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‘I’d like to think I wouldn’t have condemned you for the rest of your life,’ she whispered, the part of her that insisted he was better than this stubbornly clinging on to hope.
That hope grew when he lifted his hand, traced a thoughtful path down her cheek, then was shattered conclusively with, ‘Ah, but then I’m Greek, agapita. The fires of retribution burn brighter and hotter within me. Now, enough of this. Whatever rows unfold between us, you remain the vessel carrying my child. I won’t have your health harmed.’
That was as definitive as it could get. No matter the highs and the lows, Ares would see her first and foremost as a brood mare.
Waves of pain at his words crashed through her, leaving her unable to catch a full breath.
‘Do you even hear yourself? Who refers to the mother of their child as a “vessel”? You know what I think? You don’t hate me for kissing someone else under some misguided notion of self-preservation. I think you’re afraid to reach for what you truly want. You want to guard yourself against all future pain. That’s fine. But do you have to be cruel to me to achieve that?’
For the first time in her life she saw Ares Zanelis totally nonplussed. His mouth gaped slightly and extreme bewilderment filled his expression.
After a handful of seconds, he shook his head. ‘I didn’t mean—’
‘Yes, you did. And the sad thing is you don’t even realise how hurtful you’re being. Or that you don’t need that stupid wall you’ve erected around yourself. Why don’t you do us both a favour? If you can’t be the kind and considerate man I know lives in there somewhere, maybe you shouldn’t come back at all.’
The words seared her very soul as she uttered them and Odessa stopped breathing, the visceral fear that she’d said words he might act upon lighting a terrifying blaze in her heart that threatened to annihilate her.
His eyes widened, shock slashing through the bewilderment. And, hell, if that wasn’t the saddest, funniest and most heartbreaking thing she’d seen in a while.
For the first time Ares was rendered speechless.
And somehow she found the strength to accept something else her foolish heart needed to know. It was time to guard her heart. Because months...years of this would be untenable.
She took one step back. Then another.
Her eyes narrowed as he jerked forward, as if caught by the strings of her emotions.
As she took her third step he stopped himself, features shuttering.
He remained there, a pillar of ruthless fortitude, watching as she silently begged him not to let her go, but knew he wasn’t going to stop her.
Wasn’t going to do anything but leave.
A week later, she summoned a smile for Sergios as they sat down to play chess, infusing enough enthusiasm into the smile for his contemplative looks to lessen, but not totally dissipate.
They hadn’t discussed his son’s absence, but she knew he wasn’t pleased about it.
Join the club...
She wanted to blame those hormones Ares had mocked for missing his body next to hers in the dead of night. She’d tried telling herself she’d been through worse, after living under her father’s ruthless commands for almost three decades, but her heart taunted her.
You knew early enough that Elio didn’t love you. He made no bones about the fact that he’d have preferred a son to a daughter.
With Ares, her heart had refused to believe for a very long time. Now that hope was gone. But she needed to keep her vow front and centre in the heart that was now being pulverised by the realisation that she’d never got over Ares Zanelis. That despite the almost-decade that had passed he’d remained the ideal in her mind and her heart. She feared he always would, but she needed to put that fear aside. For her child’s sake.
‘I’m old, mikros, but not so old that you should pretend to play badly enough to make me feel good about winning,’ Sergios griped.
Her gaze snapped to his, guilt riding her about spacing out. At his droll look, her eyes dropped to the board. In three short moves she was about to forfeit the game.
‘Oh, I’m sorry...’
He waved her apology away, but while his customary humour lurked in his eyes his expression was surprisingly solemn. ‘Don’t be sorry, mikros. Do something about it.’
She started at his direct, gritted tone. Surprised that for the first time she was catching glimpses of where his son had inherited his steel from. Sergios might couch his interactions with humour, but at his core he was implacably loyal. Fiercely determined.
‘I...I don’t know what you mean.’
His mouth twisted, the motion so reminiscent of his son that her breath caught. ‘Yes, you do. Only you’re wallowing when you should act.’ A flash of anguish marred his weathered features. ‘If I’d acted sooner, instead of remaining stubborn back when things were unravelling in my own life, perhaps things would’ve turned out differently for my family.’
