IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE TO FEEL anything but admiration for her, even when his personal opinion was that she was foolhardy in the extreme. Her independence might have been hard fought but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a weakness at times like this.
He could identify with her determination; it was a trait he shared. His business acumen was established. Like his brothers, he’d trained at his father’s knee, observing, learning, testing his skills, sharpening his mind. He knew now that he was very good at what he did. And yet he was constantly driven to do better, to prove his mettle, to distinguish himself from his siblings. To hold his own in the midst of a family that was utterly remarkable.
He left the room without another word, because he knew how close he was to silencing her and her damned good arguments with a kiss, and how likely it was that any kiss would turn into so much more. Already he’d tried to use desire to persuade her, to tempt her to stay—a promise he wasn’t sure he should follow through on, even when he desperately wanted to.
Not since he was a hormonal teenager had he found it so utterly impossible to get a woman from his head. Then again, he’d never wanted a woman he hadn’t taken to bed within hours. This was a wholly new experience for Leonidas, the denial of his needs, which explained why she’d gotten under his skin so utterly. It had nothing to do with her, and everything to do with Leonidas. Even Benji’s warning to stay away from Mila turned her into some kind of catnip—the forbidden fruit.
Disloyalty fired through him out of nowhere, like a bullet.
He stopped walking and stared at the wall, all the breath leaving his body in one sharp push.
His father was barely cold in the ground, and Leonidas had been so focused on Mila and her stalker that he’d almost forgotten. Grief, with its strange, metallic taste, pressed hard against him, suffocating him, making breathing impossible, so he braced himself against the wall with one hand, the absence of his father from this world like an enormous cavern, dark and expansive.
“Christos, dad.” He closed his eyes, tasting adrenalin and grief, then began to walk swiftly, grabbing hold of the problem more tightly. It was something he could control and fix, something he could change. He wouldn’t let Mila get hurt, even if it meant keeping her here beyond the week she’d given him. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—allow her to be harmed.
The house was aboutten times bigger than she’d realized. Not ‘house’, she corrected with a self-deprecating smile. ‘Chateau’. Her progress was slow, hampered by her ankle, so she used her walking stick, but even then, she could feel that it wasn’t as bad as it had been the day before. Progress was being made. Soon, she’d be fit enough to start training again, just lightly at first, but the thought of being back on the ice filled her with a rush of pleasurable anticipation, even when something else churned in her gut. Fear? Isolation? Loneliness? Panic?
She pasted an overbright smile on her face and kept walking, eyes fixed on the view through the windows to her left. It was a warm day, and the mountains were bathed in gold, glistening in hazy light, all the way down to the ocean she could see in the distance. The valleys themselves were famous, and she could see why—from the soft undulations to the abundant vines, to the stunning castle across two hilltops from where Leonidas’ chateau was so happily situated.
This was clearly an historic property. The building itself was hundreds of years old, and the gardens were also very established. Enormous trees braced one side of the house, trunks so wide in diameter than ten people would barely be able to get their arms around, but it wasn’t historical value alone that made this house hum. There was magic in the air here. In the colour of the sky and the rolling green of the hills, the way the light cut through the windows like a blade, and the walls seemed to whisper as she passed. She felt the generations that must have inhabited this chateau and she wondered about them. It would not be a hardship to stay here, but how could she?
Whatever was buzzing between her and Leonidas had the power to incinerate her, if she wasn’t careful.
With a frustrated shake of her head, she reached into her back pocket, searching for her phone, but her hand came away empty. With a frown, she remembered handing it to Leonidas on the flight the night before.
She needed to contact her physio. They were supposed to speak every second day, and already she’d gone past that. Her coach would be worried, too.
There was nothing for it; she’d have to find Leonidas. Excitement lightened her steps as she went in search of him, anticipation heating the blood in her veins.
He staredat the group text conversation with a bemused expression. He’d been ignoring his phone for the past hour and somehow, the time zone convergence had meant everyone else in the family was online and available.
Thanasi:She’s miserable.
Dimitrios: Of course she is. What did you expect? She’s just buried her husband.
Anastasios: I’ve never seen her like this. Even after Val. She’s lost herself completely.
Dimitrios: In what way?
Anastasios: She wanders around all day. Talks about Val a lot.
Leonidas felt the familiar sting of grief and guilt tighten inside of his chest.
Thanasi: The memories are everywhere at the moment. She’s in the garden constantly.
Anastasios: It helps her cope.
Dimitrios: Then let her garden. Does it matter?
Anastasios: Leo? Let us know when you get these texts.
Thanasi: Where is Leo, anyway?
Dimitrios: Croatia, I think.
Anastasios: What for?
Dimitrios: Not sure. Cora told me he was going away for a while.