by Olivia Gates
Amid all the disapproval and dressing-down, one thing had become clear. One thing he hadn’t thought possible. Aristedes cared.
While his brother had become the epitome of caring in his private life, remaining a bulldozer only professionally, Andreas had never thought that this thawing would extend to him. Not when he’d done everything to warrant being frozen out for good.
Not that Aristedes had cut him any slack. He’d pledged to hurt Andreas, badly, if his alleged second-chance bid showed a hint of exploitative cracks.
But far from being bothered by Aristedes’s threats, he was actually amused by his father-bear tactics, even warmed that Naomi and Dorothea now had yet another fierce protector. Besides, Aristedes couldn’t hurt him. He couldn’t be hurt. There’d been one way he could be, and that he’d finally resolved.
What disturbed him was what Naomi had told Aristedes. That their marriage had been hell. True, she’d told him that she’d never been more miserable than when she’d been with him. But initially he’d dismissed that statement, thinking she’d made it out of spite, in the heat of the moment. He’d always believed that their marriage, while unorthodox, had been fantastic. Well, as fantastic as possible given the constraints he’d placed on it. Things between them had gone smoothly in general, and explosively in bed—up till that night he’d told her he never wanted children. That had been the established reason he’d believed she’d left him. She had asked for a divorce the very next day, after all.
Now he was no longer sure.
His head told him she’d made those claims of misery to him to make him back off, then to Aristedes to ignite his protectiveness. If said claims weren’t total fabrications, she’d probably worked herself up into believing she’d been unhappy with him all along. She could have resented him retroactively for not having a child of her own, something he’d intended to deprive her of as long as she remained with him. Resentment had a way of warping memories and rewriting history.
But his senses told him a different story. Her fierce resistance to any commitment again, even after their mind-melting lovemaking, had felt too real, too distraught. Now he replayed everything she’d said, the way she’d looked and sounded.... Could it be that had been how she’d really felt at the time, not something she’d constructed after the fact?
He’d be the first to admit their relationship had been irregular. When he’d asked her to marry him, he’d wanted a continuation on the same terms of their affair, only with the assurance that he was hers, and that it wouldn’t end. He’d thought that would resolve her discontent and uncertainty, since he’d believed her need for permanence and exclusivity had been why she’d walked out in the first place.
He’d known he wasn’t husband material in the accepted ways, and his life situation couldn’t have accommodated anything different from what he’d offered her. But he’d thought she’d been content with what they shared, that their passion compensated for anything that had been missing. He’d never suspected she’d been unhappy with him, let alone miserable.
It had been why he’d clung so hard when she’d walked away, believing she’d come back to negotiate her needs. Once she did, he’d intended to argue that they had plenty of time before children became an issue, counting on their phenomenal sex life to satisfy her for years before that maternal need became pressing.
But if their sex life had only made her feel worse about herself for putting up with a situation she’d found so awful, what had made her stay that long? And if expecting the same unhappiness was why she was so adamant about not remarrying him, what could he do now?
He could coerce her. Easily.
But he wouldn’t. It would defeat his purpose. He wanted—needed her unpressured eagerness again.
To get that, she had to agree to his proposal of her own free will. But how could he achieve that?
He’d come back believing that Naomi’s need for a child had already been fulfilled, eliminating the one obstacle in the way of her return to him. But it seemed she’d needed things from him beside children, things he hadn’t been able to give her. And though his situation had changed, he had no idea if he could.
What if he didn’t have it in him?
What if Aristedes was right in distrusting him, and the best thing for her, and for Dorothea, was for him to leave them alone? If so, could he do it?
Could he walk away? Forever this time?
Seven
Naomi stared at the schematics on her laptop screen.
They could have been alien runes for all the sense they made to her.
Not that there was anything wrong with them. It was the perpetual shortage of oxygen to her brain that was causing the malfunction. She’d been bating her breath to find out if Aristedes had succeeded in his mission. But he’d told her only that he’d confronted Andreas, and that things were under control. What that meant, she had no idea.
Only one thing would make her breathe easy. For Andreas to say he’d forget about Petros’s will. Or at least that he’d negotiate a middle ground. Maybe that when Naomi officially adopted Dora, he’d be her godfather...or something.
And that she didn’t have to remarry him.
Whenever she’d come to that part, voices inside her kept adding feverishly that he would instead take her up on her offer of unlimited sexual services.
She hadn’t had much luck stifling those.
But for three days after Aristedes had summoned his brother, there’d been absolute silence on Andreas’s part. No news didn’t feel like good news. Not knowing was driving her insane.
She was also suffering from another problem.
Her body, which he’d savagely reawakened, had been tormenting her. It wasn’t leaving her a waking or sleeping moment without demanding his.
Turning off her laptop with a huff of exasperation, she snatched her purse and headed out of her office. No use trying to work when she could barely sit or think straight.
Fifteen minutes later she was entering her apartment, to hear Dora’s usual jabbering issuing from the family room. The adorable sounds wrung a smile from her tight lips.
Halfway there, she felt as if she’d bumped into an invisible wall when she heard what emanated from her destination. A deep, deep voice.
Swallowing the heart that seemed to have vaulted into her throat, she forced herself to continue on shaking legs. It might be Aristedes. It probably was. He’d said he’d come to meet Dora, and she’d told him to drop by whenever he could, no advance call necessary. He did sound a lot like Andreas. From a distance their voices could be mistaken for—
She groaned. Who was she fooling? That dark baritone thrummed her already inflamed nerves, itched behind her breastbone and pooled in her loins. Even if her ears and brain couldn’t make a positive ID, the rest of her body knew.
That was Andreas.
He was here. Uninvited and unannounced again. And with Dora.
Naomi shook off the initial surge of fright. After all, he was still here, hadn’t absconded with Dora.
But she’d left herself wide open to his incursion again. She should have made it clear to Hannah that he wasn’t welcome here. Should have left strict instructions with the concierge to bar his entrance.
Reaching the family room, she scoped out the situation before making an entrance, no expectations forming in her mind. What she saw sent her thundering heart sputtering.
Andreas was sitting on the couch, looking even more vital than usual in a light beige suit that made his hair and skin glow in contrast. Her cats flanked his sides, Hannah was sitting across from him in the armchair, and Dora played at his feet.
To anyone looking in on the scene, it would have appeared as though this huge man who dwarfed his companions and darkened the whole room was a regular guest here. Hannah seemed so pleased and animated as she talked to him, Loki and Thor
were grooming themselves in utmost relaxation, and Dora was handing him her prized toys to inspect, babbling her brand of baby explanations and inquiries nonstop. They all behaved as if being with him was an accustomed and favorite pastime.
And while he looked totally out of place in this scene of domesticity, his demeanor as he matter-of-factly accepted the attention and familiarity her household extended him, belied the fact that this was an unprecedented situation in his experience, and one alien to his nature.
Which mattered not at all right now. The need to charge in, grab Dora and Hannah and get them the hell away from Andreas was so fierce it paralyzed Naomi.
Which was a good thing. She couldn’t expose the reality of the situation to Hannah or Dora. Inertia was giving her the chance to get herself together before she walked in.
One other thing held her back: the fact that Andreas knew she was there. The way he lowered his lashes as his eyes shifted in her direction made her certain. He’d always had an uncanny radar where she was concerned. She bet he wasn’t acknowledging her presence on purpose. To goad her into some uncalculated response. One she wasn’t giving him, even though she felt his magnetic pull tugging at her every instinct and craving.
Cursing under her breath, she straightened and walked into the room.
As soon as she did, Andreas inched to the edge of the couch, still holding Dora’s latest offerings, his gaze opaque as usual. Her body nearly roared its demand for his. Having him within reach was sending it bucking like a wild horse against the reins of decorum and prudence.
Gritting her teeth against the hammering urges, she dragged her gaze to Hannah, who was rising with a bright smile.
“Darling, you’re home early! Everything all right?”
Failing to return her smile, Naomi felt her heat rising with each step she took closer to Andreas. “Just wrapped things up earlier than expected.”
“Great. Now Mr. Sarantos won’t have to put up with our company for as long as he’d resigned himself to.”
“It’s I who had my doubts you’d bear my company that long, Mrs. McCarthy.” Andreas’s calm self-denunciation dragged Naomi’s gaze back to him. She found him looking at Hannah. “And again, it’s Andreas. Every time you say Mr. Sarantos I have the urge to look around for my older brother.”
“But you must be used to being called Mr. Sarantos, too!”
“I’ve been suffering this condition since I came back on his turf. New York can’t handle more than one Mr. Sarantos, and that’s definitely him around here.”
Hannah chuckled. “Fine, but only if you call me Hannah.”
“That’s a relief...Hannah.”
And there Hannah went, totally submerged under Andreas’s spell.
His gaze turned to Naomi, and suddenly her clothes felt like sandpaper against her skin, and the air felt like the blast of a furnace.
His cool appraisal made it all worse. “In case you’re preparing another rebuke for my being here uninvited again, this time I thought you’d be here when I showed up on your doorstep.”
As if he didn’t know she worked afternoons on Saturdays.
“You could have called ahead.” Her attempt at a smile was all for Hannah’s sake. “Saved yourself the wait.”
“If I did, I wouldn’t have had the chance to sample the fantastic walnut-and-spice cake Hannah had just baked when I arrived. And I wouldn’t have met the rest of your household.”
He turned his gaze to those who’d come to welcome her. Loki and Thor were rubbing against her legs, while Dora clasped her knees, asking to be picked up.
Feeling she’d keel over if she bent too quickly, Naomi petted her cats, then swung Dora up, moving away from Andreas for some breathable air.
She still couldn’t stop watching him as he took in the sight of her and Dora smooching each other, his gaze enigmatic and heavy-lidded. She’d never seen this specific look in his eyes before. And it elicited a whole new level of disturbance.
“You must be hungry.”
His remark set off firecrackers in her blood. He should know. But she also knew he wasn’t making an innuendo. Though he was terminally blunt, he wasn’t blatant. Being so came with the need to provoke people, and Andreas didn’t consider others at all. And though he’d been provoking her of late, she doubted he’d make a lewd remark in front of Hannah. Those weren’t his style, anyway.
“Hannah said you come home famished,” he elaborated. “Since you don’t eat or snack at work.”
Putting Dora down when she squirmed, Naomi shook her head. “I’m not today.”
Because I’m only famished for a juggernaut with a body made for sin and a touch that turns me into a mindless mess.
“Which is a relief,” Hannah said. “I forgot all about starting dinner, what with Andreas’s entertaining company.”
Naomi blinked at her. Andreas? Entertaining company?
Hannah pulled herself energetically to her feet. “But no matter. Dinner will be ready in half an hour.” She turned to him, eyes hopeful. “And of course you’re staying?”
“On one condition.”
Sure. Andreas always had one. Something that entailed soul forfeiting.
“I won’t sit here waiting to be served. I’m simply incapable of being waited on.”
Naomi couldn’t accuse him of telling a lie here. Andreas was self-sufficient to the point of aggravation. Though they’d always had room service or catering when they’d been together, he’d never let her as much as serve that food. He’d never even let her make him a cup of coffee. Nor had he ever offered to make her one, either.
“So what did you have in mind for dinner, Hannah?” he asked.
“Oh, just baked salmon, mashed potatoes and stir-fry. The crème brûlée for dessert is ready. But I can put together another menu if any of this isn’t to your liking.”
“You just mentioned some of my favorite foods.”
He wasn’t being polite, as he never bothered to be. This was true.
He rose, falling in step with Hannah on her way to the kitchen. She was clearly overjoyed to have him, touching him the way she did David, her only son among her four children, whenever he came visiting. The rest of Naomi’s “household” followed in his wake, cats twining between his legs and Dora determinedly crawling after him.
And since she hadn’t even been consulted in his dinner invitation, and unable to make a scene in the others’ presence, Naomi grudgingly followed.
Once in the kitchen, Dora climbed his leg, demanding he be the one to put her in her high chair. He looked down at her as if one of the cats had started talking to him.
Expecting him to ignore her, Naomi was surprised when he bent and, with perfect efficiency devoid of an emotional element, did as asked. Seemingly satisfied with his handling, Dora pointed to her feeding-time toys that were lined on the marble island. He didn’t comply this time, just pinned her with one of his mesmerizing glances. In a moment, the baby’s face scrunched up in its most endearing expression.
Naomi couldn’t believe it. This was Dora asking nicely!
Only then did Andreas give her what she wanted. Then he bent and looked her straight in the eyes. “And now I cook with your mommy and nanny. You play until we’re done.”
Naomi bet Dora understood his refusal to be at her disposal when he had other things to do, and that it was nonnegotiable. Giving him another wide grin, she got busy with her toys.
He moved next to Hannah. “I’ll take care of that salmon. I think you’ll be impressed with my seasoning.”
With a smile that split her face, Hannah offered him the fish and all the ingredients he asked for.
Shaking herself out of the trance she’d fallen into at the impossible sight of Andreas in her kitchen, sharing dinner preparation, Naomi said, “I’ll do the potatoes.”
&
nbsp; Andreas extended her one of those multi-meaning glances before turning his attention to his chore. “That’s a perfect cut of salmon. Kudos to whoever chose it. And you must have felt I’d be coming, Hannah, since there’s enough for all of us. For Dorothea, too, if she eats that kind of food now.”
Glowing from his praise, the older woman said, “Dora eats most of what we eat. She is the least fussy eater of all the babies I’ve ever dealt with, and I’ve dealt with six beside her.”
“Naomi was one of those, I hear. How was she?”
Hannah looked at her apologetically. “From one to ten, one being Dora? She was an eleven. Nothing pleased her, and it was over two years before we managed to get her to eat anything not specifically prepared for her.”
“I eat anything you put before me now, Hannah.”
At her mumbled response, Hannah smiled lovingly at her. “Oh, you’ve long made up and then some, in every way possible, for any aggravation you ever caused.”
Andreas’s eyes were on her, contemplative. It must be difficult for him to imagine her being particular about anything. She’d bet she’d been the most accommodating person he’d ever known. Life had punched and wrung any demanding tendencies and expectations out of her.
After he removed the salmon skin, he spoke again. “I grew up on Crete, and most of our food was seafood we caught ourselves, but we never had salmon, since it doesn’t exist in the Mediterranean. Once I was introduced to it here, I got addicted. I now eat no other animal protein.”
“Is it a moral or health stance?” Hannah asked.
“I can’t claim either, no. We could never afford meat or poultry. And when I tried them for the first time here, at age sixteen, I just couldn’t develop a taste for them.”
Naomi’s hands shook as she peeled the potatoes. She’d noticed he’d never eaten those things, but had never asked why. He’d never given her straight answers to anything, so she’d stopped asking. But there he was, volunteering information about his past for the first time.
