It was a dress to be worn for a lover. Beautiful, but so incredibly sensual. She ran her fingers over the silky fabric, and then dropped her gaze to the floor, where a pair of rose-gold sandals had been teamed with it. They were casual and comfortable and the perfect bit of whimsy to offset such a stunning piece.
She heard a noise and startled, quickly putting the simple gown back in the wardrobe and slamming the door, spinning around almost guiltily as Leonidas entered their bedroom. When had she started to think of it as theirs, rather than just his? It had been just under a week since she’d arrived on the island and she barely recognised the woman she’d been then.
‘Marina has set dinner up on the terrace,’ he said. He looked at her as he had on the plane, with a smile that was at ease, as though he’d made his peace with how this would work—he’d slotted her into a space in his mind and he was content with that.
She wasn’t his wife by choice, but they could still ‘make this work’.
Hadn’t she said something along those lines to him, right at the beginning of all this? She’d been happy to take a pragmatic approach then. But something had changed and now the limitations of that sat strangely in her chest.
‘Okay.’ Hannah returned his smile, but it didn’t light up her face as usual.
They walked in silence to the terrace, and when they reached it, Leonidas held a chair out for her.
Mrs Chrisohoidis had gone to a lot of trouble.
Candles flickered everywhere, and fresh flowers had been picked from around the island, filling the terrace with an even more delightful, heady fragrance than usual.
She breathed it in and told herself to relax.
She told herself nothing had changed. They were two people who were forging a relationship, who were getting married the very next day, and all the reasons for agreeing to this marriage were still there. Aside from the possible danger to her and their daughter, Hannah’s desire to provide their child with a father was as strong as ever. To know that if anything ever happened to her, Leonidas would be there—that she would know and love him.
She was doing the right thing—these doubts would lessen once they were married and she could get on with building their marriage.
They would have a lifetime together. A lifetime to make sense of this madness.
But as Leonidas took the seat opposite Hannah, she realised with a terrifying bolt of comprehension that she didn’t need a lifetime to make sense of this. He took the seat opposite her and she breathed out, relaxing.
Because he was there; he was near her.
She clutched the stem of her wine glass—filled with ice-cold apple juice—and stared at her groom, as a thousand memories exploded inside her.
Perhaps it was the starlit sky overhead, just like the night they met, but suddenly, Hannah seemed to be looking through binoculars, seeing everything larger and bigger and more true to life.
Why had she slept with him that night?
She’d never done anything like that, and yet one look from Leonidas had made her want to throw herself at his feet. That couldn’t be anything other than desire, could it?
So why had she thought of him every day since? Why had he tormented her thoughts and dreams and filled her chest with a strange palpitation?
What was the underlying reason that had made accepting his proposal easy? Beyond the very sensible reasons of security and support, what had really made her agree to this?
Because marriage meant this.
Time with him. Sitting opposite him. Lying with him. Kissing him. Making love to him.
No, not making love.
It was sex. Just sex.
Except it wasn’t.
She swept her eyes shut, remembering every kiss, every touch, the way he laced his fingers through hers and stared into her eyes when she exploded with pleasure.
‘Hannah?’ He leaned forward, curving a hand over hers, and she startled, piercing him with her ocean-green eyes. ‘Are you okay? Is it the baby?’
She shook her head, and tried to smile, but her pulse was frantic and her stomach was lurching.
There was no way on earth she’d done something as stupid as fall in love with the man she’d agreed to marry.
Every step of the way he’d told her he didn’t want that. Their marriage wasn’t about love. It was convenient. Sensible. And yet a rising tide of panic made breathing difficult because they were due to say their vows in the morning, and Hannah knew hers wouldn’t be a lie.
In one week...no. Not one week. This thread had begun to stitch its way into her heart that very first night, on Chrysá Vráchia.
She hadn’t understood it then—how could she?
It was only now that she comprehended what she hadn’t been able to with Angus. Love wasn’t a choice, it wasn’t a sensible, practical formula one could apply to the ‘right’ candidate to ensure a lifetime of happiness.
It didn’t work like that.
Love was as organic as breathing and laughing. Love was magic and, somehow, it had placed Hannah and Leonidas on the same island at the same time and the chemistry of their bodies had demanded something of them. It hadn’t been about chemistry alone, though, she saw that now. He’d offered a one-night stand—and instead, she’d seen his heart and buried a piece of it in her own.
She gasped again, standing jerkily, moving to the balustrade and staring out at the inky black ocean. If it weren’t for the sound of the waves, it would have been impossible to know what was beyond the balcony.
‘Hannah? Christós! What is it?’
She shook her head, unable to speak, definitely unable to put any of this into words. She had to make sense of it herself first. ‘I... It’s nothing. I just wanted to look at the view.’
She felt his disbelief. ‘There is no view. It’s pitch black.’
She turned around to face him, surprised to find Leonidas standing right behind her. ‘There are stars,’ she said softly. ‘Lights in the dark. See?’
Her huge green eyes shifted heavenwards, but Leonidas didn’t look upwards. He stared at Hannah, worry communicating itself in every line of his body.
‘There is also dinner, on the table,’ he teased, the words only slightly strained. ‘And I am hungry.’
Hannah nodded, even though she wasn’t sure she could stomach any food.
‘In a moment.’ She gnawed on her lip, the realisation of a moment ago doing funny things to her, making her look at him in a wholly new way.
Was it possible to fall in love with someone so quickly? Was love at first sight something she even believed in? Could she be so impractical after everything she’d been through?
It didn’t matter how she queried herself.
Her eyes only had to glance to Leonidas and she felt the pull from his heart to hers. She felt a soaring of something inside her that was new and different and refused to be grounded.
She was suffocating, this knowledge desperate to burst from her, but she held it back, keeping her mouth closed even when the words pressed against her lips.
They would marry the next day, and she would say her vows, knowing they were true and honest, and then she would gently show him how she felt. She would give him time to adjust. To feel his way into this.
She exhaled, the sensible approach filling her with relief.
Calmed, she moved back to the table, taking her seat and eating as much as she could—the butterflies in her tummy left little room for food, though.
* * *
‘Where are you going?’ he asked at the door to his room.
Hannah’s smile was soft, and inside, she carried the knowledge that was continuing to unfurl inside her. She loved him. She loved him in an everlasting, for-the-rest-of-her-life kind of way. And tomorrow, they’d marry.
‘It’s the night before our wedding, Leonidas. Don’t you know it’s bad lu
ck to spend it together?’
His brows arched heavenwards. ‘A superstition?’
‘Yep.’ She nodded. ‘And one I intend on obeying. Go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.’
He groaned, pulling her closer, his eyes locked onto hers. ‘I don’t want you to go back there.’
He nodded down the corridor, and her heart turned over in her chest. ‘Why not?’
She held her breath.
‘Because.’
She laughed. ‘That’s not an answer.’
A frown pulled between his brows but before he could answer, she disentangled herself from his arms. ‘It’s one night, and then a lifetime.’ Her smile almost reached her eyes. Leonidas stared at her, completely silent.
And Hannah stared back, unable to look away, three words whispering through her, begging to be spoken—a question to be asked.
‘Goodnight,’ she said instead, simply. And she turned away, walking towards the bedroom she’d slept in when she’d first arrived, opening the door and moving into it for what she believed to be the last time.
* * *
Of course it did rain in the Mediterranean on occasion. Summer storms weren’t unheard of. But the rain that lashed the side of the mansion woke Hannah before dawn, the unfamiliar ruckus causing her to frown at first. She pushed her sheet back, moving towards the window and staring out of it, so fascinated by the sight of everything that had become familiar looking so foreign and unrecognisable now. It took her a moment to realise what day it was. The significance of the morning.
And then, to remember.
To remember who she was marrying and what he meant to her.
She gripped the wall behind her for support, turning and pressing her back to it as fear tightened inside her.
‘When Amy and Brax died, my heart died with them.’
His words had been hammering away at her chest from the inside out since they’d come back from Paris.
She’d decided, the night before, that she would marry him and let things play out. She’d had a sense of confidence, a sureness, that one day he would feel the same as she did.
But what if he didn’t? What if he was right, and his heart was gone for ever, any kind of love no longer in his power to give?
The rain fell harder and she turned to face it, pressing her forehead against the glass. The rain lashed the other side.
What if he didn’t love her, and never would? What if he was no longer capable of love? What if she was about to tie herself to another man who was incapable of giving her what she needed?
Panic flared.
When Angus had proposed, she’d been grateful. She’d been grateful that someone loved her and wanted her. That someone was choosing her to be their wife and partner. Since her parents had died, she hadn’t felt that, and so she’d agreed to marry him out of gratitude rather than love.
She’d known that, and it hadn’t mattered. She’d valued feeling wanted above anything else.
But he hadn’t really wanted her. Not enough. He’d betrayed her before they’d even said their vows—he hadn’t deserved the trust she’d placed in him.
And Leonidas?
Hannah stepped away from the window, padding back to the bed, sitting down on the end of it and looking at her feet. She’d painted her toenails pale pink the day before, thinking how nice they’d look through the strappy sandals she planned to wear for her wedding.
Leonidas didn’t want her. If she hadn’t been pregnant, they’d never have seen each other again. The thought made her gasp into the bedroom and she held a hand over her stomach, because that very idea seemed impossible to contemplate.
Hannah could no longer disentangle her life from Leonidas’s.
They were like roots from neighbouring trees, intertwined and interconnected, dependent on staying where they were for life.
But what if he didn’t—wouldn’t—couldn’t love her?
She’d decided the night before that she would simply wait. Wait for him to realise what they were, what they shared. But could she really do that?
Hannah pushed up from the bed, knowing in her heart what she’d known even over dinner on the terrace.
She couldn’t.
She couldn’t do this if he didn’t know how she felt. She had to be honest with him. She had to...she had to tell him.
And words she’d bit back the night before refused to be silenced now, so she closed the distance between their rooms quickly and pushed the door inwards without knocking, too distracted to wonder how she might find him, her thoughts churning through her.
He was standing with his back to her when she entered, wearing only a pair of grey boxer shorts, his body momentarily robbing her of the ability to think straight. He held a square piece of plastic paper in his hands and, at the intrusion, moved quickly to place it down on the windowsill behind him.
‘Hannah.’ He was surprised; then worried as he saw the pinched expression on her features. ‘Are you okay?’
‘No. Yes.’ She shut the door behind her, moving deeper into his room, looking at this man and feeling as though everything and nothing made any kind of sense.
‘What is it?’ He stood perfectly still, staring at her as though he barely recognised her.
‘I...need to talk to you.’
His expression didn’t shift. ‘Okay.’
She nodded, wringing her hands in front of her body, knowing what she needed to say but not exactly sure how to express it.
‘I’ve done something stupid,’ she said, shaking her head.
‘What is it?’ He was quiet, patient, but there was something lurking just beneath his exterior. A darkness that she felt but couldn’t navigate.
She expelled an uneven breath and padded across the carpet of his room until she was right in front of him. He stiffened a little.
‘Leonidas, the night we met...’ She tapered off into nothing, looking at him with eyes that were huge and awash with emotions.
‘Yes?’
‘It came out of nowhere. I’ve never done anything like that in my life but I know that there’s no way that wouldn’t have happened between us. From the moment we literally bumped into each other, I felt this...magnetic pull to you. I know that sounds...ridiculous. But I looked at you and felt like I couldn’t not go to your room with you. And, once I was with you, like I couldn’t not be with you. I feel like, from the moment we met, there’s been something bigger pushing us together.’
He was quiet, but she didn’t let that discourage her. She’d expected this. She’d known he wouldn’t necessarily welcome this confession.
‘And then you disappeared and you were angry and I told myself it was for the best. That I was messed up after Angus and so none of this was making sense and I’d made a mistake with you.’
He didn’t say it was a mistake, and she was so glad for that, because it would unstitch a part of her soul in a way she’d never recover from to hear those words now.
‘But it wasn’t a mistake. I never really believed that.’ She shook her head slowly, an unconscious smile on her lips. ‘I went to London but a part of me stayed on Chrysá Vráchia with you. A part of me stayed with you from that night, and I took some of you with me. I didn’t stop thinking about you, Leonidas.’
He stiffened in front of her and there was wariness in his features, a look of panic that was the antithesis of what she wanted, but she pushed on, knowing she needed to do this.
She couldn’t marry him and hope for the best—that was what she’d been planning to do with Angus and it had been stupid. Stupid, and a recipe for disaster.
‘I don’t know if I would have had the nerve to contact you if I hadn’t been pregnant. But I do know I never would have forgotten you. I do know I never would have met anyone who made me feel like you did. I always laughed at the idea of love at first sight, but in one h
our, you reached inside me and changed who I was. In one hour, you transformed me and I can’t marry you today without telling you that I...that this...isn’t just about our baby or security or anything so pragmatic and rational as that. This is me offering all of myself to you, for all our lives.’ She reached down and laced her fingers through his, as he’d done so often with her.
He didn’t speak, though. Her words filled the room, developing a beat of their own, throbbing with the strength of what she had offered him, and every moment that passed with utter silence was like a tendril wrapping around her throat, constricting her airways, making breathing almost impossible. She stood there, her breath raspy, and she waited.
‘Why are you telling me this now?’
It wasn’t exactly the answer she’d expected, but it didn’t matter. Having said what she’d been thinking, she felt as if a weight had been lifted.
‘Because I can’t not,’ she said simply, and his brow furrowed, his expression dark.
‘Hannah.’ It was a sigh and a plea. ‘Don’t do this.’
Hannah stood very still, regulating her breathing, trying to stay calm. Because this was important. This mattered. ‘I got engaged to Angus for all the wrong reasons. I thought I loved him, I thought he made sense. But nothing about what I felt for him was love. Love isn’t a tepid, calm, considered choice. Love isn’t a choice at all. Love is a lightning bolt—’
‘Desire is a lightning bolt,’ he interrupted, shaking his head, his expression tense. He took a step backwards, raking a hand through his hair, staring at her with obvious frustration. His body was a taut line of impatience. ‘Desire is what you felt for me that night, and it’s what you feel for me still. It’s clouding your judgment, and you have no experience to discern the difference between that and love.’
‘I’m not an idiot,’ she murmured. ‘I get that there’s desire here, too. I know I feel lust as well as love.’ She swallowed, trying to order her thoughts. ‘One of those things makes my mouth dry when you walk into the room, and the other makes me feel as though my feet are two inches off the ground when you smile at me.’
The Greek's Billion-Dollar Baby Page 14
