CHAPTER TEN
ILONAWASN’TENTIRELYWRONG, which was irksome.
Leander much preferred to sit atop his high horse, but at thirty-two, he had to feel some pity for his parents, both a very young twenty when he had been born. They couldn’t have been prepared for the responsibility. His father, nerdy and chronically anxious, had still been at university. His mother had struggled to make friends in her new country because her husband had been reluctant to leave the house. When she had suggested they all move to England, his father had outright refused. He hadn’t liked change of any kind.
Ilona’s remark about suffering homesickness as a child had briefly diverted him from wondering if his mother had experienced it, too. He hated to think of how powerless and lost Ilona must have felt at five, when she’d gone to live with a stranger who failed to fully care for her.
At least he’d had his mother for eight years. She had stayed until Leander’s father earned his doctorate, then she had given her own aspirations eight years. Perhaps she would have come back on her own if his father hadn’t passed, but they would never know. Leander hadn’t given her a chance to make overtures in the subsequent sixteen years.
That remark Ilona had made about his mother coming to Greece before the funeral was niggling at him. Had she arrived sooner? He genuinely couldn’t remember those blurry days. They all bled into one another.
Very quickly, as a means of dealing with his grief and guilt, he had focused on revenge. The first step had been to make money. Fast. He had lied about his age and gotten on with a company that wanted a strong back willing to fly to remote locations and push a wheelbarrow full of wet cement. The mindless work had allowed him to plot meticulously how he would rise to Midas’s level, then take him down.
Thanks to working next to his father’s broad education in science, Leander had known a little about everything. He had quickly become an on-site resource for any sort of technical question. If he hadn’t known the answer, he knew how to find it. Soon he’d worked his way up to being flown out to solve oddball problems on difficult projects.
The bean counters had always wanted the fastest, cheapest solution, however. They had never looked at the greater costs. The need for a company that would use greener technologies became glaringly obvious, but cultural mindsets were hard to change from within. He had started his own company and, by then, had known enough people in the industry he had been able to cherry-pick the ones who didn’t need convincing. They had embraced his mindset and he’d been on a growth trajectory ever since.
Through those years, he hadn’t let anyone—including his mother—distract him from his goal. Maybe he had held on to his resentment toward her so he wouldn’t feel guilty about holding her at a distance. That’s also why he’d sent her money, to soothe his conscience.
When he had finally started his own business ten years ago, she had tried to give him all his money back, revealing that she had saved every penny he’d sent her.
He’d been furious. She hadn’t made herself more comfortable all this time and she hadn’t invested it properly either, leaving it to gather anemic interest in a daily savings account. Most excruciating, however, was that it had been hard for him to send that money to her. It had been hard to earn and hard to part with it when his desire to wreak his vengeance against Midas consumed him.
But she hadn’t seemed to value what he’d sent or even to want it. That had hurt.
He used a swallow of alcohol to burn away the ache in his chest.
It was childish to still feel a sting over that. He’d made her buy a flat with it and now, at least, she didn’t have to suffer eccentric roommates and other inconveniences.
He almost heard Ilona ask, “Why would you care if she suffers?”
Because he was his father’s son. He understood that he had a responsibility toward his mother and lived up to it, regardless of his feelings toward her. That’s all this was. He did his duty and he didn’t need her buying him cardigans or asking whether he’d seen a dentist in some pretense that she cared. He wanted her to stay out of his way and out of his life.
She’d caused Ilona to light up, though, making all the right noises over mention of Venetian lace and calla lilies. Leander had left all the wedding decisions to his bride and, as he had listened, had realized there were a disgusting number of them. It had meant a lot to Ilona that his mother had applauded all the choices she had made. He’d seen shy pleasure glowing within her under the simple praise.
Meanwhile, her stepmother had been the subject of a security meeting. How would Odessa be escorted from the house if she tried to crash the ceremony? Would the police be called for her? Or only if Midas turned up?
Leander’s mother might be clumsy with her affection and was maybe a little too self-involved, but Ilona had made a fair point. His mother didn’t intentionally hurt anyone. If she wanted someone to fuss over, and Ilona wanted to receive that fuss, Leander shouldn’t stand in the way of it. He would have to make clear that Ilona wasn’t to be toyed with, of course. If his mother extended a friendship, she couldn’t disappear in eight days or eight years, leaving Ilona as abandoned as he’d felt.
He glanced at the clock, deciding he had waited long enough. Ilona ought to be asleep.
Sleeping beside her was pure torture. Sharing his home with her was, but in the best possible way. Her aromatic products lingered in the bathroom after her shower, imprinting on his brain for the day. Her phone and laptop looked very feminine and cute next to his meatier electronics when she left them in the office to charge. She snored, but softly, like a kitten purring. Her weight barely made a dent on the far side of the bed, she never stole the covers, but he struggled to fall asleep or stay asleep because he couldn’t stop thinking about the way she’d shattered against his touch on the yacht.
It was rare to have that sort of connection. He was dying to explore it more deeply. Pun intended.
Stop, he ordered himself, and ran his hand down his face.
Every night, as he lay awake beside her, he resolved to buy a bed for one of the other rooms. Then he woke beside her and liked it.
It didn’t make sense. He wasn’t a cuddler. He had always found having another body in the bed too hot. He didn’t like the sense that someone was so close to him while he was unguarded, but with Ilona, he was the one on guard. He had developed a subconscious alertness to any danger that might approach her and he only relaxed when she was in his sight or sleeping beside him. When he knew she was safe.
She seemed to sleep soundly there, too, which also pleased him. She’d been jumpy and anxious that first night, as anyone would be, and continued to have tense moments. When he stepped close, she often went very still, seeming to hold her breath as though uncertain what he would do to her. That always disturbed him enough to have him moving away. He didn’t want to intimidate her. He wanted her to be comfortable with him, to know he would never hurt her.
If Midas hadn’t terrified her out of her mind, he might have reopened the sex question, but that would have to wait until... Hell. Hopefully not three years from now.
He drained his glass and set it aside, then quietly entered the bedroom.
Ilona was still mulling over everything she had learned about Leander when he entered the bedroom. He paused as he saw her sitting in the pool of lamplight, chin on the mountain of her updrawn knees.