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And what is the truth?
Her mouth dried. ‘It’s stupid. I just...wanted to be more than a cipher to you. I wanted...’
‘What? What do you want?’
Love. You want him to love you.
The thought struck her like a bullet from a gun, a direct hit, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. She’d asked him at the reading of Aristeidis’s will whether love came into any of this and he’d looked at her with his fierce black gaze and had said love had nothing to do with it.
That had been her first warning, and she hadn’t listened. She’d thought that sleeping with him, that a wedding and a honeymoon, wouldn’t impact her intentions not to let him get under her skin. She’d thought she was strong, that she could hold out against him, and yet...
He was a combination of arrogance, fierce primal beauty, along with a protectiveness, a gentleness and a kindness she hadn’t expected. And last night he’d shown her that there was a vulnerability to him too that had crept under her defences and laid waste to her heart. The tragedy that shaped him, that ate away at him, that had propelled him to create his charity that changed the lives of so many people in the entire world... That took drive and focus, and ambition, but fundamentally it took a deep caring for people and a need to help them, and that was what he had in abundance.
She’d been silly to think she could hold out against him, that he wouldn’t change her just as deeply as she’d changed him. Silly to think that she could forget the deep sense of trust she’d felt the moment he’d seen her in the rubble and had saved her. Had altered the course of her life for ever.
Except how could she tell him that? When love was the one thing he’d told her very firmly was out of the question?
And why would he love you anyway? No one stays. Everyone leaves you in the end.
‘Elena.’ Atticus was frowning now as he studied her. ‘What is it?’
Her sense of vulnerability deepened and she really did want to pull away then, but his grip on her wrists was too strong and the weight of him pinning her too great for her to shift. She was surrounded by his heat and his sunshine and salt scent, and the feel of his body on hers... He made her feel safe and yet threatened at the same time.
‘Elena,’ he insisted.
And she knew that there was no escape. That she’d have to tell him. And that once she had, everything would change. She would lose him the way she lost everyone else who’d ever mattered to her.
‘I love you,’ she burst out. ‘That’s what the problem is. I love you and I can’t think of anything better than living with you as your wife. Of creating the future we both wanted, with children, having a family. But a family to me means love, Atticus, and if we don’t have that between us...’ Her throat closed, but she forced the words out. ‘I don’t want to be your hope. I want to be your love.’
At first Atticus wasn’t quite sure what she’d said. And then, as he stared down into her dark eyes, seeing the fear in them along with her usual fierce stubbornness, the words finally penetrated.
She loved him.
She loved him.
It felt as if something had grabbed him hard by the throat and refused to let go.
Love wasn’t supposed to be a part of this, it was never supposed to be a part of this. He didn’t want it. Love was the horror of seeing your brother dead on the ground and knowing it was because of you, and that your life would never be the same again. Love was the anger in your father’s eyes, and the blame too. Love turned to hate in the blink of an eye. Love wanted revenge.
He never wanted anything to do with it again, not even from her.
He let go of her and pushed himself off the bed.
Elena sat up, her hair cascading around her head in a long golden fall. Wrapped in the white sheet, her pale shoulders revealed, she looked heartbreakingly beautiful and so fragile he wanted to wrap her up and hide her away so no one could ever hurt her.
Someone like you, perhaps?
He was already cold and that thought made him go even colder. She couldn’t love him, it was impossible. One day he’d make a mistake, do something unforgivable, and that love would turn to hate. That love would destroy what relationship they’d managed to build and he couldn’t allow that to happen. He just couldn’t.
‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘I’m sorry, Elena, but no.’
‘What do you mean no?’
‘I told you. Love can’t be part of this. Not at all.’
Her chin lifted, her backbone straightening. ‘Well, that’s too bad, isn’t it? Because I love you.’
He found himself shaking his head. ‘Why? What on earth about me is there to love?’
