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She’d helped him with his regrets, but it had been he who’d decided that he needed to talk to Atticus. To try and rebuild what he’d broken.
Too late.
The music was starting, signalling her entrance, but she had to take another moment as yet more tears prickled, making her have to blink hard so they wouldn’t ruin her make-up.
Well, Aristeidis had gone, but his son was still here and she was going to marry him. He’d given her a glimpse of the pain that lay in his heart and maybe he wouldn’t reveal more. Or maybe that was the start. But she wanted to help him, maybe rebuild the relationship that Aristeidis had destroyed. That was the least she could do, surely?
Decision made, Elena gripped her flowers tightly as the doors were pulled open. Then she walked down the aisle of Kalifos’s small, ancient stone church, smelling of incense and old stone, hand-carved wooden pews on either side of her.
At the other end of the aisle, Atticus waited.
He wore a morning suit of dove grey, with a crisp white shirt that emphasised his tanned skin and the darkness of his eyes. The pure planes and angles of his face were set in hard lines, yet the moment his gaze settled on her, something fierce and hot leapt in it.
A wave of heat washed over her as he took in her dress and the veil that covered her hair and face, the flames in his eyes leaping higher. It was very, very clear he liked her wedding gown.
She took a little breath, unable to help noticing that in place of flowers on his lapel, he had the pin she’d given him the night before. It gleamed softly in the dim light.
He was so beautiful.
You can’t fall for him. He’ll never give you what you want.
Good thing that she wasn’t falling for him then. He made her ache, but it wasn’t with longing. It was sympathy for what he’d gone through, for the pain he still felt for his brother’s death, and for the fact that his father had died and there would never be a reconciliation for either of them.
It wasn’t for herself and some old longing that she’d put behind her years ago, the longing of a child for someone to protect her, someone to trust, someone to love. Because she couldn’t love him. He’d left her, he’d abandoned her all those years ago and, while she knew he’d had to, she couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t do so again. Especially when there was nothing tying him to her but the last wish of a dying man.
She would never allow herself to be so vulnerable to him again.
Elena finally came to a stop at the altar, her heartbeat thumping in her chest, nerves gathering inside her despite the fact that this was simply a legal procedure. It didn’t mean anything.
Atticus was still staring at her as if he couldn’t look away, and somehow it made her nerves both worse and better. Then he frowned slightly and held out his hand to her and automatically she took it. His fingers curled around hers, warm and strong, and abruptly the flutter inside her settled. Relieved, she gave him an instinctive smile through her veil and her nerves settled even further when he smiled back.
You should be worried, not calmed.
Elena ignored the thought as the priest began the ceremony and when it came time to say her vows, she was able to speak levelly and without a stutter or nervous tremble. Atticus said his too, his deep, dark voice as calm as hers, though there was nothing calm in the look he gave her. It just about burned her to the ground.
He kept holding her hand throughout, the warmth of his touch soothing, yet at the exchange of rings she could feel the electric shock that crackled over her skin as he slid the wedding band onto her finger. Then it was her turn, his large hand in hers, the white scars on his fingers standing out against his skin as she did the same with his ring.
Then the priest pronounced them husband and wife and Atticus was lifting her veil and putting it back. There was an intense light in his eyes, some strange emotion glowing there that she didn’t understand. It was sexual heat, she was familiar enough with that by now to recognise it, but there was also something else there, something deeper.
He took her chin in his hand the way he had the night before, his touch just as gentle, and tilted her head back. For a moment he said nothing, only looked at her as if she were a prize that he’d worked long and hard for and had now won. It made her own heart twist, full of the same longing she’d already told her herself she didn’t feel. And then she had no more time to think, because he bent his head and kissed her. His mouth was hot, yet unexpectedly gentle and his kiss was sweet, deepening the ache in her heart.
How much sweeter all of this would be if they loved each other, if they’d chosen each other. If their future were a life spent together and the family they’d create.
You can’t want more, not with him, and you know it.
Yes, she did. If she was ever to have the future she really wanted for herself, she wouldn’t have it with him. She could never have it with him.
Elena was shaking a little by the time he lifted his mouth, the fierce expression still burning in his eyes. And abruptly she wanted to know what it was that made him look at her that way. She wanted to know what he was feeling and whether this was as emotionally complicated for him as it was for her. Whether this mattered to him and whether the future he’d envisioned for himself featured her in any way.
She knew she shouldn’t be thinking things like that, but she couldn’t help herself. Even though they’d been sleeping together for the past week, he was still a stranger to her, despite all the stories she’d heard about him, and despite her knowing the tragedy that had shaped him. Yet those stories had been about the boy he’d once been, not the man, and it was the man who was her husband now. It was the man she wanted to know more about.
And why not? Five years, Aristeidis had stipulated, that was how long they were supposed to be together, so why couldn’t they have some kind of relationship during that time? They would be lovers, yes, but why not friends too? She should know more about the father of her children, she really should.
Atticus threaded his fingers through hers and then she was being led out of the church and onto the bright sunlight.
She’d organised for their honeymoon to be in a villa along the Adriatic coast in Italy, and a helicopter would take them to Athens and to the Kalathes jet that would then take them to Italy. Atticus had agreed to it all without question when she’d told him about it and she was already planning in her head the questions she was going to ask him once they’d got there, when he said, ‘I have cancelled the Italy trip.’
They were walking up the small rocky path that led from the church back to the Kalathes villa, and she stopped in shock, her veil flying out behind her as the wind caught it.
