Chapter Four
TWO WEEKS LATER, the soft hum of the engine, the scent of leather and something expensive and masculine wrapped around Aliyah as she stepped into the plush interior of the tinted-windowed car.
For a few seconds, she froze in that weird position, her butt hanging in the air, as that prickling awareness turned into a full-on buzz.
Constantine was in the car, accompanying her and Rose to their engagement party.
Did he think she would go back on her word? Or did the infuriating man simply relish her discomfiture in his looming presence?
An indignant huff escaped her lips as she settled onto the buttery leather seat and smoothed the silk of her dress.
When the doorman had murmured that the car had arrived, she’d assumed it would be a silent drive toward her own undoing. That she had signed up for, quite enthusiastically.
She wasn’t to be allowed that small reprieve, apparently.
Dressed in a charcoal-gray suit that fit his tall, lean frame with brutal precision, his hair brushed back from his forehead in defiant, rakish waves, Constantine dominated the interior of the car like he did every space that he occupied.
Without a tie, and with the top two buttons of his shirt undone, he looked like he was already bored with the formality of it.
Even though he was the one who’d insisted that they needed to announce their…
renewed romance to the world at large. To prove to everyone that he had achieved this last piece in the Andros arsenal, meaning her, no doubt.
Aliyah tried her best to not fidget when his gaze flicked over her from head to toe with that familiar, slightly amused expression. The one that always made her feel like he was looking inside her instead of at her. As if how she was put together mattered more than how she looked outwardly.
It was the same intensity, the same devouring interest—as if she was more than the silly, daydreaming fool Papa called her as a teenager.
She crossed her legs, smoothing her palm down over the silk of her dress. It was a sleeveless deep sapphire blue, with a dramatic open back and an asymmetrical hem that danced just above her knees when she moved. Soft, weightless silk that skimmed her body instead of clinging to it.
Exactly the kind of dress she’d have chosen if she’d had the time or the energy to care.
Three days ago, Constantine had sent over a stylist with a full rack of dresses and every other accessory that she could ever need as Mrs. Xenakis.
She hated that he’d thought of her needing armor for the role she was to step into and that he knew what she would prefer.
Hated more that she fully appreciated his high-handedness.
There had been too many things demanding her attention. Reworking her concert dates had been a logistical nightmare. Getting a temporary leave of absence from her teaching post at the university had taken favors she hadn’t wanted to call in.
And then there was Rose, who’d be heading back to the States in a couple of weeks. Alone. Which was something neither had foreseen or was prepared for. But at least, Rose would be at school with her friends instead of at her scheming uncle’s place.
Every time Aliyah doubted the sanity of the course she was taking, she remembered Rose bravely holding back tears at the impending separation.
She shifted in her seat and forced her rigid limbs to relax. The air in the car was crisp and cool but the silence began to take on a brittle quality.
“Constantine,” she said, tapping a hand over Rose’s knee. “This is my stepdaughter, Rose.”
Her dark eyes locked on his face, Rose offered her hand like a challenge, not a greeting.
Constantine’s mouth curved, eyes a warm gray with that faint amusement, as if he were forever laughing at the world. He took Rose’s hand with deliberate slowness, as if aware of how hot the teen’s temper ran.
“I’ve heard a great deal about you,” he said, voice mild.
“Have you,” Rose said flatly, then pulled her hand back and turned her face to the window, arms folded.
Aliyah winced inwardly. She touched Rose’s arm lightly, a silent reminder to behave.
To ease the tension swallowing up all the oxygen in the car, she turned to Constantine. “How many people are we expecting tonight?”
“A little over a hundred.” When she looked shocked, he elaborated. “Mostly board members, some press. A few members of your extended family. Friends of your parents.”
She nodded slowly, hands suddenly cold in her lap. She still hadn’t visited with her parents. Hadn’t spoken to them beyond the single, perfunctory message she’d sent Mama with news of their engagement. Their response had been silence.
Coward, her inner voice whispered. She hadn’t had the strength to walk into the house yet. She couldn’t stop wondering if all the memories she’d buried would be unleashed the moment she stepped in.
“Did my mother offer to host it at the villa?” she asked, trying to sound casual.
Constantine’s mouth flattened. “She insisted on it, in her special heavy-handed way. I told her I preferred a neutral venue.”
Aliyah blinked. Of all the things she had braced for, that hadn’t been one of them. The tight knot of tension in her middle instantly unspooled, as if he had tugged at the end of the string. “Neutral?”
“Neither of us has fond memories of the grand villa, ne?” His eyes held hers, a flicker of something unreadable in them. “I thought you might appreciate a fresh start.”
The words hung in the air between them, as surprising for their thoughtfulness as for the man who decided to say them out loud. Beside her, Rose sat in unrelenting silence.
Aliyah looked out the window, the glowing lights of the hotel now coming into view.
“I do, thank you,” she said, without meeting his eyes.
Was it so that she didn’t embarrass herself in front of his guests by becoming maudlin? Or had he actually thought of how hard it would be for her to return to the villa, in front of an audience at that?
She didn’t know what to make of him and yet she had decided to bring a baby into it. Because she trusted that Constantine Xenakis, ruthless and so damned controlled, would never harm what was his to protect.
The realization should have rattled her because it only proved that she could still be foolish when it came to him. Hadn’t she been innocent when he had chosen her father’s power rather than her?
At least, the papers she had been presented with—contracts about her stock in Andros International, the prenup detailing equal custody of any children they might have and the trust fund for the child—had been exactly as she had asked for.
The interior of the car was silent again except for the steady, rhythmic beat of the tires.
“I was wondering…” Aliyah said. “When can we begin making arrangements about Rose’s custody?”
His gaze cut to hers briefly, assessing. “Soon. I—”
“What’s the guarantee that you can even help us?” Rose interrupted, her voice ringing in the small space. “How do I know you’re not just trapping her?”
Aliyah turned sharply to Rose, shocked by the vehemence in her voice.
Constantine’s lips parted, brows lifted faintly. He leaned forward slightly, taking Rose’s hand gently in his. The movement was unexpected enough that the teenager froze.
“Breathe, Rose,” he said softly. “I can see that you’re scared. But I promise you that you don’t have to be anymore.”
Rose scowled but didn’t pull her hand away. “Smooth talking isn’t going to work on me.”
“It’s not smooth talk,” Constantine said. “I know what it feels like to be powerless. To be at some man’s mercy, hoping for kindness, if not affection. To be used as nothing but a pawn for what you can give them.”
“How would you know that?” Rose said, curious despite her obvious stance to loathe him on sight.
Constantine’s gaze flicked to Aliyah. Was he asking her for permission to spill the dirty laundry about her parents? The concession nearly undid her.
“I have no secrets from Rose,” she said.
A glint of mockery shone in his eyes, but he simply gave her a nod, before shifting his attention back to Rose.
“When Theo took me under his wing after I aced some test that Julian and I took together, I thought it was kindness. I was all of six or seven back then. For as long as I could remember, I’d heard legendary tales about Theodore Andros, a man who had built an empire with his wits.
When he made me join Julian’s lessons, told the teachers to challenge me, to test me, to teach me everything I needed to hone my innate talent for numbers, I worshipped him. ”
Even now, despite knowing the story herself, Aliyah could hear the echoes of the depth of his awe for her father.
She swallowed and looked away, wishing she didn’t have to hear any more.
Wishing she didn’t have to see the side of Constantine that had been fractured beneath her father’s controlling nature.
“And my grandfather kept reminding him how important it was to be grateful, to do whatever Theo asked me to. Without his guidance and pushing me up the ladder, I wouldn’t get any further than maybe a clerk’s job, right?”
“What happened?” Rose asked, fully absorbed in his words.
“After Julian died, Theo changed. I’m not sure if it was because of grief or something else.
He became even more…ruthless. He treated me like an automaton.
I was barely allowed to rest or sleep. I worked eighteen-hour days by his side.
He told me that he was officially training me to be his heir and his successor.
I hated the thought of failing him. If I didn’t get the results he wanted, he punished me with a scathing tongue.
He refused to let me go home. Refused to let me be a normal twenty-year-old. ”
He stopped and looked out the window onto the streets. “It was a long time before I realized the approval and affection I craved would never come from him. For he didn’t see me as a young boy but as a machine. An asset he could mine for his company. A thing he could control to his advantage.”