by Pippa Roscoe
Until today.
* * *
Dimitri ran a hand over his face, his palm passing over what had long stopped being stubble and was now nearly a full beard. He sat heavily down at the wooden table on the patio and looked out to a sea that was about to swallow the sun whole.
He was thankful. The night suited him better ever since Anna and Amalia had left the island.
You loved neither of us enough to sacrifice yourself. His own words had run over and over again in Dimitri’s head in the past few weeks. If he’d known how much it would hurt to sacrifice himself, his own feelings, he might have forgiven his father. Might have.
But he needed to remain strong. The media circus that had descended on the Kyriakou Bank had been nothing short of a plague. Ironically it was the fact that he’d been instrumental in bringing down his own father that had allowed the board of governors to stay true and faithful. And if nothing else, the Greeks loved a family tragedy.
Perhaps he had been most surprised by Eleni Kyriakou. She had come to see him and asked for his forgiveness. She hadn’t known the actions that her husband had taken, and surprisingly became a bridge between him and the fragmented people that considered themselves his family.
But every time the word ‘family’ entered his mind, images of Amalia flashed over the pain—Amalia at breakfast throwing food at him, in the pool throwing water at him. But the place he couldn’t allow his mind to wander was to Anna. Every time it did, he tried to cling to the old wound of hurt that she had kept her daughter from him, but it wouldn’t stick. Because this time it was him, keeping himself from Amalia, from Anna.
He wondered what they were doing now. David had told him about the sale of the B & B. But, aside from the news that her mother was renting a small house by the sea, he knew nothing. And, having experienced life with his daughter, with Anna, he was even more tortured by their absence. By the loss of them.
Two days after they had left, he had finally faced the studio he had created for Anna. He’d been unable to stop himself from entering a place he’d begun to think of as hers. Unable to prevent himself from desperately seeking out any remnants of her, a trace of her that showed she hadn’t just been a figment of his imagination.
There on the bench had been a completed sculpture. It had stopped him in his tracks, his fingers itching to reach out and caress the smooth lines of the three orbs, linked within a band, a bond, joining the three figures he’d come to imagine were Anna, Amalia and himself.
Over the last three weeks his hands had learned the shape, the feel of the solid fired clay, the silky green-blue glaze that covered it. He had clung to it, almost the same way that Amalia had clung to Anna’s first sculpture. The one that had shown him a hint of her hopes and dreams. The ones he’d so very much wanted her to fulfil.
Dimitri heard the door to his house open and close and couldn’t even bring himself to find out who had arrived. A bottle of whisky was placed on the table beneath the pergola on the patio and Danyl poured his tall frame into the seat opposite him.
Dimitri scoffed. ‘When it was Antonio’s turn I brought coffee.’
‘Then perhaps it’s best that we know what the other needs. Because you’re going to need more than coffee.’
‘Why are you here?’ Dimitri demanded. ‘Don’t you have a country to run?’
‘I do. But friends are more important. You are more important.’
‘I’m touched. Deeply. Truly. You can go now,’ Dimitri said, reaching out for the bottle of whisky. As if anyone could dismiss a sheikh so easily—as if he could dismiss Danyl so easily.
‘Not yet.’
‘I’m better off alone,’ Dimitri growled.
‘You’ve never been alone, Dimitri—you have me and Antonio.’
‘It’s different.’
‘Why?’
‘Because...’ He searched for a way to express his feelings without hurting his friend and failed. He could only find an honest reply in the deepest part of his heart and hope that Danyl would understand. ‘I could survive without you both. I don’t think I could survive if she left me.’
‘So you pushed her away?’ Danyl asked, no hint of anger or hurt from Dimitri’s easy dismissal of the fellow members of the Winners’ Circle.
‘I had to. Look at what I did to her, Danyl... Blackmailing her into marriage, holding her and her daughter hostage to my whims. All my talk of protection, and the one person they should have been protected from was me. She is better off without me.’
‘I do not believe that. Not for one second. And neither does she.’
Danyl placed a small package on the table, and Dimitri stared at it, frowning at the stack of letters, unable quite yet to reach out and take them. He studied Danyl as he poured two rather unhealthy measures of amber liquid into two glasses and didn’t say a word as Danyl placed one in front of him before heading back into the house.
Hesitantly he reached for the small shoebox packed full of letters, each envelope bearing his name, each one headed with a date. He ran his fingers over the fine spines, the last letter dated only weeks before.
‘This will take me years,’ he tossed over his shoulder to his friend, who had retreated.
Tentatively he reached for the first one, pulling it free from the sealed envelope, and his heart stopped when he read the first line.
Dear Dimitri,
I gave birth to our daughter today and it was the most incredible thing... The moment she was placed in my arms I knew the most overwhelming kind of love. A love that I never thought was possible. It was full and bright and so very powerful.
Powerful enough, I hope, to help me on this path without you.
The day after you left my bed I read in the newspapers that you had been arrested for fraud. Not just any kind of fraud but stealing millions and millions of dollars from your own business.
I can’t imagine how you could have done such a thing. How I could have taken you into my arms, into my bed and even into my heart in such a small space of time. I still can’t.
So I’m choosing not to. I’m choosing to write to the man I spent one incredible night with. To share all the wondrous things about our child in letters written not to the man I read about in headlines, plastered there for the world to see, but the man who gave me such pleasure, such joy, and who unknowingly fathered the most precious child with her mop of dark-as-night curly hair and midnight-blue eyes that are far too knowing for one so young.
And it’s because of that beautiful little girl that I cannot tell you—the you that was arrested, imprisoned in the last few weeks, the you that was found guilty. How could I expose our daughter to such a man? The you that I write to—and will continue to write to—will understand.
I hope. I feel.
It will not be easy, raising her on my own, with Ma to deal with and the bed and breakfast to manage, but I’ll find a way. I have to. Because it isn’t just about me any more, or even about you.
It is about our child.
Dear Dimitri,
Today our daughter took her first steps...
Dear Dimitri,
Today was...awful. It’s so hard doing this by myself. My mother... No. You don’t need to know that. But Amalia—she’s growing so strong. Like you, I imagine.
Goosebumps rose on his arms and his heart pounded in his chest as each word echoed in his mind with Anna’s voice, the hope, the love, the sadness, the emotions that she had poured into these pages, bringing them to life in his mind for him, despite his absence and despite her doubts of him. He saw each event through her eyes and felt each one through her voice and words. And he realised that she’d always kept him as a part of his daughter’s life, even when she’d thought him cruel, even when she thought he’d rejected her, or was unfit to parent Amalia.
Dear Dimitri,
Our daughter has a will of iron! She’s refusi
ng almost every single piece of food I put in front of her, apart from hummus and breadsticks!
Dear Dimitri...
On and on the letters went, filling the gaps in his experiences, making him laugh with the amusing anecdotes, hurting him with the difficulties she’d gone through raising their daughter alone. Until he got to letters that must have been written in Greece, during her time here. His whole body ached as the words wrapped vines of love tighter and tighter around his heart.
Dear Dimitri,
Today I realised that I love you. It’s a precious, powerful love, and one day you’ll be ready to hear it, but I don’t think that day is today.
What had he done? He realised with shock that he didn’t want to protect himself any more. If it meant missing out on all these things, and all there was to come...he didn’t want it. If opening himself to it, if making himself vulnerable to love meant he got to experience these incredible moments, these unimaginable feelings, then he’d do it. He didn’t want to make the same mistakes as their fathers. He wanted to love Anna and Amalia and be stronger for it.
‘Danyl? Danyl!’ he shouted. ‘I have to go to Ireland. Now.’
Danyl stood in the sliding window frames. ‘I don’t think that’s such a good idea,’ his friend said, silhouetted by the light from the house.
‘Why not?’ Dimitri demanded. ‘I have to find Anna. So why the hell wouldn’t that be a good idea?’ If he was shouting, he didn’t care.
‘Because,’ a voice said from somewhere within the house, ‘I’m not in Ireland.’
As Danyl retreated, Anna came forward, and Dimitri’s mind went blank. She was a vision, standing there in the light, the way he’d always seen her. The way that he’d always imagined her through those long, dark nights in prison, before he’d allowed the misunderstandings and the hurt to mar her features, his impression of her. The light he had needed in the darkness, the light he still needed.
‘Anna...’ He stood from the table and went to her. He wanted to take her into his arms, hold her to him and never let her go. But he couldn’t. Not yet. He needed to find the words...needed to tell her all that he felt, all that he wanted...all that he loved.
‘I pushed you away.’
‘Yes, you did,’ she said simply. There was no trace of accusation or hurt there, just a statement of fact.
‘I pushed you away because I was afraid. I had spent so long being determined that I was better off on my own, that I was the only person who could protect myself. But you—you were trying to protect me from my own darkness, from my own isolation. I let my fear of people betraying me, lying to me, using me—my father, my brother—twist the faith you put into me. The love you gave me. You didn’t have to say it, Anna. I saw it there, every time I looked at you. I didn’t allow you the chance to tell me, because I was so afraid of it.’ She was smiling. Why was she smiling? He had caused her so much hurt, but he had to push on, he had to tell her everything. ‘My father’s betrayal was the final straw, but instead of seeking comfort from you—a comfort I didn’t think I deserved or could even survive—I sent you away. Because truly, deep down, I was worried that I’d never be able to be alone again, never be safe. Because I thought that love threatened that safety. That security. I just didn’t realise that you were right. That love is strength, that it makes you able to survive anything.’
She reached out a hand and placed it on his cheek.
‘I didn’t make it easy on you,’ she said gently. ‘I have thought a lot about what you said that night—’
‘Anna—’
‘No, wait. You were right. Partly right,’ she conceded. ‘I once told you that I’d never forgive you for forcing me to marry you. But I know that it was the only way I could face my issues. So yes, you were right. I would have run, would have hidden, without really knowing it. Without realising. But you showed me what it was that I was doing. Hiding from my hopes and my fears, my father. You. That’s why it was so easy for me to believe your assistant. To use that as an excuse not to try harder to tell you about Amalia. About how I felt. Because I fell in love with you one night three years ago. But if you’ll have me, I’ll love you for ever.’
‘You forgive me?’ he asked into the night.
‘Of course I forgive you. I love you. And that love can never be taken away, or undermined, by anything. I give it to you freely, for the man you really are. Not just the man I met one night three years ago, and not the figment of my imagination that I wrote all those letters to, but you.’
‘Mrs Kyriakou,’ he said, getting down on one knee on the cold stone floor, ignoring the light laugh that fell from her lips, ‘throughout everything you have been the one person to see me, when I couldn’t even see myself. You are kind, generous, loving and, more than anything, so incredibly strong. I am humbled by you. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’
‘I’m already your wife, Dimitri,’ Anna said, laughter and love shining bright in her beautiful eyes.
‘I want to do it properly this time. With your friends and family, with mine. All of us. Not alone any more, but together.’
Anna had barely said yes, when Dimitri pulled her towards him as his lips crashed down against hers. For Anna it was the best kiss she’d had, and would ever receive.
EPILOGUE
Dear Amalia,
Today was a very special day. It was your fifth birthday. Of course, you clearly enjoyed the cake more than the presents. I think you might be a chef when you grow up. But whether you are a chef, a scientist, a politician or an astronaut—the last being your current chosen career path—you are perfect in every way. Watching you grow into a strong, quite often determined and always very loud little lady has been one of the greatest pleasures in my life so far.
Your uncles Antonio and Danyl and their partners flew in to join us and you announced your expectations of cousins quite forcefully. Once I considered them friends but, Amalia, it was you who made us all a family.
Today—as a family—we had an extra present for your birthday. You won’t remember this, but you ran around the house for almost forty minutes, screaming with joy at the prospect of a little brother or sister to boss around. You explained in quite some detail about your plans for our new family member, who will arrive in six months’ time, and announced that it wasn’t long enough to do all the things that needed to be done. And then you demanded ice cream because you were going to be the best older sister that anyone ever had. And I believe you.
Today, Amalia, you showed me once again the incredible unconditional love that runs in the women of our family. The men—if we’re having a boy!—will have a lot to live up to, and we’ll try every single day to do so.
All my love, special girl,
Your father
AS DIMITRI PLACED the letter into the envelope, Anna walked into their bedroom, the silk nightdress showing the small bump that was to be their next child. He rose and placed a hand on the curve of her abdomen, marvelling at the miracle of it.
‘Eyes up, Mr Kyriakou—there’ll be plenty of time for you to indulge in our pregnancy. And I know that in a few months’ time, you’ll barely spare me a glance. So I’m going to take all you can give me for now.’
‘I assure you that won’t be a problem. How could I ever take you for granted?’ he said, smiling down at the incredible woman that was his wife.
They had renewed their vows almost three years ago to the day, and every day since they had remade those promises, they had spoken words of love, written them, committed them to paper. They documented both the good days and the hard days, but there had never been bad days. They had books full of notes and letters describing their love and their joy, books that would continue to be filled until their last days.
* * *
If you enjoyed Claimed for the Greek’s Child you’re sure to enjoy these other stories by Pippa Roscoe!
Conquering His Vir
gin Queen
A Ring to Take His Revenge
Available now!
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