For instance, she kept holding back the words, those terrifyingly revealing words that were on her tongue and in her throat and pulsing in her heart every moment she was near him.
Why didn’t she want to say them? Fear. Fear that he would reject her. Fear that he wouldn’t feel the same. Fear that speaking her love aloud would break a spell and change all that was good between them.
But how he reacted was not in her control. If he didn’t feel the same, that was his loss. She would rather allow her love to imbue her whole soul and flow freely from her heart than keep it boxed and dammed and compressed inside her like a miser hoarding gold.
“I love you, you know,” she told him, and as she did, a glorious weight lifted off her. She became part of the air and salt and water, buoyant and whole. Universal.
“I do know,” he said gravely. “I never want to hurt you. I hope you know that.”
It did hurt to hear him say that, but the hurt was for him, for his inability to release himself to this thing that was expansive and healing and terrifying, yet so very right.
With a sway of her arms and a low, lazy kick, she moved across to him. He caught her and cradled her, holding her up as she wound her legs around his waist and cupped his jaw in her wet hands.
“Don’t look at me with regret,” she scolded gently. “Not ever. You’ve given me things I never thought I’d have. Courage.” Her smile wobbled with self-deprecation. “Freedom.” And maybe...
The timing was wrong. Her cycle was due in a day or two. She wouldn’t get her hopes up, but maybe, someday, he would give her love in its purest form.
“I don’t ever want you to be afraid again. But I’m afraid for you when you’re this unguarded. I will protect you in every way I can, Ilona, but I need you to protect yourself. Even from me. Especially from me. Can you do that?”
“No. It’s too late,” she said wryly and tried to kiss him.
He balked briefly, then kissed her back. Hard. As if he couldn’t help himself. As if she was the source of his oxygen.
Then he drew back and released her completely. The seawater felt cold against skin that had been warmed by his body. His shadowed profile searched the darkest corners of the cave.
“We can’t make love here,” she said. “We might get crabs.”
His crack of laughter bounced off the ceiling. “True.” He shook his head at her, then sobered. “That’s not what I was looking for.”
She knew. He was looking for some way to let her down easy or put distance between them. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he wanted to protect himself. She understood that. All too well.
“I’ve had to take care of myself for a long time, Leander. I know how.” She dipped under and swam toward the sunlight, surfacing to say, “Let’s go back to the yacht. I’m hungry.”
Leander felt trapped in one of those medieval devices, the kind that was attempting to tear him apart.
One half of himself was firmly affixed in the heaven that was his wife. They made love and shared inside jokes and talked of what they wanted to accomplish in the future. She was fascinating in her approach to her work, smart and ambitious, yet driven by empathy and a desire to make the world a better place. If she wasn’t so devoted to her own business, he would have lured her to a lead position in his own.
The other part of him was dragged down by the grim hatred and thirst for revenge that had governed his life for so long. He couldn’t forget that soiled wedding gown or her absolute loss of faith in him. He had to make good on his promise to avenge her. It was as important to him as righting the wrong his father had suffered.
Leander began making headway once he was no longer giving in to the lazy bliss of sailing and lovemaking. They returned to Athens where they both became busy with work demands and, as Ilona had predicted that long-ago day, with social obligations. For some reason, being married meant invitations had increased exponentially.
Perhaps it was their notoriety. The headlines after the ruined wedding had shouted, Married in Secret! False Arrest Fails to Halt True Love, and More Family Twists than a Greek Tragedy.
The stock value in Pagonis had dropped shortly after, when an enterprising reporter, aided by Leander, had dug up his father’s original lawsuit over the stolen technology. Midas disappeared from the public eye once he was identified by someone in Ilona’s building from the night he had attacked her. He was quietly divesting some of his lesser, overseas properties, likely to pay his PR and legal teams.
Leander doubled the security presence that dogged him and Ilona. It was inconvenient, but he was especially concerned when she was at work.
“Half a floor may come open in my building,” he told her one morning. He was actually considering not renewing the existing lease to vacate it. “You could move your headquarters there, leave the lab to do its work where it is.”
“And meet you in a broom closet during coffee break?” she teased. “Delightful as that sounds, I’m in the middle of restructuring. Now that I have full control, I want to be on-site.”
He didn’t love that answer, but he let it drop since they were arriving at tonight’s gala and always caused a stir when they walked a carpet.
Leander liked to believe it was because Ilona had finally embraced all that she’d naturally been given. She was an absolute vision wherever she went. Tonight, she wore a figure-hugging black gown with intricate silver beading decorating its waist and hem. The feature that had him biting his lip, however, was the sleeveless style that lovingly accentuated the fullness of her breasts. The way three very thin straps ran down her otherwise naked back made him want to keep her in this car and kiss every inch of skin he could find.
But he helped her rise and offered a steady arm as they made their way toward the entrance of the hotel.
“Who are you wearing? Tell us about your gown!” photographers shouted.