Greek's Baby of Redemption

Milly had been emotional because of Anna, not him. How could he have dreamed otherwise even for a moment? She didn’t feel what he did, not even a little bit, and he felt biting disappointment along with an awful relief that he hadn’t got to the point of declaring, and embarrassing, himself. ‘Shall we go say congratulations?’ he enquired, and Milly nodded.

As soon as Anna saw them, she pushed her way through the crowds, throwing her arms around Milly and then, to Alex’s surprise, around him.

‘I’m so glad you came!’

‘Anna, you were amazing.’

‘Oh, no, I flubbed a note in the second movement—’

‘Truly you were,’ Alex said. ‘I was very touched by the music.’ That was all it had been—an emotional reaction to such a sad and evocative piece.

‘Yes.’ Anna studied him with bright eyes, and then glanced at Milly. ‘You seem happy,’ she said, sounding both satisfied and hopeful.

‘We’re happy to be here, and to see you,’ Milly said quickly. ‘Of course we are.’

‘Yes, we are,’ Alex added swiftly. Yet another reminder. Milly seemed intent on showing him that they were there for Anna, and Anna only. ‘We must take you out for some celebratory cake and champagne.’

Anna’s cheeks pinked. ‘I’d love that!’

‘Then it’s decided.’

They celebrated in the private dining room of a nearby exclusive restaurant, with Alex ordering tiramisu and a bottle of the best champagne.

‘No champagne for me,’ Milly said with a little smile. ‘I’ve had enough to drink already. But Anna can have a sip.’

Alex frowned, because as far as he recalled Milly had stuck to sparkling water at the gala, but perhaps she was remembering the last time they’d had champagne—when she’d been sick on their wedding night. A reminder he hardly wanted now. In any case, he didn’t press the point, but poured Anna a small glass.

‘To Anna and her stunning performance,’ he said, and everyone raised their glasses. It was, Alex reflected broodingly, a reminder to him as well as a toast. Tonight had been about Anna...only Anna.

Both he and Milly were quiet on the way back to the hotel, having dropped Anna off at her school’s boarding house. Neither of them spoke as they entered their suite, and then Milly put a hand on Alex’s shoulder. He stilled.

‘Alex.’ She spoke his name softly.

‘What is it?’ His voice came out harshly; he felt too raw, after all the emotions of the evening, the impossible-to-ignore realisation that he felt something for Milly. How much, he couldn’t bear to think about. Whatever it was, he could quash it down. He would have to.

‘Thank you,’ Milly said softly. ‘Thank you for going out with me tonight. Thank you for standing by my side.’ She gazed at him trustingly, her eyes wide and guileless, her expression full of sincerity and empathy.

‘I should say the same,’ Alex said gruffly. ‘You had the harder role, undoubtedly.’

‘I did not,’ Milly asserted.

‘Being seen with me—’

‘Alex.’ She pressed her finger against his lips, a whisper of skin. ‘Don’t say such a thing. Don’t even think it. You were the handsomest man there tonight, as far as I was concerned.’

‘Milly...’ It came out as a warning. He did not want her pity, the useless stroking of his ego for sympathy’s sake. Not now, when he’d been on the verge of feeling so much more for her.

‘I mean it...’ She took a step closer to him, so her hips brushed his and need, as ever, flared inside him, white-hot. ‘What will it take for you to believe me?’ She searched his face, looking for an answer he couldn’t give because the truth was he didn’t know. Then she lifted her hand and traced the deep ridges of his scars with her fingers. Alex sucked in a hard gasp, the damaged skin oversensitive, her touch achingly tender. In all the times they’d made love, she’d never touched his scars before. It felt as if she were touching his soul.

‘These scars are part of who you are,’ she said softly. ‘They tell the story of you, and I only know part of it, but I know this: I know they show you are a survivor, and that you are strong.’

‘You don’t know...’

‘Tell me, Alex.’ She cupped his scarred cheek with her hand, and he closed his eyes, both savouring and reviling her touch. ‘Tell me about the fire.’

He didn’t speak for a long moment. He couldn’t. Yet he felt the memories rising like a tide within him, and he knew he would speak. He would tell her about that terrible night. And maybe it would make her walk away from him, or at least stop trying so much, making him care whether she wanted him to or not. Perhaps telling her was the answer, the way to keep them both safe—and separate.

‘It was at my house,’ he finally said, the words seeming to come from far away. ‘Here in Athens. I had a villa in Kolonaki.’ Milly simply waited, her hand still on his cheek, touching him so tenderly. ‘My sister, Daphne,’ he said, knowing it was all disjointed, fragments of memory lodged in his throat—in his heart—like broken shards of glass. ‘And...and her son, Talos.’