by Zoey Oliver
“Where, Mrs. Satyros?”
“Anywhere,” I snap. “Except Jayson’s apartment,” I add through gritted teeth. On edge, I survey the garage, relieved to find no trace of Jayson as we exit the parking garage and join the flow of traffic. Once safely away from Satyros Corporation, I put up the privacy panel and have a good cry. As I wipe my eyes, I vow it’ll be the last time I cry over Jayson Satyros.
At my command, the chauffeur drives me aimlessly through the city for several hours, before I finally face the reality that I have to return to the apartment for my things. A confrontation with Jayson is likely inevitable. As we pull into the parking garage, I take a deep breath, bracing myself. With determination, I go to the elevator and ride it to the penthouse, refusing to carry on or betray any emotions to Jayson. I’ll handle this calmly, maturely, and with distant politeness.
I’ve learned that well with him.
My heart thuds in my ears when I open the door with my key, but I am pleased to see a composed young woman staring back at me when I look at myself in the mirror hanging on the wall near the entrance.
No sense in delaying the inevitable. Emotions firmly in check, I walk through the house, heading toward the study. I enter with a light knock, finding Jayson at his desk, as I had expected.
I didn’t expect him to look so disheveled. A half-empty decanter sits on the desk near his crystal glass, and he looks like he’s had a few. Perhaps he’s been bracing himself too. It must be difficult to tell your wife you want a divorce so you can marry your mistress—especially when ten percent of your company is at stake.
“Where have you been?” he asks in a slurred voice.
I blink at the realization he’s drunk. I’ve never seen him drink too much. Other than when I miscarried, I never saw Jayson appear less than fully in control of everything. “Out.”
“‘Out,’” he mocks, tossing back the rest of the liquid in his glass.
“I was thinking.”
Jayson slams the glass onto the desk. “You have no idea how relieved I am to hear you’re capable of thinking, agape mou.” The endearment sounds more like an attack. “I’ve seen scarce little evidence in the time we’ve been married.”
Anger stirs in my stomach, but I force it away. “We should talk.”
“Damn well right.” Jayson starts to stand, knocking his hand against the opened decanter and sloshing the alcohol everywhere. He collapses back into the chair.
With a deep breath, I say, “I meant what I said earlier. I don’t want anything from you. The stock in your company was never mine, even if I inherited it from my father.” I look down, thinking of him. “If you had just asked me not to sell the shares until the company could afford to buy them back, I wouldn’t have. There was no need to force us both into a marriage just to maintain control of the corporation.”
He glares at me. “I don’t know how many other ways to say this: I did not marry you for those damn shares. I married you for Sophie, and I am trying to stay married to you because—” Jayson trails off, running a hand through his hair roughly. “Sit down.” He gestures to the chair across from his desk.
I want to refuse, but decide not to with his mood so volatile. As I perch on the edge of the chair, I’m eerily reminded of the night when I sat here more than three years ago, when Jayson first suggested the preposterous idea of us marrying.
“Here.” Jayson lifts a stack of papers from a drawer and slides them across to me.
“What’s this?”
“Read it.”
I scan the first few paragraphs, eyes widening as the words sink in. “What…”
“And this.” With a flourish, he produces another stack of paper and feeds it into the shredder.
“What’s that?”
“The damned marriage contract. The gesture is mostly symbolic, I suppose, but I want to make the point.”
“Which is?”
Jayson drops into his chair. “That there’s nothing binding you to me. No legal agreement keeping us together. There is no requirement for you to stay.”
I flinch at his words as my gaze drops to the papers. More confused than ever, I say, “If you don’t want to stay married, why are you giving back my shares?”
Jayson looks at me through bloodshot eyes. “I want to stay married, Harper, but I don’t want to have trapped you. I got you pregnant with the intention of making you stay married to me.”
I gasp. “That’s not true.”
He nods, looking miserable. “It is. The night you made that offhanded comment at the party, the idea took hold. I knew if I could get you pregnant, you’d have to stay with me. I deliberately didn’t use protection whenever you were too…excited to notice.” His shoulders droop. “I had no idea that I would give you a baby that wouldn’t live.”
I reach out automatically, but draw my hand back. “I hope you aren’t blaming yourself for the miscarriage. We’ll never know why he didn’t live, but it could have been a genetic mistake contributed by either one of us, or my body might have failed him.”
He swallows but doesn’t reply.
Once more, I look down at the papers. “I really don’t want ten percent of your company, Jayson.”
He snorts. “I guess it’s a good thing I gave you one hundred percent then.”
I blink, scanning the pages more thoroughly. “What? This is crazy.”
A harsh laugh explodes from him. “That’s what the attorneys said—especially when I insisted they draw up all the necessary paperwork within hours.”
“Why are you doing this?”
Jayson seems defeated, and the lack of spark in his gaze is alarming. “It’s all I can think of to prove to you that I want you as my wife because I love you, not because of that damned company.”
I jerk in surprise. “What did you say?”
He sighs. “I want you to stay with me, but only because you want to. I love you, Harper. I tried trapping you and forcing you to stay, thinking having you even under duress was better than a life without you.” Jayson’s lips press together. “I still think that, but I have no right to keep you. I have behaved like an idiot, a boor, and the only way I can make up for it is to offer you your freedom.” He leans forward, bringing his hand near mine. “With the caveat that I want you to stay, with all my heart.”
I can’t believe what he’s saying. “How can you love me? I’m not the kind of woman who should be your wife.” My calm façade slips, making my voice crack. “And there’s Maia. If you love me, how can you still be with her?”
Jayson swears. “For an intelligent woman, you can be an idiot sometimes, agape mou.”
I gasp, but he continues before I can think of something to say to that.
“I am not with Maia. I haven’t been in years, and I don’t want to be now. She’s done everything in her power to make you think we’re together, because she wants you out of the picture.” He laughs harshly. “The idiot actually thinks I could ever love someone else if you left me.”
I bite my lip, wanting to believe him, but unable to let my defenses down to trust. “What has she done?”
“She sent you those emails, for one.” He lifts a finger, as though counting off her deeds. “Speaking of, perhaps you noticed there wasn’t one reply from me in the pile? I ignored her. I should have responded bluntly, telling her I do not want her, but I didn’t know how to deal with it.” He shrugs. “You have had me so tangled inside that I couldn’t think logically about anything.”
“What else?”
“She tricked my assistant into giving her information about us, including about the miscarriage. He thought she was a friend of the family in Greece. Marco thought it was sweet that she called to discreetly check on us, because she didn’t want to intrude at such a private time.” Jayson rolls his eyes.
A sinking feeling hits my stomach, and I force myself to ask, “When we got married, was Satyros Corporation in trouble, capital-wise?”
Jayson frowns. “No. There were some financial diffi
culties years before I ever had anything to do with the company, but Dmitri had straightened it all out by the time he died.” His brows knit together. “Why?”
“I really am an idiot.” I close my eyes, unable to bear to look at him. How could I have believed Maia without even asking Jayson?
“What? Why?”
Haltingly, I relay the conversation I had with Maia. “She had all the paperwork pertaining to the stocks.” I run a hand through my hair. “She just sounded so believable.”
He curses again, but this time his anger seems to be directed at Maia. “She is a scheming, conniving piece of work, Harper. Only one thing motivates Maia, and that is self-interest. I was too young to realize it when we were engaged, but maturity brings perspective and wisdom. At least some of the time. I got over her a long time ago, even before I married you. I would not take her back under any circumstances.”
I can’t doubt the sincerity in his tone, or the genuine emotion in his eyes. I’m numb with shock at my own stupidity. Why had I been so quick to believe Maia, having already figured out what kind of woman she was?
The answer takes my breath away as it comes to me. I’d been so quick to believe Maia because I couldn’t understand why Jayson wanted to continue to be married to me. It seemed beyond belief that he would want me. In her disbelief, I managed to find all sorts of signs and clues pointing to his ulterior motives. Still, I do have reason not to trust him….
“Why didn’t you tell me about my father’s stock, and that I had inherited it?”
Jayson pauses, seeming to be looking for an answer. Finally, he says, “I would like to say it was something incredibly romantic—like my need to have you as my wife at all costs—that kept me from telling you. The truth is I didn’t love you when we got married. I barely knew you. As for the stock, I really didn’t think about it until we were about to be married. Sophie was so excited about the marriage and living with both of us. I was afraid of the setback to her recovery if you changed your mind.”
I nod, knowing he’s right about that. After telling Sophie of the forthcoming marriage, along with the white lie of leading her to believe we’d been dating for a while, she’d seemed reenergized and determined to get out of the hospital before the ceremony. “You might not believe it, but I would have gone through with the marriage, even if you had told me about the shares at the last minute.”
He smiles. “I know that now. You love Sophie as much as I do, and you wouldn’t have let her down.”
“Well, I’ll admit my reasons for agreeing weren’t completely altruistic, nor prompted by the need for financial security.” I lock eyes with him. “I’d had a crush on you since I was a teenager. When you offered me the chance to be your wife, a small part of me jumped at it, convinced I could make you love me." I sigh, thinking of my innocence. “I let go of that illusion after our wedding night. When you rejected me, I figured out you would never see me in any way besides your convenient, temporary wife.”
“Harper.” This time, he stretches to put his hand over mine, and this time, I don’t pull away. “I was so cruel to you that night.”
I nod. “Yes, but you got the point across. Pretty soon I convinced myself that the silly crush I’d had on you that had turned to love was all in my imagination. I knew I loved you, and it took every ounce of strength and self-delusion to come to the point where I believed I didn’t anymore.”
His hand tightens on mine for just a second. “Are you still under that delusion, agape mou?”
For a moment, I can’t answer. Whatever I say will determine the future for both of us. My distrust fades away, and under it, my love is as strong as ever. There’s no reason not to be with him.
Instead of answering immediately, I get to my feet, lifting the contract he’s placed before me in my hands. As he watches, looking baffled, I take the stack to the shredder and dump it in. “No, I’m not,” I say.
“What are you doing?”
I slide around the side of the desk to settle myself on his lap. “I’m giving you back your company. I don’t want it. I don’t want any of it.” I put my arms around his neck. “I just want you.” Brushing my lips against his, I can taste the trace of liquor remaining. “S’agapo, agape mou.”
His lips slowly form a smile. “You have been studying, haven’t you?” At my nod, he answers, “I love you too.”
I press my mouth to his, harder this time, enjoying the sensation of being in my husband’s arms. For the first time in our relationship, I actually feel secure. I lay my head on his shoulder. “I don’t understand one thing.”
“What’s that?” he asks, as his hands roam over my body.
I lightly slap away his hand when he cups my breast. “I’m trying to have a conversation here.”
“Talk quickly.” He tugs at the hem of my shirt and starts fumbling with the buttons as I speak.
“How did Maia get all the paperwork she brought to the house on Trini Island?”
Jayson pauses, tilting his head as he considers the question. “She either paid someone to steal the forms, she stole them from the office herself, or she convinced my idiot assistant to give them to her.” He grimaces. “I would assume it was the idiot assistant.”
I giggle. “What will you do to him?”
“I should fire him, but I’m feeling generous.” He pushes open my shirt to tackle my bra. “I will demote the idiot to a valet in the parking garage.”
I put my hand over his to stop his fumbling. “Let me help.” To my surprise, Jayson takes my left hand, examining it closely. “Is something wrong?”
“Marry me.”
With a giggle, I answer, “You’ve had more to drink that I thought. We are married, love.”
Jayson waves a hand. “I mean in a real ceremony, with our friends and family.” He kisses the back of my hand. “I want to mark the change in our relationship. I want you to be my wife completely.”
I tug my hand away gently, cupping his cheek. “I’d love to marry you.” Shifting to press my lips to his before dropping my hands to his lap, I tug at his belt. “That is, as long as you give me a preview of the wedding night.”
Jayson changes position to allow me better access. “For you, Harper mou, I would do anything.”
Epilogue
The day of the wedding is bright and surprisingly warm, without a hint of cloud in the sky. Being late October, I wonder if it’s wise to hold the ceremony outdoors, but Jayson insists I have the wedding I always envisioned. There’s an indoor backup plan, but it turns out to be unnecessary.
We exchange vows as crowds of guests watch. If anyone thinks it strange that we’re renewing our vows after only three years, they don’t say so.
When Jayson kisses me, it’s profoundly different than any of the other kisses we’ve shared. I’ve been married to him for three years, but now, and finally, I truly feel like his wife.
As we line up to greet the guests, I glance at the new wedding set on my finger. The other one was exquisite and expensive, but Jayson confessed his assistant—not the idiot one— selected the set of rings before our hasty marriage. This set, much more to my liking, was chosen by my husband personally.
Feeling warm inside, I do my best to get through the rest of the afternoon. I’m thankful for our friends, and thrilled to have a real wedding, but I’m also feeling impatient to have Jayson alone.
Sure, I’m looking forward to the “wedding night”, but I also have another reason for being impatient.
It’s several hours later before we can slip away from the reception at the hotel and go up to the honeymoon suite. I squeal with surprise when he sweeps me into his arms to carry me over the threshold—a tradition he didn’t bother with the first time.
With Jayson’s assistance, I shed the heavy and complicated wedding gown, and he removes his tux. I watch each step as the jacket falls off his shoulders, he unties his tie, he undoes the cufflinks and the buttons of his crisp shirt, and undoes his belt with great interest.
T
he Jacuzzi-for-two in the huge marble bathroom beckons, and we sink into it. As he adjusts the controls, I say, “Don’t turn up the temperature too high, love.”
Jayson grins. “Why? Because we’ll make our own heat?”
I smile. “No doubt, but that isn’t the reason.”
He leans back, tucking his arms around me and pulling me down onto his lap. The light hair on his chest tickles my back. “And what’s your reason?” Jayson caresses my breast, lightly tracing my nipple as he asks.
I wince slightly. “I read it wasn’t safe… for the baby.”
His hand freezes, and he seems to have stopped breathing.
“Baby?”
I nod, turning my neck so I can see his face. “I’m pregnant.”
He cups my stomach. “How far along?”
“About ten weeks.” I lay my hand over his. “I think we might have conceived the night you proposed.”
He nods. “Ah, yes. The night when we didn’t even make it to our room.”
With a giggle, I answer, “We didn’t even make it to the nearest sofa, Jayson.”
Jayson pales. “We’ve done it many times since. I could have hurt you, or the baby.”
I shake my head. “I talked to Dr. Anderson when I found out. She let me know that it’s perfectly safe to have sex, even with my history. As much as I wanted to surprise you with the news on our wedding night, I wouldn’t have put our baby in danger.”
I look down as his eyes fill with tears for a moment.
“I know.” He turns to me again. “How long have you known, agape mou?”
“About four weeks.” I can’t help but feel a little sheepish. “It almost killed me to wait to tell you.” I wanted to wait until the wedding night, but I’d had another reason as well. Dr. Anderson assured me that once she saw the heartbeat, there was a less than five percent chance of miscarrying. The little heart had fluttered away at the ultrasound last week.
“You deserve a sound spanking for not telling me sooner,” he says with a growl.
I grin.
“Promises, promises.”
His expression turns serious. “I will keep every promise I make to you, Harper.”
