CHAPTER TEN
“YOU’REDONE,” Theo said suddenly one evening in their Paris office. “I’m taking you out.”
“Done?” Emmie looked up blearily from three separate computer screens spread over her desk, showing all the final details of the Harcourt proposal. “What do you mean? We still have—”
Theo gently pulled a stylus from one of her hands and an electronic tablet from the other. “We’ve done everything we can. We can leave the cleanup and polishing to the team.” He looked around the office. “Right, team?”
“We got it, boss,” came the cheerful replies in French and English.
Emmie blinked owlishly, disoriented after twelve straight hours of focus. She looked around her. With its cream-colored walls, gilt-framed paintings and old-wood parquet floors, the Katrakis Paris office was very different from the New York office’s glass and steel. The nineteenth-century building was in the étoile district with a view of the Arc de Triomphe. The floor could hold twenty employees comfortably, but was currently bursting at the seams with thirty-two, including the extra staff flown in from London and New York.
For the last month, they’d been working all-out on this proposal—crunching numbers, collating technical and legal data, and creating a beautiful, eye-popping presentation, which they’d show Pierre Harcourt and his daughter tomorrow morning.
Now heavily pregnant, Emmie was finding it a little harder to make it through the sixteen-hour workdays, especially since every night, during time she should have spent sleeping, she made love to her husband once or twice. She didn’t regret it. How could she resist Theo’s touch, which was like an intoxicating fire?
But still. She’d be glad when the Katrakis team formally presented their proposal tomorrow at Harcourt’s office in La Défense. Theo was certain it would immediately succeed. Emmie was less certain. She suspected the Harcourts would request modifications, playing their offer against sales pitches of rivals, in give-and-take of negotiations that could take weeks, if not longer.
She hoped she was wrong and Theo was right. She loved the thought of returning to New York tomorrow night. She yearned for a good night’s sleep, for the baby’s sake if not for hers, and the chance to nap a little and put up her swollen feet. And to see her family again.
The Swensons were all doing well. Her brothers had all moved out of the family apartment, but Karl was hardly lonely as he and her two older brothers spent their days expanding Swenson and Sons Plumbing. Her second youngest brother, Sam, at twenty-one, had registered for nursing school and was living with his girlfriend in Jersey City. Daniel, the youngest at nineteen, had just departed for Oklahoma to study cybersecurity at the University of Tulsa. Emmie smiled. Call it the Theo Katrakis Scholarship Fund.
Her friends were doing well, too. Honora was pregnant again, and she’d promised to throw Emmie and Theo a baby shower when they were back in New York. Emmie could hardly wait.
But she’d given her word to Theo to help him achieve his dream. She intended to see it through. All she wanted was for him to be happy, because she—
Because she—
“I’m fine,” she told Theo briskly, even as her stomach growled and her knees shook with exhaustion. “I don’t need special treatment. I can finish.”
“There’s no question of special treatment, Emmie. You’ve fought harder than anyone.” Theo’s warm black eyes smiled down at her, his gaze like a caress.
Thiswas why she’d worked so hard, she thought. A lump rose in her throat. For him. For the last month, she’d thrown herself into being the perfect wife and perfect secretary because she’d yearned to see Theo look at her like this for just one precious moment. With approval. With admiration. With...
Love?
Catching her breath, she shook her head. “I’ll stay.”
Theo’s eyes flickered with respect, then he came closer, drawing her away to a quiet corner, away from the efficient, chattering employees crowding around the screens.
“Remember Rio?” he said softly.
Her lips lifted on the edges. Putting her hands over the full swell of her belly, she said, “Um, yes?”
He snorted, then his eyes grew serious. “You accused me of being a brute of a boss, never allowing you to leave the office even when we traveled around the world. And you were right. So tonight, before we leave France,” he took her hand, “I want you to see the City of Lights. To celebrate our coming triumph.”
Her eyebrows lifted at the word triumph. “Aren’t you the one who always says never to count on success?”
“This time is different.”
“How do you know?”
He shrugged. “I feel it.”
“There are other developers offering proposals, good ones—”
“They’ll lose. We’ll win.” He lowered his head. She felt his lips brush against her ear as he said, huskily, “Let’s celebrate.”
When he pulled back, his dark eyes caught hers, and she shivered.
“All right,” she whispered.
Looking around the office, Theo called, “See you tomorrow at Harcourt’s office.”
His employees’ answering cheer swelled around them, and he responded with a salute. Handing Emmie her sleek new Hermès Birkin bag, he led her to the building’s antique birdcage elevator. As they descended, he gave her a sideways glance.
“What is it?” she said, gripping the handle of her bag, beige like her Prada shoes.
“I was just thinking how amazing the last month has been.”
“It has.”
“And I was thinking, maybe—” He gave a rueful chuckle as they reached the ground floor. “We can talk about it later.”
But as they walked through the lobby, Emmie had a feeling he was glad to put off whatever he’d been about to say. Strange. It wasn’t like Theo to procrastinate over anything. He was usually like a bull in a china shop, plowing forward with whatever he wanted.
“Bonsoir, Madame Katrakis...monsieur,” the doorman said.
“Bonsoir, Jérémie,” Emmie replied, holding Theo’s arm in his tailored jacket.
She dimly heard the click-click-click of her heels beside his heavier footstep on the marble floor. As he led her out the door to the tree-lined Paris avenue, she looked up at him dreamily. He was darkly handsome, powerful and ruthless in his tailored Italian suit. And she was dressed to match.
Madame Katrakis.
In her cream silk shirt and camel cashmere skirt over her baby bump, wedding pearls in her ears and huge emerald-cut diamond on her left hand, Emmie now looked the part of a billionaire’s wife.
When they’d arrived in Paris, Theo had insisted she must have a new, chic wardrobe. “You need the proper armor, Emmie,” he’d told her, “to fight at my side in the most glamorous city in the world.”
Thinking of Celine Harcourt, Emmie had reluctantly agreed, and a stylist had arrived at their four-story town house that very hour. Her closet was now filled with clothes of quiet, understated luxury: fine fabrics, perfect fit, a total lack of designer logos, and colors that varied between black, white and beige. Every morning at six for the last month, a hairstylist had duly arrived, to blow out Emmie’s honey-blond hair and make it sleek and glossy, as makeup was discreetly applied.
Et voilà.Armor.
Theo hadn’t been wrong. Emmie saw the respect her costume created in other people. So it was almost worth it, feeling trapped in tight, unforgiving seams, washed out in bland and boring colors, and so hot in the blast of July in Paris.
Once she was back in New York, Emmie promised herself, it would all go straight into the penthouse closet. After this, she intended to finish her pregnancy in loose sundresses, stretchy T-shirts and maternity shorts. She would sleep twelve hours a night or maybe more.
“I’m thinking about tomorrow,” Theo said abruptly as they walked a short distance along the avenue.
“About the presentation?” Emmie stopped on the sidewalk. “Should we go back?”
“No. Not that.” He licked his lips. “It’s about our return to New York.”
“What about it?” They’d arranged for a concierge doctor to chaperone their flight, with Emmie so close to her due date. She gave him a reassuring smile. “It’ll be all right if the negotiations delay us a few days. One of the good things about owning a private jet. No extra fees for changing one’s schedule.”
Theo stared at her for a moment, then looked past her. “Ah. There he is.”
Their gleaming Bentley was waiting for them at the curb a little way down, a chauffeur standing beside the open back door. As they walked, Emmie took a deep breath of fresh air. How lovely to be out of the office.
And in Paris. Just past the leafy green trees and stately cream-colored buildings with pale blue shutters, she could see the grandeur of the Arc de Triomphe at the end of the avenue turning pink as the sun was starting to set to the west. As they climbed into the back of the waiting Bentley, the chauffeur closing the door behind them, the leather felt smooth and sensual beneath the bare hollows of her knees.
“Where are we going?” she asked her husband.
“Dinner first.” Theo kissed the back of her hand, his lips like fire. His dark eyes burned through her. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“Starving,” she whispered.
“Good.” His expression as he looked down at her made her throat tight.
Did she see more than desire in his dark eyes? More than approval for her secretarial skills?
Was it possible that Theo actually—
“He’ll never love you. You know that, don’t you?”
Celine’s spiteful words echoed in her mind, and her brief hope faded.
Emmie had never had reason to be jealous of the Frenchwoman. She knew that now. Theo’s interest in Celine was the same that he had in Pierre Harcourt. To him, they were nothing but indecisive property owners who needed to be convinced to choose Katrakis Enterprises as their real-estate developer.
But that wasn’t enough. Celine wasn’t the problem.
It was those words. Because Emmie feared—no, she knew—that they were true.
For the last month, Emmie had tried to distract herself from that fact. She’d worked past the point of exhaustion until the pregnancy hormones that amplified her emotions became flattened out and sleepy. She’d allowed herself no time to think, no time to feel.
But now, as their driver took them through Paris, she had no numbers to crunch or images to collate. As her husband held her hand, pointing out the sparkle of the Eiffel Tower at sunset and the silhouette of Notre Dame’s famous gargoyles, black against the red twilight, Emmie suddenly felt everything. Including the reason she’d worked so long and hard the last month in Paris to be the perfect wife and secretary. Why she was so desperately trying to win his approval and esteem.
She was in love with him.
In spite of all her efforts, in spite of knowing Theo for the selfish, arrogant cad he could be, Emmie had foolishly given her heart to the complicated man who was her husband.
A man who desired her, and who appreciated her secretarial skills, but had no capacity for love. As he’d told her from the start. She suddenly blinked back tears. Was there any hope?
Following their chauffeured visits to the most unabashedly touristy attractions of the city, Theo surprised her with dinner for two on a private cruise down the Seine.
“I set this up myself.” Theo gave a proud smile. He never arranged logistical details himself. When she didn’t respond, his smile faded. “But if you don’t like it, I could get us a late-night reservation at le Café de la Paix—”
“A dinner cruise, I love it,” she forced herself to say.
And she did try to enjoy it. But as they sat on the deck and enjoyed a private dinner for two by candlelight, floating down the Seine as they watched the dreamy lights of Paris go by in the darkness, for some reason she felt like crying.
Theo’s handsome face was bewildered as he looked down at her barely touched plate. “Is something wrong with the food?”
“No, it’s delicious,” she said and choked down several bites of rich chateaubriand in truffle sauce, the buttery cheeses, the flaky orange blossom tart, washing it down with sparkling, rose-infused water.
At midnight, their chauffeur drove them back to the eighteenth-century h?tel particulier on the ?le Saint-Louis overlooking the Seine, which Theo had rented from a penurious aristocrat at exorbitant cost. He punched in the ten-digit security code at the tall iron gate, drawing her into the small dark garden as the gate closed behind them with a clang.
“My God, you’re beautiful,” Theo said huskily. His dark eyes moved over her in the white silk blouse and camel skirt. “I’ve wanted to do this all night—”
He lowered his mouth to hers beneath the streetlights dappled through the trees. Pressing her against the wrought iron fence, he kissed her hungrily. As his tongue swept hers, electrifying her senses, she clung to him with equal need.
Drawing her to the imposing front door, he punched in another security code, then led her inside the grand home.
Yanking off his suit jacket, he dropped it to the checkered marble floor and led her up the wide, sweeping staircase with its decorative iron curlicues, in a palace built for noblemen long ago for a life long since vanished.
Leading her to the master bedroom, Theo looked at her in the semidarkness, illuminated only by faint moonlight and the passing river traffic below. He pulled off her silk blouse, revealing full breasts overflowing the white lacy bra. Falling to his knees with an intake of breath, he slowly unzipped the back of her cashmere skirt, and that, too, dropped to the priceless Turkish rug. He looked up, past her white lace panties and the swell of her pregnant belly, past her full breasts. His dark eyes locked with hers.
She shivered, looking down at him. Shadows played against his high cheekbones, crooked aquiline nose and dark scruff of his jawline. His ruthlessly handsome face was stark with need.
Rising to his feet, he gently lowered her back against the large four-poster bed. He pulled off her high heels, one by one, kissing the insole of each foot before he tossed the designer shoe to the floor. Moving over her, he slowly stroked her, pulling off first her bra, then her panties.
Backing up, he removed his platinum cuff links, placing them carefully on the nightstand with a clink. His dark eyes never left hers as he kicked off his gleaming leather shoes, unbuttoned his tailored shirt, removed his trousers and silk boxers, dropping it all to the floor.
Her husband stood in front of her, naked and unashamed. Emmie’s mouth went dry as her eyes roamed down his powerful chest and arms, to his muscled thighs, laced with dark hair, all the way to his scarred ankle. Then the sacred place in the middle, hard and ready for her. Aching with need, she wordlessly held out her arms.
He made love to her passionately in the mansion overlooking the Seine, carefully pulling her up to ride him. He overwhelmed her with pleasure as he’d done every night from the moment they’d wed.
But this time was different.
Afterward, Theo held her in the moonlight, their bodies sweaty in the warm breeze off the river from the open balcony. Her head rested against his bare chest as he caressed her hair.
And she quietly wept.
Now she knew she loved him. And worse.
Emmie wanted him to love her back, for their marriage to be based on more than just parenthood, more than partnership, more than even sex. She wanted love that lasted forever.
Theo’s hand froze as he stroked her wet cheek. “What’s this?” He frowned down at her in the dim light. “Tears?”
“No,” she lied. Turning, she pressed her face to his skin.
“Emmie?” Sitting up, he sounded worried. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re overtired. I’ve been working you too hard.” She didn’t answer. He took a deep breath. “You’re missing your family,” he said quietly. “You’re homesick.”
Their bodies were still entwined on the shadowy bed, but she’d never felt so far apart.
Emmie lifted her head from his chest. His black eyes pierced her soul, whispering of the pain waiting for her, loving someone for the rest of her life who’d never love her back. She looked toward the open balcony, toward the lowering dark clouds shrouding the Parisian night sky.
“Yes,” she whispered. She looked at him. “Don’t you want to go home?”
Home.
Theo stared at her in the faint lights of Paris from the open window. They were still naked in bed. Just moments before they’d been lost in ecstasy.
Now, he felt... He didn’t even know how he felt. Except that it wasn’t good.
All month they’d been in Paris, he’d felt that same relaxed, joyful sensation he’d had in Santorini, only more so. Was that happiness? He didn’t know how else to describe it. Working long days with a team he respected on his dream property deal, and feeling the satisfaction of watching it take shape and knowing, knowing, he would finally win, was exhilarating. His work this past month had demanded every bit of his attention. It relaxed him, helping him forget everything he didn’t want to remember, shutting up the voices inside him that told him he should have been the one to die.
He’d had his Miss Swenson back. Emmie had been in top form, organizing and collating everything from the geologic survey of the plat site to the percentages of different investors in yen versus euros to the visual impact of the marketing materials.
In spite of her advancing pregnancy, Emmie was tireless, running everything with style, grace and flair. Her new wardrobe, with its tasteful luxury, indicated her as a woman of power in her own right. She was the most incredible second-in-command any CEO could hope for, spending every hour of her day in pursuit of one objective: helping Theo achieve his dreams.
Oh, and at night, she suddenly turned into his wife, the sexiest woman in the world, and set his world on fire.
Happiness. Yes. Happiness was the word.
Was it any wonder as the day approached when he’d promised to return with her to live in New York, that Theo might wish they could keep living this wonderful life?
Why would he ever want this to end?
The winning property developer would be expected to remain in Paris to oversee construction, perhaps for years. Theo had people who could do that, but what if he preferred to do it himself? Or what if he wanted to jump into a new, exciting project far from New York? The world was full of empty lots, just waiting for him to build cathedrals of industry, palaces of housing, skyscrapers and shops and parks. The future had no limit.
Especially with Emmie by his side.
So he’d had an idea he’d meant to propose to her tonight: that they’d continue to travel the world securing new property deals, moving from place to place. She’d keep working sixteen-hour days at his side. A nanny could travel with them to take care of their child. Perfect.
But first on the elevator, then later as he sat across from her in candlelight on the Seine, Theo Katrakis, feared in boardrooms and amateur boxing rings, had chickened out.
No. Not chickened out, he’d told himself. The time just wasn’t yet ripe. Timing was everything.
After making love to her, as Theo held her in his arms, he’d stared at the ceiling, trying to think of the right words to make her want the same life he wanted. No ideas were forthcoming.
He wanted to make his wife happy. He did. But he also didn’t want to be trapped in New York, waiting for their son to be born, preparing the nursery and dealing with baby showers and endless intrusions from family and friends. He wanted to build his empire. He wanted to work. Work was life.
And he wanted Emmie with him. At his side. In his office. In his bed.
He cared for her. He wanted her respect. She was the only one who understood him, who saw his flaws and limitations but still accepted him, just as he was. He didn’t have to hide with her. He didn’t have to pretend.
At least he hadn’t—until now.
He forced a smile. “Of course I want to go home.”
Still naked in his arms, Emmie looked at him, her heart-shaped lips parted in a breathless dawn of a smile. “So you don’t mind—”
“But does New York have to be our only home?” He stroked sweaty tendrils of her blond hair from her cheek. “The world is a big place. We could own it all.”
Emmie’s lovely face clouded in the shadowy bedroom. “I thought you liked New York. It’s your headquarters.”
“The company’s headquarters, not mine.”
“You bought a fifty-million-dollar penthouse to live in.”
He shrugged. “An investment, no different from my other properties around the world. Emmie—” he clasped her hand “—we could live anywhere.”
She stared at him. “But my family is in New York. Our friends.” Her eyes filled with shadow. “I agreed to stay and work in Paris till your project was done. But then you promised we could go home.”
“Haven’t you been happy, Emmie?” His arms tightened around her, their naked bodies intertwined on the bed in a tangle of sheets. “Don’t you enjoy our life here?”
Abruptly, Emmie pulled away. She rose to her feet. He had a single moment to appreciate the sensual curve of her backside in the shadowy light, her honey-blond hair tumbling down her back, before she wrapped herself in a white terrycloth robe from the closet. She turned back, tying the belt.
“I’ve enjoyed seeing you happy.” Meeting his eyes, she added quietly, “Because I’m in love with you, Theo.”
Whatever Theo had been about to say was choked off as his throat tightened. Telling himself he’d misheard, he said hoarsely, “What?”
Her violet eyes were huge in the moonlight as she said simply, “I love you.”
Turning away, he rose abruptly from the bed, pulling on his robe. He muttered, “You’re overtired.”
“I’m not, I mean, it’s true I am, but that’s not why. I’m saying it because it’s true. I love you.”
It was as if a dam had burst, and once she’d spoken the awful incantation, she couldn’t quit repeating it like an evil spell. His mind was whirling. “What does that even mean?”
“I think...love means putting the other person ahead of yourself,” she said quietly.
His lips twisted downward. “You mean it makes you a slave.”
Emmie stared at him from across the luxurious bedroom, with its old oil paintings and marble fireplace full of unlit white candles. Her expression was stricken.
“It’s not like that,” she protested. Brushing at her eyes, she gave him a small, wistful smile. “Not if both people love each other.”
Love each other.
Memory punched through his heart.
His mother’s wild, bloodshot eyes. “I can’t leave him. We love each other.”
“He’s going to kill you, Mama. And us.”
Breaking out in a sweat, Theo turned unsteadily toward the balcony. Strong, he had to be strong. Gripping his hands into fists, he ordered himself to calm the hell down. Cold. He had to be cold.
But it wasn’t working.
“I need some fresh air,” he gasped and fled.
Outside on the balcony, the night was warm and clear. Clouds covered the stars and all but a sliver of moon. He could see the inky blackness of the Seine below, the shimmer of lights across the river, and beyond it, the soaring Gothic buttresses of Notre Dame on the ?le de la Cité.
Emmie silently followed. Beyond the balcony railing, he could see the dark shape of birds against the lowering clouds, hear their melancholy cries as they flew. He took a deep breath.
“I don’t want you to love me,” he said in a low voice. “I want an alliance of equals. Where we each can live the life we desire, and no one has to sacrifice. No one gets hurt.”
“Sorry.”
Her shoulders slumped, her lovely face was downcast. And Theo hated himself for disappointing her. Why was she forcing him to hurt her?
He choked out, “You promised you’d never love me.”
Emmie looked down at the black river. A beam of moonlight twisted through the clouds, tracing the smooth curve of her cheek. Lifting her head, she said quietly, “And you promised we’d live in New York. To have a home. With friends. Family.”
And Theo suddenly knew the life he’d hoped to have with her was impossible. She would never agree to hire a full-time nanny so that she could spend her days working beside him at the office, helping him conquer the world. Emmie would never be parted from her child for the sake of money or power or fame.
Love was what mattered to her. Love he could not give her.
Pain was like a razor blade in his throat as he turned back to the Seine. Moonlight rested the sharp edges of the water’s dark waves.
He felt Emmie’s gentle hands on his shoulder. “It’s all right, Theo. I know you can’t love me. I’ve known it all along. It’s my fault. All my fault.” She gave him a crooked half smile. “Well, a little bit yours, for being so irresistible.”
Even now, she was making jokes, trying to lighten the mood and offer comfort, though he’d hurt her so badly. He tried to smile back. “If I could love anyone—”
“I know.” Balling her fists into the pockets of her robe, Emmie took a deep breath. “I’ll get over it. Add it to the list of things we’ll never discuss again.” She turned away. “Forget I said anything.”
But as his wife disappeared back into the bedroom, leaving Theo alone on the balcony in the haunted moonlight of Paris, he knew there was no way he’d ever be able to forget.