But it hadn’t been seeing the sights of Venice or Athens that had made memories return. She’d had her first memory after kissing him on the Rialto Bridge. Immediately after making love to him in Athens with such joy, she’d been crushed by dark memories of her father’s death. And now, just as they’d made love a second time, she remembered hating him.
Memories returned after he kissed her.
Memories returned when he made love to her.
That night, he held her in his arms as she cried herself to sleep. He knew it was woefully inadequate, but he was unable to do more. He wanted to make love to her. He wanted to tell her the truth.
He could do neither.
Finally, after she slept, he could take it no more. Rising from the bed, he stared out the open French doors to the terrace, as the warm breeze whirled the curtains. He stared at the full moonlight floating against the black waves of the Aegean, like lost ghosts caught and trapped in dark, invisible webs to the earth.
He’d thought he could keep them safe here, hidden far from the world.
He’d been wrong.
If he wanted to save his family, he could never make love to his wife again. He could never even kiss her. Because if he did, she would remember everything and he would lose her.
Pain racked through Talos, catching at his breath. He gave one last longing look at his naked, pregnant wife sleeping in his bed. He reveled in her sweet beauty, even as his soul anguished over the tearstains on her face. He watched the pink of sunrise creep slowly over the room.
Then, with his hands clenched into fists, he left her to sleep alone.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HOW had it all gone so wrong?
A month later, Eve still couldn’t understand it. She lived in an amazing Greek villa on a private island. She was married to the handsomest man on earth and expecting his child. She was happy, healthy, living in blissful luxury beneath the Aegean sun as servants waited on her hand and foot.
But for the last month, Talos hadn’t touched her. She’d been alone in her marriage. Alone in her life.
She’d never felt so miserable. Though they lived in the same house, they lived separate lives. Talos worked nights in the office, coming to bed only long after she was asleep, or worse—not coming to bed at all, just sleeping on the couch in his office. She spent her days decorating the nursery, organizing the house, taking the helicopter to the nearby island of Kos to visit the doctor.
She’d done everything she could think of to try and regain his interest. She dressed in pretty clothes, like the pink cotton dress she was wearing now. She’d learned to cook his favorite meals. She read newspapers to learn about his interests—basketball and business—trying to please him, to start conversations, to be available when he wanted her.
All in vain.
The problem was that he didn’t want her.
Since the first day they’d come to the island of Mithridos, when they’d made love so passionately and exquisitely by the balcony overlooking the sea, he hadn’t touched her. Hadn’t hugged her. Hadn’t come up behind her and embraced her, kissing her neck. He hadn’t held her or kissed her.
He’d barely even looked at her!
After a month of being neglected and avoided, Eve’s heart bled like an open wound. She’d outright asked Talos several times why he was ignoring her, asked him if she’d done something to make him angry.
At first, he’d brushed her off with an excuse. Now, he just avoided her completely.
What had she done to make him so angry?
She was almost afraid to ask one more time, because there was simply no further he could withdraw unless he physically left the island. At least as long as he was still in the house she could pretend they still had a marriage, pretend he was just moody or worried about a business deal, pretend their relationship could recover.
But how could they ever recover when he wouldn’t talk to her? When he wouldn’t touch her?
He was hiding something. Punishing her for something. What? What did he think he couldn’t tell her?
She pressed her fingertips against her eyelids. As the hot November sunshine poured in from the wide-open windows, the warm breeze filling the bright breakfast room with the salty tang of the sea, she was choked with despair.
“Good morning, Mrs. Xenakis.”
Eve nearly jumped when she heard the housekeeper’s heavily accented voice behind her. “Good morning.”