ARISTON’S HEART PUMPED violently as he looked into the grass-green of Keeley’s eyes. And although deep down he knew she had every right to ask about his mother, every instinct he possessed urged him not to tell her. Because if he told her he would reveal his inner self to her, and that was something he liked to keep locked away.
He understood where his aversion to intimacy stemmed from but was content to maintain that state of affairs. He made the rules which governed his life and if other people didn’t like them, that was too bad. His demanding lifestyle had suited him perfectly and, although his lovers had accused him of being cold and unfeeling, he’d seen no reason to change. He’d been self-sufficient for so long that it had become a habit.
Not even Pavlos knew about the dark memories which still haunted him when he was least expecting them. Especially not Pavlos—because hadn’t protecting his brother been second nature to him and the highest thing on his list of priorities? But here was Keeley, his new and very pregnant wife, her face all bright and curious as she asked her question. And this wasn’t some boardroom where he could quash any unwanted topic at a moment’s notice, or a lover he could walk away from without a backward glance because she was being too intrusive. This was just him and her—a woman he was now legally tied to—and there was no way he could avoid answering.
He stared at her. ‘My mother left us.’
She nodded and he could see the effort it took her to react as if he’d said nothing more controversial than a passing reference to the weather. ‘I see. Well, that’s…unusual, because usually it’s the man who goes, but it’s by no means—’
‘No.’ Impatiently he interrupted her. ‘You want the truth, Keeley? The plain, unvarnished truth? Only I warn you, it’s shocking.’
‘I’m not easily shocked. You forget that my own mother pretty much broke every rule in the book.’
‘Not like this.’ There was a pause. ‘She sold us.’
‘She sold you?’ Keeley’s heart began to slam against her ribcage. ‘Ariston, how is that even possible?’
‘How do you think it’s possible? Because my father offered her a big, fat cheque to get out of our lives and stay out, she did exactly that.’
‘And she…never came back?’
‘No, Keeley. She never came back.’
She blinked at him uncomprehendingly. ‘But…why?’
Behind the hard set of his lips, Ariston ground his teeth, wishing she would stop now. He didn’t want to probe any more because that would start the pain. The bitter, searing pain. Not for him, but for Pavlos—the little baby whose mama didn’t want him enough to fight for him. He felt his heart clench as he started to speak and the bitter words just came bubbling out.
‘I’m not saying my father was blameless,’ he said. ‘Far from it. He’d been brought up to believe he was some kind of god—the son of one of the wealthiest ship-owners in the world. He was what is known as a player, in every sense of the word. At a time when free love was common currency, there were always women—lots of women. From what I understand my mother decided she couldn’t tolerate his infidelities any more and told him she’d had enough.’
‘Right,’ she said cautiously. ‘So if that was the case, then why didn’t she just divorce him?’
‘Because he came up with something much more attractive than a messy divorce. He offered her a king’s ransom if she would just walk away and leave us alone. A clean break, he called it. Better for him. Better for her. Better for everyone.’ His mouth twisted. ‘All she had to do was sign an agreement saying that she would never see her two sons again.’
‘And she…signed it?’
‘She did,’ he affirmed grimly. ‘She signed on the dotted line and went to live a new life in America, and that was the last we ever saw of her. Pavlos was…’
There was a pause and when he spoke it was in a voice devoid of all nuance. A voice, thought Keeley, which was enough to break your heart in two.
‘Just a baby,’ he finished.
‘And you?’
‘Ten.’
‘So what happened? I mean, after she’d gone.’
He stood up, picking up his papers and stacking them on a nearby table, carefully aligning all the corners into a neat pile before answering her question. ‘My father was busy celebrating the completion of what to him seemed like the perfect deal—being completely rid of an irritant of an ex-wife. In his absence he employed a series of nannies to look after us, but none of them could take the place of our mother. Even though I was a child I suspected that most of them had been chosen on account of their looks, rather than their ability to look after a confused and frightened little baby.’
He stared into space. ‘I was the one who took care of Pavlos, right from the start. He was my responsibility. I wasn’t going to risk anyone else getting close to him and leaving him again. So I bathed him and changed his nappies. I taught him how to swim and to fish. I taught him everything I knew—everything that was decent and good—because I wanted him to grow up to be a normal little boy. And when the time was right, I insisted he go to school in Switzerland because I wanted him as far away from my father’s debauched lifestyle as possible. That’s why I encouraged him to become a mariner afterwards, because when you’re away at sea you don’t get influenced or seduced by wealth. There’s nothing around you but the wind and the ocean and the wildness of nature.’
And suddenly Keeley understood a lot more about Ariston Kavakos. What had seemed like an overprotective attitude towards his younger brother and his need to control now became clear, because as a child he had seen their lives dissolve into total chaos. That explained his reaction when he’d seen her with Pavlos because for him she had been her mother’s child, and a harmful influence. He must have seen all his hard work threatened—his determination that Pavlos should have a decent, normal life about to go up in smoke.
And she understood why he had threatened to fight her for their child too, no matter how ruthless that might seem. Because Ariston didn’t actually like women, and who could blame him? He was under no illusion that women were automatically the better parent who deserved to keep the child in the event of any split. He had seen a mockery made of the so-called maternal bond. He’d fought to protect his own flesh and blood in the shape of Pavlos, she realised—and he would do exactly the same for their own son.
Yet could his mother have been all bad? Wasn’t he in danger of seeing only one side of the story? ‘Maybe she couldn’t have withstood your father’s power if she’d attempted to fight for custody,’ she ventured.
His voice was like stone. ‘She could at least have tried. Or she could have visited. Wrote a letter. Made a phone call.’
‘She wasn’t depressed?’ she said desperately, casting around for something—anything—to try to understand what could have motivated a woman to leave her baby behind like that. And her ten-year-old son, she reminded herself. Who had grown into the man who stood before her. The powerful man whose heart was made of stone. Had everyone been so busy looking out for the motherless little baby, that they’d forgotten his big brother must also be lost and hurting?
‘No, Keeley, she wasn’t depressed. Or if she was she hid it well behind her constant round of partying. I wrote to her once,’ he said. ‘Just before Pavlos’s fifth birthday. I even sent a photo of him, playing with a sandcastle we’d built together on Assimenos beach. Maybe I thought that the cute little image might bring her back. Maybe I was still labouring under the illusion that deep down she might have loved him.’
‘And?’
‘And nothing. The letter was returned to me, unopened. And a couple of weeks later we found out that she’d taken a bigger dose of heroin than usual.’ His voice faltered by a fraction and when he spoke again it was tinged with contempt. ‘They found her on the bathroom floor with a syringe in her arm.’
Keeley rubbed her hands together, as if that would remove the sudden chill which had iced over her skin. She wasn’t surprised when Ariston suddenly walked over to the window, his powerful body tense and alert, his broad shoulders looking as if he were carrying the weight of the world upon them. She wondered if he was really interested in gazing out at the tall skyscrapers, or whether he just didn’t want to expose any more of the pain which had flashed across his shuttered features despite his obvious attempt to keep it at bay.
‘Poor woman,’ she said quietly.
He turned back to face her; his habitual composure was back and his eyes were as cold as a winter sea.
‘You defend her? You defend the indefensible?’ he iced out. ‘Do you think that everybody has a redeeming feature, Keeley? Or just if it happens to be a member of your own sex?’
‘I was just trying to see it from a different perspective, that’s all.’ She sucked in a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry about what happened to you and to Pavlos.’
‘Save your words.’ He began to walk across the vast sitting room towards her. ‘I didn’t tell you because I wanted your sympathy.’
‘No?’ A shiver ran down the length of her spine as he approached. ‘Then why did you tell me?’
He had reached her now and Keeley’s breath caught in her throat because he was close. Close enough to touch—and she wanted him to touch her. So much. He was towering over her and she could detect the anger simmering darkly from his powerful frame.
‘So that you recognise what is important to me,’ he husked. ‘And understand why I will never let my child go.’
She looked up at him, her heart beginning to pound. Yes, she could understand that perfectly, but where did that leave her? Old sins cast long shadows—was she to be punished for the sins of his mother? Would she be simply another woman for him to despise and mistrust—another woman to regard with suspicion? He’d told her unequivocally he wouldn’t tolerate a sexless marriage and would take a mistress if he was forced to do so. But he had also promised her his fidelity if she took him as her lover, and she believed him. Why was that? Because she wanted to believe the best in people, or because she was empty and aching and wanted to reach out to him in the only way she suspected he would let her?
She shifted her gaze from the distraction of his handsome face to the hands which were clasped tightly in her lap. She studied the shiny golden ring which sat beneath the gleaming diamonds of her hastily bought engagement ring and thought about what those bands signified. Possession, mainly—but so far there had been no physical possession. He’d put his arm around her after the ceremony but that had been done purely for show. Yet despite everything she wanted him. Maybe even more than ever before—because didn’t the things he’d told her just now make him seem more human? He’d revealed the darkness in his soul and she’d come to understand him a little better. Couldn’t they draw closer to one another as a result? Couldn’t they at least try?
She wanted to taste the subtle salt of his skin and to breathe in all his masculine virility. She wanted to feel him inside her again. And it was her call—he’d already told her that. She ran her fingertip over the cold diamonds. She could act all proud and distant and drive him into the arms of another woman if that was what she wanted, but something was making that idea seem repellent.
She snaked her tongue over bone-dry lips, because the alternative was not without its own pitfalls. Was he aware that she was crippled with shyness at the thought of trying to seduce a man as experienced as him? All they’d shared so far had been a mindless night of passion with the sound of the sea muffling their cries. It had happened so spontaneously that she hadn’t had to think about it—while the thought of having sex now seemed so calculated. Was she expected to stand up and loop her arms around his neck—maybe shimmy her body against his, the way she’d seen people do in films? But if she tried to pretend to be something she wasn’t—wouldn’t he see right through that?
‘Ariston?’ she said, lifting her gaze to his at last in silent appeal.
Ariston read consent in the darkened pools of her green eyes and a powerful surge of desire shafted through him. He had revealed more to her than to another living soul and instinct told him it would be better to wait until he had fully composed himself before he touched her. Until the dark and bitter memories had faded. But his need was so strong that the thought of waiting was intolerable. How ironic that this woman carried his child and yet he scarcely knew her body! He’d barely explored the lushness of her breasts or stroked the bush of blonde hair which guarded her most precious of treasures. His heart was hammering as he pulled her to her feet and all he could feel was her soft flesh as she melted against him.
‘A real marriage?’ he demanded, tilting her chin with his fingers so that she could look nowhere but at him. ‘Is that what you want, Keeley?’
‘Yes,’ she said simply. ‘Or as real as we can make it.’
But as he pulled the ribbon from her ponytail, so that her hair fell in a pale waterfall of waves, Ariston knew he must be honest with her. She needed to realise that the confidences he’d shared today were not going to become a regular occurrence. He’d told her what she needed to know so she could understand where he was coming from. But she needed to accept his limitations, and one in particular.
‘Don’t expect me to be the man of your dreams, Keeley,’ he husked. ‘I will be the best father and husband that I can and I will drive you wild in bed—that much I promise you, but I can never love you. Do you understand? Because if you can accept that and are prepared to live with it, then we can make this work.’
She nodded, her lips opening as if to speak, but he crushed her words away with his kiss. Because he was done with talking. He wanted this. Now. But not here. He saw her startled look of pleasure as he picked her up and began to carry her towards the bedroom.
‘I’m too heavy,’ she protested, without much conviction.
‘You think so?’ He saw her eyes widen as he kicked open the bedroom door and too late he realised this was the kind of thing that women built their fantasies around. Well, that was too bad. He could only be the man he really was. Hadn’t he warned her what he was and wasn’t capable of? He laid her down fully clothed on the bed, but when her fingernails began to claw at his shoulders he gently removed them. ‘Let me undress first,’ he said unevenly.
His fingers were trembling like a drunk’s as he unbuttoned his shirt and he noted that aberration with something like bemusement. What power did she have over him, this tiny blonde with her moon-pale hair and those green eyes which were forest-dark with desire? Was it because beneath that ridiculous fluffy sweater she carried their child—was it that which made him feel powerful and weak all at the same time?
He saw her eyes dilate as he dropped the shirt to the floor and stepped out of his trousers, yet the kind of flippant question he might usually have asked about whether she was enjoying the floorshow didn’t seem appropriate. Because this felt…different. He felt the hard beat of rebellion. Surely those meaningless vows he’d made earlier hadn’t got underneath his skin?
‘Ariston,’ Keeley whispered and suddenly she was feeling confused—wondering what had caused his face to darken like that. Was he having second thoughts? No. She swallowed. She could see for herself that was definitely not the case, and though she should have been daunted by all that hard, sexual hunger—the truth was that she was shivering with anticipation.
She raised her lips but his kiss was nothing but a perfunctory graze as he slid off the velour sweat-pants and pulled the voluminous sweater over her head, so she was left in nothing but her underwear. And she was glad she’d allowed the stylist to steer her towards the fancier end of maternity lingerie to buy a matching set of underwear which had cost the earth. The front-clipped lilac silk bra clung to her breasts and the matching bikini briefs made her legs look much longer than usual. As his dark gaze raked over her, the look of appraisal on his face made her feel intoxicatingly feminine, despite her shape.
His hand starfished darkly over one breast and as she felt the nipple tighten so presumably did he, because a brief smile curved his lips.
‘I want you,’ he said unsteadily.
‘I want you, too,’ she whispered.
He leaned over to skim down her little bikini briefs. ‘I’ve never had sex with a pregnant woman before.’
Lifting her bottom to assist him, Keeley gave him a reproachful look. ‘I should hope not.’
‘So this is all very…’ he undid the front fastening of her bra so that her breasts came spilling out and bent his head to capture one taut tipple between the controlled graze of his teeth ‘…new to me,’ he rasped.
‘New to me, too,’ she moaned, her head falling back against the pillow.
He took his time. More time than she would have believed possible given his obvious state of arousal. His body was taut and tense as he stroked his fingertips over her skin—as if he was determined to reacquaint himself with this new, pregnant version of her body. And, oh, didn’t she just love what he was doing to her? He palmed her breasts and traced tiny circles over her navel with the tip of his tongue. He tangled his fingertips in her pubic hair and then stroked her until she squirmed. Until every nerve ending was so aroused she didn’t think she could bear it any more. Until she whispered his name on a breathless plea and at last he entered her. Keeley moaned as he filled her with that first thrust and he stilled immediately, his eyes shuttered as they searched her face.
‘I’m hurting you?’
‘No. Not at all. You’re…’ Some instinct made her thrust her hips forward so that he went deeper still—because surely that was safer than telling him he was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen and she couldn’t quite believe he was her husband. ‘Oh, Ariston,’ she gasped as he began to move inside her.
And Ariston smiled because this was a sound with which he was familiar. The sound of a woman gasping out his name like that. He forced himself to concentrate on her pleasure, to make this wedding-night sex something she would never forget. Because a satisfied woman was a compliant woman and that was what suited him best. His self-control was almost at breaking point by the time she shattered around him, her fleshy body spasming with release, and it was only then that he allowed himself the luxury of his own orgasm. But he was unprepared for the way it ripped through his body like a raging storm or for the raw, almost savage sound which was torn from his throat as he came.