‘Or is this just an arrangement until Max is a bit older? Twelve? Fifteen? Eighteen? At what point do you imagine we’ll walk away from this farce you’re proposing and get on with our real lives?’
His Adam’s apple jerked as he swallowed. ‘I promised Lewis I would look after you.’
Annie had to reach behind her for some form of support. ‘What?’ The word was just a croak.
Dimitrios’s expression was grim. ‘Before he died.’ He looked distinctly uncomfortable—rife with grief. ‘He was worried about you. Your parents, the way they treated you...’ He shook his head. ‘He asked me to keep an eye on you.’
Annie stared at him for several anguished seconds, tears thick in her throat. It was so like Lewis; oh, how she missed her big brother! ‘I didn’t know.’
‘No.’ He grimaced. ‘Well, I didn’t exactly follow through on what I’d promised him.’ She understood then—he felt guilty, just as she did, but his guilt had nothing to do with the awful things he’d said to her, the way he’d rejected her so cruelly. No, his guilt was because he’d betrayed Lewis and the promise he’d made. It didn’t make her feel better, but it did make a sad kind of sense of what had happened back then.
‘That’s why you came to me that night? To check up on me?’
He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. It shone a new light on how one-sided their passion had been.
‘I promised him I’d take care of you, and I’ve badly neglected that promise. I had no idea how badly until recently but, Annabelle, I intend to fix this. I intend to look after you.’
Her heart twisted, pride snapping inside her. ‘And if I don’t want looking after? If I point out that I can do that all for myself?’
He leaned closer and her body tightened in an unwelcome response. ‘I can’t tell you what our marriage will be like. I’m acting on instinct here, and every instinct is telling me getting married is the only thing that makes sense. I promise you this, though—I will never neglect your needs again, Annabelle.’
She ground her teeth together, knowing the importance of fighting him. ‘Stop speaking as though this is going to happen.’
‘But it is going to happen.’
‘You do realise this is the twenty-first century? And that I’m a woman with my own ability to make this decision?’
‘The decision has been taken out of our hands.’
‘Why do you say that?’
He pushed back in his chair, regarding her with eyes that were impossible to read. ‘What do you know of my life?’
The question was unexpected. ‘Not a lot,’ she admitted.
‘You know my family is wealthy.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘You’re a Papandreo. Your family isn’t just “wealthy”. You’re richer than Croesus. What’s your point?’
‘That money brings with it a mountain of consequences.’
‘Like never having to work a day in your life?’
He arched a brow. She regretted the waspish comment as soon as she’d said it. Both Zach and Dimitrios worked harder than just about anyone. Casting aspersions on their dedication was just petty. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.’ She sighed. ‘For the record, that’s exactly the kind of snappy comment I don’t want Max growing up having to hear.’
His grin melted something deep inside her, filling her with warmth. ‘So don’t snap at me, then.’
‘Easier said than done,’ she muttered, taking another sip of her tea.
‘From the minute my brother and I went to live with our father, there has been press intrusion in our lives. Paparazzi, ridiculous stories, speculative documentaries asserting all sorts of fanciful “truths”.’ He shook his head scathingly. ‘While we have become used to that nonsense, you’re not. Max isn’t.’ He leaned closer again, and his masculine fragrance tickled her nostrils, causing her gut to clench in powerful response. ‘There is no question of keeping this a secret. A reporter knows. This story will break soon, and your life will change in ways you can’t anticipate. I can’t protect you here. I can’t protect you unless you’re in my home, living with me. I can’t protect Max unless he’s in my house, where I can see him. Don’t you get that?’
She gulped, the reality of what he was saying banging into her hard.
‘I—can cope with reporters,’ she mumbled not at all convincingly, to either of them. ‘I mean, I’ll learn to cope.’
‘Perhaps. But in the meantime you’ll expose Max to unnecessary difficulties and drama, all because you won’t be reasonable.’
‘Reasonable?’ Her jaw dropped. ‘Marrying you is the opposite of reasonable! It’s preposterous. I haven’t seen you in seven years and the last time I did see you was—hardly a success,’ she pointed out, shaking her head, then closing her eyes against the deluge of memories threatening to weaken her.