‘So...’ She let the word hang between them, a little puff of air, a question, an answer, an invitation.
‘So.’ His smile was slow to spread across his face.
‘A honeymoon?’ she prompted, lifting her tea to her lips and sipping it, cupping it with both hands. Her wedding ring shone like a beacon of light.
‘Isn’t that traditional?’
‘For real couples,’ she said with a note to her voice that could have been wistful, and could have been teasing.
‘This has to look like a real marriage,’ he reminded her. ‘The world will expect us to be revelling in our “happy couple” life.’
She pulled a face, and pushed up from the bench at the same time, coming around to stand beside him. ‘You don’t really seem like someone who’d care what the world thinks.’
His laugh was just a harsh sound of agreement. ‘Generally I don’t.’ He didn’t add that more often than not he lived to defy expectations, not to meet them.
‘So this is all for Kosta’s sake?’
He tilted his head towards hers, unable to explain why he wanted to deny that. He fought the temptation, and nodded instead. ‘Yes, agape.’
‘This company—’
‘Petó.’
She nodded. ‘It obviously means a lot to you.’
‘Yes.’
‘But you have lots of other companies.’
‘This was my grandfather’s.’
She tilted her head to the side, a gesture he now knew to mean she was considering something. Only it put sensible thought right out of his mind, so all he could do was look at the delicate curve of her neck, the creaminess of her skin. Desire kicked up a notch and he felt as though the air between them were crackling with heat and fire.
He had to fight it.
Didn’t he?
‘He had a lot of businesses?’
‘Yes. But not like Petó.’
/> ‘Why not?’
‘It was his favourite.’ He made light of the question, lifting a hand and rubbing it across the back of his neck. ‘It was his father’s before him. When I first came to live with Dion, it was our grandfather who spent time with us. With me.’ His voice deepened on the admission. ‘I think perhaps he saw what no one else did.’
‘What’s that?’
He forced a smile to his face to compensate for the maudlin response. ‘I was alone. Completely alone. And terrified.’
‘You?’ she teased, but she was faking it too, he could tell. Sympathy softened her eyes, and she lifted a hand to his chest, so he drew in a deep breath as she pressed her palm over his heart. ‘Surely you were never afraid of anything?’
‘Only a fool lives without fear,’ he commented softly.
She bit down on her lip. ‘That’s very true.’
He lifted his hand, laying it over hers, his eyes locked to hers, daring her to say something, to do something, to pull away and put a stop to this. She didn’t.
His heart was pounding, slamming against his ribs, and the pull of his desire refused to be ignored. He pushed his body up, just enough to bring them into contact, and with his spare hand he removed her teacup, reaching behind him and placing it on the bench.