing beneath the waistband of his swimming trunks.
Theo was handsome as sin. As always. They must have made love a dozen times since they’d left Lyra. How could she still want more? Mouth dry, she managed, “Going swimming this morning?”
“I was thinking about it.” He poured steaming hot black coffee from a silver pot into a china cup edged with twenty-four-karat gold. “Care to join me?”
“I’m fine on the deck, thank you,” she said, a little primly.
Leaning back in his chair, he smiled at her, his eyes glowing as he placed the edge of the china cup to his mouth. Right against his sensual lower lip.
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?” he said innocently and took a sip, as if he hadn’t been teasing her, making her imagine other places his mouth had recently been. She flushed, feeling her cheeks burn. He gave a sudden grin. “You’re blushing.”
“I’m not. You are,” she said, a little incoherently. Coughing to cover, she looked out at the blue waves and the island of Santorini in the distance.
Theo stared at her silently, then reached for her hand. “What do you say, Mrs. Katrakis,” he said softly. “Would you like to—”
He pulled his hand away as the member of the crew came back out on the deck through the sliding glass doors, holding a covered silver tray. He served Theo his plate of breakfast and departed. Emmie looked at his plate. Just eggs, meat and fruit.
She looked down at her own plate, empty except for the scattering of crumbs. No buttery flaky pastries for him. That was Theo, she thought. No softness, no weakness.
Though he did have a few exceptions. He’d eat a whole loaf of bread, but only from a specific boulangerie in the sixth arrondissement in Paris. He’d devour a bowl of noodles big enough to feed a family of four from his favorite Tokyo shop.
Could she be as uniquely special, as desirable, to him as those hot, crusty baguettes? As that counter-service yakisoba from the Ginza district?
If so she’d have his adoration forever.
“What’s so funny?” he said suspiciously.
She realized she’d been chuckling to herself—wishing she could be as special as a loaf of bread or stir-fried noodles! Stifling her laugh, she cleared her throat. “Nothing.”
Tilting his head, he ate another bite of eggs. “Did I tell you we’re invited to a party tonight?”
“That’s tonight?”
“Not just a party. A wedding reception in our honor.”
She was shocked. She didn’t know anyone in Greece. “Who’s hosting it?” She thought of the only faint possibility. “Not your sister?”
“No.” He chewed and swallowed a bite of bacon, washing it down with more hot black coffee. “I might have another chance at Paris. I’m hoping to discuss it tonight.”
At first Emmie thought he hadn’t answered her question. Then she realized he had.
“The Paris project?” she said. “The one we’ve chased for years? The property owned by Pierre Harcourt?”
Theo nodded. “There are rumors that he’s not happy with the new development team.”
“Harcourt is hosting a reception for us?”
Theo pushed his food around his plate with his fork, then said reluctantly, “His daughter.”
Emmie blinked, suddenly feeling a slight chill across the yacht’s deck, even beneath the warm Greek sun. “Your old girlfriend?”
He shrugged. “Ancient history. Long before your time.”
“Celine Harcourt? The one who smashed a plate on your head at Per Se?”
“She smashed it against the wall, at Le Bernardin. Though she was aiming at my head.” His lips twisted humorously. “Celine didn’t take rejection well.”
She hid the tremble of her hands as she set her linen napkin on the table. “No one does.”
Theo’s handsome face lifted in a sudden grin. “Jealous?”
She muttered under her breath. He leaned forward, taking both her hands in his own.
“You have nothing to worry about,” he said. “You’re the only woman I want. Forever and ever.”
She searched his gaze, her heart pounding. “Am I?”
His head tilted, his expression turning wicked. “Well. Let me think.” He kissed the back of her hand, then the other. “Perhaps...” turning the hands over, he kissed her palm “...I should...” he kissed the other palm “...be certain...”
Taking her finger in his mouth, he suckled it, swirling her fingertip with his tongue, as he’d done so expertly to other parts of her that were even more sensitive.
She shivered at the wet heat of his mouth. Her nipples were hard as desire coiled inside her. Pulling her finger from his mouth with one last kiss, he rose unsteadily to his feet.
“Now I know you’ll join me...” He lifted dark eyebrows with a crooked grin. “I’m going for a swim.” His powerful legs shifted as he turned on the yacht’s deck. “Catch me if you can.”
Without warning, he ran straight off the edge of the deck, falling the long distance. She heard a splash far below, against the hard sapphire surface of the water.
Emmie caught her breath. Standing up so fast she felt dizzy, she rushed to the edge to look down.
He was swimming in the water, totally unconcerned about any danger, his slick, wet dark hair shining in the sun. He laughed when he saw her face. “There’s nothing for you to be scared of. Come in. The water’s fine.”
Later that night, Theo sat beside Emmie on the speedboat en route to Santorini, his arm around her. He could not remember the last time he’d felt so relaxed, so sated, so... He didn’t know how to describe it.
The summer sun was lowering fast over the Aegean, turning it the color of Homer’s wine-colored water. Ahead, he could see the lights of Oia shining in the twilight.
But it was nothing compared to the way his wife glowed.
Theo looked down at her. The red sequins of her short dress shimmered as the boat swayed and leaped over the waves of Amoudi Bay. Her long hair, streaked with honey highlights from their time in the sun, flew behind her, and she’d added a hint of makeup to her flushed, pretty face. His gaze fell to her bare legs beneath the short hemline, her pedicured feet in strappy high heels, her toenails glistening baby pink.
As the vintage wood speedboat flew across the water, her full breasts, pressed into deep cleavage by lingerie, bounced with every hard wave. He tried not to look. Tried and failed and wanted her even now, even though they’d made love three times today, just since they’d gone swimming in the sea.
Would he ever get enough of her?
Emmie’s rosy lips suddenly curved, and he knew he’d been caught. He looked up guiltily, but she smiled, her eyes bright.
Something twisted in his heart.
She was just so beautiful, whether in a designer gown, a cheap sundress, or nothing. Naked was his preference.
Two hours earlier, when they were still lazing in bed, Emmie had rolled her eyes when he suggested that for the reception tonight, she wear one of the designer dresses the New York stylist had packed into her trousseau. Reaching for a silk robe to cover her luscious body, Emmie had ducked her head. “Couldn’t we just skip the whole thing?”
“I’m afraid we must go,” he said, a little remorsefully. Rising from the bed, Theo had stretched his limbs with pleasure after hours of lovemaking. “When Celine heard we were in Greece on our honeymoon, she was nice enough to throw us a party. Plus, I want to find out about Paris.”
Emmie’s violet-blue eyes were luminous as she pleaded, “You could go without me.”
Theo frowned, bemused. “Why wouldn’t you want to come? Her father’s house is beautiful, the most glamorous on Thira.”
Instead of looking pleased, her lips sagged at the edges. She whispered, “I won’t fit in.”
“That’s true.” Pulling her close, he’d nestled her body against his own, with only the thin silk of her robe between them. Kissing her neck, he’d gently tugged open the neckline as he whispered, “You’re more beautiful than any of them.”
Her silk brushed against his skin as he’d pulled her back into bed.
Later, as he followed her out of the shower, he found Emmie wet and naked, digging frantically through her heretofore untouched designer wardrobe now hanging in the yacht bedroom’s closet. Surrounded by piles of lovely dresses on the floor, she’d begged him for help.
And he’d given it to her. Oh, how he’d given it to her.
He’d helped her pick out a dress, too.
Now, as their speedboat grew closer to the island, he could make out the magnificent mansion owned by Celine’s father. Built a hundred years before, the classical architecture looked slightly out of place, a miniature Versailles dropped willy-nilly onto a Greek island. Other boats already filled the marina. He saw shadows of people arriving, heard the low hum of music and conversation across the water.
Glancing at his wife, he saw she too was staring at the mansion. Her expression was scared. He squeezed her hand.
“The most beautiful one there,” he repeated.
She flashed him a grateful look, then looked him over in his tuxedo. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
It was full twilight, and the moon had just started to rise, as Theo helped her out of the boat onto the enormous dock, lit up by fairy lights. His gaze raked over Emmie in the sparkling red dress, showing off her sensual shape. So pregnant, so sexy, all woman—
A curse went through his brain. How could he want her again already? he thought with wonder.
The three times he’d made love to her today had been explosive, as always, and yet something had been different. Had it been the sunlight? The sea?
Or was it because, three days ago, for the first time in his life, he’d opened up to a woman and revealed something no one else knew?
His body, which had been so relaxed, suddenly tensed.
Had he made a mistake? Had he told her too much about his past? Had he sounded like he was complaining? Like he was weak? Had he said anything that she could somehow use against him?
And he hadn’t even shared the worst of his past. He couldn’t. Not even with her.
Especiallynot with her.
If Emmie ever knew the truth—
His heart suddenly felt like it was going to explode out of his chest.
She won’t, he told himself. Let the past stay buried. Like their mother’s old locket, now smothered beneath the earth on Lyra.
Theo Papadopolous was gone. He’d been born Theo Katrakis at sixteen, when he came to America and became his uncle’s heir. He was rich and powerful now. No one could ever hurt him. Cold. He was cold. He had no feelings.
But as his wife clutched his arm, smiling up at him, her eyes shining in the fiery torches lighting up the Santorini hillside, his heart loped in his chest. And he felt the first stirrings of fear. What would happen if Emmie ever really knew?