Pairs VIII

by Connelly, Clare

  Dressed all in black with her blonde hair pulled up in a high, voluminous ballerina bun, she looked graceful and enigmatic. She looked fragile too, as though a single gust of wind might lift her far away.

  He hardened his heart to any sense of her vulnerability. He’d killed whatever they’d shared that last morning in Greece and he was glad. She was dishonest and grasping, just like her mother had been.

  “Chip Smith.”

  Christos ignored the other man and Elle felt Chip stiffen. “I’m fine,” she smiled up at her would-be Knight in Hillfiger armour. “Why don’t you go get started? I’ll only be a minute.”

  “You sure, babe?”

  Babe. The word was a gauntlet that Chip was issuing; his staking a claim to Elle was a deliberate attempt to support her in the face of Christos’s appearance and she appreciated it.

  “Yeah.”

  She watched as he let himself into the door with Hannah’s key and then turned back to Christos. There was an enormous part of her that wanted to stare at him and drink in every single detail of his appearance. But she refused to give him the satisfaction.

  “What do you want?” She cut to the chase, her words ringing with cold rejection.

  “Am I interrupting something?” He demanded, leaning against the wall of the building as though he hardly cared.

  “Yes.” She crossed her arms and flicked a gaze up to the apartment.

  Something moved in his expression; something she didn’t understand. She’d never understood him though. Not really.

  “Where is he?”

  “Who?” She asked, deliberately appearing not to understand.

  “Your brother.”

  “Your brother too,” she reminded him.

  “Yeah, and thanks to you the whole world knows it.”

  She jerked her face away, staring out at the street just as a bus revved past. “We’ve already dealt with that. Or do you have some more insults you want to throw at me?”

  His lip twisted. “If I had my way, I wouldn’t speak to you again.” The insult cut her as deep, perhaps more deeply, than he’d intended. “However you are, currently, Filip’s legal guardian. Evidently I have to go through you to get to him.”

  Her pulse fired in her body; fear made her brow dot with perspiration. “What do you mean? Why do you want to get to him? He hasn’t done anything wrong.” The words tumbled quickly out of her mouth.

  He nodded. “No. He’s an innocent, remember? Like my mother.”

  “So?”

  “She wants to meet him,” Christos said darkly and Elle could tell the words brought him a huge amount of heartache.

  “Why?” Elle crossed her arms in an immediate physical rejection of the idea.

  “Because we’re ‘family’.” He spat the word angrily. “Because he has my father’s blood in his body and he is therefore a piece of my father. She has some misguided idea that your brother deserves to be brought into our lives simply because my father made a foolish mistake sixteen years ago.”

  And all of the emotions that had been burning through her; the injustice, the ache, the hurt, the loss, bubbled up at that single word. She slapped him hard against his cheek, just like she’d seen countless women do in movies. She’d never so much as swatted a fly, yet she aimed a perfect, flat-palmed strike across his face and didn’t even regret it. “My brother is not a mistake. And if you intend to make him feel like a second-class citizen then I will never let you near him.”

  She bared her teeth and growled at him like a tigress and Christos was very, very still.

  He had never seen her like that. It was the same protective instinct though that had sent her to Athens, and had emboldened her to seduce a stranger. She would do anything for Filip.

  Anything.

  Including revealing the secret of his parentage to the media.

  If she’d believed it would strengthen her bargaining position then she’d have been right. Christos could no longer deny that Filip was entitled to a bigger piece of his father’s empire than he had been allotted. Particularly not when Xanthe was breathing down his back about justice and the importance of family.

  “I have no reason to think badly of him, despite the fact he is related by blood to you.”

  It was both insult and encouragement. If he could truly separate what he felt for her and Filip then she surely couldn’t justify standing in his way. “I don’t want him to be hurt,” she whispered, pushing away the doubts that were based on her needs, not Filip’s.

  “Like my mother was?”

  She nodded, not even tempted to issue a denial. “Please be kind to him.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Upstairs.” She pushed her key into the door and hesitated for the briefest moment. But Christos was there, pushing the door inwards and stepping into the hallway.

  “Here?” He nodded towards the curving staircase and she nodded.

  “There’s a service elevator at the back, but we just take the stairs. We’re only on the first floor. It’s a good location.” She was babbling. She clamped her lips together and moved to precede him up the stairs. She had to sidestep him and it brought her dangerously close to his body. She ignored the lurch of awareness.

  “Hey,” she called brightly as she walked inside. She spun to Christos. “Give me a minute to …”

  He wasn’t looking at her though. He was skimming his gaze over the apartment with undisguised appraisal. Elle turned and looked at it through his eyes, seeing the peeling wallpaper, the second-hand furniture, the faded carpets, the grimy windows. Mortification curled around her. It was as far a cry from his luxurious home in Athens as it was possible to get.

  “Where is he?”

  “Just let me tell him you’re here.” She padded into the apartment, placing her bag down on the side table as she went. Filip was in the lounge, a box of fries on his lap, his eyes fixed to the screen.

  “Grab a seat, sis. First ball’s almost up.”

  She smiled with deep affection. “Darling, Christos Rakanti is here to see you.”

  Filip wheeled around in shock, and the same emotion was mirrored on Christos’s face when he stared at the young boy who could have been his mirror image.

  Except for one vital difference.

  From the waist down, Filip’s body was withered and slim; he was kept upright by the metallic frame of the wheelchair.

  But the angry appraisal in the young man’s eyes was an emotion Christos recognised all too well. He pushed aside the ten thousand questions he had, sending Elle a look of repressed annoyance, before crossing the room and extending a hand to Filip.

  “I understand we’re brothers,” he said, ignoring the physical disability.

  “We share a father,” Filip spoke coldly. “That doesn’t make us brothers.”

  Christos smothered his smile. The air of determination was deeply familiar to him. “A fair point.”

  Filip’s distrust deepened. “I don’t want my sister being upset.”

  The look Christos directed in Elle’s direction was laced with frustration. She understood his annoyance, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not upset, Fil. I’m fine. I’m … glad Christos is here to see you.”

  Filip wheeled around to study her face. “You are? I thought you hated …”

  “No.” She shook her head, refusing the meet Christos’s face for the sardonic judgement she knew she’d find there. She crouched down in front of her brother, cupping his cheeks with her hands. “He’s your brother. As much as I’m your sister.” She stroked his face with her thumb. “You aren’t hurting me. You aren’t betraying me. Your relationship with him is nothing to do with me.”

  “But you …”

  “I’m fine.” She lifted up and kissed his forehead. “You should at least hear him out.”

  Filip’s dark eyes scanned hers. “Fine. I’ll hear him out.” He set his chin at a belligerent angle and then turned his gaze towards Christos.

  “Well?” He prompted, so
darkly that Elle had to hide a smile as she moved back towards Chip.

  Christos continued as though he didn’t notice the coldness in Filip’s reception. “I was hoping we could get to know each other better.”

  Filip arched a thick, dark brow. “Why?”

  “Well, as you said, we share a father. You must have questions about him …”

  Filip’s sardonic laugh was a perfect imitation of Christos’s. “I know everything I need to about your father.”

  A muscle jerked in Christos’s cheek. Yet he could understand this child’s anger. Particularly when he saw the way he and Elle had been living. Not to mention a lifetime spent knowing you were unwanted by the man who’d helped create you.

  “You’re fifteen?”

  Filip nodded.

  “So I’ve missed fifteen years of your life.” Christos shook his head. “I don’t want to miss any more of it.”

  Elle turned away. The honest admission was too loaded with goodness to leave her unaffected. “Excuse me,” she said softly, padding into the kitchen. Chip saw the slump in her shoulders and followed her, wrapping her in a bear hug once they were out of sight.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he promised. “You’ll always be his sister.”

  “Why do I feel like I’m going to be pushed out then?” She whispered.

  “That’s natural, but it’s not going to happen.”

  “You don’t understand. Christos can offer Filip the world. He has everything at his disposal. And I can’t compete with that. What do I have? This apartment? I’m never even here.”

  “Because you work your ass off to pay for this apartment,” Chip reminded her. “Filip knows that.”

  She nodded and slowly began to unpack the groceries she’d bought earlier.

  “What time’s Hannah back?” She asked, her eyes drifting into the lounge. Christos had taken up a seat beside Filip, and was making a pretty good show of being interested in the baseball. It was impossible to watch them together.

  “Not for hours,” Chip said with a shake of his head.

  Elle froze as Christos stood and began to walk towards the kitchen.

  “Where is the water?” He was icy when he spoke to her.

  She frowned, staring at him in confusion. It was Chip who reached into the fridge and pulled out two bottles, handing them to Christos with a look of warning.

  “I can’t do this,” Elle murmured, as soon as Christos had returned to the lounge. “He hates me. He’s going to take Filip away, and I love him too much to do a damned thing about it.”

  Chip froze. “You don’t mean you love that jackass Christos?”

  “No!” She shook her head vehemently. “I meant Filip.”

  “And yet you encouraged Fil to get to know him …”

  “Yeah. Because it’s what he should do. It’s the right thing to do.”

  “Even though it’s not what you want?”

  She nodded. “It’s best for him.” Her voice cracked a little and Chip heard it.

  “Look. Staying here is going to rip you to shreds. Let me take you out for a slice. Leave them to it and forget it’s happening.”

  “Yes.” She exhaled with relief. It was cowardly to the extreme but she didn’t care. He’d told her to get out of his life, and she had. She was now simply choosing to stay that way.

  “Fil?” Chip called. “Ellie and I are gonna head out for pizza. You want?”

  “Yeah. Pepperoni.”

  Chip’s demeanour changed appreciably when he turned to face Christos. “I’d offer you some but I doubt you’ll be staying long once we get back.”

  The battle lines were marked and Elle could only stand by mutely as Chip put his arm around her shoulders and shepherded her from the apartment.

  Christos would not have been human if the display didn’t engender some emotion of envy in his body. After all, she had been his perfect complement sexually. Their bodies had moved in unison, their connection had been sublime.

  Sublime?

  He pushed the ridiculous description away and focussed his attention on his half-brother. But as the time ticked on, and minutes dragged into hours, he felt the sense of angry jealousy blow almost out of control.

  So that when she returned, finally, her cheeks pink and her hair windswept, her smile the most natural thing in the world, he had to clamp his hands to his knees to stop from punching the smug American Chip in the face.

  The feeling was foreign; Christos was not a man who was prone to violence.

  “Oh.” Elle stumbled into the apartment, her eyes apologetic. “Sorry. I forgot you were here.”

  She’d forgotten? It was like a red rag to a bull. He had thought of nothing but her for the last two hours and she’d forgotten he was even there, sitting in her dingy apartment in a chair that had springs poking out of it.

  “Here you go, man,” Chip put a box down on Filip’s lap.

  “Cheers, bud.”

  Christos stood. “I’ll leave you to it.”

  Elle nodded curtly, shifting away from the hallway so that he wouldn’t move anywhere near her as he passed. It infuriated him.

  “I’ve invited Filip to come to Athens for a time.”

  Elle’s face paled as she turned to Filip.

  “I said I’d have to talk to you,” Filip supplied apologetically, his sense of betrayal a dagger in her heart. He knew. He knew what the situation was doing to her and it was incredibly unfair to him.

  The innocents.

  She smiled at him encouragingly. “I think it’s a great idea,” she heard herself murmur, amazed at the way she was able to inject genuine agreement into her tone. “You’ll love Greece.”

  “You do?” Filip frowned, taking the words right out of Christos’s mouth.

  “Of course.” She turned away slightly from Filip so only Christos could see the way her lower lip was trembling with barely contained emotion.

  “Great.” Filip turned his attention back to the television but Christos moved closer to Elle.

  “Why don’t you come and discuss the details with me.”

  “Can it wait?” She whispered without meeting his eyes. She was so tired. Exhausted. Miserable. And about to break down in tears.

  A muscle jerked in his cheek as he studied her profile.

  “Tomorrow.”

  She nodded. “I’m working tomorrow but I could see you at night.”

  “Dinner,” he agreed.

  “No.” She walked towards the door, confident he would follow. But when they reached the entrance to the apartment, he curled his fingers around her wrist and pulled her into the communal corridor, shutting the gateway to her flat behind them.

  They were alone and the air sparked with tension.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about his disability?”

  She bit down on her lip. “You didn’t want to know anything about him, remember?”

  He had refused to listen to her. He had told her he didn’t want to hear about the boy. Still … “You should have forced me to listen.”

  Her eyes drifted shut. “I’m not going to stand in the way of you being in his life. But nor will I be your whipping boy for mistakes made by your father and by you.”

  He felt the accusation land squarely on his shoulders. “Filip will only come to Athens if you accompany him.” The words were a gauntlet she was powerless to traverse.

  “Absolutely not,” she shook her head. “I won’t go.”

  “Yes you will,” and Christos’s response was laced with a hint of pity. “You will, because I’ve seen how you love him. You’ll come to Athens because it’s the right thing to do for your brother. You don’t want to, but you’ll do it.”

  And he was right, of course. “I hate you.”

  “Yes. I can see that.” He lifted a hand and braced it against the wall, to one side of her head. “Are you involved with him?”

  She frowned. “With who?”

  “Captain America. Who do you think?”

  She might have
smiled at the description of Chip if she were in a less fragile emotional state.

  “Yes.” She lied, grateful to have the face-saving invention to cling to.

  Christos straightened. “I’d expect nothing better of you.”

  The insult was a barb but she had developed armour now to those. Besides, he’d killed her heart a month ago and it wasn’t going to grow back.

  “Don’t make me do this.”

  “You can get out of it,” he promised her coldly. “Just be sure to tell Filip you’re the reason he can’t come on the trip.”

  She turned away from him blindly, reaching for the door handle.

  “I’ll pick you up tomorrow night.”

  “No,” she retorted swiftly, without looking at him. “Text me a place. I’ll meet you.”

  Chapter 7

  It had been hard to know what to wear. The last thing Elle wanted was to give Christos the impression that she was interested in him romantically. She knew that ship had sailed, and that she should be glad. But there was a shred of feminine pride that made her want to look her absolute best. To knock his socks off with what he’d never again be allowed to have. Without seeming as though she’d tried at all, of course.

  It was a fine line and in the end, she’d settled on a pair of super-skinny black jeans and a loose singlet top that billowed at the back, making it obvious that she wasn’t wearing a bra. It was a bright print, swirls of pink and green and grey. She wore her hair in a messy bun to show off the dangling earrings she’d selected to match the singlet. Instead of heels she’d donned ballet flats, and the over-sized clutch was boho chic. The effort was worth it when she walked into the restaurant and saw the way he looked first at her, and then at the group of men who stopped what they were doing to stare as she walked slowly through the busy space.

  “I said no to dinner,” she snapped snarkily, placing her clutch down without sitting.

  His eyes scraped over her appraisingly and at the spark of awareness she wished she’d fought her feminine instincts and worn a shapeless, khaki sack. “I’m hungry and we have more than enough to discuss.”