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Yet knowing all of that didn’t stop the intense rush of physical desire every time she got close to him. She hated it.
‘Elena,’ Atticus said in his usual peremptory way, gesturing to the elegant couch upholstered in white linen and scattered with cushions in varying shades of blue. ‘You should sit. This won’t take long, but you look exhausted.’
The lawyer had already sat himself down in one of the matching armchairs near the couch and was pulling papers out of his briefcase.
Annoyance gripped her, Atticus’s high-handedness abrading a temper already rubbed raw with grief and tiredness and a fear she couldn’t shake. But snapping at him wouldn’t help and she was actually tired. She hadn’t been thinking of the will, but, now the time for it to be read was here, part of her didn’t want to hear it.
Aristeidis had provided for her, or so he’d said, and she had no idea how and, quite frankly, she wasn’t interested. Money seemed like a paltry thing to have instead of Aristeidis himself. She’d rather have had him, rather have had her life here on Kalifos back, than any amount of money.
Atticus sat on the couch beside her, though at the other end, leaving a good amount of distance between them. She tried not to notice that as well.
‘Proceed,’ he ordered, gesturing at the lawyer.
‘Well,’ the man said. ‘It’s all very straightforward. Everything the elder Mr Kalathes had has been left to you, Mr Kalathes.’
‘I see,’ Atticus said without any discernible expression.
Elena gripped her hands together in her lap. She hoped he’d leave her a few little mementos; that was all she wanted. Some photos perhaps, and maybe one of his handkerchiefs. He’d worn a heavy gold signet ring too, and she wouldn’t mind that, though obviously that would probably go to Atticus.
‘There’s just one tiny complication,’ the lawyer went on, ‘and it involves Miss Kalathes here.’
Elena frowned. ‘What complication?’
The lawyer gave both her and Atticus a rather embarrassed smile. ‘Your father stipulated that inheriting his estate, Mr Kalathes, is contingent on you marrying Miss Kalathes.’
A hot shock went through Elena. She stared at the lawyer, conscious of Atticus’s tense figure down the other end of the couch. ‘Excuse me?’ she asked faintly, her brain struggling to process what he’d said. ‘He mentioned that he’d provided for me, but he’d never said anything about marriage.’
The lawyer spread his hands, looking apologetic. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Kalathes, but he amended the will just before he died. He was very concerned that you be taken care of and because of your...past, he thought Mr Kalathes should be the one to take care of you.’
Elena blinked and opened her mouth, to say what she wasn’t sure, but Atticus got in first. ‘So in order to inherit, I must marry Elena?’ he asked shortly.
‘Yes, that’s what it says.’ The lawyer looked down at the papers held in his lap, shuffling through them. ‘He specified that the estate will pass to you once you are married, but keeping it is contingent on you staying married for at least five years and that children were to be part of it. Two at the least, either biological or adopted. Mr Kalathes was very clear that he wanted Miss Kalathes to have a family of her own.’
Another shock washed through her. Marriage. Children. A family...
Aristeidis had wanted her to have all the things she’d lost.
Her vision swam, her throat aching. He’d thought of her, he really had. He’d said he’d make sure she was provided for...except he wanted Atticus to be her husband.
She didn’t dare look at the man at the other end of the couch. He’d gone very still. ‘And if we decide not to marry?’
‘In that case the estate is to be sold.’
Atticus’s features were expressionless. ‘Thank you, Mr Georgiou. That will be all.’
The lawyer nodded and Elena was conscious of Atticus rising and talking to him as the man put his papers back in his briefcase, the two of them then walking to the door. Except she wasn’t listening, the shock of the will still resonating through her.
There didn’t seem to be any end to the shocks she’d been given the past week. First the shock of Atticus’s presence and then their one blistering encounter, followed by the bombshell of Aristeidis’s death.
She still remembered Atticus’s hoarse voice as he’d informed her that Aristeidis had died, seeing the same shock in his eyes that she’d felt and the same grief. Yet his had been momentary. Within five minutes, while she’d shattered, he’d seemed to turn to stone.
He’d made her sit down then too, and had poured her a glass of brandy as she’d wept. But he didn’t touch her, not once. And he hadn’t touched her since.
She swallowed, another surge of grief hitting her, but she forced it back. She didn’t want to cry again in his presence, not when it left her feeling so vulnerable. The marriage idea, while nice that Aristeidis had thought of her, was impossible. She didn’t want to marry him, didn’t want a family with him, and especially not if the only reason Atticus agreed was because he wanted to inherit his father’s estate.
It was true that she longed for a family of her own and always had, but she didn’t want anyone forced into marrying her. She wanted what she’d had before her family had died, before Aristeidis had died. She wanted someone to care about her. She wanted someone to love her. And Atticus didn’t seem like the kind of man who even knew what love was.
The door shut behind the lawyer and Elena became aware that Atticus had come to stand in front of her, his black handmade leather shoes shiny against the pale wood of the floor.
