She thought about herself at the same age. Of her mother, drifting through the house in a haze of painkillers, barely registering her small daughter. And then she thought of herself a few years later, at school, when her constant fear had been that her mother’s fixed smile and narcotised stare would be obvious to others.
It had felt like a dead weight inside her chest, a burden without respite—for of course her father had been away, his wife and daughter no match for whatever get-rich-quick scheme he had been chasing.
‘Mommy, are we going in the pool now?’
‘We are.’ She smiled down at her son’s excited face. He had been talking about nothing else since he’d woken up. ‘Just let me find your hat.’
He frowned. ‘I don’t want to wear it.’
‘I know,’ she said calmly. ‘But it’s hot outside and you need to protect your head. I’m going to be wearing my hat.’ She pointed to the oversized straw hat she’d seen and then impulse-bought in a shop on her way home from work.
George stared up at her. ‘Does Aristo have a hat too?’
Her smile stiffened. ‘I don’t know. He might do.’
Looking down into her son’s dark eyes—eyes that so resembled his father’s—Teddie felt her stomach flip over, as it did every single time George mentioned Aristo’s name.
But it was a small price to pay for being permitted into paradise, she thought, closing the tube of sunscreen as she glanced at the view from her window. The island was beautiful. Although just an hour by motorboat from the mainland, it felt otherworldly, mythical.
It was a wisp of land with bleached sandy beaches and coves, and luminous turquoise water so clear you could see every ripple on the seabed. The villa itself looked like something you might read about in one of those glossy lifestyle magazines, dazzling white beneath the fierce sunlight. There were views everywhere of the sky and sea, and occasional glimpses of the elliptically-shaped pool—blue on blue on blue. And if all that wasn’t enough, there was a garden filled with fruit trees and the drowsy hum of bees.
It was untouched and timeless, and in another life she could have imagined switching off and losing herself in its raw, unpolished beauty and sage-scented air.
But, despite the sun-drenched peace of her surroundings, and her own composed appearance, she felt anything but calm.
She’d woken early from a dream—something familiar but imprecise—and it had taken her a wild moment to remember where she was. Lying back against the pressed white linen pillowcase, she had steadied her breathing. Her restless mind, though, had proved harder to soothe.
Ever since she’d walked out of Aristo’s office she’d been trying to come to terms with everything that had happened and how she was feeling about it.
Or, more specifically, how she was feeling about the man who had just barged back into her life—for, as much as she’d have liked to pretend otherwise, it wasn’t this heavenly island that was dominating her thoughts but her ex-husband.
Perhaps, though, that was progress of a sort. For at least now she could admit, even if only to herself, that Aristo had always been in the background of her life.
Of course she’d wanted to forget him. She’d tried hard to make it appear as though he’d never existed. And outwardly she’d succeeded. She had a job and friends and an apartment, and they were all separate from her life with Aristo. But she could see now that her unresolved feelings for him had continued to influence the way she lived. Why else had she kept every other man except Elliot at a distance? Even the sweet single dads she met at nursery.
Her fingers tightened around the sunscreen.
Not that it would have made any difference if she’d welcomed them with open arms. What man was ever going to be able to match Aristotle Leonidas? He had shaped her life and he was an impossible act to follow on so many levels—not just in terms of his wealth or even his astonishing beauty. There was an elusive quality to him that fascinated her. He was like a mirage that shimmered in the distance, hazy and tantalising, always just out of reach, slipping between her fingers like smoke.
Her heart began to beat faster.
Except yesterday, when out of nowhere he’d suddenly unbent, opening up to her about his childhood in a way that she would never have imagined possible. It had been a brief glimpse into what had made him the man he was, but also a fairly damning reflection on their marriage—for how could she have known so little about the man who had been her lover and her husband?
It wasn’t all her fault, though, she thought defensively. Aristo had been as reluctant to discuss his past as she had, and a part of her couldn’t help but wonder if it wouldn’t have been a lot easier if they’d had that conversation four years ago,
Instead, though, he had stonewalled her, and she’d run away.
And if she hadn’t been marooned on an island on the other side of the world that was what she should be doing now—beating a dignified but hasty retreat from his unsettling, dangerously tempting presence.
Picking up George’s hat, she shivered at the memory of how close she’d come to giving in to that temptation. She was just so vulnerable where Aristo was concerned... Only, it went deeper than that. Her need to exonerate and turn a blind eye was rooted in a childhood spent craving and competing for her father’s attention.
It had been the pattern of her early life: Wyatt’s intermittent absences followed by his inevitable reappearance. No matter how unhappy and angry she’d been, every time he’d come back she’d let herself believe his promises, allowed herself to care. And every time he had left she had felt more worthless than the time before.
And that was why she wasn’t going to fall into the same pattern with Aristo.
No matter how sexy or charming he was, one shared confidence couldn’t change the facts. It was too little, too late. They didn’t trust each other, and that was why their marriage had failed—why she couldn’t give in to the sexual pull between them now.
Making love with Aristo again would undoubtedly be unforgettable, but she knew from experi