“I’m waiting for the punch line,” she said coldly.
“Damn you. I’m trying to tell you something I haven’t shared with anyone.”
“Lucky me.”
Turning away, Stavros paced, staring briefly at the crackling fire in the fireplace, then out of the frosted window toward the sun sparkling on the snow. He took a deep breath. “I had a brain tumor. I was told I was dying.”
“And that inspired you to seduce me and lie to me?”
“Dying inspired me to want more,” he said softly. “To make one last attempt to leave something behind. A wife. A child.” He turned back to her. “That’s why I slept with you, Holly. That’s why I said I wanted to marry you and have a child with you. I wasn’t lying. I did want it.”
She clenched her hands, glaring at him. “So what happened?”
“I couldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t be that selfish. I knew you would fall in love with me. You were so...innocent. So trusting. I didn’t want to break your heart and make you collapse with grief after I died.”
She pulled back, looking strangely outraged. He’d forgotten that about her, how she wore her emotions so visibly on her face. Most people he knew hid their emotions behind iron walls. Including and especially himself, notwithstanding Christmas Eve last year, which he still tried not to think about.
“So you said those horrible things,” Holly said, “and sent me away for my sake. You’re such a good guy.”
Her tone was acid. Staring at her in shock, Stavros realized he’d taken her innocence in more ways than one.
He’d kept the secret of his illness entirely to himself for a year. Even when his hair had fallen out, he’d shaved his head and pretended it was a fashion choice. When his skin had turned ashy and he lost weight, he’d blamed it on the stress of mergers and acquisitions.
Until this moment, only his doctors had known the truth. Literally no one else. Stavros had thought, if he ever opened up to Holly about that night, he would be instantly forgiven. Because, damn it, he’d been dying.
He’d obviously thought wrong.
“Why didn’t you die, then?” Holly said scornfully. She tilted her head in mild curiosity, as if asking why he’d missed breakfast. “Why didn’t your tumor kill you?”
Stavros thought of the months of painful treatment, getting radiation and chemotherapy. After he’d abandoned his dream of leaving behind a wife and child, he’d decided to give up his dying body to an experimental new therapy. He’d thought he might at least benefit science by his death.
Instead, in August, he’d been informed by shocked doctors that the inoperable tumor had started to shrink.
Now, Stavros shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. “It was a miracle.”
Holly snorted. “Of course it was.” She rolled her eyes. “Men like you always have miracles, don’t they?”
“Men like me?”
“Selfish and richer than the earth.”
The scorn in her voice set his teeth on edge. “Look, I’m getting a little tired of you calling me selfish—”
“The truth hurts, does it?”
“Stop trying to put all the blame on me,” he growled. “You’re the one who has kept my son from me. I told you to contact my lawyers if you were pregnant!”
“I wasn’t going to let you force me into having an abortion!”
Shocked, Stavros stared at her, his forehead furrowed. “What?”
“Christmas morning, you told me you’d changed your mind. You didn’t want a child. You said if I was pregnant, I should contact your lawyers and they’d take care of it!” An angry sob choked her voice. “Did you think I didn’t know what you meant?”
Furious, he grabbed her shoulders. “I meant I’d provide for my child with a great deal of money,” he growled. “Damn you!”
As Holly stared at him, Stavros abruptly dropped his hands, exhaling.
Finally, he understood. Since Oliver had phoned him yest