Ruthless Revenge: Sinful Seduction

‘I don’t see what there is to think about,’ Alekos stated. ‘The solution seems perfectly obvious to me.’

She whirled around, pushed past endurance by his utter inflexibility. ‘You might think so, but that doesn’t mean I do. Perhaps I’m not willing to agree to marriage to a stranger ten seconds after I’ve received the most unromantic proposal on the planet!’

Alekos met her wild gaze with a level one of his own. ‘It wasn’t meant to be romantic.’

Iolanthe laughed, the sound utterly without humour. ‘I do realise that, thank you.’

He eyed her with consideration, his head cocked to one side. ‘Is that what you want? Romance? Love?’

She let out her breath in a low rush. Love wasn’t something she’d let herself think about in a long, long time. ‘No, not really.’ Her brief brush with love—sexual love, anyway—had been a disaster. And ten years of coldness and solitude had made her too numb ever to hope for more. And certainly not with Alekos.

‘Did you love Callos?’ He spoke diffidently, as if it didn’t really matter. Iolanthe looked away, not wanting to reveal the pointless sorrow of her marriage. ‘Well?’ he prompted, and she knew he wouldn’t leave it.

‘No.’ In the beginning she’d tried to get along with him, but it had taken only days to realise Lukas had no interest in her whatsoever. He’d married her to secure his future with her father’s company, that was all.

‘Did he know he wasn’t Niko’s father?’

‘Yes. I never pretended about that. He married me knowing I carried another man’s child.’ For that alone she’d tried to respect Lukas, but he’d done precious little in their ten years to keep her respect—or earn her affection.

‘So you married him to provide a father for Niko.’ The words sounded bitter, an accusation.

‘Yes, and because my father wished it.’ Had commanded it. ‘I didn’t have a lot of options, Alekos, after what I’d done.’

‘You mean what we’d done.’

She looked at him, startled to hear a note of recrimination in his voice. Was he acknowledging guilt—or just stating a fact? ‘Yes,’ she said after a pause. ‘What we’d done.’

Alekos nodded slowly, saying nothing. Iolanthe braced herself for another round of fighting, another set of impossible demands. ‘Did you ever do anything with your art?’ he asked and she blinked, completely taken aback by this sudden turn in the conversation.

‘My art...’

‘You told me, that night, that art was your favourite subject. And that you wanted to do something important.’

She let out an uncertain laugh. ‘I’m surprised you remembered what I said back then. I must have sounded very silly and young.’

‘You sounded hopeful.’ Alekos’s voice was flat, almost bleak, his expression as inscrutable as ever. Iolanthe had no idea what to make of his remarks.

‘I suppose I was. I’ve learned better since then.’ As soon as she said the words she wished she hadn’t. She wasn’t bitter. At least, she tried not to be.

Alekos gazed at her for a long moment, and Iolanthe braced herself for more questions about her marriage. ‘May I see him?’ he asked quietly.

‘Niko—?’

‘Yes.’

This was not his usual intractable demand, but instead a quiet and sincere plea, and it cut Iolanthe to the heart. ‘He’s sleeping now...’

‘Let me just see him,’ Alekos insisted, his voice low and urgent. ‘I won’t wake him up. We can discuss how best to introduce me to him later.’ He gazed at her, and this time his burning stare held no anger, just desperation.

Iolanthe swallowed hard and then nodded. She’d denied Alekos so much already. ‘Yes, you can see him. I’ll show you the way.’

Silently she opened the doors to the drawing room and headed upstairs, Alekos following behind her. Amara had already gone to bed, and the lights had all been turned off save for one small table lamp in the hall that cast a warm glow and lent an intimate air to the moment.

Iolanthe was very conscious of Alekos walking behind her; she breathed in the scent of his aftershave and felt both the heat and tension from his body. Remembered all sorts of things—how surprisingly sleek and soft his skin had been, how his arms around her had felt both gentle and powerful; he was a man who could leash his strength. How for an evening she’d felt treasured and important, just as she’d told him she wanted to be. He’d made her feel that way.

And then afterwards he made you feel like something stuck to his shoe.

She couldn’t forget that. She needed to remember it, if she was going to navigate this fraught relationship with any hope of success. Iolanthe turned down the hallway to Niko’s set of rooms. She paused, her hand on the doorknob of his bedroom. ‘I don’t want you to disturb him.’

‘I won’t wake him up,’ Alekos promised. ‘I just want to see him.’

‘I know...’ Still Iolanthe hesitated. She felt as if opening this door would be the first step down a long and uncertain road. But perhaps she’d taken that step when she’d told Alekos about Niko. Perhaps now there was no other road to travel, no other step to take. With a single nod of acceptance, Iolanthe pushed open the door.

The room was lit only by the moonlight spilling through the window, barely illuminating the room with its military-level of neatness. No spilled Lego, no half-finished games or projects. Niko hated mess, craved order.

Iolanthe watched as Alekos stepped into the room, his gaze searching out the slight form on the single bed. Niko lay on his side, legs tucked up, one hand resting by his cheek. He looked vulnerable and innocent and so very young.

Alekos moved closer to his son, and the moonlight washed over the hard lines and angles of his face; he almost looked as if he were in pain, gripped as he was by emotion.

He reached a hand out to Niko’s face and Iolanthe held her breath. If Niko woke up... Alekos brushed his son’s cheek with the tips of his fingers and Niko stirred, letting out a breathy sigh before rolling over. Alekos stepped back into the shadows, his gaze sweeping over the room before he turned to Iolanthe and nodded.

She led the way out, pausing by the door with one hand on the knob to shut it after Alekos had gone. He moved past her, his shoulder brushing her breast, and the flash of desire Iolanthe felt made her draw her breath in sharply.

Alekos turned, and his mouth was close enough to hers that all she’d have to do to kiss him was tilt her head. She felt the strength of his stare, the force of his feeling. It felt like a laser, piercing her to the core, pinning her in place. How was it that after a decade apart she could still feel this way? And he did too, judging by the heat in his eyes, the way he angled himself towards her.

No matter that it had been ten years and they didn’t even like each other. The attraction, the overwhelming force of it, was still there.

With effort Iolanthe looked away from Alekos as she pulled the door closed. The soft click of it shutting brought them both out of the moment, and Alekos turned towards the stairs.

Iolanthe let out the breath she’d been holding and willed her heart to slow. That had been close.

She followed Alekos downstairs, expecting him to head for the front door but he returned to the drawing room instead. Iolanthe followed him, steeling herself for another altercation.

‘I want to meet Niko tomorrow.’

‘I need to prepare him—’

‘You don’t need to tell him I’m his father yet,’ Alekos cut across her. ‘But I want to meet him. Talk to him.’

Slowly Iolanthe moved into the room. Emotional and physical fatigue crashed over her and she sank into a chair, her head in her hands.

‘Iolanthe...?’ Concern mingled with impatience sharpened Alekos’s voice.

‘I’m tired, Alekos. It’s eleven o’clock at night and I’ve been dealing with so much...’

‘What have you been dealing with?’

She thought of Antonis’s earlier phone call and the hard reality of her financial situation. If Alekos found out how desperate she was, he might press her to marry him even more. He’d know she was running out of choices, just as her father once had. She couldn’t bear to be backed into another corner.

‘Just...business things,’ she said, to put him off. ‘Lukas’s estate, and Niko losing the man he thought was his father. It’s a lot to process.’

‘You never told him the truth?’

‘No, of course not. He’s only nine, after all, and Lukas acted as a father to him.’ Barely.

Alekos’s mouth tightened. ‘Do you know what it does to me, to know that another man, a man I despise, was able to be the father to my son when I was denied?’ He pinched the bridge of his nose as he drew in a shuddering breath. ‘I don’t know if I can ever forgive that, Iolanthe.’

‘Then we certainly shouldn’t get married,’ Iolanthe retorted. The last thing she wanted was to enter another relationship based on guilt and fear. ‘Why do you despise Lukas? I didn’t think you even knew him.’

‘I didn’t,’ Alekos answered flatly. ‘But I knew what he did.’

Unease churned in her stomach and crept cold fingers up her spine. ‘What are you talking about, Alekos?’

Alekos stared at her for a long moment, his eyes opaque, his jaw set. ‘Now is not the time for that particular discussion. I’ll return here tomorrow to meet Niko. What time is he home from school?’

‘He doesn’t go to school.’

Straight, dark brows snapped together. ‘He doesn’t go to school? Why not?’

‘School has been...difficult for him.’

‘Difficult?’ Alekos’s voice came out in a growl. ‘What are you saying? Has he had problems? Was he bullied?’

‘No, no, nothing like that.’ Iolanthe pressed her fingers to her temples. She could feel the beginnings of a headache. How could she explain Niko to Alekos? ‘Niko didn’t perform well in school,’ she began slowly. ‘He had trouble making friends, and sitting still and paying attention has been hard for him.’

Alekos’s mouth flattened. ‘So he is badly behaved.’

‘No,’ Iolanthe fired back. ‘That’s not it at all. Some of his teachers made that assumption, but the truth is much more complicated than that.’

‘Then tell me the truth.’

‘It’s hard to explain. Niko is just...different.’ Doctors had offered various diagnoses, but none had seemed to fit. She stared at him unhappily. ‘You’ll understand when you meet him tomorrow.’

Alekos looked as if he wanted to press the matter, but then, to Iolanthe’s relief, he merely gave a terse nod. ‘I’ll come in the morning, then, around ten.’

‘He’s tutored until noon,’ Iolanthe said and held up a pacifying hand. ‘But I’ll take him out of his lessons. I was just telling you so you know that he is learning. He’s doing well in his own environment.’ And it had taken a long time and a lot of effort, not to mention tears, heartache, and worry, for her to be able to say that.

‘We’ll talk more tomorrow,’ Alekos said, and to Iolanthe it felt like a threat. What if Alekos rejected Niko after meeting him? Her son was fiercely intelligent and creative, but he could also be uncommunicative, awkward, and high-maintenance. Lukas certainly hadn’t had the patience to deal with him—what if Alekos didn’t either? What if this all blew up in her face, and worse, in Niko’s face? She couldn’t stand the thought of her son experiencing another rejection.

‘Tomorrow,’ Alekos said firmly, and Iolanthe nodded. She watched him leave the room, heard the click of the front door shutting. She felt a curious mixture of relief and disappointment; she was grateful for the reprieve but with Alekos gone she felt as if something vital had left the room. Left her life.

It was so dangerous, to think like that. To want like that. She remembered that moment upstairs, when for a few taut seconds she’d thought he might kiss her. She’d wanted him to kiss her.

And if they did marry...would he kiss her then? Would it be a marriage in the true sense of the word? Iolanthe couldn’t believe she was even asking herself those questions. She couldn’t marry Alekos. He’d made her feel like the most desirable woman on earth...and the least. She couldn’t live with that kind of see-sawing emotion, and she certainly couldn’t expose Niko to it.

But she had a sinking, certain feeling that Alekos would never let it go. Never let her or Niko go. She’d willingly walked into one gilded cage already. Perhaps it was no more than her duty to step into another.

CHAPTER EIGHT

ANTICIPATION AND ANXIETY warred within Alekos as he approached the front door of Iolanthe’s town house the next morning to meet Niko. His son.

Seeing the boy last night had felt like a fist reaching right into his heart and squeezing hard. Niko’s floppy dark hair had reminded him of his own as a child. He’d glimpsed a book on computer programming thrown by the bed and he’d remembered devouring similar manuals as a young boy. Niko was his more than just biologically. Already Alekos felt a connection to his child, one he’d never expected.

His own family had been fractured at a young age, his siblings split up after his father’s death and farmed out to relatives, his mother working hard as a cleaner to keep body and soul together, and not much else. Family had never meant anything to him except inevitable disappointment, inherent rejection.

But this time it could be different. He certainly wouldn’t abandon Niko the way his parents had, in different ways, abandoned him and his siblings. Resolutely Alekos knocked on the door.

The housekeeper he’d met briefly last night answered it, her wrinkled face set into lines of obvious disapproval. She gave him a short nod. ‘Kyrie Demetriou.’

‘I am here to see Iolanthe and Niko.’

The woman pressed her lips together. ‘What business do you have with my mistress?’ she burst out and Alekos drew back, surprised and affronted by the temerity of the question.

‘I don’t believe that’s any of your concern.’

‘It is my concern because she is my mistress and she has been through enough these last ten years,’ the housekeeper declared. ‘You seem like you will only cause her yet more grief.’

‘I have no intention of doing anything of the sort,’ Alekos answered, although he was surprised and a little shaken by the housekeeper’s words. He realised how little he knew about Iolanthe’s marriage. She’d said she hadn’t loved Lukas, but had Lukas loved her? Or had it merely been a marriage of cold expediency—the boss’s daughter in exchange for accepting her bastard child? Alekos didn’t like to think of her marriage at all. Incredible that after a single night and ten years, he could feel so much as a twinge of jealousy.

Iolanthe met him in the drawing room where he’d seen her last night. Now, instead of looking casual and touchable in jeans and a lacy top, she wore a pair of tailored trousers and a high-necked blouse, clothes she clearly considered a defence against him. She’d drawn her hair back in a clip and although her lips were bright with lipstick her face looked pale. She was nervous, but then so was he. He was going to meet his son.

‘I’ve told Niko you’re a friend,’ she said without preamble. ‘For now. And that you’re interested in computers. He loves them.’

‘All right.’

Iolanthe clasped her hands together and met his gaze, her eyes bright with anxiety. ‘I told you he’s a bit different...’

‘I know.’ Alekos held up a hand. ‘Let me meet him, Iolanthe, and see and judge for myself.’

She nodded as she released a low breath. ‘Okay,’ she said, and bit her lip, still clearly nervous.

Alekos had the bizarre urge to comfort her, even hold her. He was amazed at how natural it would feel, to pull her into his arms and stroke her hair. To tell her it was going to be okay, that he would take care of her.

He shook his head to clear it of that unsettling impulse. He wanted to marry Iolanthe for Niko’s sake, but he didn’t want to care about her. He knew where indulging in that kind of emotion led. His only interest was in his son.

‘Where is he?’

‘Upstairs, on the computer. It’s probably best if we go up there.’

‘Very well.’

Once again they climbed the staircase, this time with bright sunlight pouring through the window. Alekos took the opportunity to examine what he saw of Iolanthe’s house, her life, but he couldn’t tell much from the tasteful prints on the walls or the antique furniture. It looked bland to him, the home of someone rich and important, nothing else.

‘Niko...?’ Iolanthe called as she knocked on the door of the room next to his bedroom. ‘Remember I told you Alekos was coming to meet you?’ Shooting a quick, anxious smile at Alekos, she pushed open the door and entered the room.

Alekos followed, his gaze arrowing in on the little boy who sat in front of a computer monitor, his expression closed and wary.

‘Hey.’ Iolanthe smiled and stepped aside so Alekos could come more fully into the room. ‘This is Alekos. A friend.’

Niko eyed Alekos silently. His eyes, Alekos saw with a jolt, were golden-brown, a similar colour to his own. He was slightly built, but then Alekos had been at that age as well. One hand rested possessively on the keyboard.

‘Did you know my father?’ he asked Alekos.

‘I knew of him, but we’d never really met.’ It took effort to keep his voice mild and friendly. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about Lukas.

‘You work with computers?’

‘Yes.’ Niko’s gaze flitted towards him and then away again, as if he was uncomfortable meeting Alekos’s eye. Alekos tried not to feel the sting of rejection. He was too emotional for this meeting, too raw. ‘Your mother told me you like computers?’

‘Yes.’ Niko had already turned back to the screen, clicking the mouse, having summarily dismissed Alekos.

‘Niko...’ Iolanthe began. ‘Alekos is here to talk to you...’

‘I don’t want to talk to him.’

Alekos drew his breath in sharply at such rudeness. Iolanthe, he saw, looked pained but not surprised. So his son was badly behaved.

‘He came all this way...’

‘I don’t want to.’ A new, sharper note had entered Niko’s voice and his hand clenched on the mouse. From across the room Alekos could see the tension in the little boy’s body; he was practically vibrating with it.

‘All right, Niko, all right,’ Iolanthe soothed. She threw Alekos an apologetic and faintly panicked glance. He felt as if he was missing part of the conversation; something was happening that he didn’t understand.

‘We can talk later,’ he offered, and Niko didn’t reply. He had started to rock a little back and forth, one skinny arm wrapped around his middle. Iolanthe stepped towards her son.

‘It’s okay, Niko. You don’t have to talk to anyone now.’ She put her hand on his shoulder and Niko flinched away.

‘Don’t.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Biting her lip, she withdrew. ‘I’ll come back later, okay?’

Niko didn’t respond. Iolanthe turned to Alekos and motioned for them both to go out of the room.

Alekos waited until they were back downstairs before he asked the question that was burning in his chest. ‘What’s wrong with him?’

‘Don’t say that.’ Iolanthe whirled around, her expression savage, her voice a crack of a whip that he hadn’t expected. Alekos blinked with the force of its sting.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...’

‘Yes, you did,’ she stated flatly. ‘Do you know how often I get that question? How people look at him?’ She drew a ragged breath and he realised she was near tears. He felt suddenly, overwhelmingly repentant.

‘Iolanthe—’

‘Don’t.’ She flung out one hand as if to keep him distant, even though he hadn’t moved. ‘Don’t ask what’s wrong with him, don’t assume he’s rude or badly behaved or whatever else I could see in your face. You looked...disgusted.’ Her voice trembled on the word.

‘I wasn’t,’ Alekos said quietly. He felt the stirrings of shame. ‘Surprised and disappointed, perhaps. I suppose, unrealistically, I was expecting for a better meeting. Interest, friendship.’ Politeness, at least. ‘I still don’t understand.’

Iolanthe tucked some stray tendrils of hair behind her ears and drew a calming breath. She seemed more composed, resolute, although her face was still pale. ‘I told you he was different.’

‘I know, but I don’t understand why or what that means.’

‘The truth is no one really understands,’ she admitted on a sigh. ‘He’s been to a whole raft of doctors and psychiatrists and therapists over the years. They’ve all had different diagnoses, but none of them really fit.’

‘So you knew there was some issue for a while.’

‘Yes, since he was small. Even as a baby...he had trouble attaching—breastfeeding was impossible, and he never liked hugs or cuddles. He screamed for the first three months of his life, non-stop.’ She spoke tonelessly, reciting these facts as if they didn’t matter to her, and yet Alekos knew they had to have cut her deeply.

‘And later?’ he asked.

Iolanthe let out a deep sigh and sank onto a sofa, her head bowed so Alekos could see the tender nape of her neck. He had the impulse to rest his hand there, rub the muscles he could see corded with tension. He didn’t move.

‘Similar things. He went to nursery for a short while, but he found it too overwhelming, and he fought with the other children.’ She gave a little shake of her head, lost in memory. ‘Forming friendships has always been difficult for him. Not impossible—by that time I’d started attending therapy with him, trying to figure out what was wrong and how to help him. Having a routine made things easier and, as he grew older, coaching him in ways to behave that weren’t rude or aggressive.’ She looked up at him, her eyes shining and damp. ‘He’s come a long way, Alekos, even if it doesn’t seem like it to you.’

‘I wouldn’t make such a judgment.’

‘You already did.’ She spoke wearily, without accusation, but even so Alekos felt a sharp pang of guilt.

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have phrased it like that.’

‘You wouldn’t be the first. And I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t take my frustrations out on you. It’s just that this kind of thing has been happening for so long.’

‘I understand.’ Iolanthe gave him a small, grateful smile that pierced Alekos to the heart. She was thankful for that negligible bit of grace? And yet he realised that they were actually having a civilised conversation. An important conversation. Standing there, seeing Iolanthe look so tired and disheartened, Alekos realised there were things he could not begin to fathom about her life.

‘Tell me more,’ he said, and moved to sit across from her.

‘What more do you want to know?’

‘I don’t know. Anything.’ He shrugged, spreading his hands. ‘I want to understand.’

She pressed her lips together, her gaze distant. ‘Doctors suggested he was on the autism spectrum, but not all of his symptoms fit the classic diagnosis. Of course there’s a range, but they weren’t entirely comfortable with it and neither was I. Other doctors suggested a sensory disorder, but some of his emotional behaviours didn’t fit that either.’ She raised her slight shoulders in a helpless shrug. ‘In the end they slapped the PDD label on him and called it a day.’

‘PDD?’

‘Pervasive Developmental Disorder. A jack-of-all-trades diagnosis.’ Her smile was wan, heartbreaking. ‘We’ve both coped as best as we can. Taking him out of school helped—it was too much pressure on him to make friends, to behave a certain way. He gets along very well with his tutor.’

‘Where is his tutor? I thought he was going to be here this morning.’

‘I had him leave early, in anticipation of this meeting.’

Alekos frowned. ‘Is that a good idea? If routine is important—’

‘Don’t question me please, Alekos.’ Iolanthe’s voice rose sharply. ‘I know you like to be in control. I know you want to be the one giving the orders. But please, please trust that I might have a better idea of how to handle my son than you do.’

‘Our son, and only because I was kept from being involved in his life until now,’ Alekos returned before he could keep himself from it. Iolanthe flinched.