When Christakos Meets His Match(87)

                He’d been invited to their wedding too, just months before, but the rage within him had still been too fierce for him even to contemplate it. The rage he’d felt at finally coming face to face with his half-brothers at his mother’s funeral. The rage he’d felt at the evidence that she’d loved them above him. That she hadn’t abandoned them.

                But he knew it wasn’t their fault. Whatever the stain had been on Cesar’s personality that had led their mother to leave him behind had nothing to do with them. Maybe, he surmised cynically, they were just more lovable.

                God knew, he’d felt dark for so long he was constantly surprised that people didn’t run in terror when they looked into his eyes and saw nothing light. But they didn’t run. And especially not women. It seemed the darker he felt, the stronger the draw to his lovers. More than one had been under the erroneous impression that they could heal Cesar of the darkness in his soul.

                He wasn’t surprised at women’s eagerness to put up with his less than sunny nature; after all he was one of the richest men in the world. His mother had taught him that lesson very early on. After cutting Cesar from her life like a useless appendage she’d gone on to feather her nest in fine style—first with an Italian count and then, after he’d lost everything, a Greek tycoon.

                He could see Rafaele putting his son down now—an adorable-looking little boy. His nephew. Cesar felt it like a punch to his gut. He’d been about the same age when his mother had left him with his grandparents and everything had gone dark and cold. To see that small boy now, swinging between his parents’ hands, was almost too much to bear.

                And then his youngest half-brother Alexio emerged from the mairie’s office with his new wife. His pregnant wife. More new life unfolding.

                The pain in Cesar’s chest increased. They were beaming. Eyes only on each other. Besotted. Cesar could feel his blackness spreading out...infecting the people around him like a virus. He caught one or two double-takes. People were wary around him. Women were fascinated, lustful. Covetous.

                It gave him no measure of satisfaction to be as blessed as his brothers in his physical appearance. It compounded his cynicism. His looks merely sweetened the prospect for avaricious lovers, and they had proved to him from an early age that women were shallow. If he had nothing they’d still want him, but they wouldn’t have to put on the elaborate pretence of not being interested in his fortune. Sometimes he almost felt sorry for them, watching them contort themselves into what they thought he wanted them to be.

                Alexio was lifting his new wife into his arms now. Hearing her squeal of happiness, and seeing her throw her bouquet high in the air behind her so the women could catch it, made something break apart inside Cesar. He had to get away. He shouldn’t have come. He would taint this happiness with his presence.

                But just as he turned someone caught his arm, and he looked back to see Rafaele, with his son in his arms. The small boy was looking at Cesar curiously and he could see that he’d inherited his grandmother’s eyes. His eyes. He felt weak.

                As if Rafaele could see and understand the wild need to escape in Cesar’s chest, he said, ‘Whatever you might think our lives were like with our mother...they weren’t. I’ll tell Alexio you came. Maybe we’ll see you again...?’

                Cesar was slightly stunned at Rafaele’s words. And at the way he’d seen his need to get out of there. That he wasn’t pushing for more.

                His chest feeling tight, Cesar nodded and bit out, ‘Give him my best wishes.’

                And then he turned and walked away quickly from that happy scene, before his wondering about what Rafaele had meant about their mother could tear him open completely and expose the dried husk of his soul to the light.