Holly reached up to clasp her mother’s necklace around her neck. She touched the gold star gently at her collarbone. No. She wanted love, real love. She wanted what her parents had had.
Love made a marriage. Not money. Not sex. Not even friendship. Only love.
And she wouldn’t, couldn’t, spend the rest of her life without it.
* * *
It was nearly midnight when Stavros arrived home.
For a moment, he leaned his head against the door, exhausted. He’d only slept three hours in the last forty-eight. But the deal was struck at last. He was done.
At least until the next deal. He was already considering a potential acquisition of a company in Pittsburgh that had developed an AI-based sales networking platform. He would call his lawyers about it tomorrow. With any luck, they could strike first, while his competitors were still lazing over Christmas presents and turkey dinners.
Entering the dark, silent penthouse, he turned on a light in the foyer. He nearly jumped when he saw his wife sitting on the sofa of the great room, staring into the pale flames of the gas fireplace. Beside her, the lights of the Christmas tree sparkled wanly.
“What are you doing up so late?” he said uneasily. It couldn’t be anything good.
Slowly, she rose to face him. She wasn’t in pajamas, as one might expect, but was fully dressed, and not in the sleek designer clothes he’d bought her, but the simple sweater and jeans she’d worn when they’d left Switzerland last month.
“We need to talk.”
“So you said. But it’s been a long day. Can we do it tomorrow?” Or never. He raked a hand through his dark hair, setting down his laptop bag as he gave her a small smile. “The deal is signed.”
“Oh?” She came toward him. “So you’re done?”
“Yes.”
She paused. “So you’ll be home more—”
“There’s always another deal, Holly.” He hung up his black Italian cashmere coat. “There’s a new potential acquisition brewing. I’ll need to leave for the office early tomorrow.”
Her lips parted. “But tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. And you just got home. We haven’t seen you for weeks—”
“I’m CEO of a major corporation, Holly.” His voice was more harsh than he intended, but he was tired. He didn’t want to hear her complaints. He didn’t want to feel guilty right now—or feel anything at all. “This is how we pay for this lifestyle. For all your jewels and fine clothes.”
Holly lifted her chin. “I never asked for any of that.”
She was right, which left him no room to negotiate or blame her. It irritated him. “Look, I’m exhausted. Our talk is just going to have to wait.”
“Until when?”
He shrugged. “Until I have time.” Which, with luck, he never would. All he needed to do was line up endless mergers and acquisitions, endless reams of work, and he’d have an excellent excuse never to have to tell her out loud that he didn’t love her, or see her beautiful face break into a million pieces.
But as he turned away, he was stopped by her voice.
“Do you know what today is?”
Scowling, he glanced back. She’d better not bring up last year’s fatal diagnosis again. “The day I signed a new billion-dollar deal?”
She gave him a thin smile. “My birthday.?
??
He blinked, then a savage curse went through his mind. Of course. December twenty-third. Her birthday.
Now he felt guiltier than ever, which only made him angrier. He’d totally forgotten her birthday, and his promise to throw her a party. He was the one who’d first insisted on throwing her one, like a big shot. Now he looked like a flake. Now he’d let her down.
Stavros hated the disappointment in her green eyes—the hollow accusation there. It was the same way his mother had looked at his father when Aristides failed her, time and time again. As a boy, Stavros had always wondered why his mother put up with such treatment.