Then the tears fell—long and hard and shattering.
It was supposed to work.
The punishing schedule.
The soul-sucking jet lag.
The endless meetings.
Hell, even barking at executives was supposed to make me feel better. To fuel the conviction that I was doing the right thing.
She’d accused me of being like her father. Initially it had provided sustaining anger, and I’d burned in the righteousness of believing myself the exact opposite.
But, as relentless as time’s march, the kernel of truth had expanded...like a weird, never-ending concentric circle that echoed its presence in my quiet moments.
First I’d used her to salve the bad news she’d delivered. Then, from the moment she’d announced she was carrying my child, I’d pinned her to me—my last hope of fatherhood and I was determined to have it, regardless of the fact that I lacked the effective tools to be a father. And during the process, I’d hammered out an agreement that bound her to me only until I had what I wanted.
And when I’d decided I wanted more, I’d worked on the problem until she’d fallen into my arms.
Only then had I realised the full impact of more. That, while I could give her every material and carnal pleasure she desired, I was the one who was too greedy. Too selfish. Because I’d never stopped to think that she would want more too. Or that I was equipped to deal with her demand.
Fate had given me the rudest wake-up call. And, as much as every moment of breathing turned me inside out, Sadie deserved for me to stay away. She deserved the peace to bear her child without my greedy, demanding presence. Without the wants and needs and longings that clawed at me every hour of every day, sullying her beautiful existence.
So what if the thought of going another minute, another hour, without seeing her face killed me?
You’ll simply have to suffer!
My intercom sounded, ripping another curse from my throat.
‘I was quite explicit in my desire not to be disturbed.’
Because I deserved at least ten minutes of undiluted torment each hour, even as other minutes provided unending agony.
‘Yes, sir, but I thought you should know—’
‘Save your breath. Warning him won’t do any good.’
I jackknifed up from my position against the dark wall in my office. Took a step forward and steadied myself against the dizzying effect of her.
Two long weeks during which only the security cameras installed at the villa had provided woefully brief glimpses of this goddess who carried my child. During which daily reports of her improved health and blooming pregnancy had sustained my raging hunger for her.
And now she was here.
A vision in white cotton that clung to her bust, her hips and, Christos, the magnificent protrusion of her belly. Her hair was twisted into an elaborate crown on top of her head, further proclaiming her celestial status.
It was all I could do not to fall at her feet in sublime worship of her, this woman who held a heart unworthy of her. This woman who’d exploded into my life and claimed a place in it I never wanted back.
God, would I ever get over the impact of Neo Xenakis?
I doubted it.
Or else every single vow I’d taken and every form of punishment I’d devised for myself in a wild bid to stop thinking about him, stop dreaming about him, would have worked.
Instead, each day had brought a bracing kind of hell. A craving that went against all common sense.
I’d driven Callie quite mad with my pathetic stoicism. While I wanted to blame her for appointing herself chief nursemaid, I’d eventually taken pity on her—succumbed when she’d called up the Xenakis jet and arranged an intercontinental flight, along with a doctor, much to the chagrin of her husband.
From Neo’s poleaxed expression now, Axios had kept the secret.