“My mother was estranged from her sister,” she murmured, not mentioning that Lorraine’s failing career aspirations, and unplanned pregnancy, had imploded her relationship with her family. “It was only as teenagers that Benji and I connected, and I don’t think his parents ever really approved.”
Leonidas’ frown made his feelings on that matter abundantly. She could sense the disgust radiating off him.
“I was just grateful to have Benji. Other than him, I’m completely alone.”
“I can’t imagine what that’s like.”
“You come from a big family?”
“I have three brothers, and three cousins, who are more like siblings.” He hesitated, lips pressed together tightly, but he didn’t elaborate further.
Something sounded in the back of her mind; a memory, a comprehension point she’d missed earlier. “What did you say your last name was?”
His eyes were cool as they held hers. “Xenakis.”
Her lips parted. “As in, the Xenakis family?”
“I take it you’ve heard of us?”
“Who hasn’t?” She responded with clear honesty. “Wow. Benji never mentioned—,” she let the words fade.
“He respects my privacy, and I am grateful to him for that.”
She nodded softly. He was the same with her. “So,” she murmured, leaning back in her seat and regarding him with a different kind of speculation now. “You’re a fully-fledged billionaire, then.”
His surprise at the question was evident.
“What’s that like?”
“Much as you’d imagine.”
“Helicopter rides to work every morning?”
His laugh seemed dredged from his soul. “Sometimes. When warranted.”
“And this is what you do for work? What you’ve been doing today?”
He dipped his head once. “I’m involved in the family business.”
“When most people say that, they mean a shop or maybe an estate agency. Your ‘family business’ is—what exactly?”
“A conglomerate of entities,” he said with a lift of his shoulders. “Essentially, we buy companies, make them bigger, better.”
“Then sell them?”
“Sometimes. Other times, we keep and run them. It depends.”
She shook her head. “Sounds impressive.”
“It’s just business.” If anything, he seemed frustrated by the conversation. Silence fell. She sipped her wine. When Leonidas began to speak again, she was surprised. “That’s not, actually, true. It’s life.”
She furrowed her brow, leaning closer without realizing it.
His voice lowered.
“My father didn’t come from money. In fact, he was dirt poor.” His eyes locked to Mila’s. “It’s not something he discussed with us, really, but one night, he got drunk. He told me of his childhood. I came to understand how hard he’d worked and why. Day and night, for many, many years. He met my mother when he was fifty years old—it was only then that he felt he could relax enough to have a family. And even once we were born, the company was his all. His everything. He had more impetus to be successful, more to lose if he failed.” Leonidas’s mouth formed a flat line in his beautiful face. “There was never a question of us doing something else. We were raised to value the business, but also, without it ever being said, we understood that working in the company was how we’d keep him close. How we’d earn his love.”
Mila’s eyes were gentle, creased at the corners as she contemplated that. “You felt his love was conditional?”