He had only been in his twenties when she had arrived in Athens, and yet, all she remembered about Stavros was his incredible sense of responsibility and duty toward all of them.
For the first time, she wondered what drove him to it.
Her curiosity tempered her response. “Why do you want to know?”
He blinked now, as if he couldn’t believe that she dared question him. No, it wasn’t that. Dumbfounded, she watched as he struggled to put his thoughts into words. “I... Even though I gave her everything she could ever want, I never understood—” something in her loosened as he visibly swallowed “—why Calista chose to follow your lead, how I failed to protect her.”
The anguish in his gaze sent memories and impressions hurtling through Leah. Her shoulders shook. “I don’t know—”
“Not that I expect you to know the answer, when you’re the one who led her to drugs.”
Her head jerked up.
Arrogant implacability wreathed his features. As if he had realized who he was talking to. As if there could be nothing but contempt between them.
“No, of course not,” she whispered, buffeting herself against the immense hurt his words caused. Leah put her fork down.
Despite all her grand plans and ideas for adventures, Calista had never even lifted a finger in the house. Whereas Leah, whose mother had died giving birth to her, had always done more than her share to help out her dad even from a young age.
My saintly brother has servants for that... It had been her favorite thing to say when Leah would suggest cleaning up or cooking sometimes.
She had been sixteen and afraid and grieving in her own way. How much of her understanding of Calista would hold up today? For a minute, it seemed she and Stavros had found something common in their grief over Calista.
But no, the past was done. She had to look forward to the future.
Collecting herself, Leah looked up at him. “Tell me what I have to do.”
He studied her for the longest time. Each falling second twisted her gut. “Live with me for three months and prove that I can trust you.”
“No.” The table rattled with the force of her movement.
“This is the only way I will even consider it.”
“What do you expect me to do these three months?”
“Convince me that you’re serious about this fashion design career, that you won’t drain your inheritance on some trumped-up business.”
“The vote of confidence in your tone is really inspiring.”
That hardness in his eyes didn’t budge. “I’m giving you a real choice. If you fail, our marriage stands. You’ll be my wife in every sense for as long as one of us is alive.”
A violent tremble started at the base of her spine and spread upward and outward. The happy voices around her buzzed as if they were noise feedback. And in that space between them, a charge built up winding and changing with every breath they took.
Leah struggled against it, rationalized against it. He met his lover every week. He could not be attracted to her. Nor she to him.
This charge was antagonism that had gone unaddressed for so many years, hatred and resentment and their struggle against this very fate that was spilling over into something else. Maybe it would be true if she believed it enough, she thought desperately.
Because thinking of Stavros in this way—when even her juvenile crush on him had always left her feeling inadequate, was the last thing she needed in life.
Through sheer will, she forced herself to break his gaze, to focus on the fact that he was giving her a real chance. That Giannis would be far removed from their deal was positive.
“If I do prove that I’m everything that is virtuous and sweet and biddable and completely without personality?” His scowl deepened and since needling Stavros was the only thing she had control over in the sinking confusion of her world, she continued, “I’m just a little bit worried that you might not want to give me up then.”
His laughter clanged in the open café. It was a sound Leah had so rarely heard that she stared at him, her breath caught somewhere in her throat.
That lean chest rumbled as if he couldn’t contain it. From the long column of his throat to the sharp grooves in his sliced cheeks...he was gorgeous to behold.