Claimed For The Greek's Child

THE SOUND OF Amalia’s laughter woke Anna from her sleep. Her body ached in a way she’d only known once before and she stretched out beneath the sheets, loosening her muscles. She didn’t have to open her eyes to know that Dimitri had left their bed. Had left the room. For a moment, her heart stuttered and she was back in her bed in Ireland three years before. Confused and disorientated. Only this time, she didn’t run through the small bed and breakfast looking for him, wondering where the man she’d given her virginity to was. Wondering if he would ever come back. This time, Anna knew that—even though he had left her bed—he would be having breakfast with their daughter, as he had done every single day since they had arrived in Greece.

But it didn’t mean that she was any less confused. Last night, Anna had asked him for what she wanted and he had given it to her. Again and again throughout the night they had reached for each other. She had given him the thing that he had told her she would: her body. But, she lied to herself, only her body.

She came down the stairs and what she saw held her back. Dimitri was holding Amalia in his arms, gibbering away in a nonsensical mix of English and made-up words that Dimitri pretended to understand perfectly. Amalia thrust out a fist and grabbed hold of Dimitri’s dark hair, and instead of brushing her aside he simply laughed.

Was this what she had kept her daughter from? Not the pain and hurt she had promised herself over and over again, but the love of her father? A small, but very powerful, part of her wondered whether instead she had actually been protecting herself. The sight was so striking, it took her a moment to see that Dimitri was dressed in a suit, as if he were...

‘You’re going to work?’ she couldn’t help herself from asking. ‘The day after our wedding?’

Flora grumbled from the kitchen, as if understanding not the words, but the sentiment.

‘The bank doesn’t stop just because I got married, Anna,’ he said as if scolding a child. ‘I have meetings to attend and a charity function to organise.’

Amalia, as if noting the change in tone around her, started to fuss. He walked over to Anna and placed Amalia into her arms.

‘I’ll be back, but most likely late, so don’t wait on dinner for me.’

With nothing else said, he left the house. The sense of concern she’d felt earlier grew into a living, breathing animal in her chest. Now that she had given him what he wanted, was he going to retreat? Was this how their marriage was going to be? Shame and foolishness taunted her fragile heart.

It had taken Dimitri three sentences to cut through whatever fantasy she had clung to from the night before. It had taken less than thirty seconds for pain, sharp and acute, to slice through laughably thin armour, poking and prodding at old wounds.

Instantly she began to question what she’d done wrong, what she’d said to make him leave. The familiar pins and needles shivering across her skin, vibrating within her chest, reminded her of her childhood, when she would wait at the school gates for the imagina

ry figure of her father to come and get her. But he never had. Anna had promised herself that she’d not feel like this again. And she wouldn’t. She slowly pulled each block of stone back into place around her heart, refusing to mistake sensual intimacy with emotional intimacy. She may have the security of wearing his wedding ring, but she knew from experience that a gold band didn’t mean a thing.

* * *

Dimitri found himself pacing the length of his office yet again. Through the glass frontage he had watched as the sun set over the Athens’s skyline, as he tried to focus on the numbers for the last financial quarter rather than the memories of losing himself in Anna’s arms. Each of the seven days since their wedding had been the same. He would leave for work after breakfast with Amalia, the moment that Anna appeared from their bed. He wouldn’t return home until the sun had long since set and would find Anna asleep on the sofa, or in a chair in the living room amidst a pile of second-hand English paperback books. He would pick her up and take her back to his room, where they would make love long into the early hours of the morning.

But they had barely exchanged a word. It was as if their life was playing out in silence. As if he was afraid of what he would reveal, or what she would ask of him: the one thing he didn’t even know if he was capable of.

Dimitri could count the number of people he trusted on one hand. Antonio and Danyl were the closest thing he had to a family. His father had been cold and distant his entire life up until recently, and Dimitri still wasn’t sure he could trust the changing tide of their relationship. But it was Anna who was threatening to undo him. Seeing Anna with Amalia, it hurt. Watching her prepare his daughter’s food, watching her soothe away her tears, it reminded him of his mother. And all the memories he’d sought to suppress for years were coming to the surface.

Little things, like the way his mother had made the best, sweetest baklava—so big it resembled a loaf and had to be cut with a bread knife—the way that she had put a plaster over his knee when he had fallen. The way that, even after her long day at the restaurant, she would still find the energy to read to him at night. The feel of having her there, the comfort and the love that she had wrapped around him, protecting him from the bad things of the world. Protecting him from his father’s absence and rejection.

And those were the memories he didn’t mind so much. But it was what came after that shook him to his soul. The shock, the pain when all of that was taken away in a heartbeat. When the policeman had stood in the hallway to their apartment asking the seven-year-old Dimitri if he had any other family. It was the weeks, the months that followed—that was what he didn’t want to remember.

At the age of seven he’d made himself an island, realising that no one else could protect him. And that was the very reason why the charity event he was holding with the other members of the Winners’ Circle in Kavala tomorrow night was so important.

* * *

Returning to the island, early for once, he felt fresh from the boat trip that had blown away the dark thoughts of his day. He hovered in the hallway to the kitchen, steeling himself against the childish giggles of his daughter and Anna’s laughing response, and he wondered if he would ever get used to the sounds of such domesticity. Whether he even deserved them.

The moment Anna saw him, she cut him an almost accusatory look.

‘You’re back,’ she stated with an undertone he couldn’t quite decipher.

‘Yes, it is my home,’ he stated before being able to stop the defensive tone from creeping into his voice. He tried not to wince at her hurt reaction. When did his own home become such a minefield? He bit down against the flare of irritation. ‘We are travelling to Kavala tomorrow.’

‘Are you?’ Anna replied, purposefully misunderstanding him, Dimitri was sure.

‘We are attending a charity gala dinner there.’

Flora swooped in, prepared to clear the field for the battle she had realised was to come. Amalia went willingly into her arms and Flora retreated outside to the garden.

‘I’m sure you will have a wonderful time.’

‘Anna,’ he bit out.