Powerful Greek, Unworldly Wife. Sarah Morgan

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Powerful Greek, Unworldly Wife - Sarah Morgan


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      ‘It’s superficial—everything about your world is!’ She sprang off the bed and walked towards him, her eyes flashing fire. ‘And that included our relationship.’

      ‘I’m not the one who called time on our marriage.’

      ‘Yes, you did!’ Angry and hurt, she faced him. ‘You blame me for walking out, but what did you think I’d do, Leandro? Did you think I’d say, “Don’t worry, that’s fine by me”?’ Her voice rose, trembling and thickened by pain. ‘Did you think I’d turn a blind eye? Maybe that’s what women do in your world, but that isn’t the sort of marriage I want. You slept with another woman and not just any woman.’ Her breathing was jagged. ‘My sister. My own sister.’ Her distress was so obvious that Leandro gave a frown.

      ‘You’re working yourself up into a state.’

      ‘Please don’t pretend you care about my feelings because you’ve already amply demonstrated that you don’t.’ Holding herself together by a thread, she wrapped her arms around her body and met his gaze.

      Brave, he thought absently, part of him intrigued by the sudden strength he saw in her. Yes, she was upset. But she wasn’t caving in, was she? He hadn’t known that she possessed a layer of steel. By the end of their relationship he’d come to the conclusion that she was so lightweight that the only thing preventing her from being blown away was the weight of his money in her handbag.

      Leandro’s hand tightened on his glass and then he lifted it to his lips and drained it. Then he placed the glass carefully on the table in front of him.

      ‘Given the circumstances of your departure, I’m surprised you chose to come back.’

      Sinking back onto the side of the bed, the fight seemed to go out of her and she suddenly looked incredibly tired. Tired, wet, beaten. ‘If you thought I wouldn’t then you know even less about me than I thought you did.’

      ‘I never knew you.’ It had been a fantasy. An illusion. Or maybe a delusion?

      ‘And whose fault is that? You didn’t want to know me, did you? You weren’t interested in me—just in sex, and when that—’ She broke off and took a breath, clearly searching for the words she wanted. ‘I wasn’t right for you. To start with you liked the fact that I was “different”. I was just an ordinary girl, living in the country, working on her parents’ farm. Unsophisticated. But the novelty wore off, didn’t it, Leandro? You wanted me to fit into your life. Your world. And I didn’t.’

      Watching her so closely, he was able to detect the exact moment when anger turned to awareness.

      Her eyes slid to his bare, bronzed shoulders and then back to his. It was like putting a match to kerosene. The chemistry that had been simmering exploded to dangerous levels and she turned away with a murmur of frustration, although whether it was with herself or him, he wasn’t sure. ‘Don’t you dare, Leandro! Don’t you dare look at me like that—as if everything hasn’t changed between us.’

      ‘You were looking at me.’

      ‘Because you’re standing there half-naked!’

      ‘Does that bother you?’

      ‘No, it doesn’t.’ She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying to warm them. ‘I don’t feel anything for you any more.’

      ‘Oh, you feel plenty for me, Millie,’ Leandro said grimly, ‘and that’s the problem, isn’t it? You hate the fact that you can feel that way. A woman like you shouldn’t find herself hopelessly attracted to a bad boy like me. It’s not quite decent, is it?’

      ‘I’m not here because of you.’

      ‘Of course you’re not.’ His tone caustic, he watched as she flinched away from his words. ‘You wouldn’t have made the journey for something as trivial as the survival of our marriage, would you? That was never important to you.’ Filled with contempt, Leandro lifted the glass, wondering how much whisky it was going to take to dull what he was feeling.

      ‘Are you drunk?’

      ‘Unfortunately, no, not yet.’ He eyed the glass. ‘But I’m working on it.’

      ‘You’re totally irresponsible.’

      ‘I’m working on that, too.’ He was about to lift the glass to his lips when he noticed that the sole of her boot was starting to come away. Remembering how obsessive she’d been about her appearance, he frowned. ‘You look awful.’

      ‘Most people would look awful compared with the cream of Hollywood,’ she said tartly. She lifted her hand and he thought she was going to smooth her damp hair, but then she let her hand drop as if she’d decided it wasn’t worth the effort. ‘She’s very beautiful.’

      He heard the pain in her voice and gritted his teeth. ‘Jealousy was the one aspect of our relationship at which you consistently excelled.’

      ‘You’re so unkind.’

      Leandro discovered that his fingers had curled themselves into a fist. ‘Unkind?’ His mouth tightened. ‘Yes, I’m unkind.’

      ‘Do you love her?’

      ‘Now you’re getting personal.’

      ‘Of course I’m getting personal! Did my sis—?’ Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. ‘Did…Becca know you were seeing the actress?’

      The mention of that name made Leandro want to drain the bottle of whisky, as did the unspoken accusation behind her words. ‘Are you blaming me for the fact that your sister crashed the car while under the influence of drink and drugs?’

      ‘She drank because you rejected her! She was suffering from depression.’

      Thinking about what he knew, Leandro gave a humourless smile. ‘I’ll just bet she was.’

      She sprang to her feet and crossed the room with the grace of a dancer. ‘Don’t you dare speak about the dead like that! If anyone was responsible for my sister’s fragile mental state, it’s you. You broke her heart.’

      And Leandro committed the unpardonable sin. He laughed. And that grim humour cost him.

      She slapped him.

      Then she put her hand against her throat and stepped backwards, as if she couldn’t believe what she’d done. Her skin was so pale she reminded him of something conjured from a child’s fairy story.

      ‘I should probably apologise but I’m not going to,’ she whispered, her fingers pressed against her slender neck. ‘Do you know the most hurtful part of all this? You don’t even care. You destroyed our marriage for sex. It didn’t even mean anything. If you’d loved her maybe, just maybe, I would have been able to understand all this, but for you it was just physical.’

      ‘As a matter of interest, did you say any of this to her?’

      ‘Yes. Actually, I did. I went to see her just after she was admitted to that clinic in Arizona. I…’ She rubbed her fingers across her forehead. ‘I needed to try and understand. She confessed that she was so madly in love with you that she wasn’t thinking clearly.’

      ‘She knew exactly what she was doing,’ Leandro said flatly. ‘The only person your sister ever loved was herself. That was probably the only thing we ever had in common.’

      ‘That’s a very cynical attitude.’

      ‘I’m a cynical guy.’

      ‘So you wrecked our marriage for a woman you don’t even care about.’

      ‘I didn’t wreck our marriage, agape mou,’ Leandro spoke softly, his eyes fixing on her white face, as he hammered home his barb. ‘You did that. All by yourself.’

      If he’d hit her, she couldn’t have looked more shocked.


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