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“I’m not spending that money.” I raise my chin. “And no more kissing.”

I wait for… I’m not sure what. Anger, persuasion, anything but the steady gaze fixed on my face.

“Is that what you want?”

No.“Yes.”

He watches me for another heartbeat. Eyes on mine, searching, penetrating. Then he nods. Walks past me. A moment later I hear the door open, then close again with a soft click.

I suck in a shuddering breath as I sink back down onto the bed. I have nothing to feel guilty about. Nothing. The kiss was amazing. Incredible. Just as potent as the kisses we shared back in Santorini, but with a sensual knowing we didn’t have before.

But kissing means nothing without trust.

CHAPTER NINE

Michail

The pavestones of Voukourestiou Streetgleam in the early-morning sunlight. Most of the shops won’t open for at least another hour. Tourists are still sleeping off transatlantic flights or hangovers from indulging in Greece’s famous ouzo.

But as Alessandra and I walk down one of Athens’s most prominent streets lined with signs advertising brands like Prada and Gucci, I don’t even glance at the window displays. We only have one stop this morning before continuing to Santorini.

I glance at my wife out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t see her after our kiss until about an hour ago as the plane was descending into Greece. She emerged with her hair caught up in a bun at the crown of her head, a loose white shirt hiding most of her belly and black pants that clung to the curves of her legs. I let her set the tone for the morning, taking a cue from her blank face and monotone voice.

But inside, I seethe. Burn.

Her accusations last night were not misplaced. No, they were all too accurate. My mother has told me on more than one occasion she can take care of herself, that I don’t need to be hovering over her shoulder like I’m the parent. Occasionally, she’ll reference her week in the hospital, promise me that will never happen again.

Except it wasn’t just a week. Yes, she was hospitalized for seven days. But it took months for her to recover, to lose the shadows beneath her eyes and the strain in her smile when she asked me how my day at school was. For me not to panic every time she looked even mildly worried.

Once I got control of my anger at my then-unknown father, and by extension the world that looked down on my mother and me, our lives got better. The more I controlled, from my behavior to my grades to taking on a part-time job in high school so that my mother could focus on finally finishing her college degree and getting certified as an art teacher, the better our lives became.

I know Alessandra isn’t in the same position my mother was. But damn it, what good is my money if I can’t use it to give the mother of my child a chance to be there for our son? To be present in a way my mother was never able to be there for me? Knowing Alessandra had to give up a job she loved is a knife to the chest.

But she’s not giving up. Instead, she took on another role while five months pregnant so she could prepare for her ultimate goal of owning her own business. I admire her initiative, her tenacity. She’s balancing her professional dreams with providing the best life possible for our son.

Her accusations last night cut deep. But in the light of day, I can’t help but wonder if I’m insisting on helping her because it’s the right thing. Or is it to make myself feel better?

“Kyrios Sullivan!”

A short, portly man with an impressive salt-and-pepper mustache leans out the doorway of one of the shops and hails us with his boisterous greeting. Alessandra’s steps slow.

“You know him?”

“I do. Chances are you’ve heard of him, too.”

She arches a brow. “Oh?”

“Kallos Boutique.”

Her eyes widen. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Kallos Boutique has nine shops around the globe, including one on New York’s famous Fifth Avenue and one prominently featured on the Champs-Élysées in Paris.

“Greetings, my friend.” Lucas steps forward to clasp my hand in his. “It’s an honor to have you visit my original establishment.”

“Thank you.” I turn to Alessandra and gently grab her by the elbow, tugging her forward. “This is my wife, Alessandra.”