The Marakaios Marriage

‘Never mind.’ She’d never told him about her mother, and never would. Some things were better left unsaid, best forgotten. Not that she could ever forget the way her mother had left.

This isn’t what I expected.

A hot lump of misery formed in Lindsay’s throat and she swallowed hard, trying to dislodge it. She didn’t want to cry, not on an aeroplane, not in front of Antonios.

‘Theos, Lindsay, if you’re not going to tell me things, how can I ever understand you?’

‘I don’t want you to understand me, Antonios,’ she answered thickly. ‘Not any more. All I want is a divorce. And I assume you want that, too.’ She took a shaky breath. ‘Do you really want to be with a wife who left you, who doesn’t love you?’

Fire flashed in his eyes and she knew it had been a low and cruel blow. But if that was what it took to get Antonios to stop with his questions, then so be it.

He leaned forward, his eyes still flashing, his mouth compressed. ‘Do I need to remind you of how much you loved me, Lindsay? Every night in New York. Every night we were together in Greece.’

And, despite her misery, desire still scorched through her at the memory. ‘I’m not talking about in bed, Antonios.’

‘Because you certainly responded to me there. Even when you were supposedly drowning.’

She closed her eyes, tried to fight the need his simply stated words caused to well up inside her. Sex had always been good between them, had been a respite from the misery she’d faced every day. Maybe that made her weak or wanton, to have craved a man who’d hurt her heart, but she had. From the moment they’d met, she had. And some treacherous part of her still craved him now.

She felt Antonios’s hand on her knee and her eyes flew open. ‘What—?’

‘It didn’t take much to make you melt,’ he said softly, the words as caressing as his hand. His hand slid up her thigh, his fingers sure and seeking. Lindsay froze, trapped by his knowing gaze and his even more knowing hand. ‘I knew just where to touch you, Lindsay. Just how to make you scream. You screamed my name, do you remember?’

Heat flooded through her and she had to fight to keep from responding to his caress. ‘Don’t,’ she whispered, but even to her own ears her voice sounded feeble.

‘Don’t what?’ he asked, his voice so soft and yet also menacing. ‘Don’t touch you?’ He slid his hand higher, cupping her between her legs. Just the press of his hand through her jeans made her stifle a moan as desire pulsed insistently through her.

‘What are you trying to prove, Antonios?’ she forced out, willing her body to stay still and not respond to his caress. ‘That I desire you? Fine. I do. I always did. It doesn’t change anything.’

‘It should,’ Antonios said, and he popped the button on her jeans, slid his hand down so his fingers brushed between her thighs, the sensation of his skin against hers so exquisite she gasped aloud, her eyes fluttering closed. Couldn’t keep her hips from lifting off the seat.

Lindsay pressed her head back against the seat, memories and feelings crashing through her. He always had known just how to touch her, to please her. He still did, but there was no love or even kindness behind his calculated caresses now. With what felt like superhuman effort she opened her eyes, stared straight into his triumphant face, and said the thing that she knew would hurt him most.

‘You might make me come, Antonios, but you can’t make me love you.’

He stared back at her, his expression freezing, and then in one deft movement he yanked his hand from her, unbuckled his seat belt and disappeared through the curtains.

Lindsay sagged back against her seat, her jeans still undone, her heart thudding, and swallowed a sob.

* * *

Antonios strode down the first-class aisle, feeling trapped and angry and even dirty. He shouldn’t have treated Lindsay like that. Shouldn’t have used her desire, her body against her.

Shouldn’t have been that pathetic.

What had he been trying to prove? That she felt something for him? He stood in the alcove that separated the first class from business and stared out into the endless night. He didn’t know what he’d been trying to do. He’d just been acting, or perhaps reacting, to Lindsay’s assertion that she didn’t love him. That their love hadn’t been real.

It had sure as hell felt real to him. But he’d told her he didn’t love her any more, and he needed that to be true. He’d made sure it was true for the last six months, even as he’d maintained the odious front to his family that their marriage was still going strong. He’d had to, for his mother’s sake as well as his own pride.

Or maybe you were just actually hoping she’d come back. Fool that you are, you still wanted her back. Because you loved her. Because you made promises.

And was that what was driving him now? The desire, the need to have Lindsay back in his life? Back as his wife? Or was it an even more shameful reason, one born of revenge and pride? Did he want to make her hurt the way he had, to pay for the way she’d treated him?

Antonios had no answer but he was resolved to stop this pointless back and forth, demanding answers that he knew would never satisfy him. The reasons she’d given him for leaving their marriage had been ridiculous. Maybe he had been working too hard, maybe he’d even ignored her a little, but that didn’t mean you just walked out.

Except to Lindsay it seemed it did, and nothing, no revenge or explanation, could change that cold fact. His mouth a grim line of resolution, Antonios headed back to their seats.

Lindsay had tidied herself in his absence, her jeans buttoned back up, her face turned towards the window. She didn’t move as he slid into the seat next to her. Didn’t even blink.

‘I’m sorry,’ Antonios said in a low voice. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’ Lindsay didn’t answer, didn’t acknowledge his words in any way. ‘Lindsay...’

‘Just leave me alone, Antonios,’ she said, and to his shame her voice sounded quiet and sad. Broken. ‘It’s going to be hard enough pretending we’re still in love for your family. Don’t make it any harder.’

He watched her for a moment, part of him aching to reach out and tuck her hair behind her ear, trail his fingers along the smoothness of her cheek. Comfort her, when he’d been the cause of her pain and he knew she didn’t want his comfort anyway.

‘I’m going to sleep,’ she said, and without looking at him she took off her shoes, reached for the eye mask. He watched as she reclined her seat and covered herself with a blanket, all with her face averted from him. Then she slid the eye mask down over her eyes and shut him out completely.

* * *

Lindsay lay rigid on her reclined seat, her eyes clenched shut under the mask as she tried to will herself to sleep and failed. She felt a seething mix of anger and regret, guilt and hurt. Her body still tingled from where Antonios had touched her. Her heart still ached.

Forget about it, she told herself yet again. Just get through this week. But how on earth was she going to get through this week, when being in Greece had been so hard even when Antonios had loved her, or thought he had, when she’d thought she’d loved him?

Now, with the anger and contempt she’d felt from Antonios, the hurt and frustration she felt herself...it was going to be impossible. Something had to change. To give.

She slipped off her eye mask, determined to confront him, only to find him gazing at her, the hard lines of his face softened by tenderness and despair, a look of such naked longing on his face that it stole her breath. She felt tears come to her eyes and everything in her ached with longing.

‘Antonios...’

His face blanked immediately and his mouth compressed. ‘Yes?’

‘I...’ What could she say? Don’t look at me like you hate me? Just then, he hadn’t. Just then he’d looked at her as if he still loved her.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t even know you, not the real you. And you don’t love him. You can’t.

‘Nothing,’ she finally whispered.

‘Get some sleep,’ Antonios said, and turned his head away. ‘It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.’

* * *

They arrived in Athens at eleven in the morning, the air warm and dry, the sky hard and bright blue, everything so different from the damp early fall of upstate New York. Being here again brought back memories in flashes of pain: the limo Antonios had had waiting outside the airport, filled with roses. The way he’d held and kissed her all the way to his villa in the mountains of central Greece, and how enchanted Lindsay had been, still carried away by the fairy tale.

It wasn’t until the limo had turned up the sweeping drive framed by plane trees with the huge, imposing villa and all of the other buildings in the distance that she’d realized she’d been dealing in fantasies...and that she and Antonios would not be living alone in some romantic hideaway. His mother, his brother, Leonidas, his two unmarried sisters, an army of staff and employees—everyone lived at Villa Marakaios, which wasn’t the sweet little villa with terracotta tiles and painted wooden shutters that Lindsay had naively been imagining. No, it was a complex, a hive of industry, a city. And when she’d stepped out of the limo into that bright, bright sunshine, every eye of every citizen of that city had been trained on her.

Her worst nightmare.

She’d seen everyone lined up in front of the villa—the family, the friends, the employees and house staff, everyone staring at her, a few people whispering and even pointing—and she’d forgotten how to breathe.