Chapter Nine
THE APPLAUSE ROLLED over Aliyah in waves as she stood, bowing gracefully.
The two weeks since that night in the greenhouse felt like both a lifetime and a fleeting moment.
The first week had been spent with Rose at the luxury hotel Constantine’s staff had moved them to—he clearly didn’t want her in his personal space—then sightseeing and playing tourist in the city.
While Aliyah wondered, every waking minute, if Constantine would call for her. He hadn’t and she felt the lack keenly after Rose had left to return to her private school on the East Coast.
Alone in the city that had never quite felt like home, she had felt listless in the hotel suite, questioning every choice she had ever made. Including throwing herself at her new husband in a state of reckless abandon in a dusty greenhouse.
Tonight, however, was different. She was back on stage, in her element, playing for an audience, the music filling the air and grounding her in the present. Her fingers still tingled from the piano keys, the notes lingering thanks to the auditorium’s acoustics.
Aliyah gave a small, practiced smile as the audience clapped, her heart still racing as it always did when she ended a performance.
But now, there was a satisfaction in her chest, a calm that came only after putting all her emotion into her music.
She felt grounded for the first time in what seemed like ages, the connection to the piano giving her a brief respite from the chaos of craving inside her.
The applause was still ringing in her ears as she made her way backstage. The red pantsuit she had chosen was different from her usual attire. More of a statement than she usually made, since her musical performance spoke for itself.
The color was bold, vibrant—almost a reflection of how she was feeling today, a quiet rebellion against the past, against the fear of hiding away.
She quickly splashed water on her wrists at the sink, wiping away the faint sheen of sweat from the performance.
A quick glance at her reflection revealed that her makeup had held up—her eyes still smoky and sharp, lips a deep red.
A tinkling laugh bubbled up from the concert organizer behind her, a bright-eyed woman in an elegant dress. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Xenakis,” she said with a wide smile, handing Aliyah a small bouquet. “I can’t tell you how much it means that you agreed to perform here. You have such a gift.”
Aliyah smiled and shook her head slightly. “I should be thanking you for contacting me. Playing for an audience in my hometown is a present I didn’t know I needed.”
She realized the truth of the words the moment she had spoken—it felt good to show what she had become. What she was now. Especially in this place, which she had run from.
The organizer’s eyes widened with mischief. “It was your husband, Mr. Xenakis, who insisted. He said Athens needed to hear you play.”
Aliyah froze, the words pulling her up short as she stared at the woman in disbelief.
Constantine had arranged for her to play? Why?
During the applause, she’d thought she’d seen him at the back of the auditorium, a familiar shadow among the crowd. She had dismissed it, calling herself a fool for imagining he would actually want to hear her play. But now, the niggle eating away at her turned into a certainty.
What if it had been Constantine that she had spotted in the back row? Had he come to hear her play? Why hide himself then?
Aside from the occasional queries through the lawyers about Rose’s custody, questions about her late husband’s estate and the paperwork he had sent her, she hadn’t heard anything from him in two weeks.
There had been no demands, no orders for her to perform her wifely duties, nothing but infuriating silence.
In the quiet of her own thoughts, a doubt began to creep in.
Had her wanton behavior pushed him away? Had he been satisfied with her surrender already, and was content to leave it at that? Shouldn’t she be happier, relieved, if he was already through with her? He might even decide that they didn’t need to stay married forever.
She refused to feel shame over her desire for him—she couldn’t, not when it still burned so fiercely inside her. When it was the one thing that was the unvarnished truth between them, a constant across more than a decade.
But even still, doubts gnawed at the back of her mind that his interest was already waning. While hers had only been lit into an inferno.
Why wasn’t he demanding more from her after the elaborate play of binding her to him?
As she walked through the narrow corridor toward the backstage exit, her heels clicked sharply on the floor. The sound echoed off the walls, mixing with the low buzz of conversation and the soft music in the background.
Her heart thudded as she replayed the aftercare he had shown her later that night—something she did at least ten times a day. As explosive as their lovemaking had been, what had come after—that was the true essence of the Constantine she had known back then.
He had carried her back to her childhood bedroom, laid her in the bath, and though she had been half asleep, his careful touch remained etched in her mind. He had taken care of her in ways she had never expected—gently bathing her, dressing her, helping her into bed.
She had wanted more—she’d wanted him to stay with her, to hold her in that small bed, to keep her from facing all the memories that haunted her in that house. Pleasure had weakened her resolve, drilled holes in her armor.
But in the morning, she had woken up alone in her childhood bed, glad for his absence. Whether mockery or kindness, she didn’t want it. She had to learn to do without it.
The night had been explosive, emotionally charged, and she couldn’t bear the idea of confronting either of her parents in that state, especially her mother. Constantine was nowhere to be seen, so she’d dressed quickly in old sweats and made her exit.
Her fingers now brushed against the cool brass handle of the door as she was led out of the building by security. The air outside was crisp with the scent of the evening—earthy, metallic and full of promise.
She drew in a breath, the air colder now as she was ushered toward a sleek black car waiting by the curb. The chauffeur stepped forward, bowing slightly.
“Mrs. Xenakis,” he said. “Your husband would like you to join him at a party.”
Aliyah froze for a moment, though relief followed, nearly making her dizzy.
Finally, he was summoning her.
As she climbed into the car, her thoughts turned toward her mother’s admission about all the lies she had fed Aliyah those many years ago.
Every night since then, Aliyah had tossed and turned, wondering if she should tell Constantine the truth.
If she should beg for his forgiveness for fleeing like a coward.
If it would even get her freedom from this marriage already…
All because she thought she was not worthy of being loved.
But if she told him what she’d discovered about the past, it would only highlight the fear she had acted out of, her lack of trust in him and herself, how easily she had believed that Constantine would choose wealth over her.
She couldn’t jeopardize this tenuous relationship they were building and even Rose’s custody matters. He had reasons enough to hate her entire family—enough to trap her into marriage and wipe the mark of the Andros name from the company completely—and this revelation would only give him more.
Now, on the high from performing, on the high of learning that there were shades of the boy she had once loved still in him, she didn’t want to rake up the past. There was nothing but pain there, for both of them.
The reality was that she was married to a man who wanted her, a man who—as much as he would deny it—cared for her in his own stubborn, arrogant way.
A man with whom she had decided to have a child.
A man who, she didn’t doubt, would realize one day that he wanted nothing to do with her, and would let her go.
Especially when he realized that she’d been a coward who had ruined their lives, the future that they had dreamed of, out of insecurities and fear.
That even after learning of her mother’s duplicity, she had chosen to hide the truth.
Because, it seemed, she didn’t trust him or herself, even now.
She just had to wait him out. Enjoy the passion he gave her a taste of, if he were still so inclined. Be prepared to go back to her life, a life without him, again.
The car door shut with a soft click, and she sank back into the plush seat, her heart pounding as she let the city lights blur past the windows.
Tonight, and for the rest of her stay here, she would play the role of Constantine’s wife, without letting her heart get tangled in the process.
The luxury hotel gleamed with opulence, its polished floors reflecting the chandeliers overhead, but Constantine barely noticed the extravagance.
It was just background noise, meaningless against the weight of the moment.
The air hummed with the clink of champagne glasses and soft conversation, but his gaze remained fixed on the entrance.
The party had been inevitable, something he’d postponed for two weeks because he hadn’t been able to control himself after the greenhouse.
He couldn’t be sure if it was guilt or something else, but either way, he had needed space to regain control.
The attraction between them, the open, easy way she’d demanded he give her what she wanted, it messed with his head. Worse was this growing, nagging feeling that he’d got Aliyah almost completely wrong. Which he fought with distance and all the ruthlessness he had in him.
A sudden hush swept over the crowd as Aliyah swept into the room. The way she moved, poised and confident, almost unnerved him.