It was an enormous funeral, too. Friends, relatives, and business associates came from all over the world to pay their respects. And a staggering number chose to remind Simon of the one thing he didn’t want to think about at all: He was now head of the family, and the owner of the Katsaros Company. He didn’t know the first thing about the business, but he was being flung headlong into it. It made him feel quite ill to think about how he was going to handle things.
Eirene noticed, understood, and stood by him. In quiet moments when it was just the two of them, sitting close and holding hands, she would remind him that she was there for him, that she’d help in any way she could.
“Let’s get married.”
“We will.”
“No… not the big wedding. I can’t do that. Let’s just elope. I want to be married to you, but I can’t bear the thought of going through with all that fuss.”
She squeezed his hand. “Whatever you want, I want,” she assured him. “We’ll wait a week or two and then just slip off and do it quietly, all right?”
“Perfect.” He kissed her softly, wondering if their nascent sex life would ever recover from the blow grief had dealt it. They had only just become lovers before the engagement, and were still terribly tentative with each other. After Nick and Helena died, Simon had withdrawn physically, unable to find a way through the terrible fog of misery that hung over him. Eirene understood. She never pressured him, never complained. But Simon felt as if he’d never want to make love to anyone, not even Eirene, again.
He had tried to raise the subject with her, talk about his concerns, but her reply had been a quiet one. “Love is patient,” she’d said. But what if patience wasn’t enough? He felt so emptied out by grief that he wondered if he could even still love. Was what he thought he felt for Eirene and Athena love or just a habit of mind?
Beyond that, he was consumed by guilt. He wondered how he could have prevented their deaths even knowing that it was so far outside of his control that even thinking those thoughts was verging on crazy. He felt guilty for not having spent more time with them. He had lived his empty, selfish life, always assuming that they’d be there when he felt like spending time with them.
And he felt guilty for his ties to Kosta, for the business he had become involved in. He’d known that there was more to it than Kosta had ever said, that it was no nearly as benign as he’d wanted to believe. But a part of him had always felt that if he simply looked the other way, he wasn’t as culpable as Kosta, that his hands would stay cleaner. Now he saw so clearly how wrong he’d been, how misguided. When he thought about what his parents would have said about it… what they might be thinking of him if they were watching him from Heaven (And he had no doubt that’s where they had gone.), and it made him feel sick with guilt.
His depression deepened over the days following the funeral until he could barely get out of bed. That was when Eirene put her foot down. She told him he had to get up and go talk to a doctor. She couldn’t marry someone who wouldn’t be a partner.
For love of her, Simon stirred himself.
It was such a relief when Simon finally sought some help for his depression. Though Eirene had never lost anyone who was as close to her as Simon’s parents had been to him, she understood how devastating the loss could be. Athena worked it out with tears and anger, spending hours a day in the gym, or jogging around the island. She exhausted herself and little-by-little Eirene saw Athena’s grief begin to resolve itself into acceptance.
But Simon couldn’t seem to move on. Certainly the weight of the Katsaros empire was heavy on him now, and contributed to his anxiety. But the longer he went without resolution, the worse this was going to become. So Eirene marched into his bedroom one morning and told him that if he didn’t get up and go get help, she was calling off the engagement.
She’d made an appointment for him and she said she’d take him to see the doctor. She would do everything she could to help, but Simon had to help himself. When he got up and got dressed, her relief was palpable.
The first step was medication, and within days she could see an improvement. Simon’s anxiety ebbed and he became more his old self. She could tell that he was still having dark moments, and that he was having a hard time motivating himself, but the most crippling part of his condition was resolving itself.
Athena went back to school. Simon seemed reluctant to let her go, but in the end, he’d said, “Please don’t do anything rash, Athena. And your friend? Please be careful there.” But he never explained what he meant. When asked, he simply looked tired and said, “Please trust me on this.”
Several months after the funeral, just a few weeks shy of the date they’d originally set for the wedding, Simon and Eirene were married quietly on Halithos. Athena flew back in from London, alone this time, and Eirene’s family attended. It was not the joyous affair Eirene had hoped for, but it wasn’t the somber one she’d feared. Simon seemed in better spirits, even a bit frisky.
She really didn’t know what to expect from the wedding night. Their sex life had been cut so short by the tragedy and Simon’s depression that if nothing at all happened between them beyond a kiss or two, she wouldn’t have been too surprised. She was prepared to wait for him, but at the same time, she missed his touch.
As lovers, they had only just begun to know each other. Their lovemaking had been tentative. Exciting, yes, but still so new, and so tied up with learning about each other that it had never become full and rich. She wanted to know Simon inside out. She wanted to explore every possible avenue of desire with him, to find the deepest wellsprings of passion.
But she was willing to wait. He was there with her; they would find each other again.
That night, they went up to their bedroom and Simon sat down on the bed. He patted the spot beside himself and said, “Come and sit, my darling.”
Eirene sat beside him.
“I have so much to atone for,” he began.
“No. Oh no, Simon, you have nothing to be sorry for.” She touched his cheek and he leaned into it. “You are coping with a huge loss, and I understand that.”
“You are so good for me,” he told her. “You are my best medicine.” He leaned in and kissed her softly.
They had shared kisses, many of them, but this one felt promising, as if they were moving toward something. When he kissed her again, cupping her face in his hands, she knew she’d been right. He was ready to try again, ready to be her husband and her lover.
He touched the silk of her dress with tender fingers, as if it was an extension of her flesh, and she felt it slip off her shoulder to pool on her lap, baring her breasts. He smiled as he looked at them. “So beautiful,” he murmured, touching one nipple with his thumb. Such a soft touch, but it was enough to send a thrill of pleasure coursing through Eirene like an electric shock. She shivered, grasped his hand and pressed it to her breast, letting him cup it.
“I love it when you touch me,” she whispered before they kissed, this time with more heat.
She unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, then pressed herself against him, bare chest to bare chest, feeling the silk of his dark hair against her breasts. Her breathing was becoming ragged as they embraced, fell back onto the bed. How she had missed this, missed his touch, so gentle and rough by turns, missed his deep, longing kisses, and the warm, musky scent of his desire.
They wriggled free of their clothing and Eirene lay back thighs spread wide, inviting him into her. He studied her and for a moment she wondered if perhaps he was not ready. But she looked downward to where his thick cock was rising from the dark curls between his legs and she knew he was not hesitating, but rather appreciating her body, taking in the sight of her open and wet and ready for him, hungry for him.
He touched her softly, spreading her lightly furred lips, and teased her clitoris with practiced fingers. She had reason to be grateful to the women who came before and taught him how to play a woman’s body like a fine instrument.
His finger
s entered her. She surged up and gasped, and Simon laughed with such happiness that she thought perhaps they had passed the worst of it. And then he knelt between her legs and entered her slowly, carefully, filling her, spreading her open. As he moved inside her, she made little mewling noises of pleasure, a pleasure that grew and grew until she thought that there must be a release soon or she might die of it.
And then she felt it, the hot gush of his seed into her, and it was enough, too much, just the push she needed to explode into orgasm, crying out because the feelings were bursting out of her, not just the sexual release, but joy and adoration, and even faith in what the future held for them. She cried out “Simon!” and fell back onto the bed, gasping, legs locked around his waist. And Simon slumped down on top of her, his chest working like a bellows.
“Oh God,” he moaned, “that was… I’ve never…” He laid his hand on her face and turned her head so that he could look into her eyes. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me,” he whispered, still breathless.
Eirene wondered if you could die of happiness.
The wedding felt like a rebirth to Simon. Depression had been savage, stealing months of his life, forcing him to go through the motions without actually feeling anything. He learned how to do his job but did it without joy. He spent time with Eirene, and was grateful, but again, it was joyless. And it shouldn’t have been. Being with her should have been transcendent. She should have enriched his days and nights instead of simply keeping him anchored to life.
And Athena? He should have cared that she had been befriended by Kosta, but somehow it was impossible. He thought of the two of them together and felt nothing. He could not protect her beyond telling her, before she left for London after the funeral, that he had met Kosta and knew him to be unreliable. To her credit, she had said, “I’ll take that into account. Thank you.”
Perhaps she was growing up. The old Athena would have argued with him, challenged him, flouted Kosta and insisted that she would do whatever she wanted. Perhaps grief had matured her as well, or perhaps she was simply humoring Simon. Whichever it was, he found he couldn’t worry about it.
But once he began to feel better, to come out of his funk and live again, he found himself fretting about Athena. Could it really be that easy to put her off of Kosta? And what was Kosta’s intention? He’d heard nothing from the man since the day Kosta had arrived on Halithos with Athena. That was worrisome.
He decided he needed to talk to Athena. The holidays were approaching, and there would be time enough to sit down with her and find out if Kosta had tried to insinuate himself into her life. She hadn’t mentioned Kosta again, and Simon thought that was probably a good sign.
On the day she was to return, Simon and Eirene drove out to the airstrip to meet her plane. Simon was in good spirits and looking forward to the holidays, and to spending his first Christmas with Eirene, and going into a new year as a married man.
And then Athena stepped off the plane with Kosta.
Simon’s emotions, which were still unsettled, boiled up at the sight of his former business partner and he began to shout before they were down the steps.
“What the hell are you doing with my sister?” he yelled.
Athena looked horrified, Kosta’s face was unreadable. They stepped onto the tarmac and Simon grabbed Kosta by the lapels and shook him. “I told you to stay away from her!”
Athena caught hold of Simon’s arm. “Simon stop it!”
“Calm down, old man,” Kosta said, a ghost of a smile on his face. “I told you I’d respect Athena’s wishes, and she wished to see me.”
“Simon, please.”
“Athena I told you what kind of a man he is. What were you thinking?”
“That I love him!” she shouted at him, yanking him free of Kosta. “And that we’re married.”
Simon actually staggered backward, he was that stunned. “What?”
“We’re married.”
He stared at them as if he didn’t even recognize them. Then, quietly, he said, “Get out.”
“What?”
“Get off Halithos. You’re not welcome here.”
“Simon, this is my home,” Athena protested.
Eirene caught hold of his arm. “Simon!”
“It’s not your home. Not while you’re married to that man.”
“Simon, stop!” Eirene said. “Athena, let me talk to him.”
Athena had begun to cry and when Kosta put his arm around her, Simon nearly exploded again. But Eirene led him off, clutching his arm with fingers like steel bands.
“What is wrong with you?”
“That bastard. That lousy bastard, how dare he?” Simon muttered. “I’ll have him killed.”
“What are you talking about? Simon, this is insane! That’s your sister.”
“I told her. I said, that man is not to be trusted. She said she understood, and then she runs off and does this? What’s wrong with her?”
“With her? What’s wrong with you? How can you take such a dislike to a man you met once for five minutes?”
“I know him Eirene. I was in business with him. He’s a criminal.”
She went pale and Simon realized he’d said too much. “I mean… I think he’s a criminal.”
“No. You meant what you said. I could see it in your eyes, Simon. I always know when you’re lying. You’re going to explain yourself to me when we get home, but for now we have to deal with this.” She released her death grip on his arm. “You stay here. Don’t you dare move an inch. Promise me.”
He said nothing, looked away.
“I said, promise me, Simon.” It was spoken with such authority that he nodded, still unable to meet her gaze. She walked back to where Kosta was comforting Athena and spoke to them for a few moments. She said something to Kosta and he shook his head. But the next time she spoke to him, he nodded. Athena just stared up at him as if she had never seen him before.
They walked back up the steps and got on the plane. Eirene spoke to the attendant who nodded and followed them on board.
When she returned to the car, she said, “They’re going to Athens to wait until you and I have discussed this. I think Athena will have something to discuss with her husband as well. Get in the car.”
“Eirene—”
“Simon, I am simply in no mood. Please get in the car, or I will leave you standing here.” She climbed into the car and Simon saw no other option but to follow her.
The ride back to the house was silent, and time enough for Simon to berate himself for having let too much slip. He’d broken ties with Kosta when he fell in love with Eirene. He had hoped she’d never know what kind of a man he’d been before they met, that her low opinion of him had been just. And in a moment of uncontrolled anger, he’d blurted out everything. He tried to blame Athena, tried to blame Kosta, but in the end, he knew that what he’d done, he’d done to himself.
He was so ashamed.
Once they were back at the house and upstairs, Eirene said, “you must tell me the truth, Simon. What did you mean when you said that you were in business with Kosta? You knew him before your parents died?”
“Yes.”
“And you say he’s a criminal?”
“I said, I thought—”
“Simon, don’t lie to me. Don’t make this worse. What have you done?”
“It wasn’t anything, Eirene. Some contraband, that’s all.”
She studied his face. “That’s not all, is it?”
“Of course.”
“You’re lying to me. Simon, never play poker, you’re a terrible liar. What else?”
“Antiquities. I mean, I knew he was looking for them. He found a few and I arranged for him to show them to some friends. That’s all.” It sounded so lame, so deluded.
“That’s all,” she repeated. “You knew he was looting the cultural heritage of other countries for profit, and you say, “that’s all?” How can you be so blase?”
“They were nothing, E
irene. Just small things. Sometimes things that would have been destroyed by groups like the Taliban.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to profit off of them. I am so disappointed in you.”
Of all the things she could have said, all the possible recriminations, that had to be the worst. He loved her so dearly that to disappoint her was like a knife in his heart. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“What are you going to do about it?”
“What can I do about it?” he asked. The helpless feeling was back again.
“Go to the police.”
“You want me to go to prison?”
She just stared at him. “Do you think I want that? What I want is for you to clean up your mess, Simon. Be the man I thought I married.” She retrieved her nightgown. “I’m going to sleep in another room tonight. I need time to think.” She left him standing alone in their bedroom, his heart heavy with fresh grief.
Eirene didn’t know what to do. Ever since she’d met Simon, she’d been convinced that her initial impression of him had been wrong-headed, informed by gossip rags that painted him as an amoral, billionaire playboy. She’d been ashamed to have believed those things of a man who had treated her with such care and concern, and had berated herself for her ill-informed judgment.
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