by Lucy Monroe
Had Pollyanna stopped loving Alexandros? She still responded to him in bed like a woman in love. Or a woman in lust. But love? It wasn’t an emotion he’d been particularly worried about when they first got together. He’d called her agape mou but had rarely told her he loved her, and she’d never pressed for declarations of that nature. Not even when he proposed.
He’d taken that as more proof of how well suited they were.
Alexandros had said the words the first time when their daughter was born, and had given her an eternity ring to remind her of the sentiment when he did not say it.
Looking back, he realized she’d responded in kind but not with the kind of enthusiasm she’d said the words in the beginning. And he could not remember the last time she’d told him she loved him.
He thought, that like him, she realized they did not need the words.
“How can you say something like that?” his mother was saying with ringing censure.
Pollyanna tilted her head, like trying to understand the question. “Surely there is no reason for me to lie? There cannot be a single person in this room that harbors any illusions in regard to my place of priority in Alexandros’s life.”
She spoke like she meant what she said, like she couldn’t understand why his mother had taken offence, why Alexandros might take offence. Then as if she had not said anything inflammatory at all, she turned to Petros and asked, “Have you and Corrina decided to stay in the Athens apartment for now?”
And his brother answered, pulling his wife into the discussion. Apparently, they were going to stay in the apartment. That was another difference between Petros and Alexandros.
His younger brother had moved into one of two penthouse apartments at the top of the Kristalakis Building when he graduated university and took up his first position in the family business.
He and Corrina had opted for her to move in there with him after their wedding, rather than back into the more spacious family home Alexandros had not moved out of until he bought the country villa he and Pollyanna lived in now.
Generations of their family had lived in the huge luxury villa together since his second great-grandfather had bought it for his new wife.
“But won’t that be limiting once you start your family?” his mother asked.
Petros shrugged. “We’re in no hurry to have babies, but when we do, we’ll decide if we want to find a house in Athens, or move to the country like Alexandros did.”
“We certainly enjoy our weekends at your villa,” Corrina said to Pollyanna with a smile. “Though I’m sure it’s as much the company as the location.”
Pollyanna returned Corrina’s smile with more warmth than he’d seen all evening.
He’d noticed that his brother had not said like Alexandros and Pollyanna did, because she hadn’t had any say in their move, had she? Alexandros had seen how unhappy his wife was living with his mother, so he’d broken with generations of family tradition and bought them a house. And had it decorated.
His mother had assured him that surprising her with the fait accompli would delight his wife, who was not exactly inclined toward interior decor.
Pollyanna had not reacted with rapturous delight at the news they would be living in the country and he would be commuting to work in the city.
In fact, their argument about where they were going to live was the last big dustup he could remember with his then-volatile wife. He’d thought she’d finally settled into her place as the wife of a billionaire, had accepted he had her best interests at heart.
But that settling in had come with a cost that he was only now beginning to truly appreciate.
“Alexandros did not put off having children,” his mother said in clear disapproval of his brother’s stance in that regard.
Corrina looked ready to say something, but then shook her head and pressed her lips firmly together.
“What were you going to say?” Alexandros asked, still reeling from the knowledge his sister-in-law pitied his wife in her choice of husbands.
“It’s not important.”
“This is family. You should be able to speak your mind.”
The scoffing sound that came from his wife’s direction was surprising only in that she’d stopped making commentary on his family a long time ago. He’d thought her attitude toward his mother and sister had changed.
Had Pollyanna simply given up on trying to get him to see her point of view?
Corrina gave him a wary look. “I was only going to point out that if pregnancy was as difficult for you as it is for your wife, you might actually have waited to have children.”
“That is a ridiculous thing to say,” his mother censored. “It is a woman’s lot to deal with the more difficult aspects of bringing children into the world. That does not make my son selfish for expecting his wife to give him heirs.”
“My wife did not say it made my brother selfish.” Petros sounded good and furious now, not merely annoyed with their mother, but pissed enough he would leave.
Unsurprisingly, it was Alexandros’s wife who stepped in to smooth the waters. She was very good at that. “I love being a mother,” Pollyanna said directly to Corrina. “I knew what I was in for when I agreed to have a second child.”
His wife gave a serene facsimile of her genuine smile and looked at his mother now. “I know you don’t mean to criticize either Corrina or Petros for their wish to wait a while before having children.”
“No, of course not,” his mother agreed.
Though even Alexandros was aware her words had certainly sounded like criticism.
Petros didn’t look any more convinced than Alexandros felt, but Corrina looked more relaxed.
She smiled at Pollyanna. “You’re a brilliant mother.”
“Thank you. Helena is the joy of my life.”
There had been a time when she had claimed that he and their marriage were the joy of her life, but he couldn’t remember the last time she’d said anything similar either.
Dinner was announced then, precluding any further tense discourse.
Not merely because of the change of venue but because his wife did as he realized she always did and made every effort to steer the conversation in less volatile directions. As he sat there mulling over predinner discussion, he was still aware of how many times Pollyanna did not react to what were clearly pointed barbs from his mother or his sister.
Had it always been like this and he ignored it in favor of family peace?
It was past ten o’clock when they got in the back of the limo for their ride to the helipad so they could return home.
Alexandros had been stewing all evening and barely waited for the door to shut them into seclusion before saying, “I can’t believe you told my family you don’t think I’m an attentive husband.”
The laugh his comment startled from his wife was anything but amused. “Are you trying to claim that you are?”
“When have I ever neglected you?” he demanded in a driven tone. “Would you look at me when we’re talking?”
She lifted her head, her blue eyes shadowed by fatigue not anger. “When haven’t you?” she asked.
“I am not a neglectful husband.”
“If you say so.” She let her head fall back against the headrest and closed her eyes.
“It’s not even worth arguing with me over?”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there are very few things I find worth arguing with you over anymore, Alexandros.”
When she used to argue about everything, screaming when he would not listen. She hadn’t even argued over her refusal to bring their daughter to the family dinners.
Pollyanna had simply pointed out in a very reasonable tone that since Helena was usually in bed by the time they ate, keeping her up was not conducive to the baby’s well-being. She’d added that Athena and Stacia wer
e welcome to visit during little Helena’s awake hours.
She hadn’t mentioned his brother because Petros had made an effort to spend time with his sister-in-law and then his niece from the very beginning, the only person in Alexandros’s family who had accepted Pollyanna’s joining the family without any reservations. He and Corrina now came to Villa Liakada to visit once a week, frequently opting to stay the weekend and fly back into Athens on Sunday evening with Alexandros and Polly for the family dinner.
Petros and Corrina had made their visit midweek this time around however.
Though their daughter, Helena, was now three, she was still too young to be kept up. Alexandros and Pollyanna had yet to revisit the issue.
“Why didn’t you ever suggest that my mother change our family gatherings to the midday meal so our daughter could be included?” he asked.
“Why would I? I have no sway with your mother. She’s not my family.” The last was said with absolute certainty.
But it was not true. His mother was her family. Only clearly, Pollyanna did not see it that way. Had Pollyanna refused to accept the connection, as he had always assumed, or did that lack lay at his mother’s door?
Had he made too many concessions to his mother because of her emotional fragility and too many demands of his wife because of the strength he knew she possessed?
Emotional self-analysis was not something he was comfortable with, but he was beginning to see that so much he had taken for granted was not as he believed it to be.
“Did you expect me to make the suggestion?” he asked her, trying to understand a relationship he had thought he had figured out perfectly.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Did you make it?” she asked wearily.
“No.” He had never even thought of changing a long-standing tradition until just that moment and was a little ashamed of that fact.
Not only would his daughter have gotten to spend more time with her yia-yia, but the more casual setting of lunch would have been easier on his wife. Though she’d never said so.
“Then?” she prompted, with little interest lacing her tone.
Having no answer and not even sure why he’d brought it up, he admitted, “I don’t like you telling my brother he’s a better husband than me.”
“I would never presume to comment on how good a husband your brother is.”
“You said he was more attentive and considerate than I am.”
“If those are the traits by which you measure good or bad, you might take issue, but we both know you don’t.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” he demanded, noticing as if from outside himself that his voice was rising.
She didn’t seem to care he was practically shouting, not bothering to open her eyes or look at him again. “If you wanted to be attentive, you would be. If you wanted to be protective, you would be. If you wanted to be considerate, you would be.” She stopped, thought. “Maybe. Being considerate means noticing how the decisions you make affect others, and I think you’re really bad at that.”
“I make decisions that affect thousands of people all the time.”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t think I care how they are affected?”
“No.”
Just that. No. Not a reason why or a maybe. Just no and he knew she meant it.
She had no idea that he did his best to maximize jobs and keep people employed in jobs they wanted, even if it couldn’t always be in the same company, or even country. And she assumed those kinds of considerations never made it past his ruthless need to also maximize profits.
“I can be considerate,” he informed her, wondering how she’d missed his efforts in their marriage.
Had he really got it so wrong? For five years?
“To your mother, maybe,” Pollyanna acknowledged without missing a beat. “But even as much as you spoil Stacia, I wouldn’t say you are particularly considerate of her feelings or desires when they conflict with what you want or the way you think things should be done.”
“Is this another argument where you lament the fact I won’t always take your part against my mother?” Even as he asked the question, he tried to remember the last time they had had that disagreement and knew it was years past.
“No. I wasn’t aware we were arguing at all.” She sighed, still not opening her eyes. “Is there a reason for this conversation? Only I’m really tired.”
“I forgot. I’m not worth arguing with.”
“Alexandros, what exactly do you want me to say here?”
“That I’m not a bad husband,” he blasted her.
Finally. Finally, her head snapped round, her eyes opening to flash at him with anger he remembered but had not seen in too long.
“Alexandros, I am six months pregnant and the mother of a very active toddler. Even without all the committees you insist I chair or participate in, I would be exhausted. Not just tired. Exhausted.” And suddenly she looked it, her usual vibrancy so muted as to almost be extinguished.
She placed her hand protectively over her baby bump. “I am making new life inside me and I still suffer from nausea. It hurts to sit in any but the most comfortable chairs, hurts to walk and stand. Just like with my last pregnancy. But still you insist I suffer through a stylist’s ministrations so I can attend these unpleasant family dinners, which require an uncomfortable fifty-minute helicopter ride each way.”
“I did not realize it was such a struggle for you.” But he should have.
Damn it. He should have.
“Of course you didn’t, and if you had? You would not have cared. Never once, in our entire five years of marriage, have you ever made a decision with my happiness, or even my well-being at the forefront of your mind. A bad husband? No, you’re not a bad husband. You’re a terrible husband.”
In receipt of those indictments, he was shocked stupid and silent for several long moments.
“If I’m so awful, why have you stayed married to me?” he asked finally, a wholly unexpected fear that one day maybe she wouldn’t taking root inside him.
He’d realized long ago that the material benefits of being married to a billionaire were not the perks he thought they would be for her. So, what kept her married to a man she considered a total failure as a husband?
“You’re just now asking yourself that?” She sighed. “We made promises before God, and I won’t just ignore those promises in favor of an easy out. We also have a child together. From the moment of conception, I stopped making decisions based solely on my own happiness.”
He had no doubt she spoke the truth on both counts, but those reasons for his wife staying married to him were not exactly good for his ego.
“So you’ll stay married to me no matter what?” That didn’t jibe with the woman he knew his wife to be under the placid facade.
“No, not no matter what.”
“What would make those vows invalid?” he was driven to ask, a nameless dread telling him that he was on the thinnest ice when he hadn’t even realized he’d stepped out onto the frozen lake.
“Abuse. Infidelity.”
“And that is all I have going for me? I don’t abuse you and I’m not unfaithful.”
“Pretty much, yeah.” She sighed. “And you’re good in bed,” she added as if forced to do so. “You are not a selfish lover.”
Just selfish in every other way.
He had no words to respond to that statement.
CHAPTER TWO
THEY HAD ARRIVED at the helipad, and for the first time ever, Alexandros was relieved to have a confrontation interrupted because he literally did not know where to go from here.
He watched his wife scoot to get out of the car and really noticed for the first time just how tired she was. Why hadn’t he noticed before? Those bruises under her eyes had been there be
fore they left the house. The way she moved more slowly than normal—that had been there too.
He cursed and then reached in to lift her out into his arms and carried her to the helicopter. She didn’t fight him. In fact, she gave him the biggest shock in an evening of shocks when she relaxed into him and simply let him take her weight.
Was it a sign that on some primal level she still trusted him? Or was she simply that exhausted?
When they got into the helicopter, he shrugged out of his dinner jacket and then pulled her into his arms, putting it around her like a blanket. Again, she didn’t fight him, but relaxed into him, falling asleep almost immediately.
Okay. That exhausted.
She did not wake on the flight home, nor when he lifted her from the helicopter and carried her inside.
When he reached their bedroom, Alexandros undressed his wife for the first time since meeting her without plans to have sex. Not that the sight of her body didn’t turn him on. It always turned him on, but he wasn’t such a monster he couldn’t see how much she needed her rest.
No matter what she chose to believe, he did care about her well-being. Of course he did. She was his wife. And though he rarely said the words, he loved her.
He carefully removed the pins from her hair and fetched makeup wipes from their en suite in order to do what he’d never done before. He gently removed all traces of the makeup he knew she did not like to wear.
So, why did she wear it?
Because he’d made it clear he expected her to look the part of the wife of Alexandros Kristalakis, one of the most powerful men in Greece, if not the world.
He’d thought he was helping her fit into a world she had no experience of, but he couldn’t help wondering how much help his advice couched as demands had really been.
Alexandros might be singularly obtuse to her feelings like she accused him, but he’d noticed that while she did the charity work he insisted was part of being his wife, she chose to support charities that his mother did not. His wife had put the power of his purse behind children’s charities and those that served the marginalized, charities that did not have the cachet of those his mother supported.
