by Dani Collins
“What? Don’t—”
Too late. Ophelia swung the door open. “Geia. What are you doing here?”
“Ophelia...” Don’t be rude, Calli wanted to say, but the sight of Stavros nearly knocked her off her feet as she tried to stand. How could he have grown more handsome in a handful of weeks? While wearing stubble and a wrinkled shirt with a loosened tie?
At the sound of her voice, his gaze swept to slam into hers. “What are you doing here?”
“Girls’ night,” Ophelia volunteered with a wave at the litter they had accumulated. “Popcorn. Ice cream. Movie without nudity because she thinks I’m still nine.” She folded her arms and lifted her brows in disdain.
Stavros came into the flat and closed the door.
“I mean, why are you staying here?” He didn’t take his eyes off Calli. “I gave you the codes to our flat before you left.” For the Xenakis penthouse, he meant. The one that provided views of both the Acropolis and the horizon on the sea, rather than being tucked on the edge of that posh address and overlooking the red lower rooftops of middle-class districts in Athens.
“Takis had to travel. Ophelia didn’t want to stay with her grandparents.” And their marriage was a farce. He was divorcing her. Had he forgotten? She hadn’t.
“So he’s not here?” Stavros cut a swift, sharp look around what had always seemed a luxurious flat to Calli, but compared to the way Stavros lived was only very nice. There were three bedrooms, but they were quite small. The decor was professionally selected, but the wall art was prints, not originals. The rugs weren’t hand-loomed.
“He’ll be gone the week. Why? Do you need to speak to him?”
“No. You’re not working for him again, are you?”
“Kind of.” She scratched her elbow. “I took his things to the dry cleaners and brought in some groceries, so I’m not freeloading. Mostly I just wanted to spend some time with Ophelia before she goes to school.”
She had told Ophelia about Dorian. All of it. Ophelia was at an age where boys were beginning to occupy a lot of her thoughts, and it had seemed a sensible cautionary tale. It had also been cathartic, and Ophelia’s reaction, so defensive on Calli’s behalf, had been incredibly sweet. The empty calories and mindless movies had been Ophelia’s attempt to spoil her, trying to help her heal while Calli figured out her next moves.
“We’re homesick,” Ophelia announced, moving to throw her arm around Calli. “I wanted her to take me back to the island, since technically she’s still your wife and owns half of our old house, but she said it wouldn’t be right.” Ophelia wrinkled her nose at him. “Care to weigh in with a different opinion?”
“You may use the house anytime,” Stavros offered with an offhand shrug.
“See?” Ophelia beamed smugly at Calli.
“If you could give us a few minutes of privacy right now.”
“Oh.” The girl’s smile fell away. “Fine. I’ll go to my room and put in my earbuds so you grown-ups can talk.”
Don’t go, Calli wanted to say as Ophelia went down the hall and a door firmly closed. She wasn’t prepared for this. She had convinced herself she would never see Stavros again.
And she had felt like she was slowly bleeding out because of it.
“Calli—you don’t have to work.” He touched his forehead, pained, adding impatiently, “Of course, you don’t know that because you’re not at the penthouse. If you were, you would have received the courier envelope from Norma, explaining that the Underwoods have made you a settlement offer. For what it’s worth, Brandon will have to give up his own babies—those precious horses of his—to even approach the number I suggested was a good opener.”
“What?”
“Do not sign anything until you discuss it with me or Takis. You sell yourself way too short in these kinds of things. Soak him, damn it. Give it all to charity after, if you can’t stand to take it, but wring him dry.”
He sounded positively bloodthirsty. “Is that why you’re here? To discuss that? Because—”
“No.” He frowned. “I’m here because...”
“Oh, were there other papers I should have signed?” Something worse occurred. “Your grandfather didn’t back out, did he? Oh, Stavros—”
“Calli, be quiet.” He ran a hand down his face, then held out his palm as if requesting patience. “I shouldn’t be snapping at you. It’s frustration. You weren’t answering my texts and you weren’t at the flat. Until I actually clapped eyes on you, I was quite worried something had happened.”
“I’m fine. I changed my number when I got a new phone, but my email is still the same. You could have tried that.”
“Why did you change your phone? I can afford to keep paying your bills. I told you to use our flat.” He was back to snapping.
“It’s your family’s flat. It didn’t seem right.”
“It’s ours. Yours and mine.” He stared at her, lips a white line. “I’m not used to being erased from a person’s life like this.”
Was that hurt in his tone? She dropped her gaze to his polished shoes. “You did a lot for me. I didn’t want to keep taking advantage.”
“I paid to have one letter written. You’re not even wearing the clothes I bought for you. You left the necklace. Everything.” Both his empty hands came up, like he couldn’t fathom it.
She became acutely aware of her oversize T-shirt and striped leggings, her bare face and feet, the hair she had let air dry after her shower. Her lack of a bra.
She folded her arms.
“Do you love Takis? Is that it?”
“What? No. I told you. I love him like a father or a brother, not like that.”
“Do you love me?”
“What?” She had the feeling of a hot spotlight finding her and glaring mercilessly, giving her no place to hide.
He knew. Behind his frustration was a glittering knowledge. Certainty. He was nodding like it was a foregone conclusion.
Her eyes stung and she looked away. “Stavros,” she protested weakly.
“You do. You love me ‘like that,’ but you won’t let me take care of you. That doesn’t make sense, Calli.”
“You don’t love me.” The words came out thin and dry.
“You’re completely content to love in one direction. You love your son without his even knowing you’re alive. You love that girl even though she pushes all your buttons.” He pointed toward the hall. “I would bet my entire fortune that deep down, you still have something like love for your parents, even though they don’t deserve it. You love unconditionally and without reserve, Calli. And you love me. I know you do. But you left me and I finally figured out why. It’s because there’s one person you don’t love. Yourself.”
She flinched as though he had struck her and started to turn away, but he caught her back, his hands warm and strong on her arms.
“It wasn’t your fault, Calli.”
“Don’t.” She tried to twist out of his hold, but he made her look him in the eye.
“Stop blaming yourself. You think I don’t understand? I’m a piece of walking garbage. That’s how I’ve felt since I outswam my father and made it to shore without him. You asked me if I loved you and I couldn’t bring myself to saddle you with this.” He tapped the place over his heart. “Who could possibly want my love? It’s worthless.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I let you go, didn’t I? I let you walk away thinking I didn’t love you. That you weren’t worthy of love. You are. So very much. My love for you takes up so much room in me, I can barely breathe.”
“Stavros.”
“You’re not tainted. You’re not a bad mother. You’re a warm and loving woman.” He cupped her cheeks, filled her vision with the tender look on his face. “Redeem us both, Calli. Tell me I’m worthy of love and let me do the same for you.”
Her vision began to blur. She blinked. The hot drops of her tears leaked onto her cheeks. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”
“Me, too. But I love
you exactly as you are. Now admit you love me, flaws and all.”
“I do. I love you.” The words hurt, tearing a hole in her heart that immediately filled in a rush, swelling it to painful capacity. She could hardly draw breath, especially when his lips touched hers.
The light kiss was benediction. A cool satin ribbon of touch, then a warmer press. Love. Sweet, sweet love that gently opened to passion. His hand moved into her hair. She stepped into his heat. Their mouths melded, deepening the kiss by increments until they were one being, sharing themselves with the other.
On and on they kissed. Her arms were around his neck, his heart beating so hard in his chest she felt it against her breast.
He drew back to dry her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “S’agapó gynaíka mou.” I love you, my wife. “I refuse to divorce you. What do you think of that?”
“I think you’re saving me from myself.” She tucked her face into his shirt and hugged him tightly. “I’m scared to love this much. To want.”
“I’ve thrown myself off cliffs with less terror than I felt coming after you. Failure was not an option.” His hand clenched in her hair. “I told you once that I didn’t have a reason to live, but I do. You are that reason, Calli.” His arms banded her to him like he would never let her go.
“You have a lot of reasons, Stavros.”
“You have a lot of modesty, glykia mou. Do not underestimate what you mean to me.”
She drew back, the vastness of it all lodging in her chest. “I wanted to be pregnant,” she admitted huskily, laying bare her deepest longing. It was a small test, perhaps, but he passed, easily.
“I wanted that, too.” He caressed her jaw. “When you’re ready, agápi mou. When you’re sure of me, we will make as many babies as you want. And we will always have room for your son.”
How did she deserve him? Her face crumpled. “I love you, Stavros.”
“I love you, too.”
EPILOGUE
OF ALL THE death-defying stunts Stavros had pulled over the years, nothing had left him as keyed up with adrenaline as watching his wife give birth. He’d been utterly helpless, forced to watch her suffer the pain and conquer her fear and push through a feat devised by nature as the ultimate test.
She and his son had come through with flying colors, but ten days later, Stavros was still dry-mouthed and quite certain he would never try that again.
“Is he awake?” Calli murmured drowsily, stirring from her nap on their bed.
Stavros looked from the growing discontent in the face of their swaddled infant to his wife. Her color was good, her smile well rested. Joy shone from beneath her heavy eyelids. She was so beautiful, she flipped his heart.
“He woke a little while ago, but has been trying to latch on to my arm the last few minutes. I thought I’d better bring him to the source. Company will be here soon anyway.”
He sat on the edge of the bed and used his free hand to help her sit up. He waited while she arranged a few pillows and sat back, then handed over Lethe, watching as she took him to her breast as though she’d been doing this all her life.
He stole a slow, shaky breath. The boy didn’t even weigh eight pounds, but the heft of responsibility he had thrown onto Stavros was profound. He was still coming to terms with it.
“Did I hear the phone earlier?”
“Ophelia. Exams went well. She’s flying to Athens tomorrow and Takis will bring her next week. Then I talked to Takis and told him we’d like her to stay the summer if he’s willing. He said at her age, extended time with a newborn could go either way in terms of curbing impulsive behavior.”
They both chuckled and Stavros cocked his ear. “There’s the doorbell.”
Simpson would get it. They had settled into Edward’s mansion last year, once her pregnancy had been confirmed, and had quickly adopted his grandfather’s routine of spending half their time here and the rest at Galíni. In fact, they had gone there straight from the hospital and had only come back to the city last night.
Stavros went to greet their guests while Calli finished nursing, then made herself presentable.
When she came down the stairs, James—whom she still called Dorian in her heart—was hanging off the newel post at the bottom, waiting with barely contained impatience. His wide grin was missing all four front teeth. He extended a stuffed bear wearing a blue ribbon around its neck.
“Is that for me?” She stooped for a hug.
“It’s for my brother.” He was reaching the age where shows of affection were brief, even with his mothers, but he lingered in her looped arm, staring into Lethe’s sleeping face. “Is that him?”
“This is Lethe, yes. He’ll love it. Thank you.” She tucked the bear against Lethe’s freshly swaddled chest. “How is your sister? How was her appointment yesterday?”
“She’s sick. She couldn’t come.”
“Just a cold,” Wanda quickly provided as Calli shot her a look of concern. “Her counts were exactly where they should be.” She crossed her fingers. “But we didn’t want to get Lethe sick, so she stayed home with Daddy.”
“I hope she feels better soon.” Calli rose to hug Wanda.
Wanda smiled at Lethe with the melting expression most women wore when they gazed on a newborn. “Oh, he’s beautiful. Look at that mouth. It’s yours, same as James’s.”
They had become fast friends, she and Wanda. Calli had only been back in New York a few weeks when Wanda had invited her to visit James. She was a woman with a strong conscience who had been torturing herself since asking Calli to back off. “You obviously love him,” she had said. “Who am I to deny my son more love in his life? What if something happened and I had kept you apart?”
Calli had sat with Wanda more than once as she waited for her daughter to come out of treatment. They shared a son and so much more.
“We’ve been very excited all morning,” Wanda said ruefully, as James went on his tiptoes, trying to see Lethe again.
“Lethe, too.” Stavros was completely straight-faced as he teased James. “He’s been asking for you. All morning.”
“He’s a baby!” James protested, giving Stavros a you-can’t-fool-me look.
Those two had their own special relationship characterized by discussions of heavy equipment and debates about superheroes and spirited wrestling matches over possession of a foam football.
“Do you want to hold him?” Calli sat down on the sofa and patted the cushion beside her. James wriggled his bottom into position beside her, right up against her side.
Her heart melted every time she was with him, every time she gazed into his bright, cheeky expression.
Gently she set her newborn son in the arms of her firstborn, keeping one hand lightly on the infant, securing him on James’s lap. She was so happy in that moment, she could hardly bear it.
Lethe yawned and opened his eyes, making James jolt with excitement. “He’s looking at me.”
“He is.” Her throat was nearly too tight to speak. “Say hello.”
“Hello, Lethe. I’m James. Your brother.” Then he leaned down to whisper. “I love you.”
Calli’s eyes filled.
“This is too cute for words,” Wanda said, voice throbbing with emotion. “Stavros, sit down with them. I need a photo.”
He sat on the far side of James, arm outstretched so his fingers caressed Calli’s shoulder. She lifted her gaze from her children to meet her husband’s warm, dark eyes. She saw so much love reflected back at her, she thought she would combust.
“Do you know how happy it makes me to see you this happy?” he said in a quiet rumble.
“You must be pretty happy, then,” she choked.
He gave her cheek an affectionate brush with the back of his finger, sweeping away her tear. “I am.”
Later, when the house was quiet and their son was settled in his bassinet, and they were naked in the big bed they shared, she snuggled into Stavros and said with a tiny throb of old anxiety, “I sometimes wonder what woul
d have happened if Sebastien hadn’t sent you to the island.”
Sebastien was still setting up his extreme challenges, but Stavros was picking and choosing, just as happy to schedule a ski trip or another more mainstream vacation with his friends. Calli had developed wonderful friendships with all the wives, which was another thing she would have missed if Stavros hadn’t taken that dare from his friend.
The happiness she enjoyed seemed so tentative sometimes.
But his low rumble was reassuringly confident. “You would have come here for Dorian and I would have seen you. We would be exactly where we are right now.”
“In a city this huge?” She lifted her head from his shoulder, trying to see him in the dim light from the clock. “You really believe you would have noticed me?”
“I do. Even if you had been able to keep him, our lives would have found another way to intersect. We were meant to be together, Calli.”
“Oh.” His words panged her heart. “When you say things like that, I believe you.” She cuddled into him again, squeezing her arm across his waist, eyes closed against emotive tears.
“No one could love you the way I love you.” He cradled her close, lips against her hair, then her cheekbone, searching for her mouth. “No one else could love me the way you do.”
They kissed. The passion between them hadn’t abated, staying strong between them right up to the evening before she delivered. He’d been a perfect gentleman since the birth, but she could feel how aroused he became, and stroked him.
He groaned. “I miss making love to you.”
“We’ll have to find other ways to appease ourselves, won’t we?” she teased. “Lucky for you, I’m an inventive woman.”
“I’m fairly innovative myself. Let’s see what we come up with.”
He pressed over her and she made a noise of indulgence, already sinking into the world of pleasure he gave her. The joy.
He was right. Something this perfect must have been fated. She never worried about it again.
* * * * *
EXCLUSIVE EXTRACT
