‘It’s early.’ His voice was roughened by sleep. She turned towards the door, bracing herself to see Dimitrios—but nothing could have braced her adequately for the sight of him in only a pair of boxer shorts, his toned, taut abdomen calling for her attention. She looked away quickly.
‘I couldn’t sleep.’
He walked across the room, taking a seat down the other end of the sofa.
‘Did I wake you when I left?’
‘Must have.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m a light sleeper.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. I like getting up early.’
‘This early?’
‘Not generally.’
She sipped her tea.
‘What woke you?’
There’s always a happy ending for you, Annie.
Emotions flooded her. She traced one of the ornate patterns on the rim of the cup, lost in thought.
‘I have these dreams.’ She sighed. ‘More like memories. Of the bed-time stories Lewis used to tell me.’
‘What kind of stories?’
Her smile was nostalgic. ‘Oh, about dragons and castles and magical caves—stories that would take you to a far-away world or a different star system. There were always monsters and I was the only person who could save the world. I wish he’d written them down—though I’m probably the only one who’d appreciate them.’
Dimitrios was quiet for so long, she shifted to face him.
‘You must miss him a lot.’
Annie nodded. ‘Yes.’ What else could she say? After Lewis died, she’d been completely alone. Her parents hadn’t factored. Briefly, there’d been hope—Dimitrios—but whatever comfort she’d gained from their night together had been very, very short-lived.
‘Me too.’ He tapped his fingertips against his knee, his eyes distant, as though he had travelled back in time. ‘He was my best friend. I couldn’t believe it when he died.’
‘No,’ she murmured, taking another sip from her tea. ‘It was so sudden—but that was merciful, given how much he hated being sick.’
Dimitrios nodded. ‘He had so much potential; what a cruel twist of fate to lose him at only twenty-four years of age. So young.’
‘So young,’ she agreed.
‘I notice Max talks about his Uncle Lewis.’
Annie nodded. ‘I’ve made sure he knows about him. Being an only child, that sibling bond is quite foreign to him.’
Dimitrios reached out, brushing a hand over her hair, then letting it drop to the back of the sofa. ‘Would you have liked more children?’
‘I always thought I would have more than one,’ she said with a little lift of her shoulders. ‘I loved being a sister. I liked having someone to tell my secrets to, and Lewis was—a great brother.’ She cleared her throat. ‘What about you?’
‘I never even thought about having children, up until a few years ago.’
‘What happened a few years ago?’
‘Nothing in particular. Actually, it was hot on the heels of this.’ He gestured to their feet. ‘Expanding our operations in Singapore. I was on such a high—I felt like Zach and I could do no wrong. We inherited this business that our grandfather built from the ground up, and we’ve worked so hard to make it bigger and better, but for what? Who’s all this for? With no kids, where does it go?’
His fingertips traced an invisible circle on her bare flesh, sending goose bumps along her skin.
‘I’ve never wanted to get married. I’ve always, always known that about myself.’
Annie’s chest felt as though it were being tightened.
‘I appreciate how strange that must sound to you—my wife—but our marriage is different. I didn’t want to have the emotional pressure of being married. A wife who loved me and needed my love in return.’ He grimaced. ‘And, as you wisely pointed out, most marriages are based on a presumption of love.’
‘Not ours, though,’ she said quietly, surprised her voice sounded so stoic when the admission did something strange to her insides.
‘No.’ His agreement was swift, his nod a further confirmation of that. ‘I didn’t want to raise a child as I was raised—going back and forth between a mother and father. So I felt my options were pretty limited. Until I was contacted about Max and everything fell into place.’
A dart of something like resentment moved down her spine. It was all so convenient for Dimitrios. Oh, missing six years of Max’s life wasn’t ideal, but presumably that was a small price to pay for having a ready-made heir waiting in the wings, and a woman he could draw into exactly the kind of marriage he wanted.
‘Why are you so against marriage?’ she asked, keeping her voice devoid of emotion.
‘Not all marriages,’ he quipped with a grin, gesturing from him to her.
‘I meant, genuine marriage.’
That lessened his grin, for a moment turning it into a hint of a frown. ‘It’s not marriage so much as the idea of love,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I saw how my dad treated Mum, how he treated us, and I guess it just solidified for me how bad an idea it was to care too much for someone.’
‘Why? What happened between them?’
‘Nothing. It was a whirlwind affair. She got pregnant. He didn’t want kids so he got on with his own life, leaving her in total poverty to raise two boys.’
Annie’s stomach turned over. Everything began to fall into place. ‘I see.’
His eyes narrowed, and he nodded tightly. ‘Yes. Just like I left you.’
Her gaze softened. ‘You didn’t know.’
‘That changes nothing about how much you’ve been struggling.’ His lips tightened with self-condemnation. ‘My father saw no intrinsic value in Zach and me until he got married again and my stepmother couldn’t have children. She badly wanted them and so he brought us here to Singapore. Our mother was devastated.’
Annie gasped. ‘How could he do that to her?’
‘He didn’t care about her at all,’ he said succinctly. ‘Theirs was a brief affair and it meant nothing to him. He never thought of her again.’
Annie found it impossible to look at him. She spun her face away, pain wrenching through her, because those exact same words could have applied to her relationship with Dimitrios.
‘It’s not the same as us,’ he said thickly. ‘I have thought of you many, many times since that night, Annabelle.’
Something shifted. Hope. The absence of pain. ‘Oh?’
‘I pride myself on always being in control. I have never done something I regretted, something I felt happened beyond my control, except for that night with you. After I’d promised Lewis I’d look after you, I did that.’
Her eyes swept shut at that admission. ‘That’s not thinking of me, that’s thinking of yourself—and your own perceived failings.’
‘It’s thinking of you, and wondering what it was about you that drove me over the edge of sanity. Lewis’s little sister.’ He shook his head. ‘What power you held over me.’
A rush of something like pleasure expanded in her chest but she ignored it—there was no power here, no victory. He was talking in the past tense and, even if he hadn’t been, it was obvious he resented whatever he thought her source of power was.
‘I think it was just shared grief,’ she said simply.
‘That was definitely a catalyst,’ he agreed, moving closer still. ‘But you’d wanted me long before that night.’
Her lips parted at the statement, her cheeks growing pink. ‘You looked at me as though you thought I was the second coming. What red-blooded man wouldn’t have responded to that?’ he asked.
‘I was too young to know how to respond to you,’ she said with a soft exhalation. ‘I’d never met anyone like you.’
‘It was a long time ago.’ His fingertips found the thin strap of her singlet top and pushed beneath it, h
is exploration so soft and gentle that it was almost as if he didn’t realise he was doing it. ‘You’re more experienced now.’
Her cheeks glowed with more warmth. ‘Am I?’
She didn’t need to look at him to know that he was frowning. ‘I presume so.’
‘More experienced with men?’
‘It’s been seven years.’
‘More than six of which I’ve spent single-handedly raising a child,’ she pointed out, her defensiveness making the words sound more caustic than she’d intended.
‘You’re saying you haven’t been with anyone since me?’
She lifted the cup to her lips, needing a minute. Her brain was going haywire.
‘Annabelle?’
God, how she loved that he used her full name. He always had done. She forced herself to look at him, her eyes raking his face. ‘You’re the only man I’ve ever been with.’
He flinched a little, clearly shocked by this. ‘But it’s been seven years.’
‘We just discussed that.’
‘But you’re... How have you gone so long without sex?’
She laughed; she couldn’t help it, but sadness flooded her because it was obvious from his response that such an idea was anathema to him. How many women had he been with since her? She didn’t want to consider that.
‘That night was—I’d been drinking.’ He dragged a hand through his hair, moving closer. ‘Honestly, I can’t even remember if I was as attentive as you deserved. I just know it was your first time and that I hadn’t expected that.’ He brushed his finger down her arm and she drew in a shuddering breath.
‘You were...attentive.’
His hand moved towards her wrist.
‘Even drunk, I guess you knew what you were doing. Like you’ve already said, it didn’t matter who you were with, it was just sex.’
His lips compressed. ‘I should never have said that.’
‘It was the truth, though, right?’
He frowned, his handsome, symmetrical face shifting into something approximating a grimace. ‘I needed...a human connection.’
She shifted a little, and her knee brushed his, a thousand sparks shooting through her. ‘And I was there.’
He shook his head, lifting a hand to her hair, stroking it. ‘You were so brave at the funeral. I was watching you and the way you stood, the way you comforted your parents and were strong for them.’ His voice was low and husky and it did something to Annie’s insides. ‘And all I could think about afterwards was how you must be feeling. Who was comforting you?’
Her heart trembled.
‘I’d promised Lewis I’d look after you, but it was more than that. I wanted to make sure you were okay too. But that was all, Annabelle. That’s why I went to you. And then you opened the door and a need I couldn’t...wouldn’t...control overtook me. I have spent the last seven years hating how weak I was in that moment, but maybe it was bigger than weak or strong. Maybe it was just...right.’
Had he moved, or had she? They were closer now, and she breathed in, tasting him on the tip of her tongue. ‘It felt right.’ It had. Right up until the morning, when he’d left and reality had come crashing down on her.
‘You’re Lewis’s sister.’
She nodded slowly.
‘You’re the last person I should have gone to, should have slept with.’ He groaned. ‘You were a virgin, and I was drunk. Everything about it was wrong.’
‘No.’
It was a simple answer, straight from her heart.
‘It really wasn’t.’ She put her hand on his knee and he frowned in response. ‘Stop torturing yourself for that night. I could have stopped it at any time. I could have pushed you away, told you to wait. I knew you’d been drinking and I knew you were as emotional about Lewis as I was.’ She lifted a finger to his lips, silencing anything he might have said in response. ‘If either of us was selfish, it was me. I’d had a crush on you for years and I couldn’t let you walk away. I took what you offered because I needed it. I wanted you to be my first.’
His eyes flashed with comprehension; something moved deep in their depths.
‘But you didn’t want to get pregnant,’ he growled, still obviously blaming himself.
‘No,’ she agreed. ‘But when I found out I was pregnant I was happy, Dimitrios. The idea of having your child was never a disaster for me. Even when I saw you at the club, and realised it was something I’d probably need to do alone, I was okay.’
‘How can that be?’
Her expression was wistful. ‘Because I was alone. And so lonely. I never had many friends, and I wasn’t close to Mum and Dad. Lewis was...he was my world.’
Dimitrios moved closer, nodding slowly.
‘And then you came to me and for one night, one brief, wonderful night, I felt like everything was going to be okay.’ She was too caught up in her memories to worry about how much she was revealing. It was the truth, and suddenly she had a burning impulse to unburden herself of it. ‘I felt so connected to you and I needed that.’ She pressed a hand to her stomach, remembering what it had been like to be pregnant. ‘Finding out I was pregnant was a lifeline when I needed it most. A baby bound me to the outside world, to you and to Lewis. A baby was someone to be strong for.’
He moved closer, pressing his forehead to hers. ‘You are so strong, Annabelle. The strongest person I’ve ever known.’
She lifted her shoulders. ‘I’ve been what I had to be.’
His breath whispered against her cheek. ‘Seeing the way my mother suffered because of my dad, I can’t believe how you’ve suffered.’
‘It’s not the same.’
‘Really? Because I have the strangest sense that history’s been repeating itself.’
‘Your dad was indifferent to your mum’s situation. You didn’t know about mine.’
There was silence in the room, just the sound of his breathing and hers mingling, mixing, faster than breathing should have been given that they were sitting down.
‘I would have done this sooner if I had.’
She couldn’t say why, but his words didn’t relax her. If anything, it was a reminder that their whole situation came down to his sense of duty and obligation, rather than anything to do with him wanting to be with her by choice.
‘Have you really not had the opportunity to meet anyone since me?’
‘I haven’t had the inclination,’ she murmured huskily. Then, thinking it sounded as though she’d been pining for him, she quickly added, ‘I had to be a mum and dad for Max. I wanted him to know that I was always there for him.’ She bit down on her lip. ‘Between Max and work, I’ve had my hands full.’
More silence, heavier this time, and with every second that passed Annie felt her awareness of Dimitrios increasing until her blood felt as though it had turned to lava in her veins.
‘And you?’ she whispered in an attempt to hold on to sanity, to remember who they were and what this marriage was really about. ‘I suppose life went on as usual for you.’
A frown briefly marred his handsome face. ‘Largely, yes.’ There was an uneasiness in admitting that.
Her smile showed a hint of sadness. ‘Relax. It was one night. It’s not like I expected you to stay celibate afterwards.’ She laughed to put him at ease but it sounded brittle, even to her own ears.
‘The thing is, I was so full of regrets.’
She flinched a little, but didn’t move away.
‘Sleeping with you was a betrayal of my closest friend. I’d promised Lewis I’d look out for you and instead I’d done the exact opposite. I was harsher to you than I needed to be, simply because I had to make sure you didn’t continue to harbour any feelings for me. At the time, I was sure that I was doing the right thing.’ His smile was tight. ‘I wanted to forget you.’
Realisation dawned. ‘So you did what you c
ould to make that happen? Sleeping with other women to expunge me from your memory?’
His eyes widened. ‘Not consciously. And not so cynically. But, yes, Annabelle. I hoped I would simply forget you as time went on.’
She knew that he hadn’t, though. He’d already said as much.
His voice was a husky growl. ‘I wish I could tell you something different.’
She shook her head. ‘Why?’
‘Because you deserve that.’
Her stomach squeezed. ‘You never made me any promises, Dimitrios.’
‘Didn’t I?’ His smile was ghost-like. He stood, and the distance he put between them was like a yawning barrier she ached to cross. ‘Perhaps you’re right. But I’ve made you promises now, Annabelle. I won’t hurt you like that again. I will never let our chemistry dictate what happens between us—if we sleep together, it will be because you decide it’s right, not because our bodies can’t control themselves. And I will do whatever I can to make you happy here in this marriage. Okay?’
CHAPTER NINE
SHE COULDN’T STOP thinking about him. It was as if a switch had been flicked, in the week since they’d spoken in the lounge she preferred, with the tropical rain lashing against the windows. She caught his eyes often and, every time that happened, heat bloomed in her cheeks. She watched him when she should have been doing other things. She imagined him undressed—pictured his abdominals, his tanned skin, his broad shoulders. She found herself daydreaming about him and, when it came to actually sleeping in the same bed as him yet not touching, Annie was fighting a losing battle.
Each night, Annie felt as though she were burning alive, lying only a few feet away from him on their separate sides of the bed. She was so careful not to move, not to stir, not to reach out and drag her nails down his back, cup his buttocks. Temptation was driving her crazy.
It wasn’t just sensual heat, though. It was so much more.
Dimitrios was an amazing father. Watching him bond with Max convinced her, every day, that she’d made the right decision. Seeing them together made her feel a happiness she’d never known. It wasn’t even as if they were slowly building a relationship. Something had clicked inside Max the moment he’d met Dimitrios. It was easy and natural, as though they’d been together from birth. The night before, she’d watched Max and Dimitrios play cards for hours, while she’d pretended to read a book. But her concentration had been shot, so in the end she’d given up and simply enjoyed the sight of her son playing his favourite game—and winning by no small margin.
An Heir Claimed By Christmas (Mills & Boon Modern) (A Billion-Dollar Singapore Christmas, Book 1) Page 12
