by Tara Pammi
Perversely, Jackson’s sheer lack of concern filled Clio’s throat with tears more than his cheating. “I do not plan them, Jackson.”
“Is that why you walked away last night while Jane and I waited? You knew how important that meeting was to me.”
“I was ill for two weeks, Jackson. A concept you don’t seem to understand because you dragged me there even after I told you so. While you were gallivanting around the world, I was here alone, sick with flu. I had barely recovered when you stormed in here and asked me to get ready for that dinner.”
A curse flew from his mouth and he almost shoved the cordless phone in her face. “Fine. Pop some pills. Call Jane Alcott, in the next few minutes. Make another appointment. And then call the Savoy and book a table for tomorrow’s lunch, I want this deal with Jane done. Like yesterday. And make sure you sound cheery.
“The old biddy asked me a hundred questions after you left last night. Looked at me as though I was responsible for your headaches. And half the time I can’t even understand what the bloody hell she’s saying.”
“God, show her some respect, Jackson.”
He glanced at her with such obvious disbelief that Clio cringed inwardly. Was he so shocked at even the smallest sign of an angry response from her?
“What is wrong with you? You have this crazed look in your eyes. God, you’re not pregnant, are you, Clio?”
“How could I be when you haven’t touched me in four months?”
The minute she said it, Clio blinked.
Was it any wonder he had walked all over her? The very way she had framed her question meant she had given all her power to him. Every aspect of their relationship had been his to rule.
Something close to shame crossed his face. Would he apologize? Would he make an excuse? Her heart rising to her throat, Clio waited with bated breath. And hated herself a little more for the fact that she did.
“That’s not my fault, is it?” he said, his gaze shying away from hers. And something monumental crumbled inside Clio. If there could be a sound for despondence, it would be the sound that she caught in her throat.
“Half the time, you’re unhappy with yourself, half the time, you are unhappy with me. And you have a hundred hang-ups about sex. For Christ’s sake, Clio, sex is not always about cuddling, and sharing dreams and words of love. Sex should sometimes be just bloody sex. Nothing wrong with letting go in bed. But you can never do that, can you?”
“Do you not care at all about how I feel, Jackson?” The pitiful question left her mouth before Clio knew she was asking it. The desperation in her tone tied with the almost hopeful note made bile rise in her throat.
It was like watching an alternate version of herself talking to Jackson, hoping he would give an answer that would fix everything she had heard last night, as if it could magically erase the ugliness of their relationship.
That infinitesimal sliver of hope was the most pathetic thing she had ever seen in her life.
I don’t trust you to not crawl back to him while I’m gone.
Stefan’s word pricked her and she turned away from Jackson.
Everything inside her shook, everything inside her wanted to fall apart and give in to the maelstrom of grief swirling within. But she couldn’t. Not yet.
Squaring her shoulders, she turned around and let the years of breeding that she had turned back on slide into place. She had been taught by the best nannies in England about holding her own even when the world around her was in chaos.
“I can’t call Jane today. I don’t have time.”
“Why the hell not?”
“I’m leaving for Athens. I have a hundred things to do before that.”
“Athens, Greece?”
A brittle smile curved her mouth. “Yes, Athens, Greece. Christian Markos’s wedding won’t happen in any other place, I’m thinking.”
“Christian Markos? The Christian Markos? You’re invited to his wedding?” The light that came on in Jackson’s face was unlike anything she had ever seen. His suddenly positive energy and the smile that he flashed at her added another layer of ice around her heart.
She meant nothing to him. Even though she had known it, the truth left her shaking.
“Why have you never mentioned that you were acquainted with him?”
“I’m not just acquainted with him. Christian is a very close friend.”
“That’s even more fantastic.” He grabbed the phone and dialed a number, Ashley’s she was sure.
Clio grabbed the phone from him just as Ashley said hello and clicked it off. “You’re not invited, Jackson.”
What had she ever seen in him, Clio wondered. How had she fooled herself so thoroughly when everything about him was so much artifice?
“You will need a plus one. And who else will you bring but me? It’s not like you have a whole lot of friends other than mine.”
Because she had built her entire life around him.
“I’m bringing no one. Christian and my other friends are—”
“What other friends?”
“Rocco Mondelli, Zayed Al Afzal and—” her throat clenched “—Stefan Bianco. The media is fond of calling them—”
“The Columbia Four,” he finished with a hungry gleam in his eyes.
Clio could almost hear his mental gears clicking, could see her pitiful place in his life extend for a few more months while Ashley gave birth to his child.
“Do you know all of them really well? Even that arrogant Sicilian, Bianco?”
“Yes,” Clio said, every nerve in her stretched tight. “Stefan is a friend, too.” She forced a smile to her lips and crossed her arms. “All four of them are insanely protective of their private lives and I don’t want to impose on them.”
He ran a blunt-tipped finger over his brow, his gaze assessing her. “It’s not the right time for you to be leaving New York, Clio. Cancel this trip. I need you here to finish signing on as Jane’s financier and then there’s...”
Clio shook her head, her gut twisting at the way he instantly changed tactics. “It’s what you said when Rocco got married, too. I let you browbeat me into missing the most important day in the life of one of my oldest friends. I have a life, too, Jackson.”
“Do you?”
“Yes,” she whispered, not liking the look in his eyes. “One that I have forgotten exists these past years.”
“Fine. Go to Athens. Do your socializing and networking. And when you come back, we’ll have a little chat about Stefan Bianco. That man’s been in a thorn in my side for too long.”
The minute Jackson left, Clio’s legs gave out from under her. She sank to the thick carpet, the pristine white walls closing in on her.
Telling herself that she had gotten through the hardest part, she took a deep breath.
She turned on his laptop, then picked herself up and wandered into Jackson’s study, looking in his cabinets and drawers. Her heart thudded in her chest but she knew he wouldn’t come back tonight.
There was nothing to salvage in her relationship with Jackson. He had trampled her heart and shattered her trust.
Clio shuddered and typed in the password to their company’s database, wondering if she would ever be whole again.
CHAPTER FIVE
CLIO LOOKED AROUND the ancient structure of the Parthenon and felt a measure of peace she hadn’t felt in a long time.
Christian’s wedding last night had been the most beautiful ceremony she had seen in a while.
Deciding to walk the short distance from the luxury hotel to view the ancient ruins up close was the best decision she had made.
The lunch on the terrace this afternoon with Rocco and Olivia, Zayed, Christian and his new bride Alessandra, and Stefan, had begun so well. She had felt like she was among friends.
Olivia had asked so many questions about when the four men and she had been at Columbia together over a decade ago, and Clio had regaled them with stories, glad to fill the brooding silence with chatter.
Until the discussion had turned to Clio’s own life.
What had Clio been up to all these years? Was Clio involved with anyone?
They had all been only polite questions from people who were interested in her life. But what did she have to tell them?
Turning around, she clicked a couple more pictures with her digital camera, marveled anew.
Her raised hand stilled as she saw the tall, wide frame of Stefan coming close. June sun shone behind him, leaving his defined face in shadows. His paper-thin white cotton shirt was buffeted against his broad frame, tapering against his waist. Even though he couldn’t see her, Clio dragged her gaze away from following down. She didn’t need to see his powerful thighs encased in jeans.
The whipcord tightness of his muscles, the tensile strength of his legs, the wide swathe of his shoulders and the way they narrowed down her world to him, she had noticed far too much of him already on their flight to Athens. The sheer luxury and scale of his private jet, which she’d learned was the closest thing to a home for him, had rendered her mute. But it was the man himself who had occupied her mind all through the flight.
All the while she had been packing for the trip, all through the limo ride to the private airstrip where he had been waiting, it had been easy to tell herself that she would see this through.
She still wanted to. Because what Jackson had done had poisoned her so much that she couldn’t look at her own reflection in the mirror without wanting to shatter it into a million shards.
It was the man she had gone to, to accomplish her revenge who continually disconcerted her.
Stefan had been nothing but courteous and concerned on the flight, if a bit preoccupied. And yet every time their gazes met or they accidentally touched, the moment arched and stretched, a latent energy pulsed until one of them looked away, or stepped back.
It was the last thing Clio wanted to face.
He came to a halt about a foot from her, watching her.
Feeling compelled to break the intense silence, she waved her hands around. “I can’t believe Christian obtained private and uncurtailed access to the Parthenon, of all places. Even I’m impressed by this show of power and status. Does Alessandra mean so much to him, then?”
For once, she was glad that there was no wistful note in her tone. Only open curiosity.
Stefan shrugged, a cold light in his eyes. It was like there was frost all around them even as the sun cast long shadows. “If Alessandra was the kind to be impressed by this, it would make sense. For all the success he has achieved, Christian has a chip on his shoulder about where he started in life.
“He doesn’t realize yet that Alessandra is one of those rare women who care nothing about his wealth or status.”
Clio blinked. It was her casual comment that a woman would be impressed by the power that clung to the Columbia Four that had made him look so coldly forbidding.
Did he still think of Serena, the woman who had so blithely broken his heart? Did he think all women were like her, that Clio was like her?
Of course he did, Clio realized. And she had only confirmed his view by going to him for help, by suggesting that she wanted to use that very power and status as her shield.
She couldn’t begin to care about Stefan’s opinion. Not when it was decided already, not when her self-esteem was in such tatters.
“Is he in love with her, do you think?” she said, turning her mind away from what lay ahead.
“I would have said no. But I have changed my opinion about Rocco and Olivia, so who knows?” He tucked his hands into his pockets and took a few more steps. “I didn’t realize running away was a habit of yours.”
The bland smile falling from her face, Clio looked up. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You did it that night at the Empire State Building instead of confronting that jerk. You did it today.”
“I did...no such thing.”
“Olivia said you looked like you were having an anxiety attack. She was concerned for you, just as I was.” There was almost a fond note in his tone for Rocco’s wife. “Why did you leave?”
“There seems to be a lot of friction between Christian and Rocco.”
“Rocco will need time to forgive Christian for tangling with his little sister. But the fact that he is here shows how much Alessandra means to him.”
“I felt like I was intruding.”
“Zayed and I were right there.”
“You are a part of each other’s lives. Rocco and Christian need your support to get through this rough patch. I’m little more than a stranger.”
“No. You and I know very well that you were actually a good buffer back there. Those stories you had of the four of us from Columbia made everyone laugh. Everyone took a collective breath.”
He reached her and tugged her hand into his. Instant charge crackled around them.
“You said the female students at Columbia used to be supremely envious of you and at the same time sugared you up so that they could get a tidbit about one of us. What did you call yourself?”
She had felt his gaze on her like a physical caress all through the lunch. Now it disconcerted her to know that he remembered every word she had said. The intensity of his attention kept her wondering what about her interested him so. “The Gateway to the Columbia Four.”
He smiled at that and warmth filled his gaze. “Rocco has been like a mad bull all this time but even he cracked a smile there. Then you were gone. I thought you had bolted.”
“And where would I go? By bringing me here aboard your private jet, you made sure I had nowhere to go except with you. You even had them unpack my stuff and take my passport. Do not manipulate me, Stefan.”
Ice coated his words. “I was doing it for your own good.”
Clio couldn’t back down. If she didn’t take a stand now, she never would. Their relationship or the facade of it, was a temporary one. But still, she wanted to set the right tone for it.
Never again would she let her sense of identity be lost in a man.
“Don’t presume to know it better than me.”
“But isn’t that what love-struck fiancés do, bella? Cater to your every need and whim? Cosset you in luxuries and act possessive? Know what’s good for you better than yourself?”
Clio flinched, the ease with which he used her history to make his point cruelly efficient.
The hardness didn’t budge from his expression. “We’re supposed to be falling in love even now. You think the world will buy that Stefan Bianco let his almost-intended fly economy on a commercial airline?”
“Maybe the world will think that Stefan Bianco finally met a woman who doesn’t fall at his feet?” she retorted, lifting her chin.
He smiled and ran a finger over her chin, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“How come you have no trouble putting me in place, bella?” Moving closer, he laid his hands on her bare shoulders and turned her toward the terrace. “Do you know how you looked from the terrace, Clio?”
Not trusting that she could find her voice, Clio shook her head. Even with the sun shining above them, the heat of his body behind her was like a caress.
She should move away, she knew. Stop him from continuing, at least. Cut this line of conversation before it began.
There was no space for personal observations or shared experiences between them. There was nothing but a common, twisted goal. But something in the honeyed tone of his voice locked the words in her throat.
His finger landed on her chin and tilted it up, facing away from the sun.
“Shall I tell you?”
She had read that the Parthenon had served as a church, a mosque, even a munitions depot during the Turkish occupation of Greece.
Yet there it stood today, majestic, beautiful, a monument to one of the greatest civilizations of the world.
And she, she was afraid of hearing one man’s opinion of her. Was afraid of even facing the truth that was in his eyes.
Everything about her life was in ruins just like the Parthenon. But she decided to take the chance. Just for that moment, she would choose to be unafraid. She would pretend she had become the woman she wanted to be when she had set out for Columbia University.
She would pretend that when a man like Stefan Bianco looked at her, there was not resigned concern or eviscerating censure at what she had done to her life. But admiration and respect... The way he had looked at her once.
The base of his palm was hard and unyielding against her lower back. Her skin burned with every ridge and line leaving an imprint on her skin.
Turning toward him, she met his gaze, fighting the urge to pull away and to run far. “Tell me how I looked, Stefan.”
The green of his eyes widened just a bit. That she had surprised him, she clutched it to her like a reward for her bravery.
“With that cream dress only covering one shoulder, your hair flying behind you, the sun turning your skin golden, you looked like the goddess Athena herself. For a few seconds, you had me stunned. And it has been a while since I let myself believe in any kind of myth.”
Bitter laughter spilled from Clio’s mouth and got lost in the vastness around her. “Goddess Athena was supposed to have been fierce and brave. I’m nothing like her, Stefan.” Turning away from him, she sighed. “You were right. I ran away from the terrace because I couldn’t breathe there.”
“Why?”
“Let it go, Stefan.”
“No.”
