by Olivia Gates
Aristedes would be happy with anything that made Selene happy. Keeping her maiden name in combination with his was evidently important to her, maintaining her identity and paying tribute to her father and family. And that was exactly what Aristedes would want her to do.
And Naomi had to go fixate on the one man incapable of giving her a look like that, of valuing her or needing her or considering her anywhere near the way Aristedes did Selene...or at all.
The familiar sense of futility twisted her insides again as Aristedes turned to her. “Shall we sit down, Ms. Sinclair?”
“Naomi, please, Mr. Sarantos.” He opened his mouth, and she rushed to preempt him. “But please don’t expect me to call you anything else.”
“We’ll see, Ms. Sinclair,” he drawled, renewed shrewdness invading his gaze as they sat down, she in an armchair, he and Selene on the couch. “Once we find out what you want to see me about.” After a minute of silence, he added, “Please relax.”
A nervous giggle escaped her. “Ms. Delaney advised me the same on the way up here. She assured me I have nothing to fear from you, if only on account of Mrs. Sarantos being here today.”
The next moment a gust of wind could have blown her away. She was, anyway. By Aristedes’s smile. And what a smile it was. Especially as he turned to share the joke with Selene.
“You sure came at the best time, Ms. Sinclair. Selene is so busy with our kids and her own firm that she rarely visits me at work. Her arrival has me in a celebratory mood, so you’ll find me most receptive to whatever you need to say. Though if it’s about Andreas, I’m sure I won’t like hearing it. But it seems you dislike having to tell it even more. The best way around that is to just spit it out. So let’s have it.”
Naomi looked uncertainly at Selene.
Aristedes waved. “You can say anything in front of my wife. I’ll tell her everything, anyway, and this saves me having to recount it to her later.”
Selene gave him a chiding glance, then turned reassuring eyes on her. “You don’t have to say anything in front of me. I’ll leave if it will make you more comfortable.”
Naomi lunged forward and stopped Selene as she rose. “Oh, no, please, stay. I was only uncertain how Mr. Sarantos would prefer this. I would actually like you to stay.”
“As a buffer against any crankiness, no doubt.” Selene smiled at her, then at her husband as she sat back. He reached for her hand with an answering smile, caressing it as if compelled, clearly finding extreme pleasure and comfort in the action.
The sight of them as they sat unconsciously entwined even as they focused on someone else was exquisite. Two powerful entities who’d come together in a far bigger and stronger new whole. This was more than love. This was...unity.
But every second in their company underlined ever more painfully how stunted Andreas was, how hopeless it had always been with him, and what a terrible future awaited her and Dora if Aristedes couldn’t help her.
Drawing in a steadying breath, she told them everything.
They both listened attentively, even if their reactions to her account were diametrically different.
Selene looked increasingly pained, as if imagining herself in Naomi’s place, being forced into such an emotionally traumatic choice, with her children’s future hanging in the balance. Aristedes only looked progressively more angry. Enraged.
He was evidently a protector, had severe issues with the coercion of anyone weaker, especially a woman. That the one guilty of such a transgression was his brother, the brother he evidently thought very little of, exacerbated his outrage. It was as if it tarnished his own honor that this intimidation was originating from someone who shared his blood.
By the time she finished, Aristedes looked as cold as his brother always did, but she could feel the volcano beneath. It was so scary she almost blurted out a defense of Andreas. But she stopped herself. She couldn’t ruin her own petition in order to protect Andreas from his brother’s wrath now that she was certain she’d managed to unleash it.
But she only wanted her and Dora’s salvation, she didn’t want Andreas hurt in the process. Even if he wasn’t bothered in the least by the idea of hurting her.
Before she could say anything, Aristedes squeezed Selene’s hands, which were now clinging to his, and disengaged from her to rise to his feet. Naomi staggered up to hers, explanations and excuses crowding on her tongue.
Aristedes gave her no chance to voice them, taking her hand in both of his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Ms. Sinclair...Naomi...you don’t have to worry. Petros was like a younger brother to me back in Crete, to us all. Once he got here, we never reestablished relationships, as his friendship with Andreas took him wherever Andreas was—away from any of us. I can’t begin to tell you how much I regret that we didn’t know of you all, of his marriage or his death. But now I know of his daughter, I assure you she is as precious to me as any of my nephews and nieces. I would never let anyone disrupt her life, or yours, least of all Andreas. Leave him to me.”
After she thanked him and received further bolstering from Selene, Naomi left in a state of imbalance.
All she hoped was that she hadn’t set up an impending clash that would lead to an unbridgeable rift between the brothers. Not that they had much of a relationship to preserve, but still. She couldn’t bear to think it would be severed totally on her account.
But it was already done. Aristedes would order Andreas to back off, might even pressure him. She doubted Andreas would buckle easily. Or at all. He was too powerful and established, and he didn’t care about losses. It was how he’d grown so big. By being fearless and holding nothing dear.
Still, Aristedes was now an ally. He would buy her time, or manage to negotiate terms she could live with. Such as making Andreas take her offer instead of insisting on his terms.
Or it could all go horribly wrong.
Unable to think about the consequences of the events she’d set in motion, she only hoped this would be resolved with the least damage possible. And that she and Dora would be saved from plummeting into Andreas’s void.
Six
Andreas stopped in front of the building he’d passed so many times during the past years and never entered. His older brother’s office building.
The brother who’d called him an hour ago and ordered him to report to his office. Aristedes’s growled “now” was still a dull pain in his left ear.
His first reaction was to tell him what to do with his imperious summons. He would have ignored him, if he didn’t realize with near certainty what this was all about.
Naomi.
There was no other explanation. Aristedes had called him only four times in as many years. For Leonidas’s funeral, for his own wedding, and for their youngest sister’s son’s first birthday, which had also become her wedding. Andreas had gone only to Caliope’s wedding, because the situation had allowed it.
Another major event in the family would be too much of a coincidence a day after Naomi had fled from him, calling him a monster. No, Aristedes’s aggressive, out-of-the-blue call had to be at her instigation and on her behalf. She must have thought her last resort was to sic Aristedes on him. Not because he was his older brother. She must know that would have no influence on him. But because he was Aristedes.
Aristedes was formidable. If anyone could stand up to Andreas, it would be him. She must have calculated Aristedes would at least slow him down while she kept searching for a way out that didn’t include surrender. The wily, fiery lioness.
But she had surrendered last night. She’d come to him gloriously furious and taken all her aggression and passion out on him. She’d hit and bit and rubbed against him until he’d given her what she’d come demanding. And it had been as mind-blowing as it had always been. More, as if the time apart had boosted everything they’d shared, the intimacy more seari
ng, the pleasure more excruciating.
But as soon as he’d realized what had driven her into his arms, he’d grown cold. If only for minutes. He’d always been certain Naomi suffered his same affliction. He knew she’d do anything to end up beneath him, as he would to have her there.
She might have a legitimate excuse in Dorothea, but it had been only an excuse. She’d wanted him. That was why she’d offered herself to him. Whether for Dorothea or anything else, she certainly would have never gone to another man’s bed....
The idea caused an instant boiling in his blood.
A whack against his arm brought the surge of ferocity to a jarring end.
Great. He’d literally gone blind with possessiveness. He’d knocked a man over as he entered the building like a charging bull.
Helping the man to his feet, Andreas apologized, ignoring his curiosity and that of everyone around as he walked into the huge, ultramodern lobby.
It was clear everyone had recognized him, whether as himself or on account of his unmistakable likeness to Aristedes. They must be wondering what tremendous incident could have brought the prodigal brother back.
Last night had been tremendous indeed.
What had happened between them until Naomi had come out of the fugue of passion had been overwhelming. And real. What he shared with her was the only thing that he was certain was real. The unstoppable chemistry, the explosive satisfaction.
What had she called it? An unhealthy level of sexual affinity? Substituting “unhealthy” for “addictive” and “enslaving” was more like it. Whether that was unhealthy or not, he’d never cared. Not when it was that magnificent.
He’d cared only after she’d left him, when he could no longer wallow in his addiction and enslavement. Through the years, his body had hardened just reliving being buried inside her, his nerves constantly buzzing with the memorized feel of her velvet skin and resilient flesh, his nostrils always filled with echoes of the distillation of her essence and overpowering femininity. Relief, deficient and short-lived, he’d only achieved by replaying their countless encounters of abandon.
After the years of torment, he’d been as angry as Naomi, though for a different reason. At her hold over him. He’d come back intending to reclaim her, but had been hoping it would be different, that he’d be cured of addiction. He’d hoped he’d still be attracted, but not compelled.
But then he had seen her, touched her, and his fever had spiked to its previous power....and exceeded it, too.
Everything about her—the texture of her skin, the sound of her gasps, the melody of her voice, the taste of her kiss, the scent of her breath, the magic of her glances and gestures—it was as if her every nuance was his very own designer drug, a mind-altering high and an aphrodisiac in one, specifically formulated for him by a merciless god of compulsion.
Then had come last night. Theós...last night.
He’d thought bingeing on her pleasures would break starvation’s hold over his senses. It had only fractured the leash on his cravings. Now they ran rampant, would consume him if he didn’t have her again. And a thousand times more.
And there he was, standing in the lobby of one of the busiest buildings on Fifth Avenue, fielding dozens of curious stares and about to tussle with his older brother. And all he could think of was her, beneath him, hot and wet and incoherent with lust, her petal-soft arms clasped around him, her velvet inferno core gripping him as he drove into her, inundating her with pleasure and pouring his seed inside her.
His heart thundered, all blood rushing to his erection, forcing him to come to a full stop.
Dekára. Dammit. He was so hard he’d hurt himself if he moved.
At least being crammed so unbearably in his jeans had an upside. They were tight enough to obscure his arousal. If not according to the stares of the men. They had this male empathy in their eyes acknowledging his predicament, before they looked around to check out who was causing it.
They’d realize his condition was more advanced than it looked if they knew the instigator of his libido crisis not only wasn’t around, but had also laid the trap he was walking into.
And he had to walk into it and get it over with, so he could resume her pursuit. He’d go into serious withdrawal soon....
“Mr. Sarantos.”
Turning his head, he found a woman rushing toward him. He deflated in the time it took her to reach him.
With a tentative smile, she extended a hand to him. “Cora Delaney. Mr. Sarantos sent me to escort you to his office without delay.”
Giving her a brief handshake, he absently noted how her gaze flickered. He was certain she didn’t look at Aristedes that way. Then a slightly wider smile and direct eye contact let him know she was very interested, if he was.
Glancing ahead without returning her smile, he started walking, a clear message that he wasn’t.
She was pretty. Beautiful, even. Years ago she’d have been his type. Dark and vivid and svelte. He would have let her know his interest was fleeting, to take it or leave it. Once she’d agreed to his terms, he would have let himself be picked up, for an evening.
Then Naomi had happened. A voluptuous angel with sunlight spun in her hair and turquoise shores trapped in her eyes, vulnerable and valiant, innocent and insatiable. And that had been it for him. Ever since, it had been her...or nothing.
Women, on the other hand, remained interested, made advances everywhere he went. Whenever a passive dismissal like the one he’d given Ms. Delaney wasn’t enough, he ended the situation by saying he was already taken.
And he was. Naomi had taken his libido prisoner from that first look, a genie in a bottle that only she could unleash.
She was unleashing something else now. Aristedes’s wrath. Andreas had better start gearing his mind to that.
As he did, he finally noticed his surroundings. Everything in the building was stamped with Aristedes’s character, at least his professional side, austere, oozing with class and power, unflinchingly distinctive and cutting edge.
In minutes, they’d arrived at their destination and Ms. Delaney left him to enter his brother’s den alone.
Walking in without slowing down, he crossed what had to be a waiting room, rounded a corner...and saw Aristedes.
He was standing like a monolith in the middle of the expansive room, his reflection in the polished hardwood floor giving the illusion of him rising from another world, like a god of vengeance. He sure looked the part.
Something shifted deep inside Andreas at the sight of his brother. Something elemental. Unreasoning and overpowering.
Because of his choices, he’d never truly known Leonidas, his younger brother. He’d been better with Petros. He hoped. But the feeling of being too late, doing too little for either of them, never stopped creeping up on him and garroting him with regrets. Now they were both gone, so tragically, so prematurely, both to car accidents. Leonidas’s had been ruled as his fault, but at least no one else had been hurt by his tragic mistake. Now Aristedes was the only brother Andreas had left. The only male in this world who was close to him.
Granted, they were not close in reality, which was also his doing. But there was this fundamental bond, this inexorable tug in his blood that recognized Aristedes’s, its kindred nature soothing and bolstering him by its purity and power.
And though said kindred entity was now glaring at him as if he wanted nothing but to flay him, Andreas reached out and pulled him into a hug.
Aristedes went stone still in his embrace, made no move at all, even to breathe. His heart might have stopped. He was that shocked.
Not that Andreas could have expected a different reaction. He’d never showed Aristedes or anyone else any spontaneous demonstration of affection, physical, verbal or otherwise.
Sighing, he stepped away, releasing him. He didn’t want his brothe
r to suffocate or have a heart attack, after all.
Aristedes stared ahead as if in a trance. Then he shook his head as if to exit one, and his vacant gaze panned to Andreas.
“What was that all about?” he rasped.
Andreas shrugged. “I’m almost certain that was what people refer to as a brotherly hug.”
“Since when are brotherly hugs applicable to your species, Andreas?”
He gave another shrug, more dismissing. “I felt like it, I did it. Let it go.”
“How can I let it go? You hugged me, Andreas. This is right up there with...with the sky raining fish.”
“I’m sure that happened in some historically obscure event. And no doubt won’t again. As this hug won’t.”
“If it happened, then a set of bizarre circumstances came together to make the impossible occur. What happened to make you hug me?”
Exhaling, Andreas pulled Aristedes into another hug, a rougher, briefer one, then pushed him away. “There. I took it back. Or put it back. Or whatever returns you to your former state before the anomaly occurred. Better now?”
“If you think I can be the same, that anything can be the same after this, you’ve got another think coming. What’s going on with you, Andreas? Are you...sick?”
A mirthless laugh escaped him. “You think I’m dying or something? And what? I’m overcome with regret for all the things I’ve missed, all the things I haven’t done or said, and I’ve come to make amends before it’s too late?”
His sarcasm was evidently lost on Aristedes, who scanned him in anxiety-tinged exasperation. “Are you okay, dammit? If there’s something wrong with you, tell me now.”
Andreas winced, pressing his hand over the still aching eardrum that his brother’s previous “now” had almost ruptured. “It was just a damn hug, Aristedes, and I took it back. What else can I do to restore our peaceful, subzero-expectations status quo?”
The emotions in Aristedes’s gaze evaporated, the void Andreas had seen in the mirror for as long as he could remember filling their place.
