“In what ways?” She dug her fingernails into her palms, hoping she hadn’t pushed it too far, not wanting him to shut down.
“He loved us, of that I’m certain, but it was not really a love you would recognize. For a long time, I tried to work out why. I came up with many theories, over the years, some of them fit perfectly. But after that night, when he told me about his childhood, I understood him better. He was scared of loving us, scared of hurting us. Scared to let go, because he’d seen the dark side of an abundance of emotion. He’d loved once, and lost—our sister, Valentina—and never recovered from that.”
She gasped. “I didn’t realise.”
“I’m not surprised. It was a long time ago.”
Mila swallowed, immensely sorry for him, and his family. “How?” She winced, even as the word left her lips, reaching out and pressing a hand to his knee. “Forget I asked that.”
He flew in silence for a long time, and she pressed back against her seat, staring down at the scenery, the patchwork of vines and crops and the gentle hills.
“She was my twin,” he said, finally, the words crackling in her ear. “She was five years old, and she died by drowning.” His knuckles showed white, from how hard he gripped the controls of the helicopter. “We were inseparable.”
Stupid, hot tears filled Mila’s eyes. She blinked furiously, but wasn’t able to stop one from rolling down her cheek. She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I’m so sorry, Leo. I didn’t know.”
His eyes found hers and a pulse throbbed between them, something meaningful and important, because she felt his grief and knew he understood the legitimacy of her sympathy.
“Thank you.” It meant a lot to her that he accepted her condolences.
“My parents were never the same afterwards. None of us were.”
The helicopter began to descend, his expert control bringing them in over an airstrip, and even from a great height, she could make out his private jet.
“But my mother managed to find purpose to her life,” he said after a beat. “She lived for the rest of us. Now my father is gone, I don’t know how she’ll cope. I suppose, if I’m honest, I’ve been avoiding her, because I cannot bear to see her go through this again.”
Mila’s heart cracked. “That’s understandable.”
“Is it? I’ve left my brothers holding her together.”
“Your being away ismyfault.”
Lower and lower, until the helicopter touched down, and the blades began to slow. He reached out, caught her face in his hands and held her still, eyes on hers. “No,” he said emphatically, confusing her with his certainty. “This isnotyour fault. None of it. You did not choose to be stalked, to be in danger. You did not choose any of this.” He leaned closer, his face only an inch from hers. “And I will always be glad that I was there for you, that I played some part in your safety.”
He was wrong though; she’d chosenhim. Just for this moment in time, just for right now.
His jet was ready,and this time, when she stepped inside, her mind wasn’t so scrambled by fear that she couldn’t pay attention to the details. She looked around properly, at the wide leather armchairs, the table made of oak halfway down the cabin, and then, beyond that, the timber frames that suggested the existence of rooms of a more private nature.
“Good afternoon Mr Xenakis, Miss Monroe. Can I offer you any refreshments for take off?”
He gestured to Mila. “For you?”
Her heart skipped a beat. This all felt so normal. Not for the first time, she found herself tempted to imagine this was real, that they were actually a couple, going home to meet his family. That, in defiance of what she’d said to him, this did in fact mean a lot.
“Mila?”
She blinked. “Just some water, thank you.”
“Anything to eat? We missed lunch.”
She wasn’t hungry but she lifted her shoulders. “Only if you’re having something.”
His brows knit together in that way he had, analytical and assessing, as though looking at her for answers she didn’t have. “Some sandwiches, salads.” He said with a nod, then turned back to Mila. “Is something bothering you?”
Somethingwasbothering her, only she couldn’t put her finger on it. There was just a feeling in her gut, an instinct, that was warning her, but she ignored it. She could no longer trust her instincts. Since the stalker had emerged in her life, she’d questioned everything, doubted herself, and so she had no idea if the warning was a feeling she should heed, or something she could dismiss.
“I’m fine.” She smiled softly, looking up at him, as her heart lurched wildly in her chest. “Want to give me a tour?”
He showed her through the plane as it was readied for takeoff. Mila had been right. Beyond the timber walls were elegant rooms, like a five star hotel. Bedrooms, bathrooms, a private dining room and a cinema.