Rose took a breath and then another, and then Ares’s hand was at her hip, guiding her to sit on the long, low, black leather sofa.
Her brother. Castor. She couldn’t remember his face, couldn’t remember anything about him except a feeling of safety and warmth whenever he was near. And his voice, newly deepening into a man’s, telling her to stay put.
But you didn’t, did you?
She shut her eyes against painful tears, swallowing the sob in her throat.
‘He has spent the past twenty years looking for you,’ Ares went on relentlessly. ‘I had several contacts confirm that he was involved in infiltrating trafficking rings and passing information on to the authorities, and I can only assume he was doing that in order to find you. I also have it on good authority that now he uses his many private residences as safe houses for women with nowhere to go and no one to turn to.’
She swallowed again, but that sob wouldn’t go away.
Ares didn’t touch her, but she wanted him to. She wanted his strong arms around her, to turn her face into his chest, press herself against all his reassuring heat. Because she felt weak and needed his strength.
But he wasn’t touching her, and she knew it was because of what she’d said to him. Because of the confession she’d forced from him when he hadn’t been ready for it, uncovering a grief that went too deep.
So, who was she to cry over the discovery of her true name and a brother she’d forgotten? A brother who’d never stopped looking for even after all these years. Who was she to be upset about finding a family, when he’d lost his wife so terribly? A loss he blamed himself for.
Forcing down the sobs and fiercely blinking back her tears, she lifted her head. Ares was standing next to the couch, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. His face wore its customary granite expression, but anger glittered in his eyes. And, well, he had a right to it, didn’t he?
He wasn’t there to reassure her, not that she deserved it anyway. Not after what she’d made him confess.
‘Th-thank you,’ she forced out. ‘For finding all that out for me. I appreciate it.’
The hard expression on his face didn’t change. ‘Do you? Didn’t seem like you were all that grateful just before.’
‘I... I know. I was just...afraid.’ Her jaw ached with the effort of holding back the sobs. ‘But I’m fine now and, really, I am grateful, Ares. It’s just...a lot.’ She pushed herself to her feet, needing suddenly to be alone so she could weep in private. She didn’t want to put her grief and fear and apprehension about what he’d just told her onto him. ‘I need...to go and freshen up. Is my room up the stairs? You don’t have to show me, I can find it myself.’
That muscle in his jaw leapt again. ‘There is only one bedroom in the main house. We are sharing it.’
Her stomach tightened. So he’d expected that she would be sleeping with him. Ten minutes earlier she’d have been ecstatic. Now all she wanted was some space.
‘Okay,’ she said thickly. ‘That’s fine. Is it upstairs?’
He nodded and gestured towards the stairs. He didn’t offer to show her where it was. Apparently, they both needed space.
A set of wooden stairs led up to the upper level of the lodge, where there was a huge bedroom and an equally huge bathroom. Her luggage had been put at the foot of the giant four-poster bed in the bedroom. The bed faced windows that looked out over the lake. It had a smooth, rustic wooden floor covered with rugs and plain white walls, the bed with its giant posts and white linen hangings the centrepiece of the room.
She sat on the edge of it and allowed herself a few moments to weep, her emotions so tangled and twisted she didn’t even know why she was crying.
Her name was Ismena Xenakis and she had a brother. A brother who’d been looking for her all this time.
She hadn’t been forgotten. And she wasn’t alone.
Ares found this for you. He discovered it.
Tears slid slowly down her cheeks, and she didn’t bother to wipe them away. Her chest ached with grief and fear and hope and guilt. Grief for the years lost and fear that her brother wouldn’t want to see her. Hope that he would, and she would find him again. Guilt for not doing what he’d said on that street so long ago. Guilt for not staying and watching those kittens, because perhaps if she’d done what she’d been told, she wouldn’t have been taken.
And beneath all of that lay a deeper ache. For Ares and what he’d told her and where that left them.
Why does he matter so much? You’re married to him, but you’re not really his wife, are you? You forced him to marry you. He would never have chosen you.
All of that was true, and she didn’t know why he’d come to matter to her so much. It was only that he’d been kind to her. No, not just kind; he’d made her feel like she was more than an abducted girl sold to be a servant in a rich man’s house. A powerless victim of human trafficking. He’d given her freedom and helped her make a life for herself, and over the past few months as she’d worked at the cafe, little daydreams of having a family of her own, a family with him, had danced in her head.
She hadn’t realised she’d even wanted that until she’d discovered she wasn’t pregnant, after all. And had been so oddly disappointed.
Nine months ago, in Thailand, she’d thought she’d never want to stay being his wife. Now...it was different.
It’s different because of him. Because you’re falling for him.