They both had pasts that had given them scars. Flaws. Neither one of them was perfect. But they’d become better together. They’d learned to talk and share, and she knew that if they kept trying, maybe they could overcome the twisted beliefs gifted by their fathers.
The thing her father didn’t understand, however, was that now she held the power. She would never give up Dion’s secret about who his real father was—not to her father. Not to anyone.
Her heart fluttered like a butterfly trapped under someone’s glass, but she wouldn’t let it show. “I came home to say goodbye. I’m going to pack my things and leave tonight, and that’s the last you’ll ever hear from me. I’m done being part of this family. Mom can call me whenever she wants, but consider yourself free of your ungrateful daughter.”
“You’re making a huge mistake.” Cyrus’s dark eyes flashed as he stared her down.
But Sophia had a revelation then: the man was all bark and no bite. He had nothing but bluster and words to do his bidding. She’d let those words beat her into submission her entire life, leaving her small and unable to breathe from where she lay trapped under his thumb.
She was far from helpless now.
Sophia lifted her chin, confidence roaring through her blood. “No. I’m not.” She pinned him with a glare, something she’d never dared to let cross her face in his presence before. “And don’t even think about hurting Mom, because I’ve been doing the books for your business the last few years. I know how much money you’ve squirreled away. And I’ll be happy to share that information with your business associates if you do anything to upset her.”
It was a bluff. She had only suspicions, rather than facts. But she ran laps around him when it came to administration, so he wouldn’t necessarily know it was a bluff.
“You wouldn’t.” He tried to maintain his angry demeanor, but his face had turned white as a sheet. Sophia’s instincts were clearly on the money…no pun intended.
Difference was, now she had the confidence to face him down. To not buckle under the weight of his control. She wouldn’t be his puppet any longer.
“Best you use the money Dion gave you to pay those men back,” she said. “I hear they’re very determined when they think someone is dodging them.”
Masking the tumultuous combination of relief, victory, and lingering terror, she walked out of her father’s office and up the stairs to the bedroom that had been her prison for twenty-six years.
She paused at the doorway, her body almost trembling with emotion. She’d done it. She’d really done it. After years of saying yes, she finally had found the courage to say no. It felt so freeing she wondered if her feet might actually be hovering above the floor.
She was her own woman now. A free woman.
And all she wanted to do was celebrate with Dion, the man who’d given her that courage. Who’d shown her how strong she could be.
It wouldn’t take long to pack—she didn’t own much beside her wardrobe of “good-daughter” clothes. She would use her savings to book a flight back to Corfu. Dion might not want her back, but she had to tell him how she felt, even if he would likely turn her away.
The fact was, she cared about her husband. A lot. He’d changed her for the better, made her into the person who could stand up to Cyrus Andreou. Who could see that she didn’t have to be a victim of her mother’s choices. Who could take the life she’d always wanted instead of wallowing in fear. That was the woman he’d helped her become, and she was damn proud of it. Of them both.
Wasn’t that the mark of real love? Growth and change for the better? She’d forever bear the imprint of him, bear the influence of him. He’d made her better, and she wanted him to see that.
Because Sophia Kourakis was not Sophia Andreou. And that was a damned good thing.
Chapter Eighteen
Dion stood on the beach, staring out at the ocean. He must have looked a strange sight, dressed in all black, right down to where the polish on his dress shoes was currently being assaulted by grains of sand. The sun beat down, relentless and merciless, cooking him inside his suit.
But Dion was numb to it all. The cavernous nothingness had grown inside him with each day since Elias and Sophia left within a span of a few meager hours. He remembered this feeling too well, no matter how hard he tried to forget.
He twisted the signet ring on his little finger as the waves rolled in. How was he supposed to go on tomorrow like everything was normal? Today, he’d buried one of the most important people in his entire life. And he’d thrown out the only person who’d managed to get close to him. His only true friend was Nico, and as much as he was like a brother, he had his own stuff to deal with: his growing young family, keeping Precision Investments going while Dion’s mind was elsewhere.
“This was what you wanted,” he muttered to himself. “Now you’re not vulnerable to anyone.”
Then why did it feel completely and utterly wrong?
“Talking to yourself, Kourakis? That’s not a good sign.”
The familiar voice made Dion snap his head to one side. Theo walked the last few steps toward him, looking equally ridiculous on the beach in his all-black outfit. The funeral had ended some time ago, and Dion had skipped the gathering afterward, unable to bear the thought of facing Elias’s loved ones. Sharing in their grief would only make him feel worse.
So he’d come here, seeking solace. Instead he was now face-to-face with the last person he wanted to see.
“You’re not in a position to judge anyone’s behavior,” Dion replied, turning back to the ocean.
The two men stood silently for a moment before Theo broke the ice. “We’re getting strange looks. People probably think we’re about to carry out a hit.”
Dion snorted. “You might look like a hitman in that suit. Mine fits too well for that.”
It was a lie, of course. Theo was nothing if not as impeccably dressed as a Savile Row devotee, but some childish part in Dion wanted to lash out. They’d stood on opposite sides of the church that morning, and then on opposite sides of the grave. Between the bandage on Theo’s hand and the sickly bruise on Dion’s cheek, it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened.
“What do you want?” Dion asked. “If it’s about the estate, you need to direct all questions—”
“I’m here to talk to you.”
“What could you possibly have to say to me? Or did you want to take another swing and even me up?”
Resentment bubbled under his skin. It was like all those times he’d tried to fight fists with words as a kid because he never had the inclination to raise his hands to another human being…as much as it would be satisfying to give Theo a matching bruise.
“I had a complicated relationship with my father,” Theo said, raking a hand through his dark hair. “I know you thought the sun shined out of his ass, but the family you choose is different from the family you don’t.”
“You’re going to speak ill of your dead father the day we put him in the ground?” Typical Theo. Always wanting to have the last word.
“No. Actually, I was going to say that I’m glad he had you.”
Dion frowned. That was not what he’d expected Theo to say.
“I understand you’ve only ever heard the things about me that he told you. You think I’m a thief and an ingrate and a bully.”
Dion raised a brow. “Have you given me any reason at all to think otherwise?”
“No. Frankly, I haven’t given anyone a reason to think otherwise. Not even my father.” A seagull squawked overhead, and the sun glimmered on the water’s shifting surface. “I let him think I stole the money because I knew he wouldn’t believe me. And I chose to protect someone I cared about…someone I probably should never have protected because I was only enabling her.”
“Your mother.”
“We do terrible things for the people we love.”
He didn’t have any proof of Theo’s story, but something deep in his gut told him the man was
telling the truth. “Did you tell Elias before he died?”
“No. I came home with every intention of doing that so I could mend the bridge, but in the end, I couldn’t do it. It was easier to let him hate me than to say I’d wasted all those years letting our relationship rot based on a lie.” He let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “I couldn’t let him die with any regrets.”
Except he had. Elias regretted turning his son away and had told Dion in the days before he died. He’d changed his will to reinclude Theo, against Dion’s advice. Because the bonds of family were stronger than people realized, and Elias loved his son. And god that had made Dion jealous.
“I think he knew,” Dion said. “Deep down, I think he knew what you did. And why you did it.”
“You might be right.”
“So why are you here? Your relationship with your father is none of my business.”
“I don’t even know.” Theo jammed his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. “I have no idea why the hell I came here. I guess… I don’t know. I guess I thought you’d understand because you knew him better than anyone. I fucking hated you for it.”
Past tense? “He was a great man.”
“Yeah, he was.” Theo’s face was hard as marble. And though Dion had known Elias to be gregarious and charming, he was also of a generation where men were raised to show emotion only if it fell on the “right” side of the masculinity equation. Anger was fine. Tears were not. Showing your pain was not. Perhaps he’d never had the skills to be the father Theo needed when he was young.
Dion ran his thumb over the signet ring.
“Where is she?” Theo’s astute eye missed nothing, and Sophia’s absence at the funeral had been noted.
“In America.” He didn’t have any energy left to make up a story. There had been plenty of questions today, which he’d dodged with his usual slickness. But now there was no charm left. He’d been rubbed raw by the day’s events. The sadness chafed at him in a way he couldn’t ignore.
“Women.” Theo shook his head. “I know a thing or two about those problems.”
“By which you mean you know nothing at all.” He laughed. “Yeah, me, too.”
“I know one thing.” Theo yanked at the tie around his neck. “If I could start over, I’d do it differently.”
Dion kept twisting the ring, around and around and around. What would he do, if given the chance? Would he be like Theo one day, standing here wishing he’d mended a bridge instead of creating one? Sophia immediately popped into his head. If he had the chance to do things over with her, what would he change?
The image of her walking down the aisle filled his head—how he’d been desperate for her to get to him. Walk faster! he’d shouted in his head. He’d wanted nothing more than to take her hand and pull her away from the man who’d hurt her so badly. But that made him a hypocrite, didn’t it? Because he’d turned around and hurt her, too.
You were trying to protect both of you.
But it was bullshit, because he was only protecting himself. The only thing Sophia had ever wanted was the chance to make her own decisions. To be her own person. And he’d done exactly what her father had always done—made the decision for her.
He was such an idiot.
She probably hated him now. It hit him with the force of a tidal wave that he’d done everything wrong. Here was this amazing woman, who’d tested and challenged him, who’d brought him more fun and joy than any of the artificial shit he filled his life with. And he’d pushed her away by doing the one thing that would hurt her the most.
“What would you do differently?” Dion asked.
“You really care?” Theo looked at him skeptically.
“Getting to hear you relive your life’s mistakes doesn’t sound so bad.” The quip lacked any of the usual sting he had when talking to Theo. Because now he’d started to understand the guy, to see that by doing what Dion had perceived as him being a bad son, he was really trying to protect his mother. He’d made a great sacrifice.
Dion might not like him, but he had to respect him.
“I would have told my father the truth, let him decide whether to believe me or not instead of deciding for him. I would have let my mother make her own mistakes instead of trying to clean up after her.”
Dion nodded, his thoughts starting to become clearer and clearer. The extent to which he’d fucked up was becoming more apparent—excruciatingly apparent. Sophia was more than a piece of paper to him; she was more, even, than his revenge plot. Because in all the time they’d been together, he hadn’t thought about actually dismantling the company. The satisfaction it might bring him. How he would actually do it, from a business standpoint. Literally nothing beyond the acquisition of the company.
Instead, he’d flown to Paris for a week to convince her to marry him. And the whole time he was there with her, he’d been entranced. Nothing would ever be the same, because now he knew that by not letting himself open up to a person, he would be like Theo, standing on a beach with nothing but a head full of regrets.
He didn’t want to live his life like that.
Realization crystalized in his mind, sharp and clear as a blade made of ice: destroying his father’s company wouldn’t change a damned thing.
It wouldn’t change that his father had been an asshole. A deadbeat. It wouldn’t change that Elias had meant everything to him. It wouldn’t change that Dion had built himself an empire from nothing. Dismantling his father’s company would simply be…paperwork.
Revenge wasn’t going to achieve anything, and Dion knew now that it would leave him hollow. It wouldn’t solve a damn thing.
“Too late now,” Theo muttered. “The chance to talk has passed.”
Dion twisted the ring off his finger and handed it over to Theo. “Here. You deserve this.”
The other man eyed him with suspicion. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” he said, laying a hand on Theo’s shoulder. “I have the memories, so you should have the ring.”
Something flickered in the depths of the other man’s eyes, but it was swallowed before Dion could properly read it. “What changed?”
“I just realized I’m not going to make your mistakes.”
He left Theo standing by the water, looking bewildered, the ring held tightly in his fist. Dion had no idea if he could even start to untangle the mess he’d made, but the longer he left it before he took action with Sophia, the less chance he would have of winning her back. Because he knew what he wanted now, and it was clear as a perfect summer morning—Sophia had changed him. She’d opened him up to the possibility of love and family, she helped him to see that striving for a goal at the detriment of another person was not how he wanted to live his life.
And he knew exactly what he needed to do to show her that.
…
Sophia had arrived in Corfu wrung out and heartsick over leaving her mother. It was the right decision, but that didn’t make it any easier. Dorothy had held her tight at LaGuardia Airport, trying to soothe her daughter’s worries, but no words would make it better. Only one person held that power now.
Herself.
She hoped that her mother would come to her senses eventually, but for now, it needed to be Dorothy’s concern. Not Sophia’s. Dion’s assistant, Iva, had very kindly organized her a hotel room and a driver for the week. Iva hadn’t questioned her desire to stay in a hotel instead of with Dion. Likely, she knew exactly the reason why.
Sucking in a breath, Sophia strode into the shining building that housed the Precision Investments office. The fine heels of her black stilettos clicked over the marble floor. The building had once been a bank, and though the outside was delightfully old, the inside had been redone to modern perfection. Everything radiated success—from the polished chrome finishing on the reception desk to the glorious paintings hung on the walls.
This was it. Time to step up.
Sophia was feeling sick over seeing Dion, because she knew it was going to hi
t her like a ton of bricks how much she’d missed him this past week. But living one’s own life meant acting like an adult and dealing with the difficult bits. She hoped he’d at least give her a few minutes alone in his office so she could talk to him about her decision to leave home. He was the only other person she wanted to tell.
She took the elevator to the fourth floor and was greeted by a woman with cropped dark hair and a quick smile sitting behind a small desk that looked like a replica of the one on the ground floor. “Ms. Andreou?”
“Yes.” It appeared that Dion hadn’t instructed the staff to call her by her married name. It could mean something, or it could mean nothing at all.
“He’s stuck in another meeting at the moment.” The woman led her through to a smaller waiting area, outside a room with a closed door. “But please call out if you need anything.”
“Thank you.”
Sophia took a moment to collect herself, smoothing her hands down the front of her skirt. Everything would land where it was meant to land… She had to hope they landed together, instead of apart.
Wrapping her hand around the doorknob, she was about to open the door when she caught sight of the plaque beside the room. It was shiny and silver with elegant engraving. E. Anastas: Boardroom.
Elias. Dion had named the boardroom after his mentor. Her heart squeezed. They must have had the funeral by now, and she knew Dion would be hurting. She also knew he was a good man underneath the layers of his exterior. Under the charm and wit, under the anger she’d seen recently. He had a huge heart, and she wanted to get to know him even more.
Sophia pushed the door open. Behind a long, white table was a view of Corfu Town. The old buildings seemed to glow shades of cream and peach and white, contrasted by the perfectly blue sky overhead. There were clear vases with white and yellow flowers dotting the length of the table. Precision Investments knew how to set up a classy boardroom, that was for damn sure. She turned and was putting her things down in front of one of the seats when a surprised squeak shot out of her.
How to Lose a Fiance Page 19
