by Pippa Roscoe
‘I don’t know.’
* * *
Célia laughed gently, breaking some of the tension gripping both Loukis and his sister in a fierce hold.
‘I haven’t known how to feel about my dad for nearly five years,’ she confided.
‘Really?’ Annabelle returned, wide-eyed.
‘Really. There are times when I remember good things. Happy things. And times when, I know that he made me sad. Sometimes they get mixed up together and sometimes they feel very far apart.’
It was, Célia realised, the first time that she’d admitted to feeling something other than betrayal from her father. Ever. But that didn’t stop it from being true. She had loved, did love him. But that love had been damaged by his betrayal and she could only imagine that being half of what Annabelle might be feeling, and at ten she quite possibly had no idea how to explain that. Especially to Loukis who, until recently, had simply pushed through with determination to ensure that Meredith came nowhere near her.
‘Do you still speak to him?’ Annabelle asked.
‘Not for quite a while.’
‘And your mummy?’
Célia sighed, and smiled, not realising quite how sad she looked in that moment. ‘We’ve spoken more recently.’
‘I spoke to my mum yesterday. She looked pretty and said she was going to your party.’
‘Nanny.’ Loukis waited until he had his sister’s attention and Célia’s. He seemed to be struggling with what he had to say. ‘No matter what happens, I will always be here for you. No matter where you are in the world, or who you are with. You are my family. Nothing will ever change that.’
Célia felt as if a giant bell had been struck within her and as it swung back and forth, shivering tremors in its wake, her heart lurched in time and in tune. They were the words she had never heard, nor felt from her own father, let alone her ex-fiancé. But to hear them from Loukis’s lips made her want, made her ache to hear them spoken for her. By him. She looked away at the horizon where the sea met the sky to avoid Loukis’s penetrating gaze. He would see, he would know.
As she’d watched him with Annabelle, seeing him with his friends Yalena and Iannis, and with her own, Ella and Roman, Loukis had morphed from an irascible client, a renowned playboy, into something more, someone more.
‘I am not capable of giving you what you deserve. Not now. Not ever.’
‘But you don’t like her,’ she heard Annabelle announce, even as Célia focused on a small fishing boat further out in the sea.
‘How I feel about her doesn’t affect how you feel about her, and it won’t affect how...she feels about you.’
The conclusion of Loukis’s sentence felt forced, but her heart soared that he was trying. Trying to present a blank canvas for his sister, so that she might be able to forge a relationship with her mother that was positive, even as she knew he would hate that.
But, as with all things that flew too high, they had to come down, and Célia’s heart swooped when she realised that his words reminded her of her last conversation with her mother.
Célia had demanded to know why her mother had sided with her father. Why she couldn’t seem to understand how betrayed and lost Célia felt and why she wasn’t there for her.
‘He is my husband, Célia. If I held him accountable for every little—’
‘Little? You’re saying this is little?’
‘Non, ma fille. Pas du tout. But over the years we have both made mistakes...parental ones. He has forgiven me mine as I forgive him his. Because my feelings for him, whether you like it or not, are separate from my feelings for you. One day, I hope, you will understand these mistakes and that they were not intended—’
‘This wasn’t just a mistake, Maman. It was an act. An intentional, business-focused act that took my idea and used it for the most atrocious means.’
‘And those “atrocious means” have funded our entire lives until now, Célia. You can’t deny—’
‘Célia?’
She looked up to find Loukis standing above her, his body blocking out the powerful sun, the items they had brought with them to the beach packed up and even Annabelle standing ready to leave.
Had she been the one in the wrong? Had she reacted to her mother’s response and drawn a line in the sand between herself and her parents from her words? Célia had been so hurt and so betrayed, had spent so long feeling unloved and unwanted that it had felt as if her mother had chosen her father. But looking back on it now, she realised that her mother had been trying to tell her that she loved her and Célia was the one to reject that love. Suddenly it seemed absolutely vital that she speak to her mother. Now, before she could talk herself out of it.
‘Why don’t you go on? I’ll join you in a bit.’
Loukis’s gaze showed confusion and something almost like concern, but he nodded and took Annabelle’s hand. She watched them make their way back up to the house before reaching for her phone with trembling fingers.
* * *
Something had happened on the beach. What exactly it was, Loukis couldn’t be sure, but Célia was...different. Lighter? Her laughter mingled with Annabelle’s and it sounded, felt, freer somehow. The looks she cast his way were unguarded, and what he saw in her eyes was beginning to burn through the barriers around his heart.
For the first time ever, he wanted more. More than the façade of a fake fiancée. More than just one night with her. More than just the time limit he’d placed on their relationship. He wanted long dinners with friends, wanted to show her the places he loved to visit, wanted to see her eyes widen with wonder and feel the rich sound of her beautiful laugh roll over his naked skin.
It had been a constant whisper throughout the day, seductive and enticing. But he wouldn’t, couldn’t, give into it. The custody hearing was only a few days away and he had to keep his focus on that.
But after? his internal voice teased. What then?
Over dinner he’d been distracted by images of a future with Célia, of years not months, of days as well as nights. Of her growing round with his child, of a family he’d never thought he’d want.
That was why he’d spent at least an hour in his study, after Célia had gone to bed. Because if he’d gone with her, he couldn’t honestly say what he would have done. What he would have begged for, pleaded for. It was a weakness. It could be exploited. He’d done so only once in his life and he’d learned his lesson then and there. Everything had a price. Even love could be bought. His mother’s certainly had. And the only price he could afford to pay at the moment was Annabelle’s. Nothing more.
He glanced at the clock. Surely by now Célia would be asleep and he could persevere through the fresh torture of having her in his bed and not touching her. Even the thought of it sent need directly to his groin. Even the memory of the sounds she had made the night before drove an arousal so fierce he nearly shook with the need to restrain it. Just the thought of the delicious taste of her was enough to have him swallow the last inch of whiskey in an attempt to blot out the yearning to taste her again.
Enough. He had more control over himself than this. He could and would leave her untouched this night. And as if to prove it to himself, he stalked determinedly down the hallway towards his bedroom.
Two strides into the room, stealthily as humanly possible, the bedside lamp flicked light across the room and revealed that Célia was very much awake and very much expecting him.
‘Thought I’d be asleep?’ she asked, no censure or accusation in her tone, just curiosity and that openness that had taunted him all afternoon.
‘Hoped,’ he said with something like a grimace pulling at his features.
‘Because?’
‘Because I’d wanted to avoid this,’ he replied honestly.
‘My conversation is so terrifying to you that it kept you from your bed?’
He sat on the side
of the bed, his back to her momentarily as he pulled off his shoes and reached for his belt. As his fingers gripped it, he remembered last night, he remembered everything.
‘I spoke to my mother this afternoon.’
Her words struck him still. Frowning, he turned to look at her, searching for traces of hurt or sadness. The swift desire to protect her from any source of pain shocking him with its intensity.
‘How did it go?’ he couldn’t help himself from asking.
She looked sad and happy at the same time. Both caused a shifting sensation in his chest. Her beautiful amber eyes were glistening with tears, but the smile across her lips was sure.
‘Good. It was...’ she sighed ‘...good. And I wanted to thank you.’
‘Why?’ Loukis replied, genuinely confused.
‘I wouldn’t have made that phone call had it not been for what you said, what you did, for Annabelle today.’
He felt the invisible tendrils wound tight around his heart begin to unfurl, even as he would call them back.
‘I did only as you suggested,’ he dismissed.
‘But you gave her, you gave me, the space within which we could find...peace. Safety. I want you to know that.’
‘I don’t—’
‘Please don’t dismiss this,’ she asked.
His jaw clenched, anger and something like fear rearing their heads at her words. He stood and started to stalk towards the bathroom.
‘Wait. Please?’
He stopped, but refused to turn, bracing himself for what he knew was to come.
‘I think... I think that it might be what you are doing too.’
He rounded on her then. ‘One conversation with your mother convinces you that you know me? That you know my—’ He cut himself off before he could release the word he refused to admit to.
‘Pain? The pain of being ignored by a parent? Of being rejected?’
‘I wasn’t ignored by my mother, Célia. She chose to leave. She chose to accept the money my father offered her in exchange for sole custody.’
‘What?’ she asked, horror dawning in her eyes as her hand flew to her mouth as if to stifle a gasp.
‘Ten million euros. That was the price my mother accepted to be free of me. I had no culpability in that whatsoever. It was not my doing, my offer, or my suggestion.’ Because there was no financial amount that would have made him reject his mother. No matter what highs or lows she had inflicted on him. That was the weakness he feared. That was the bitter truth he’d realised about himself that day. That he would have done anything to keep her with him. Anything. And Meredith had done nothing.
‘No. You’re right. It wasn’t your doing, Loukis.’
‘I know that. I just said—’
‘Do you?’
It infuriated him that she was so calm. She could have been talking about the weather. Her gentle words were tearing gaping holes in his heart and she sat there poised and perfect.
‘Do you really?’ she asked again. ‘Or, deep down, do you blame yourself?’
‘What do you want me to say, Célia? You want me to say that I didn’t learn, at the age of fifteen, my value was ten million euros? That it didn’t hurt to be sold to my father in exchange for her freedom? To admit that I wasn’t enough to keep her?’
The words were ripped from his throat, burning and tearing at the soft flesh, making his tone guttural and harsh, even to his own ears.
‘No. I want you to admit that you do deserve more. That you are worthy of her love.’
That you are worthy of mine, his greedy, desperate inner voice filled in the silence between her words.
‘You might not be ready to and that’s okay. But I want you to know that I think you are. Worthy. Of that, of more than what you have limited yourself to.’
He turned back towards the bathroom, his jaw clenched so hard, he feared he might crack a tooth. His fists balled where they hung at his sides, the pulse raging through his blood so loud it blocked out the sound of her leaving the bed and coming up behind him, so that when he felt her hand on his shoulder he flinched.
He let himself be pulled around to face her. Let her seek out his gaze, unable to shutter the effect her words had had on him.
‘I see so much when I look at you, Loukis. I see—’
He cut off her words with a kiss fuelled with need, pain and want. Need for her, pain for himself and want for what he couldn’t have. Because he couldn’t, wouldn’t hear the words that would follow. The promise of feelings, of love, he believed she wouldn’t be able to fulfil, for the sheer simple fact that no one else in his life had done so. Not his mother, nor his father, changed for ever after his wife’s betrayal. And if they couldn’t...
His chaotic thoughts veered away from the darkness as a starburst of light burned through him at her touch, at the way her hands—placed either side of his face—anchored him to her, focusing him on her.
How did she do this? How did she take his hurt and wash over it with acceptance and more? How did she see to the heart of him, yet join him rather than abandon him? The answer, he feared, would be more devastating than any lie he could tell himself. Because if she could love him, then why hadn’t his parents? Somehow that thought only compounded the pain. All of it.
Within the kiss, her tongue teased, and fingers taunted, the little moans of pleasure falling from her lips found safe haven within him as he greedily consumed everything she had to give, despite his thoughts and fears.
He was done roasting himself over hot coals, the sensual web Célia was weaving drawing him in deeper to her, demanding more. Demanding everything. And as he laid her back on the bed, he feared that he would do it. Pay any damn price for everything she had to offer.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
DURING THE COURSE of the week on the island, Célia had worked a magic over Loukis that he couldn’t account for. Under her steady gaze, full of a confidence in something he didn’t want to put name to, a sense of rightness that he’d never felt before settled in his chest.
It was for this, and this reason only, that he got out of the limousine, stalked round the back of the car, and opened Célia’s car door with a smile full and secure despite the fact that they were about to walk into a court hearing where he would confront his mother. He knew, he felt, that it would all be okay. That the courts would see Meredith for who she truly was—the person who had abandoned not one, but two children, the person who was clearly only interested in playing at being a mother to secure a rich American fiancé with strong family values—and that he could put the whole thing behind him and move forward. Move forward with Annabelle and Célia.
She looked glorious today. In a russet-coloured dress that veed between her breasts and tied at her hip, the silk pouring over her gorgeous shapely legs. It wasn’t overtly sexy, more...confident and assured. He loved seeing her like this. He loved the way her eyes flared as she placed her hand in his, the promise in them echoing from the night before and leading towards the night to come.
They met his lawyers at the entranceway to the building and made their introductions, before being led into a small office within the building that they had been assigned for preparation and briefings.
Never ones for wasting their obscenely expensive time, his lawyers got right down to business, outlining the way that the day would run, the rules and regulations of the court for Célia’s benefit. Although they were in Greece, with so many English-speaking individuals involved the proceedings would be undertaken with a translator present if needed.
They outlined the strategies to counter the areas of contention, his reputation, the natural leaning for the court to side with the mother, both being met by his new engagement, and Meredith’s previous patterns of behaviour. As Loukis’s fiancée and therefore someone who would be a very important part of Annabelle’s life and upbringing, she would be providing a character stateme
nt not only for Loukis, but of herself. They were scheduled for just before lunch and until then Célia would be able to sit in the gallery. Even though it was a closed hearing, in order to protect Annabelle from the intense public interest, the associated individuals were allowed to stay.
‘And your investigators haven’t been able to find anything on Byron?’ he asked, hopeful of perhaps this last reprieve.
‘Clean as a whistle. He’s exactly who he appears to be. A rich oil baron, longing for a family and desperately in love with your—with Meredith. Loukis, I know that you had expected to receive a financial request from her. I’m assuming you haven’t?’
‘No,’ he said grimly.
‘Shame. It would have made things easier. But I’m confident that the judge will find for us.’
He felt Célia’s hand reach for his, entwining her fingers with his, and the pad of his thumb brushed over her engagement ring. Suddenly he thought it was a shame. A shame that he had given her such a beautiful ring for show and not for her.
He shook his head. He needed to focus. There would be time. Time for Célia and for them later. Now, he needed to head his mother off at the pass.
‘Ready?’ demanded the lawyer.
With one last glance at Célia, who was glorious with belief and assurance ringing her eyes, he stood. ‘I’m ready.’
* * *
Despite outward appearances, Célia was worried. It was only when she took her seat behind the table where Loukis and his lawyers faced the judge that she allowed her mask to slip a little. She knew that Loukis needed her assurance, her faith so she had given it freely. But she hadn’t missed the way that Loukis had almost unfurled in the time spent on the island, relaxed into the strange unspoken forward step their relationship had taken.
The night after her conversation with her mother had been like the last burst of a dam, the water punching through its final barrier. They had spoken for a long time, and Célia had tried to explain what she’d been feeling then, why she’d reacted the way she had. And her mother had told her how she might have disagreed with her husband but was trying to love them both in her own way. And Célia had finally accepted that love. And with that had come the realisation that she loved Loukis. She had felt it, she had wanted to tell him then that she had fallen for him. For the wonderful, incredible man she saw when she looked at him. But he had prevented her words and at the time she had understood. But in the days that followed, his excitement, the eager anticipation for the forthcoming custody hearing, the little verbal slips he made in suggesting plans that reached beyond this point, beyond their allotted few months of engagement, had made her hope.
