His outburst stunned Leah, the ache in those words irrefutable, rendering her bitter accusations a lie. That he had suffered neglect at the hands of his parents, that there was so much depth to his determination toward his duty, it shook her from within.
The silence rang with his fury, his movements caged and restless.
He ran a hand over his eyes and exhaled, suddenly looking extremely tired. A haunted look wreathed his features. “I don’t care if you think he ruined your life. All he ever intended was to keep you safe, even from yourself.
“So you will not only act how Giannis Katrakis’s granddaughter and heiress should tonight, you will also spend the next few days with him, and you will tell him how grateful you are for everything.
“If you know what’s good for you, and I think that is one thing you know very well, you will obey me.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
LEAH LOOKED OUT from the huge balcony that gave a view of the lush acreage surrounding her grandfather’s house.
The estate was covered with huge marquees. Multicolored fountains were lit up in the grounds, buffet tables groaning under the weight of delicacies and dishes. Soft music filtered from unobtrusive speakers nearer the house.
Laughter and greetings in Greek floated up from the crowd of two hundred or more guests, piercing through the melancholy that gripped her. In the half hour or so she had spent down there, she had only heard goodwill for Giannis and praise for Stavros and Dmitri.
It seemed her grandfather couldn’t have chosen better men to continue his legacy. She was the outsider, the curiosity, the unknown, and being among people who had known her mother, the fact hurt. Yet she had no one but herself to blame.
When she had stepped out of the limo on Stavros’s arm, it was as if the entire world had come to a standstill. Thundering silence had reigned as she had walked through the parting crowd, her gaze both searching for and bracing for the sight of her grandfather.
He’s taking a break, Stavros whispered in her ear and her breath left her in a ball. Her knees would have buckled beneath her if he hadn’t held her up against his solid frame.
An hour later, here she was waiting for Giannis, everything she had done over the past decade rushing up toward her.
She hadn’t been in her grandfather’s house for almost eight years now, having chosen to live with Calista at Stavros’s house even before he had tied her to him. The grand house was as lifeless as Stavros’s house had been full of peace.
Her grandfather had been so open and loving of her when Stavros had brought her home. Just fifteen, she had been grief-stricken, too shattered by her father’s sudden death to respond to Giannis with anything more than single-word responses. But he hadn’t given up on her. He had bid Stavros to bring Calista along next time. And just as he had predicted, Calista had been a welcome storm in her life—fun, reckless, daring, and somehow, she had understood Leah’s grief.
Except Leah had never imagined it would be Calista that she would lose.
Crippled by Calista’s loss, stunned by Stavros’s decision, she had refused to even look at Giannis. If she didn’t love him, if she didn’t hug him as her arms sometimes ached to, if she didn’t pin all her love on her kind grandfather who told her thrilling tales about a mother she had never known, she wouldn’t have to live through another loss.
If she didn’t love him, there would be no pain when he was gone. Even when Giannis had recovered from his heart attack, she had refused to see him.
Stavros was right. She had truly become selfish. A coward who cared about nothing but protecting herself from pain.
Something broke her reverie and she turned around.
Stavros standing slightly behind him, for support she knew, her grandfather stood under the archway, his brown eyes hungrily studying her. “Come close so I can see you.” His voice, soft and coarse, reverberated in the stillness. Tugged as though by invisible cords, she took a few steps. Her heart thudded in her chest.
“You look so much more like her now, so much like my beautiful Ioanthe. Welcome home, Leah.”
And just like that, every defense she had put in place, every wall she had erected around her heart, came tumbling down.
Tears overflowing onto her cheeks, half blinded by the emotion engulfing her, Leah stumbled toward him. Wrapped her arms around him with no regard to his frail body, with no thought other than to lose herself in his unconditional acceptance. On the periphery, she heard Stavros’s soft curse.
Giannis was so thin and insubstantial that if not for Stavros anchoring them, she knew she would have toppled them down. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, a haunting void in her gut.
How cowardly she had been to deny herself his embrace, his love?
Her grandfather held her with a tight grip. The remembered pine scent of him made her tremble. “Shhh...do not cry, thee mou.”
When she became aware of her surroundings again, Giannis was sitting in a chair and she was kneeling in front of him, the stone floor digging into her knees. Overwhelmed by shame and grief, she hid her face in his knees while he kept his hand over her head, whispering endearments. Even in the turmoil she was in, she knew Stavros had left them alone. Breathing loudly, she swiped her fingers over her cheeks and looked up.
“I’m a coward. All I ever cared about was protecting myself.”
He shook his head and smiled, tucking her hand into his. “You are here now.”
She wouldn’t be if not for Stavros. But with all her old fears swirling beneath the joy of seeing her grandfather, Leah couldn’t be grateful to Stavros. Not yet.
* * *
Leah’s soft cries haunted Stavros as he paced room after room, trying to find her. More than two hours had passed since he had left her with Giannis and rejoined the party, his thoughts in a whirl.
When Giannis had brought him to this very mansion years ago, it had taken him a month to learn the layout of the house. Now he cursed it.
His nurse had just informed him that Giannis had returned to his bedroom an hour ago. Which meant Leah could be anywhere.
A sense of failure haunted him, a gnawing in his gut just as in the days after Calista had died. Had he pushed her too far tonight? Why had she cried as though her heart had been breaking?
Her reaction to seeing Giannis shook Stavros on levels he couldn’t grasp.
He finally found her in the dark music room, a shadow sitting in silence. Ioanthe used to play piano here, he remembered Giannis telling him fondly.
Stepping inside, he flicked the switch on and light from the overhead crystal chandelier flooded the room.
His chest swelled with a sudden surge of emotion as his gaze found her on the chaise longue, her legs tucked under her, her dress billowing around her.
“I wouldn’t comment on the wine bottle, or my dress or how I live my life just now, Stavros.” She flicked him a wary glance, guilty color streaking her cheeks. A bottle of red wine sat on the vanity table, a half empty glass in her hand. “I’m painfully alive, so that should be good enough for you.”
His breath came out in shuddering exhale, old fear lurking just beneath the surface.
Her hair had come undone from the severe style she hadn’t liked, framing her face in disarray. Her eyes looked a little swollen and that laughing, mocking, sensuous mouth was pinched at the corners. Face scrubbed of makeup and huddled against the dark red upholstery, she looked achingly innocent, and lonely. And afraid, he thought frowning.
“Are you hiding from me, Leah?”
Her sigh rattled in the silence. “Would it help my case if I said I was?”
Irritation flickered inside him. Couldn’t she tell him even such a tiny truth?
Even the proper, demure dress had lost its war against her. Crumpled and stained at the hem where she must have been kneeling while one strap hung half down her arm, it bared her neck and the upper swell of one breast. The diamond choker glittered against her slender throat.
A relentless peal of hunger began to simmer through him. His fingers itched to trace that delicate collarbone, his mouth tingling to press against the pulse hammering at the base of her throat.
But even as desire ran rampant in his veins, it was the underlying thread of tenderness that unsettled him. He should have been happy that she had done as he had asked, that she hadn’t hurt Giannis as she had...hurt him? Wounded him?
You are made of stone.
How had her words found such purchase in him? Another new awareness that only Leah could elicit, another new territory that she pushed him into...
Theos, what was wrong with him?
Tucking his hands in the pockets of his trousers, he leaned against the doorway.
“You don’t look like my version of you anymore. You look like...you. Even that dress...I think you have bent it to your will, Leah.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” she said, sounding anything but. “Aren’t you done pulling my strings tonight?”
The dare in her tone would have made him smile if he could have believed it completely. If he hadn’t heard the quiver she worked hard to suppress. If he hadn’t seen such ache and longing ravage her fragile face when she had seen Giannis.
Still, he played along, unsure of her mood. Even more dangerous, unsure of his own intentions. “Have you still not learned not to challenge me, Leah?”
She looked down into her drink and he had a feeling she wanted to hide from him. That she didn’t want him to see her like this at all.