Ruthless Revenge: Sinful Seduction. Кейт Хьюит
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in that moment that she was still attracted to him, that she still felt the magnetic pull of desire she’d felt ten years ago, only now it was even more inconvenient. More unwelcome.
Drawing a hand across her forehead, she rose from the sofa and walked away from him, desperate to compose her thoughts.
Marriage. ‘I’ve only just buried my first husband, you know.’
‘We will observe propriety. A three-month engagement should suffice.’
‘Three months?’ She let out a hollow laugh. ‘Considering I was married to Lukas for ten years, that’s not very long.’
‘I won’t wait any longer.’
‘Of course not.’ She shook her head, bemused and overwhelmed and too tired to think through any of it now. Alekos wouldn’t let the matter rest, though. She knew enough about him to understand that. ‘You can’t just spring this on me, Alekos, and expect me to fall in with your plans immediately.’ She’d been falling in with other people’s plans her whole life. She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised that nothing had changed. She hadn’t changed, because already she was considering Alekos’s proposal, if she could even use that word. Command seemed more appropriate. Already guilt was burrowing its way into her soul, whispering that she should do anything for her son. Of course she should. Any decent mother would.
‘I don’t see what there is to think about,’ Alekos stated. ‘The solution seems perfectly obvious to me.’
She whirled around, pushed past endurance 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