Dimitri’s eyes narrowed and he stood. “I will see you upstairs.”
His grandfather stood as well, slowly coming to his feet, the expression on his face one of fatigue. It was the first time since she’d met him that he had shown a glimmer of the effects of his recent ill health. “Do not return downstairs for my sake, Dimitrius. Both the very old and the very young need their rest. I will find my bed.”
She gave the old man a quick kiss on the cheek before turning to go upstairs.
Dimitri stayed behind a few moments saying goodnight to his grandfather, but caught up with her before she had reached the top of the stairs. She allowed him to take her hand, but when he reached for her later in bed she told him she was too tired to make love.
He’d married her because of a promise to a sick relative. For the first time she felt an unwelcome weight around her heart because of her pregnancy. If she hadn’t gotten pregnant, Dimitri would have let her go without a second thought.
Even if Phoebe had still ended up married to Spiros, Dimitri wouldn’t have gone looking for his discarded lover, Xandra Fortune.
Because his grandfather would not have extracted that second promise.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE next morning Alexandra came to consciousness alone in the bed. She cuddled Dimitri’s pillow, inhaling his scent, wishing his absence from their bed was not a physical ache in her heart. He had left for Athens two hours ago, but not before waking Alexandra with slow, tender caresses that had ended in such exquisite release she’d cried.
She’d gone to sleep determined not to make love with him. That determination hadn’t lasted past his first drugging kiss around dawn. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. There were no answers to her predicament in the white plaster.
A knock on the door heralded the arrival of a maid with the breakfast Dimitri had ordered for her. She scooted into a sitting position and allowed the maid to lay the breakfast tray over her legs. An unexpected smile tilted her lips when she saw the dry toast, fruit, eggs and single slice of bacon. He’d teased her about her tendency to order the same meal for breakfast every morning. He’d said pregnant women were supposed to crave pickles and ice cream, not dry toast and bacon.
The food was accompanied by the awful tasting herbal tea she’d taken to drinking in the morning to settle her nausea. She ignored it, grateful the stomach upset that had plagued her the night before was gone. She refused to contemplate the possibility Dimitri’s lovemaking had been more effective in making her feel better than all the herbal tea she’d drunk.
The maid opened the curtains letting in the bright Greek sun before leaving Alexandra to finish her breakfast alone.
She ate by rote, her thoughts casting back to the night before and then more recently to earlier that morning. She still tingled in places from her husband’s possession. Remembered pleasure caused an unwelcome throbbing in her lower body. If he were here now, she’d be hard pressed not to beg him to make love to her.
Huffing out a sigh of frustration at her body’s betrayal, she climbed out of bed. As she showered and dressed, she considered her situation pragmatically. What, after all, had changed? She’d known Dimitri didn’t love her when she agreed to marry him.
But she hadn’t known about the promise, her heart cried.
Did it matter?
Of course it mattered. It was humiliating to realize she’d been married for a reason totally unrelated to herself. She had her pride.
And it had been a cold companion for three long months in New York. She’d been miserable without him. She’d missed him like a wound in her soul every day they had been apart, even believing he had been married to another woman hadn’t dulled the unwanted desire to be back in his arms.
She walked over to the dresser and picked up the Lladro statue. It was so delicate. She could remember with absolute clarity her sense of joy and wonder when he had bought it for her. She ran her forefinger along the figurine’s head and the graceful lines of her dress. Then she lightly touched the kitten playing at the woman’s feet.
Dimitri had saved this reminder of a happier time between them. He had saved her clothes. He had brought her things here, to the family home, obviously believing she would live here as well one day. Of course he had believed it. He knew about his promise to his grandfather, her mind insidiously reminded her.
But he hadn’t had to save her things. She’d left them in an insulting pile on the floor, flouting his pride, condemning him with their presence and her absence.
She had a choice. She could fight the truth and make both Dimitri and herself miserable, or she could accept reality.
She and Dimitri would have the kind of marriage people in his world and her mother’s world excelled at…a marriage of convenience. After all, she was no longer Xandra Fortune, the nobody model he slept with, but Alexandra Petronides, his wife and a woman with a background he could be proud of.
Sharp slashes of pain cut at her heart at the last thought. She’d spent her whole life being accepted for the trappings of who she was. Her own mother had withheld her love and approval for the six long years Alexandra had spent as Xandra Fortune. Cecelia had been effusive in her approval the week before the wedding though. She had been thrilled her daughter had landed such a catch in the marriage market.
And she’d positively gushed her appreciation for her oldest daughter when Dimitri repurchased the Dupree Mansion.
Alexandra thought of the empty years ahead being nothing more than the traditional Greek wife, an adjunct in Dimitri’s life, not a major player. She determined then and there not to fall passively into that role. She’d married Dimitri as she’d said she would. Their son would be raised a Petronides.
Because she loved Dimitri, she would never leave him. But she wasn’t going to play doormat. He’d said she could have anything she wanted to make her happy. What would he say if she told him she wanted to go back to modeling after the baby was born? What would he say if she said that would make her happy?
He said nothing.
Dimitri stared at her across the width of the bed, his blue eyes unreadable, his naked body erect and for once not showing the least signs of desire. Waves of something feral rolled off him and made her shiver.
“Do you have a problem with me returning to my career after the baby is born?”
His hands fisted at his sides and his jaw clenched. “In New York, you told me you didn’t want to return to modeling.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t think I had a choice. The life of a single parent is difficult enough without pursuing a career as demanding as that of a model.”
“You want to leave our son to be raised by a nanny?” Distaste tainted every word he bit out.
No. Damn it. That was not what she wanted. One of the things she’d been looking forward to after her marriage was the ability to stay home with her baby. She wanted to breastfeed. She wanted to be there for her baby’s first word, his first step. What had her muddled thinking that morning led her to?
“I don’t have to take every assignment. I can give up catwalks and commercials and concentrate on photo shoots.”
“You can give up your job entirely.” He glared at her. “You are my wife. You have no need to work.”
She gripped the sheet covering her until there was a bunched up wad of polished cotton in her fist. “Are you saying you refuse to let me?”
He rubbed his eyes, looking as tired as he had that first day in New York. “Would you listen to me if I did?”
“I’m going to live my own life, if that’s what you mean.”
“When have you ever done anything else?” He climbed into bed and turned out the light before lying on his side facing away from her.
Evidently the discussion was over.
She scooted down and turned on her side, trying to get comfortable. She’d grown used to the security of Dimitri’s arms around her while she slept. Now, the width of the king size bed divided them. She felt stupid tears burn the back of her eyes. She’d brought this on herself.
She didn’t really want to go back to modeling. It had only ever been something she did to provide for her family. Something she could do with the resources at her disposal. Now, she’d threatened to return to it for nothing more than to anger Dimitri just because he didn’t love her.
Okay…maybe not just to make him mad. A small part of her had hoped, against all evidence to the contrary, that he could accept her for what she was, not what he wanted her to be. She had thrown down the gauntlet of her career as a test, she realized now. A test that had failed spectacularly.
She had been looking for a way to assuage her feelings of rejection suffered as Xandra Fortune, his lover. Stupid. She’d only opened herself up for more of the same. Hot tears leaked out between her tightly shut eyelids and she sniffed, trying to swallow back the tears and pain.
Sudden heat engulfed her and she was surrounded by hard, masculine muscle. “Do not cry, pethi mou. I am an idiot. If you want to pursue your career, I will not stand in your way.”
“Dimitri?”
“Who else?” he asked with lazy humor as he tucked her into the curve of his body.
That wasn’t what she’d meant. “I knew it was you…I’m just surprised at what you are saying.” She wished the lights were on so she could see his expression. Did he mean it?