CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Athan went into his meeting somehow feeling…lighter. He knew Lynna had not been spiteful toward Mr. Giordano for him. It had been for her father. And really, it hadn’t been wise.
Still, the way she had defended her father had loosened some of the knots tying him tight. The fact she was here and on his side. He could almost believe she didn’t hate him anymore.
But letting himself believe that was a recipe for disaster. For having the rug pulled out from him again. He needed to hold on to the simple fact that what she had done, what she would do, had absolutely nothing to do with him .
Because even if it did, he would only betray her.
He went through his meeting feeling oddly detached from everything, but it had gone well in spite of himself. If his clients knew of the article from his mother, they had not mentioned it or acted as though it affected their trust in him.
Athan wondered how long he could make that last.
When he returned to his office, it smelled faintly of strawberries, but Lynna was not in it.
Which was good as he had phone calls to make before they went to lunch. He sat down at his desk, looked at his phone and the people he needed to call.
He did not call any of them. He should, because this was not the time or place for a personal call, especially since Ophelia had warned him against trying to smooth this over before they understood what Constantine had offered his mother to get her to turn on him.
But he called his mother anyway.
He didn’t expect her to answer. Elena was very good at avoidance when she wanted to be. The last summer he’d had to spend with her before he’d been a legal adult who did not have to follow his parents’ custody agreement anymore, she had jetted off to an entirely different country and left him alone in her home in Patras for the summer.
Yes, she knew how to avoid him when she wanted to. He could hardly blame her. Whether she’d been there or not, he’d always used his father’s words against her. That she was weak, at fault for anything that went wrong, a mistake .
So desperate to earn his father’s love, he’d decided to thwart his mother’s.
So he was more than a little surprised when she answered, sounding tired and vaguely offended. “Athan, hello.”
Athan didn’t bother with a greeting. He simply didn’t have it in him. “What did he offer you?”
His mother was silent on the other line. “You have caused me much harm over the years, you know,” his mother said.
“Yes,” he agreed. Because he could not deny it. He had been thirteen, tasked to choose between his parents. They had always made it sound like they’d given him a gift by having him choose.
It had never felt like one.
But he had made the difficult decision, and he had done it as his father wanted. How could he be an Akakios at AC International if Father was not in charge of his schooling? How could he expect to inherit a company if he spent his days being spoiled rotten by his indulgent and indifferent mother?
And so, he had chosen Constantine. And so, every summer spent with his mother had felt like torture. He had been cruel to her. In his teenage years, he had avoided her, ignored her, lashed out at her. In his early twenties, he had done his father’s bidding to do what he could to make sure she got as little money out of Constantine as possible.
He had not treated her well. He had failed her. But…
“Did I really cause you more harm than Constantine? That you would choose his side over mine?”
“If there are sides, you chose yours, Athan. Your father is a terrible man, but you’re on the same side. So… Does it matter whose side I get paid by? I’ll happily say something nasty about your father in the press for the right price. But don’t forget, Athan, you chose him.”
So did you. But he supposed that wasn’t fair, though he couldn’t quite articulate why. He only knew…he had made mistakes here. And he thought he had made some steps to rectify them, but apparently not.
“I am sorry, Mother. I have tried to make amends. I don’t understand why…” Athan didn’t have the words. He should have planned this out. He shouldn’t have called. “I do not need to pay you for any stories. That isn’t why I called.”
There was another moment of silence. Terse. Had she really expected a payday from both of them?
Probably.
“Then why did you call?”
To understand what I can do to make this right. To save myself from all my mistakes. To find redemption somewhere, maybe. “I suppose I simply needed to know,” he said to his mother.
She made a pained sound. “Why do you both torture me like this? Why am I always caught in some Akakios war? I only want to be left alone.”
And yet she’d taken Constantine’s money. Gone to the press. That was hardly being left alone, but who was he to judge?
“Very well, Mother. Goodbye.” He hung up. Then laughed at himself as he scrubbed his hands over his face. What a pointless endeavor. When would he ever learn?
He pushed away from his desk. He would find Lynna. They would have their public lunch, smiling and acting as though nothing mattered. He would ignore this story and it would go away. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was winning enough shares to kick Constantine out. To fix AC.
You couldn’t count on people, but you could depend on a business you controlled.
He stepped out of his office, and immediately saw Lynna a few meters down the hallway. She was standing with Henry Davies, they were smiling as they chatted. She seemed to glow like the sun.
He stopped for a moment, struck by…her. The sight of her, the feeling that worked its way through him every time he saw her. More potent, more impossible to ignore by the day.
He did not believe in love. But he remembered how quietly and earnestly she’d told him her parents had loved each other back on their first drive to his home in Athens.
So maybe it was love, here inside of him, but what could he do with it? She hated him. She was here for Rhys, for her father’s name, and he… He knew what he was. No matter how he tried to make himself into a good man, his past mistakes would always be there. Would always define him.
There was no forgiveness in this world, that he knew. His mother had proven it to him.
Lynna lifted her head, and her smile did not dim. She waved him over. An invitation into the sunshine that seemed to surround her. The strength she exuded.
It could never be his, he knew. His failures would always be there in the way. Even if she set them aside for this short marriage, it would not be forever. There would be no miracle of forgiveness because miracles did not exist.
So he did not have hope , but what he did have was time. A little time to pretend that he could be forgiven, that he could be a good man. So, much like he’d said to Lynna last night, why not enjoy while it was here in front of him?
It would all end soon enough, regardless.
He moved down the hall, fixing a bright smile on his face. “Are you up for lunch, Henry?” He slid his arm around Lynna’s waist easily enough, and she didn’t even stiffen. It felt natural, and right.
“I’m afraid I can’t today. You two should go enjoy yourselves. You hardly took a honeymoon. Enjoy the time you have before you start a family.” The man winked, then walked away.
Lynna had stiffened at the word family , and he felt a little stiff himself. Though he’d never considered such a thing, just the word seemed to conjure images of blue eyes in small dark-haired children.
Horrifying.
He wanted it to be horrifying.
“We should go,” Lynna said. Was it just him that she sounded a little robotic?
But he could hardly worry about that, as he had to yet again clear his throat to speak. “Yes. We should.”
* * *
Family.
That word echoed through her, in Henry’s Welsh accent that reminded her of her father, maybe felt like her father’s word now, rattling around inside her head.
There’d been a time family had been in her future plans. Find a good husband—a kind, good, affable man like her father. Have a few children.
Then… She didn’t want to think of then . The disillusionment of who her father had become, tangled indelibly with his untimely death. Then there had been no point to her plans. The only thing with any meaning was to take care of Mother and Rhys. That had been enough.
It was enough. Because this fake marriage she’d engaged in was a sham, not some chance at a family. She didn’t care for Athan, and that would be the only real way to start a family .
So why that little moment in time seemed to nestle into her brain, she did not understand. Did not want to. It had to be boxed away with all the rest.
Once the year was up, all these things she didn’t want to deal with wouldn’t matter anymore, and she’d never have to handle them. They were irrelevant blips in time, best disregarded.
She had a subdued lunch with Athan. They barely spoke. They didn’t really need to. The entire purpose of her being with him today was simply optics. That whatever stories might abound—online, in print, in whispers—she was by his side.
And anyone who had once supported her father could be by his side as well. It was a symbol, and it did not require more than just being here. She told herself this was fine, because of course it was, and there was no reason to feel any concern or worry over the fact he barely spoke.
No innuendo. No sly jokes. No smiles meant to make the heat creep into her cheeks. He ate as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders, and she could not stop thinking about the word family , and the way his parents had failed him.
She didn’t absolve him—he had made mistakes as an adult, and even if they came from some trauma as a child, that didn’t mean he hadn’t done harm. That didn’t mean there was forgiveness to be had.
“Would you like to return to the office, or home?” he asked her when they were walking out of the restaurant.
“I think I should return home to prepare for tonight’s dinner,” she said, feeling formal and stiff.
He nodded, and so they got in the car and he began to drive.
Home. His home. Not hers. Ms. Carew not Mrs. Akakios, even if she’d now allowed too many people to call her the latter today.
The car ride was silent. She supposed he must be in his own mental world of wheeling and dealing and coming up on top when it came to his father’s horrible schemes. Just as she was in her own mental world of…confusion and frustration and nothing she liked.
So she would go back to the Akakios home, and calm and silence her thoughts with the restorative act of cooking a meal.
Not long before he would turn into his own drive, he spoke. With no preamble, he simply offered: “I called my mother earlier.”
She didn’t immediately respond to this. She turned to study his profile. He had a vague frown on his face, and she wasn’t altogether certain that he’d really planned to tell her that.
But it stirred something inside of her. A frustration. An anger. Even when she told herself he deserved anything he got, the idea his mother could be the person doing it just made her angry. No matter how she tried to stop or push away that anger.
“And what was her excuse for this attack?” Lynna asked, frustrated with her own bitterness. She slumped back in her seat and told herself to stop feeling so damn much.
He sighed. “Constantine paid her to.”
Lynna shook her head. She should have known, and still it stoked her anger only higher. “But…surely she has no loyalty to Constantine. Her loyalty should be to her son.”
“I chose Constantine over her. Why shouldn’t she do the same?”
The words didn’t make sense, no matter how she turned them over, and his vague frown but otherwise blank expression did nothing to help clarify it to her. “What do you mean?”
“When they divorced. I was given the choice who I wanted to spend the majority of the year with. I chose him, not her.”
The shock of it wound through her like a blow—though she didn’t, couldn’t care. Except… “You were a boy.” And she remembered him as the boy he’d been when his parents had divorced. He hadn’t yet hit his growth spurt, and yet because he was older than her, she’d seen him as a kind of…giant. If not in stature, in who he was.
“Does it matter what age?” Athan asked, sounding tired.
“It should. They never should have put that decision on you.” And they should not be having this conversation. She was developing too much empathy for him. Allowing herself to be too…taken in.
Wasn’t that what Constantine had done to her own father? Softened him, manipulated him, made him believe they were friends. The best of friends. Brothers, almost.
“I don’t see why my age should matter. I was old enough to understand and they gave me a say.”
A thirteen-year-old. Old enough to understand the complexity of an adult marriage? She didn’t want to absolve Athan, and she would never absolve the adult version of him, but she could hardly stand the injustice of putting that decision on a child . “They gave themselves an out. For any responsibility. And as far as I can tell, they have continued that. Putting all responsibility on you and none on themselves.” She made a scoffing noise, couldn’t help it. “They’re both despicable.”
“I would assume you of all people would think I deserved it.”
He did. He did , no matter how much some strange part of her wanted to balk at the idea. “You deserve much, Athan, but what you might have done as a boy isn’t part of that. A parents’ role is to protect their children, and your parents failed you. This is a rare case where you are not to blame.”
“Is that why you do not ever wish to speak of your father? You were disappointed in him since he stopped protecting you?”
Everything inside of her went cold. It wasn’t true, of course it wasn’t true, so the fact the words felt like a blow was little more than…than…than… “My father was exemplary in all ways,” she said stiffly.
“What happened was not his fault, I suppose, though I did not personally stop his heart from beating,” Athan continued, as if this was a conversation they were going to have. “But in dying, he did not protect you. And it doesn’t seem your mother did much protecting in the time since either. Quite the opposite. You have handled everything for your family since your father died.”
She could hardly breathe through…anger. It had to be anger twisting her lungs and causing a terrible pain in her chest. Her parents weren’t like Athan’s. And her position wasn’t like Athan’s. Because she hadn’t been a child, no one had stopped protecting her, and she had behaved correctly. Always. “ I was an adult when all of this happened. I have made my choices, and I stand by them. You—”
“You were at university,” Athan interrupted.
“Yes. I was an adult, living on my own while I saw to my studies. My mother lost the man she loved, everything she’d counted on, and she had Rhys to raise. All I did was help financially. This was not some…some…lack of protection.”
“You felt the need to solve the financial constraints of your family as a university student. On the heels of losing your father, whom you loved.”
Her throat was closing up, and she refused to let that happen. “It isn’t the same. My father’s financial situation he left us with was not his fault. My mother did not…put any responsibility on me. And neither my mother nor brother have ever turned to me for money, so, it is wrong to compare them.”
He sighed. “So, I am correct.” He gave her a wry kind of look that wasn’t like himself at all. Too…sad, almost. Which was hardly fair. “It is my own fault that my mother has turned on me.”
Why she felt the struggling need to defend him was beyond her, but she bit her tongue and said nothing. She would not… If he wanted to think his boyhood self was to blame for his current problems, well, that was his problem. She would not defend him.
He did not deserve defending. Not after comparing her parents to his. When she had never had any doubt her parents loved her. When she had stepped up because she could , not because she was forced to. When her father…
She did not want to think of her father.
They arrived back at his home and she got out of the car. He did not. He was going to drive back into the office for a few hours, as he should. Hopefully Ophelia would have a new plan of action for his PR, but it didn’t matter if she did or not.
Lynna would focus on her end of the bargain. Pretending to be his wife to get the amount of shares needed to rid AC International of Constantine. Making it a place for Rhys, because he wouldn’t be so high-and-mighty about calling himself an adult and telling her to butt out if she got him this.
She would be back to focusing on the important things.
With some space from him. Space. Necessary, important space. To settle all this that was unsettled inside of her. Because none of this was productive. None of it solved a problem.
It is my own fault that my mother has turned on me.
How dare he say that, sounding as though his heart had been ripped out. How dare he think that when he was an arrogant, self-absorbed reprobate who did not sit there blaming himself for his parents’ terribleness.
She whirled back to face the car. He rolled down his window and she stomped toward it, angry at herself but unable to stop.
“You were a boy. Your parents are wrong. You have done wrong things as an adult, and these things I will never absolve you from, but that doesn’t make your parents right. You should know that. Believe that.”
They stared at each other, for too many beats. Her heart was battering about in her chest. What was he doing to her? It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. All her control was slipping and she couldn’t let that happen.
She would turn into her father if she did. Letting her life fall apart over pointless, useless emotions. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
She whirled away again. Back toward the front door. She needed to find some safety to put all this swirling emotion away . She heard the car door slam and knew he was coming after her and still she did not stop.
She would not deal with him. Not until she was in control. Not until…
His arm curled around her elbow and he turned her to face him. Her on the top step, looking almost even with him at the middle step.
He said nothing. She said nothing. She struggled to breathe and blinked at the incomprehensible tears in her eyes. She refused to name the pained, hurting thing she saw in his gaze.
It had nothing to do with her.
Nothing.
“Athan… Don’t…” And she didn’t know exactly what she was telling him not to do, because all he was doing was standing there. His arm on her elbow.
She didn’t know what she wanted to avoid, only that there was this…fear inside of her. Like something too big, too hard was right here in front of her. If she stopped it, everything could go on as it was.
If she didn’t stop it…
Whatever horrible consequence that would befall her was lost as he lowered his mouth to hers. Slow and careful, the press of his lips gentle. Soft. A lull, a carefulness that twisted inside of her, loosening knots, poking through holes in a foundation she’d been desperately shoring up for five years.
All at the mercy of him . This. This…thing that happened when he touched her. She wanted it to be physical. Devoid of any and all emotion, but there was something about him. Something she wanted to curl herself around and protect, soothe, help.
And that was easy enough to pretend away when it was passion, when it was a buildup over weeks of want she had pushed down and ignored and denied.
It was something else entirely right now. When his hands were gentle, his kisses soft. As though this thing that sparked to life between them was breakable, and he did not want it to break.
She needed to break it. Smash it to bits—with refusal, with harsh words, with anything that would stop her heart from feeling this swollen and vulnerable and not her own. She needed to break this hold he had on her. Now. Now.
She couldn’t.
It felt too special, too vital. Like a gift, like care. Like everything she’d run away from for so long and yet…some small kernel of the girl she’d once been still yearned for this.
Someone who wanted something more from her than all the acts of service that kept things running smoothly.
She knew what she needed to do, she understood her responsibility—stop this, whatever it was—and for the first time in her life, she could not do her duty.
She succumbed to him, to her heart instead. She kissed him back, wrapped her arms around him and held on for dear life as birds trilled around them on a pretty summer afternoon.