by Lucy Monroe
Their parents had done a real number on both Dimitri and Spiros. Not that either had ever admitted it, but how could they help being impacted by a mother who’d been a serial adulterer and a father who had loved her too much to refuse to take her back when the latest affair had ended. Like they always had.
Phoebe had been a baby, but she knew the stories as well as anyone in the two closely knit families.
The pattern had been repeated right up until the end, when the couple had been killed in an accident while trying to return to Greece together. Timothy had followed his wife and her newest paramour to a ski resort, to beg her to come home. What that must have done to his Greek honor Phoebe could only guess, but his behavior and that of his wife had certainly impacted their sons.
Dimitri was glacier-cold in the emotions department. Spiros was warmer, but he had an overdeveloped sense of honor and a fear of being like either parent that was as obvious as glowing neon to someone like Phoebe, who knew him so well. She figured both men’s attitudes could be laid squarely at their parents’ dead feet.
“No more thinking or talking about the kiss,” Phoebe said now in a brisk voice.
“Good. Yes. Right.”
Okay, it really was endearing to see him like this, but it also tugged at her compassion. “Go wait in the living area and I’ll change so you can take me to get something to eat.”
“I do not know if that is a good idea.”
“You would prefer I missed dinner altogether?” She knew it was blatant manipulation, but sometimes a girl had to do what a girl had to do. “Or we could order something in?”
He vehemently shook his head. “No. I will…” He sucked in a deep breath and let it out. “I will take you out to eat.”
“Thank you.”
She didn’t want him drawing into himself, or going off on a private Petronides guilt-fest.
Spiros kept his distance the rest of the night, but by the time he dropped her off at her apartment the self-disgust lurking in his eyes was gone and he even teased her about her study habits. Only he neglected to give her a kiss on the cheek goodbye.
She didn’t lament it too much, though. Her memories of the earlier real kiss were far too strong for her to worry about one small lost opportunity. Frankly, it would have surprised her if he had done it. And she wasn’t sure if she was prepared for any level of physical intimacy herself—even something as simple as a kiss goodbye.
The earlier kiss had done more than send her physical reactions haywire. It was still playing major havoc with her emotions and her thoughts. She had been so sure after so many years of unrequited love that Spiros could never have those sort of feelings for her. Now she knew irrefutably that he could.
It was hard to take, and even more difficult to trust…
Phoebe returned to the present, renewed in her determination to speak to her father about dissolving the promise between her and Dimitri. The only question in her mind was: would it be better to wait until after she and her father had discussed her job with the company?
Phoebe looked up when she heard her name spoken.
“You can go in now,” the secretary said.
Phoebe jumped to her feet and just barely remembered to keep her pace at a sedate walk as she crossed the reception area and knocked once before entering her father’s inner sanctum.
Aristotle Leonides came around from behind his desk to take her in a hug and give her a kiss of greeting on both cheeks, which she returned affectionately.
“So, how is my beautiful, educated daughter today?” he asked, with obvious paternal pride.
She grinned. “I am well. Thank you for inviting me to your office.”
His smile slipped and he nodded. “Yes. We need to talk, pethi mou.”
She nodded too, and made an effort to simulate his serious air, despite the happiness bubbling inside of her.
“Here—have a seat.” He guided her to a chair in front of his desk, and then went back around it to sit in his own executive chair.
She allowed herself a small smile. “I’ve always thought you looked like you ruled the world, sitting there.”
Sadness came over his features. “I only wish. In fact, if you cannot see your way to helping out the company, I will soon not be in charge of anything at all.”
She leaned forward earnestly in her seat. “You know I will do anything I can to help at Leonides Enterprises.”
His shoulders seemed to relax just a little. “I only hope that is true.”
“Of course it is, Papa. You have always been good to me, and the company is important to all of us.”
“I am glad to hear it. I told Theo I thought that would be the case, but it is good to hear you confirm your love and loyalty. I am a blessed man to have such a daughter.”
Tears pricked her eyes. Now was not the time for maudlin sentiment, but her father’s words meant so much. Though he had been more supportive of her dreams than many Greek fathers of their acquaintances would have been, he was still very traditional in some ways. He reserved most of his verbal approval for her younger brother.
“Whatever job you want me to do, I will do it,” she reaffirmed.
“While some women consider marriage a chore, I am not sure I have ever heard it referred to as a job before,” he said, with a return of some of his humor.
“Marriage?” What was he talking about? “I don’t think I understand.”
Again Aristotle’s demeanor became very serious, almost guarded. “This is not an easy thing for me to talk about. You understand?”
“Of course.” Though she didn’t. Not at all. She had no idea what he was referring to. But he needed her confirmation so she gave it.
“I have made some bad choices these past two years…they have affected the company in very detrimental ways.”
She began to understand his somber air. It would be difficult for most people to admit these kinds of mistakes, but even worse for a man as proud as her father. “I’m sorry.”
“Yes, I am also. Your grandfather—he wasn’t one for insurance. It was one of the few things he and Tio Theo used to fight about.” Aristotle let out a tired sigh. “It was an area I followed your grandfather’s example in. We’ve had setbacks—severe ones. This past year especially. And no insurance to cover the losses.”
“What does this mean for the company?”
“Without the infusion of a significant source of capital, there will no longer be a company.”
“How significant?”
He said a number that made her eyes widen and her hands go clammy. “How can we possibly raise that much money? Unless you want to go public?” It was something she’d talked about with him before, but he had always been adamantly opposed.
His expression of distaste now said that his opinion on that issue had not changed. “Going public saves the company, but not our family’s role in it. We might as well close our doors, for we would no longer be Leonides Enterprises.”
“I’m sure the hundreds of employees who work for us would not feel the same.”
Her father’s eyes flashed. “I do not dismiss my responsibilities so lightly.”
“I never said you did.” And she hadn’t meant to imply it either.
“My desire to save your brother’s birthright may be old-fashioned, but it is not wrong.”
“What of my birthright?”
“You are a Leonides. It is your birthright.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“We are talking in circles.”
“I am sorry.”
“As I said, we need a large infusion of cash.”
“But how are we going to get it?” She could not see even Theo Petronides loaning such a large sum to her father with no surety, and other than the company—which they were trying to save—they had nothing worth so much.
Her parents were wealthy, and lived as such, but this was beyond personal riches. This type of money only changed hands on a corporate level. At least in her experience.
>
“Theo Petronides has agreed to a merger of sorts.”
“A merger? Like Leonides-Petronides Enterprises?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It is a family merger.” Her father tried for a smile, but it was strained. “Of a sort. With a single stipulation.”
A very ugly sense of impending doom came over her. “What stipulation?”
“It is nothing bad, pethi mou. He simply wishes to see our families joined prior to the business merger and the transfer of funds. Understandably, he could not make such a large single investment with a mere friend, but family is a different thing.”
“Our families joined?” she asked faintly. “In marriage?” She wasn’t stupid. She’d finally figured out where this was leading. “I should have realized you weren’t inviting me here to offer me a job. After all, it’s Chrysanthos’s birthright, not mine.”
His mouth twisted in a grimace at her last words, but all he said was, “I wish it was something so simple.”
“I don’t want to marry Dimitri.” It was one of the hardest—no, definitely the hardest thing she had ever had to say.
“He will be a good husband, Phoebe. He is a good man.”
“How can you say that? He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t even like me.”
“Of course he likes you, child. And love can come later.”
“You loved Mama when you married her.”
“We were lucky. But I would have married her even if I had not.”
“That is so easy to say, but you were never put in this position.”
“It is not a bad situation for you.”
“According to you.”
“Yes. According to me.” He said it as if his word should be final.
But this was not the Middle Ages. “I am not you.”
“No, you are my daughter. My loyal daughter. Your love for our family and our company is too great for you to put your own personal feelings ahead of everything else.”
He was right, but that didn’t mean she was going to marry Dimitri. “There has to be another way that does not involve selling your daughter to the highest bidder.” She knew it was more complicated than that—that she had made a promise four years ago she should never have made. But still.
“I am not selling you,” her father said in freezing tones.
“What would you call it?”
“Ensuring your future.”
“You mean your future and that of your heir.” But, again, it was far more complicated than her bitter words allowed. There were generations and multiple decades of family pride in the business at risk, her mother’s lifestyle, as well as her father and younger brother—and those hundreds of employees she had mentioned earlier.
“I will not dignify that comment with a response.”
That did not surprise her, and in a small way she felt she deserved such a reaction. But in another way…not.
“What about Spiros? Couldn’t I marry him instead?” she asked a little desperately.
“He is like a brother to you,” he said, repeating the sentiment he had expressed four years ago.
“He is not my brother. We’re not related even distantly. We’ve never lived together in the same house. We aren’t siblings. We’re friends and I would rather marry him.”
Her father looked singularly unimpressed with her words. He really did see her and Spiros as almost siblings, but they weren’t. “You agreed to the promise four years ago, Phoebe. You agreed to join our two families through marriage to Dimitri. It is time to make good on that promise.”
“I was too young to be making such a commitment, and you should have known that.” Heck, as much as she loved him, her father had no doubt taken advantage of that fact.
“Nevertheless, you did make it. And, lest you forget, your mother was only two years older than that when she married me.”
“Two years can make a big difference. I knew by the time I’d turned twenty that I’d made a mistake agreeing to the proposed future marriage with Dimitri as well.”
“Yet you never said anything.”
“Neither did you…about me following through on it.”
“We were waiting for you to finish your education.”
“Why bother? You clearly had no intention of me ever using it.”
“Do not take that tone with me.” He stood up and paced over to the window, looking out. Unlike his usual almost military-like bearing, his shoulders were stooped, and an air of defeat clung to him. “This situation is difficult enough for me as it is, without having my daughter turn on me.”
“I’m not turning on you.”
He turned to face her, his complexion pale, his eyes pleading in a way she knew he never would with words. “So you agree to keep your promise?”
She wanted to agree. She did. And if that kiss had never happened she knew she would be agreeing right now. But she had one final chance at her heart’s dream and she had to take it. “I want to talk to Spiros.”
“You are always welcome to talk to him. He is your friend and your champion. But it is Dimitri you must work to love, Phoebe.”
“What if I can’t?”
“You must.”
She did not quite have the courage to tell her father of her love for Spiros. Like the man she loved, Aristotle was bound to see it as a betrayal of her honor. But it wasn’t. No one should have pushed her into the promise of future marriage to Dimitri to begin with.
Her intended could care less about her. He couldn’t possibly want to marry her. Dimitri was not the right man for her. And she was not the right woman for him. Her loving his brother was not a bad thing.
She stood up, knowing that she needed to speak to Spiros as soon as possible. He would help her sort through this mess. He had to. She crossed the office in record time.
“Phoebe?” her father said as she reached the door.
She didn’t turn around, but placed her hand on the knob. “What?”
“The money will not come from Theo…it will come from Dimitri.”
She spun to face her father. “From Dimitri? But I thought you said it would come from Tio Theo.”
“It is better this way.”
“For who?” Did Spiros even have that kind of money? Would his brother loan it to him?
Even more troubling—if it was already arranged, then had Dimitri agreed to the marriage? And, if so, why?
Maybe Spiros wasn’t the only one she needed to talk to.
“I need to go,” she said, her sense of desperation almost choking her as it grew.
“What are you going to do?” her father asked, his own desperation in no way hidden from her.
She didn’t answer. She couldn’t because she wasn’t sure. She wanted to be—oh, how she wanted to say she was going to marry Spiros and everything would be fine. But she couldn’t say the words with absolute conviction.
If his brother insisted on making good on her four-year-old promise, Phoebe very much feared that Spiros’s sense of familial obligation would not allow him to gainsay that.
Her throat clogged with tears, she wondered how her bright and shiny future had come so quickly under clouds of such doom.
“Phoebe…?” her father prompted.
But she merely shook her head and, saying nothing, left her father’s presence for the first time without giving him the courtesy of a goodbye.
CHAPTER THREE
SPIROS pressed the disconnect button on the intercom with his secretary. He’d asked her to tell Phoebe he was on a conference call. Phoebe had said she would wait for him to finish.
And why not?
When had she ever shown up at his office, at his home, even when he had been at university, and he had not made time for her? The answer was never. So it should be no surprise she assumed he would do so now.
The only problem was that for the first time in their lifelong friendship the last person he wanted to talk to was Phoebe Leonides. He should have b
een prepared for this visit. He had certainly expected it…only sooner. She’d been back in Greece for five days. Before his spectacular act of stupidity, that would have been four days longer than it usually took her to call him and arrange to see him.
And he had never minded before. Phoebe had always been one of the best parts of his life. But now she was the worst. Because she represented his loss of honor, his betrayal of his brother—something he had never believed himself capable of.
Even worse, he feared she could represent a similar loss again. He had to be stronger than that for both his brother’s sake and that of his grandfather’s health. The old man was putting off surgery until the engagement was announced formally. Dimitri’s agreement wasn’t enough.
Stubborn old goat was right.
The most painful realization for Spiros was that he wasn’t entirely sure he could be as strong as he needed to.
He’d asked…begged…Phoebe to forget the kiss. But he never would. He never could. He would never forget her taste, or the passion that lay secreted in her untried body.
He should never have tasted that passion before his brother. He should never have tasted it at all.
He was not like his mother. He was not morally weak. He did not let his libido dictate his actions, nor did he convince himself he was in love with everybody he wanted to sample.
He was not like his father either—willing to compromise his own personal sense of integrity for the love of a woman.
Timothy Petronides had lost his life for the sake of an obsessive love. Spiros was determined never to succumb to anything of the like. The affection he had for Phoebe had never fallen into that realm. It had always brought out the best in him, made him strive to be a better boy and then a better man. Until now.
This hiding from her was only another indication of a moral weakness he refused to harbor within himself.
He straightened his shoulders, buzzed his secretary, and told her to show Phoebe in.
A few seconds later the door slammed open, revealing a distraught-looking Phoebe sans his secretary.
“Where is Ismeme?”
For a second Phoebe looked confused by the question. Then she shrugged her fine-boned shoulders. “I showed myself in. I knew the way.”
