Ruthless Revenge: Sinful Seduction: Demetriou Demands His Child / Olivero's Outrageous Proposal / Rafael's Contract Bride. Кейт Хьюит
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by his utter inflexibility. ‘You might think so, but that doesn’t mean I do. Perhaps I’m not willing to agree to marriage to a stranger ten seconds after I’ve received the most unromantic proposal on the planet!’
Alekos met her wild gaze with a level one of his own. ‘It wasn’t meant to be romantic.’
Iolanthe laughed, the sound utterly without humour. ‘I do realise that, thank you.’
He eyed her with consideration, his head cocked to one side. ‘Is that what you want? Romance? Love?’
She let out her breath in a low rush. Love wasn’t something she’d let herself think about in a long, long time. ‘No, not really.’ Her brief brush with love—sexual love, anyway—had been a disaster. And ten years of coldness and solitude had made her too numb ever to hope for more. And certainly not with Alekos.
‘Did you love Callos?’ He spoke diffidently, as if it didn’t really matter. Iolanthe looked away, not wanting to reveal the pointless sorrow of her marriage. ‘Well?’ he prompted, and she knew he wouldn’t leave it.
‘No.’ In the beginning she’d tried to get along with him, but it had taken only days to realise Lukas had no interest in her whatsoever. He’d married her to secure his future with her father’s company, that was all.
‘Did he know he wasn’t Niko’s father?’
‘Yes. I never pretended about that. He married me knowing I carried another man’s child.’ For that alone she’d tried to respect Lukas, but he’d done precious little in their ten years to keep her respect—or earn her affection.
‘So you married him to provide a father for Niko.’ The words sounded bitter, an accusation.
‘Yes, and because my father wished it.’ Had commanded it. ‘I didn’t have a lot of options, Alekos, after what I’d done.’
‘You mean what we’d done.’
She looked at him, startled to hear a note of recrimination in his voice. Was he acknowledging guilt—or just stating a fact? ‘Yes,’ she said after a pause. ‘What we’d done.’
Alekos nodded slowly, saying nothing. Iolanthe braced herself for another round of fighting, another set of impossible demands. ‘Did you ever do anything with your art?’ he asked and she blinked, completely taken aback by this sudden turn in the conversation.
‘My art...’
‘You told me, that night, that art was your favourite subject. And that you wanted to do something important.’
She let out an uncertain laugh. ‘I’m surprised you remembered what I said back then. I must have sounded very silly and young.’
‘You sounded hopeful.’ Alekos’s voice was flat, almost bleak, his expression as inscrutable as ever. Iolanthe had no idea what to make of his remarks.
‘I suppose I was. I’ve learned better since then.’ As soon as she said the words she wished she hadn’t. She wasn’t bitter. At least, she tried not to be.
Alekos gazed at her for a long moment, and Iolanthe braced herself for more questions about her marriage. ‘May I see him?’ he asked quietly.
‘Niko—?’
‘Yes.’
This was not his usual intractable demand, but instead a quiet and sincere plea, and it cut Iolanthe to the heart. ‘He’s sleeping now...’
‘Let me just see him,’ Alekos insisted, his voice low and urgent. ‘I won’t wake him up. We can discuss how best to introduce me to him later.’ He gazed at her, and this time his burning stare held no anger, just desperation.
Iolanthe swallowed hard and then nodded. She’d denied Alekos so much already. ‘Yes, you can see him. I’ll show you the way.’
Silently she opened the doors to the drawing room and headed upstairs, Alekos following behind her. Amara had already gone to bed, and the lights had all been turned off save for one small table lamp in the hall that cast a warm glow and lent an intimate air to the moment.
Iolanthe was very conscious of Alekos walking behind her; she breathed in the scent of his aftershave and felt both the heat and tension from his body. Remembered all sorts of things—how surprisingly sleek and soft his skin had been, how his arms around her had felt both gentle and powerful; he was a man who could leash his strength. How for an evening she’d felt treasured and important, just as she’d told him she wanted to be. He’d made her feel that way.
And then afterwards he made you feel like something stuck to his shoe.
She couldn’t forget that. She needed to remember it, if she was going to navigate this fraught relationship with any hope of success. Iolanthe turned down the hallway to Niko’s set of rooms. She paused, her hand on the doorknob of his bedroom. ‘I don’t want you to disturb him.’
‘I won’t wake him up,’ Alekos promised. ‘I just want to see him.’
‘I know...’ Still Iolanthe hesitated. She felt as if opening this door would be the first step down a long and uncertain road. But perhaps she’d taken that step when she’d told Alekos about Niko. Perhaps now there was no other road to travel, no other step to take. With a single nod of acceptance, Iolanthe pushed open the door.
The room was lit only by the moonlight spilling through the window, barely illuminating the room with its military-level of neatness. No spilled Lego, no half-finished games or projects. Niko hated mess, craved order.
Iolanthe watched as Alekos stepped into the room, his gaze searching out the slight form on the single bed. Niko lay on his side, legs tucked up, one hand resting by his cheek. He looked vulnerable and innocent and so very young.
Alekos moved closer to his son, and the moonlight washed over the hard lines and angles of his face; he almost looked as if he were in pain, gripped as he was by emotion.
He reached a hand out to Niko’s face and Iolanthe held her breath. If Niko woke up... Alekos brushed his son’s cheek with the tips of his fingers and Niko stirred, letting out a breathy sigh before rolling over. Alekos stepped back into the shadows, his gaze sweeping over the room before he turned to Iolanthe and nodded.
She led the way out, pausing by the door with one hand on the knob to shut it after Alekos had gone. He moved past her, his shoulder brushing her breast, and the flash of desire Iolanthe felt made her draw her breath in sharply.
Alekos turned, and his mouth was close enough to hers that all she’d have to do to kiss him was tilt her head. She felt the strength of his stare, the force of his feeling. It felt like a laser, piercing her to the core, pinning her in place. How was it that after a decade apart she could still feel this way? And he did too, judging by the heat in his eyes, the way he angled himself towards her.
No matter that it had been ten years and they didn’t even like each other. The attraction, the overwhelming force of it, was still there.
With effort Iolanthe looked away from Alekos as she pulled the door closed. The soft click of it shutting brought them both out of the moment, and Alekos turned towards the stairs.
Iolanthe let out the breath she’d been holding and willed her heart to slow. That had been close.
She followed Alekos downstairs, expecting him to head for the front door but he returned to the drawing room instead. Iolanthe followed him, steeling herself for another altercation.
‘I want to meet Niko tomorrow.’
‘I need to prepare him—’
‘You don’t need to tell him I’m his father yet,’ Alekos cut across her. ‘But I want to meet him. Talk to him.’
Slowly Iolanthe moved into the room. Emotional and physical fatigue crashed over her and she sank into a chair, her head in her hands.
‘Iolanthe...?’ Concern mingled