“Does she blame me for—?”
“No,” he cut her off. “She remembers you only as the girl that I loved and lost long ago. In her mind, that means our marriage is fate. Moíra. She believes our love was meant to stand the test of time.”
Letty blinked fast. Our love was meant to stand the test of time.
Leaning forward, he took her hand. “You are part of the family. You are a Kyrillos now.”
It was true, she realized. She had a new last name. When she updated her passport, she’d no longer be Letitia Spencer, the daughter of the famous white-collar criminal, but Letitia Kyrillos, the wife of a self-made billionaire. Just by marrying, she’d become an entirely different person. What a strange thought.
But maybe this new woman, Letitia Kyrillos, would know how to be happy. Maybe their marriage, which had been so bleak at the start, could someday be full of joy, as her own parents’ marriage had been.
She just had to change Darius’s mind about her father. It wouldn’t be hard.
Like making it snow in July.
One of Darius’s female cousins came back out of the villa and pulled on his arm, talking rapidly in Greek, even as she smiled apologetically at Letty.
“They need to move the big table,” he explained. “To get the terrace ready for the party tonight.”
“What party?”
“They wouldn’t let us come all this way without making a big fuss.” He grinned. “There’s a party tonight to welcome you as my bride. Only family and friends from the village have been invited...”
“Good,” she said, relieved.
“Which, naturally, means the entire island will be here, and a few people from neighboring islands, as well.”
Her heart sank to her sandals at the thought of all those people judging her, possibly finding her unworthy of being Darius’s bride. She whispered, “What if they don’t like me?”
Reaching out, Darius lifted her chin. “Of course they will,” he said softly. “They will because I do.”
As the hot Greek sun caressed her skin in the flower-dappled terrace, the dark promise in his gaze made her shiver.
As his relatives bustled back out on the terrace, with maids following them, they started clearing dishes, wiping the table and sweeping the terrace.
Letty looked around anxiously. “Ask them how I can help.”
He snorted. “If you think they’ll allow either of us to lift a finger, you’re out of your mind.”
“We can’t just sit here, while they do all the work!”
“Watch this.” Pushing his chair back, Darius rose from the table and said casually in English, “Hey, Athina, hand me that broom.”
“Forget it, Darius,” his cousin replied indignantly in the same language, yanking the broom out of his reach. “You sent my sons to college!”
“You gave me a job when I needed work,” a man added in heavily accented English, as he lifted fairy lights to dangle from the terrace’s leafy trellis. “We’re doing this. Don’t think you’re getting out of it!”
They all gave a low buzz of agreement.
Looking at Letty, Darius shrugged. She sighed, seeing she was outmatched. His great-aunt was now, in fact, shooing them away with a stream of steady Greek, a mischievous smile on her kindly, wizened face.
Letty drew closer to him. “So what should we do with ourselves?”
Darius’s eyes darkened as he said huskily, “We are on our honeymoon...”
She shivered at his closeness and at the tempting thought of going back to the bedroom. But she was distracted by the sweep of the brooms and the loud cries of the relatives and house staff bustling back and forth across the villa as they cleaned and set up for the party, all the while watching Darius and Letty out of the corners of their eyes with frank interest and indulgent smiles.
“I couldn’t,” Letty whispered, blushing beneath all the stares. “If we stay, I’ll feel like we should help cook and clean.”