
THE GREEK TYCOON'S INHERITED BRIDE LUCY MONROE
SPIROS PETRONIDES felt like he was drowning. His grandfather and Dimitri were speaking, but the words were muffled as his emotions fought with his integrity.
The last few weeks had been hard, but tonight was worse.
Tonight hope died.
He'd wanted to meet with Dimitri tonight. Spiros had intended to admit what he'd done with Phoebe on his last visit to the States. To ask his older brother's forgiveness. To ask Dimitri if he was sure he wanted to marry a woman he had seen only a handful of times since agreeing to join their lives permanently at some future date.
Apparently, that future date was now.
Theopolis Petronides had just made it clear that he would not be having a very necessary heart operation unless Dimitri agreed to finally tie the knot with Phoebe. Their grandfather wanted to dandle great-grandchildren on his knee before he died. That death would come sooner rather than later without the operation.
"But what if Phoebe doesn't want to marry Dimitri?" Spiros asked.
His grandfather looked at him with disdain. "She is a good woman. A Greek woman, despite her American education. She made a promise. She will keep it. Just as my grandson here will keep his, heh?"
This time his look was fixed on Dimitri, and though it was not filled with disdain, it clearly expressed what he expected his grandson to say.
Spiros had spent weeks fighting his desire for Phoebe---until he finally couldn't fight it any longer. He'd been so ashamed of his betrayal of Dimitri, and even their grandfather's belief in him, that he'd tried to forget what he'd done. It had not worked. He'd been able to think of little else until he knew he had to do something about it.
He'd waited too long, though. His decision to come clean to Dimitri and ask his brother to bow out of his commitment to Phoebe was going straight to hell in a hand-basket. And his grandfather was sending it there.
"But what if she doesn't want to keep it?"
His grandfather opened his mouth to speak, but Dimitri put his hand up. "Enough." He smiled at Spiros. "I appreciate your desire to protect me, Spiros, but it is not necessary. I have every intention of marrying Phoebe, as planned. And if this stubborn old goat wants to force the wedding date, then so be it."
"I may be an old goat, but at least I'm a smart one. You've waited long enough to get married, Dimitri."
"I have." Dimitri looked absolutely determined.
But Spiros had to ask. "Do you want to marry Phoebe?"
"Yes. Grandfather is right. She will make a very good wife."
No mention of emotion---but then Spiros hadn't expected there to be. He and Dimitri had learned the destructive side of so-called love too well and too early to dismiss that knowledge now.
As much as he might physically desire Phoebe, part of him was relieved Dimitri was so set on following through on his betrothal promise. Spiros never wanted to be as weak as his father, and he damn well was not going to be as deceptive as his mother. All in the name of love.
A tiny voice in the back of his mind warned him that with Phoebe he was at risk of doing both. But he was stronger than that. He had to be. Both for his own sake and that of his relationship with Dimitri.
Phoebe and he were friends, and that was all they could ever be.
He was ashamed of his weakness the last time he'd seen her alone, but that weakness would not be repeated.
Not ever.
EXCITEMENT lacing every movement of her limbs, Phoebe walked into the reception area for her father's office. It was a new day for the Leonides clan. She could not wait to hear what her father had to say.
His secretary, a severe-looking woman in her fifties, who Phoebe knew from experience had a surprisingly soft heart, looked up. "Good afternoon, Miss Leonides. Your father is in a teleconference, but it should be ending any moment. Would you like to have a seat while you wait?"
"Yes, thank you." Phoebe sat in a chair facing the window of the Athens high-rise and looked out at the familiar view.
Thrilled that her father had called her into the office to meet with him, she practically vibrated with anticipation. She was the first woman in her family to attend university overseas, and one of the few to attend university at all. Her father had been surprisingly supportive, not only of her request to go to university in America but of her desire to major in Business. She was almost positive he had set up this meeting to offer her a job at Leonides Enterprises. Why else would he request their discussion happen here, at the headquarters of the company?
It was a new era for the women in her family and Phoebe was beyond happy to be a part of it. Now if she could just convince Papa to dissolve the archaic agreement he and Theopolis Petronides had made when Phoebe was barely eighteen, she'd be ecstatic.
There was no way she could marry Dimitri Petronides. She barely knew him, despite how close their families were. It wasn't like with his younger brother, Spiros. The gap in age between him and Phoebe had never stood in the way of their friendship, but the additional three years between her and Dimitri was an insurmountable distance. At least it felt like it.
Dimitri was a total ice man. There was no way she could wed someone she couldn't imagine kissing.
She felt nothing for the older Petronides---unlike her feelings for his younger brother. She could not only imagine kissing Spiros, but doing a whole lot more. Of course it wasn't all imagination, was it?
She was sure Dimitri would be just as happy to dismiss the arrangements made by their elders as she would. After all, it wasn't he who had come to see Phoebe during the four years she had attended university in the States. Not once.
It had been Spiros.
Her friend and...after the last visit...more. Inner warmth and a series of tingles throughout her body suffused her as she remembered that visit. She had learned beyond the shadow of a doubt that the attraction she had felt for him for so long---the attraction she had always believed to be hopeless---was returned.
She had not seen him since her return to Greece, but that was because his honor would not allow him to do so. Not with that ridiculous agreement in place--- an agreement she was set on dissolving.
Regardless of how close the two families were, marriage between her and Dimitri was not the way to cement that connection. Frankly, it should never have been considered. A multi-generational friendship was not a compelling enough reason for two people with so little in common to join their lives. That kind of thinking had gone out with the Industrial Revolution, or at least it should have.
She suspected the agreement had less to do with the creation of a family legacy than with two men still grieving the losses of their dearest friends. Her father and Dimitri's grandfather had been looking for a way to compensate for those losses.
Theopolis Petronides had been best friends with her grandfather. Their sons had continued that tradition. Aristotle Leonides and Timothy Petronides had been as close as any brothers. A generation later, she and Spiros had drawn just as close.
When his parents had died, the story was that Spiros had refused comfort from everybody. However, he would spend hours playing with the year-old baby girl who adored him even more than her own parents.
Phoebe.
He had returned the favor of being the only solace she could accept when her beloved grandfather had died eight years later. By then Spiros had been a young teen, who was much too cool to hang out with a little girl still in pigtails, but that hadn't stopped him. She thought she'd probably fallen in love with him then. Though at the time everyone had said she had a bad case of hero-worship.
Her feelings for him had grown as she'd got older, and deepened into something much more intimate along with her burgeoning womanhood.
By the time she'd reached eighteen she'd been riding the rollercoaster of unrequited romantic love for more than three years. Spiros had been a good friend to her, but that was all, and watching him with his girlfriends had grown more painful than she could bear. It was a story as old as time, but she'd known that for her there would be no miraculous happy ending.
As far as her childhood hero was concerned, Phoebe might have been his sister. In fact, when she'd asked her father why he and Tio Theo wanted her and Dimitri to wed, rather than her and Spiros, he had said Spiros was too much like her brother. It would almost be incestuous. Her secret fantasies disagreed, but she couldn't argue the fact that Dimitri was the oldest---and the better prospect because of it.
Her elders' attitudes, along with the evidence of her own eyes, had made Phoebe realize once and for all that her love for Spiros was hopeless. Spiros was very popular with women---gorgeous, sophisticated, experienced women. Women Phoebe, an often shy, totally innocent teen, had had no hope of competing with.
Phoebe's agreement to the suggested merging of their two families by an eventual marriage between herself and Dimitri had been an admittedly foolish attempt to do one of two things. Either get over her fixation on Spiros, or catch his attention and make him see that she was indeed a woman. If she was old enough to become promised to his older brother, she was old enough to be of interest to him.
Predictably, neither outcome had come to pass. Though it could not be denied that Spiros did see that she was a woman now, the agreement was in the way, not a catalyst.
The first time he'd come to see her at university she'd been feeling extremely homesick. It must have shown in the e-mails they'd been exchanging, because he'd showed up at her dorm two days after her latest e-mail, devastating smile in place.
He'd taken her to dinner and kept her up late talking. When she'd asked him what he was doing in the country, he'd said he had business interests he was seeing to. He'd made similar excuses to come by and see her at least twice a year. In between times they'd emailed one another almost daily, and he had called her at least once a month.
He'd often made the joke that he was looking after Dimitri's interests---while she had fruitlessly wished the interests were those of Spiros himself.
She'd seen him whenever she was home from university for holidays as well. In fact, she saw him way more than she ever saw Dimitri. The older man couldn't be bothered to spend time with her. He'd made no effort to get to know her better, and was rarely in Greece when she was. It wasn't possible that he really wanted to marry her, and she didn't understand why he had agreed to the future nuptial plans either.
For goodness' sake, there were even rumors he had a girlfriend in Paris. Everyone thought she was too naive to know about it, but she wasn't. And the very fact it didn't bother her was all the indication she needed that she had no feelings for Dimitri in that regard. It about killed her every time she saw a gossip rag story about Spiros and his latest flame, though.
There hadn't been any stories of that nature since his last trip to visit her in America, which gave her hope. Lots and lots of hope.
The view of Athens's business district in front of her faded as her mind went back to that eventful night...
Phoebe sat with one leg curled under her and the other dangling over the kitchen chair. Studying for finals was so not her favorite thing to do. Even worse when she had a bad case of spring fever. Spiros had made noises about maybe coining to see her before graduation in his last e-mail. She'd been unable to settle since. Both families would be coming for the graduation ceremony itself. Well, everyone but the man she was supposed to marry. Dimitri had too many business commitments to attend her university graduation and, frankly, Phoebe didn't mind at all.
How could she have been dumb enough to agree to that whole marriage thing in the first place? Dimitri might only be three years older than Spiros, but as far as she was concerned he was completely out of her stratosphere. She flipped to the next page of her notes, guiltily aware that she hadn't soaked in a single word from the one before it.
She had to get her focus off a possible visit from Spiros and back onto her studies. Going to university was a big deal in itself---her mother hadn't gone, after all. But coming to the States and studying here had been a true concession on her parents' part, and she was determined to do them proud. As it stood, she was slated to graduate magna cum laude, and she wasn't about to mess that up by flunking her finals.
Biting on her lip to redirect her thoughts firmly to what was in front of her, she was soon immersed in world economic theory.
She wasn't sure how long she'd been studying when the sound of someone pounding on the door of her small student apartment broke through her concentration. Phoebe stood up and promptly fell right back down. The leg she'd been sitting on had fallen asleep. Needles of discomfort shot up from her painfully tingling foot to her thigh. She gasped, but, holding onto the table for support, forced herself to stand again. The knocking resumed. This time an impatient tattoo that rattled the old door.
"Just a second," she called as she limped across the room.
She flung it open and found Spiros on the other side. All six feet four inches of masculine gorgeous-ness of him. His dark hair, usually slicked back in a conservative style for business, lay in tousled curls around his face. Unlike her dark brown eyes, his had golden lights that sent butterflies dancing through her insides. His business suits had never been able to hide the muscular definition of his body, but in his current jeans and silk T-shirt he made her mouth water.
"Spiros," she squeaked in shock. She'd been trying so hard not to think about him that his arrival had taken her completely by surprise.
His signature smile was missing, replaced with a severe frown. "What were you doing?" he demanded.
"Studying. What do you think? I told you I had finals."
"You looked startled by my presence."
"I was."
"You did not look through the peephole to see who it was before you opened the door. Who were you expecting, to fling it wide with such abandon?"
What in the world...? "I forgot to check who it was. I'm not expecting anyone else."
"But you should have been expecting me. I told you I would come."
"You implied it, you didn't say when. Sheesh, Spiros, get over yourself." She turned and limped back toward the table.
Strong arms lifted her from the floor after she'd only taken a few steps.
She screeched. "Spiros! What are you doing?"
"What is the matter? Why are you limping? Have you hurt yourself?" The questions came out with the speed of automatic rifle-fire.
She had no hope of answering them.
"Well?" he prompted, looking down at her with concern in that golden-brown gaze.
"Can I get a word in edgewise?" she teased.
He snapped his mouth shut with a look of chagrin.
She patted his chest. "My leg fell asleep. Nothing serious."
"Are you sure? It is not normal for a limb to simply fall asleep."
"Man, I never knew you were such a worrier." She found herself grinning. His concern felt good. So did her hand, which she had left resting on his sculpted pec. "It's perfectly normal when you've been sitting on said limb for---" she looked over at the clock on her wall "---um.. .for more than two hours without moving."
"This is not good. You should not get so involved with your studies that you are not watching out for your health."
She almost laughed, considering how hard she'd found it to concentrate at first. But, since that lack of ability had been directly related to him, she had no intention of telling him about it. "A sleepy leg is not exactly on a par with the plague, Spiros."
"Nevertheless, it is obviously time for you to take a break."
"Sounds good. You going to take me out to dinner?" she asked with a grin.
He was back to looking positively forbidding. "You have not eaten yet?"
She rolled her eyes. "No. I've never quite gotten the hang of eating on American hours. I still prefer my last meal of the day to be closer to eight."
"It is almost nine."
"Have you eaten?" she asked, disappointed in advance. Since he was making such a big deal of it, she was pretty sure he already had.
"Actually, no."
"Then you can take me out to eat."
"You are spoiled."
"And whose fault is that? You are the one who takes me for a meal every time you come to visit. Can I be blamed for having certain expectations?"
"You are a minx."
She laughed. "That's me. Phoebe Leonides...otherwise known as the shy one.. .a minx."
"You are never shy with me."
"You're my friend. I'm not shy with my family either."
"You are shy around Dimitri."
She frowned. "Don't bring up your brother. You'll ruin my good mood."
Oh, now he looked truly offended. "There is nothing wrong with my brother."
"Except that us marrying each other is the dumbest idea my father and your grandfather have ever had. And I bought into it," she said, with a healthy dose of exasperation directed at herself.
"You do not want to marry my brother?"
"Please, Spiros, you know me better than anyone else. Don't tell me you are surprised."
"But I am shocked, byba. You made a promise."
She loved it when he called her baby girl. "So did he. But where is he now? Not here."
"I am here, seeing to his interests."
"He has no interest in me."
"That is not true."
"And you are here because you are my friend." She twisted in his arms and tickled vulnerable ribs. "Admit it."
He laughed out loud and almost dropped her. "Watch it, byba. You are going to end up with a sore bottom rather than a sleeping leg."
"You'd never spank me." And she would never tell him about the zing of erotic pleasure that went through her at the thought of being bottom-up in his lap.
"Someone should have spanked you when you were younger."
"You would have thrown a fit if they had."
"I was naive then.. .a foolish boy who thought byba mou could do no wrong. Clearly I was deceived as to the sweetness of your character."
"Are you saying you don't think your byba is sweet?" she asked, with a pout she'd perfected just for him.
A look came over him that sent erotic pulses pinging through her. "More sweet than is good for me."
"Are you sure, Spiros?" Was that husky voice hers? "I think I am very good for you."
He closed his eyes for several seconds of silence and then opened them. "I think you need to change if I am going to take you out."
"You don't want to be seen with me wearing my sweats?" she asked, making no move to leave her secure perch.
"I refuse to take you where others might see that band of flesh between your top's hem and the waist of those too provocative bottoms."
"My sweats are not provocative."
He lowered her so she was standing in front of him and then fingered the waistband of her zebra-striped velvet bottoms. "These? They cling to your perfectly shaped derriere and could stand to go further up your torso."
He thought her butt was shaped perfectly? Another smile broke over her face. "I'm no Urkle wannabe. I have no intention of wearing my pants up around my armpits."
"Who is Urkle?"
She forgot that he hardly ever watched television--- and never the American programs. "A nerdy character in an old sitcom."
"And she wears her sweats above her belly button?"
"It's a him and, yes, way above...but don't think for a minute I'm going to. This is the style."
"If you bend over, I will see the swell of your bottom."
"You think?" He was being circumspect, but he meant the crack of her bottom, and she could not let that statement go unchallenged. She spun and bent over. "Well? See anything?" She knew darn well he didn't. She wasn't a tramp, and didn't dress like one.
But Spiros did not answer.
She looked back over her shoulder and her breath locked in her chest. He was staring at her in a way she had only ever dreamed of. With a dark hunger that called to something deep in her womb.
She straightened. "Spiros?"
He stared at her. "You should not have done that."
"Why?" she asked, her brain refusing the evidence of her own eyes as impossible.
He couldn't want her. She'd loved him for too long, getting nothing but friendship back in return, for things to have changed like this. It was wishful thinking on her part. It had to be.
Only he was still looking at her as if she was a feast and he the starving man.
"Because," he said, in a tone she had never heard from him before.
"Because why?" She was nothing if not tenacious.
Anyone who knew her at all knew that. And he knew her better than most.
He didn't smile at her childish prompting as he had always done in the past. His jaw was too rigid for even a facsimile of one. But he stepped forward.
She had the craziest urge to step back. Crazy because close to him was where she wanted to be. It always had been---even before she'd known she was in love with him. Only right this second he was almost a stranger. A dangerous stranger.
But he would never hurt her. She knew that. No matter how intense he was acting right now. And if by some miracle his attitude meant what it seemed to mean, she wanted it. She knew she did.
So why did those internal reminders fail to dispel the weird sense of fear trying to take hold? She was strong enough to stand against it, though.
And she would.
He took another step forward, and another...and then he was so close she could feel his body heat in the scant bit of air between them. His scent was different up close. Not merely the expensive aftershave he wore, because she'd been buying it for him since she was ten, but another spicy fragrance that could only be him. It was warm, like his body.. .how could a smell be warm?
But it was. And it was good---oh, so good. She wanted to lean forward and nuzzle her nose in his neck and just revel in it.
She'd smelled him before, but there was a quality to his personal scent that was different now.. .a musk that sent a sharp ache deep into her womb. Her legs felt weak and she swayed a little, her face doing that nuzzle thing of its own accord.
He took in a sharp breath even as she inhaled his scent.
She throbbed in that hidden place between her legs. She'd never felt like this, even when she'd lain in her bed at night and thought about him. It was so different. Scary, but totally delicious too.
Which was exactly how the odd fear felt---kind of yummy. And that was really odd. Fear wasn't yummy, or fun. At least it never had been before. But this sensation wasn't one she wanted to end immediately. How weird was that?
Her disjointed ruminations ceased as she became acutely aware of how he filled her senses. His body heat surrounded her. Everything beyond him fuzzed in her vision, as if her eyes wanted to focus wholly on him. And his scent reached out to her, drawing her closer with an undeniable pull.
He didn't say anything as she rubbed her nose very lightly in the hollow of his neck. This close, she could smell the difference in where she nuzzled and his face, where his aftershave left a stronger impression. She'd always loved that cologne---that was why she bought it for him---but right now she wanted his essence. She needed to imprint him on her sensory memories.
He didn't move. Not to get away, not to get closer. He remained utterly still.
She met his silence with one of her own, not wanting this magical moment to end. If she never had anything else from him, no one could ever take away this moment. The first---and maybe the only---sensual encounter between two friends closer than most family.
Taking a deep breath, she inhaled more of him, and shuddered as her breasts came into contact with his chest. He made a sound like a growl, but still no words.
Her nipples ached behind the thin layers of her bra and her top. She pressed more firmly into him, trying to relieve that ache. It didn't work. She only wanted more. She needed...something from him...but she didn't know what. She'd read about this kind of thing, talked it over with her friends. She'd even tried experimenting. But she didn't like kissing other men when all she could think about was the one she loved. Even if she couldn't have him, her body had never allowed her to have anyone else either. No matter how hard she'd tried.
The fact that she was de facto engaged to his brother had prevented her from dating more than a few times anyway. She always felt so guilty, though she shouldn't have.
It wasn't as if Dimitri wanted her, and she was positive he wasn't celibate. She'd seen pictures in the paper of him with a French model, though she'd never mentioned them to anyone else. He was good at keeping his name out of the media, so she saw no reason to stir trouble about the couple of times he hadn't been able to.
She doubted his family even knew.
But what was she doing thinking about Dimitri when his brother---the man she loved---was standing right here? She would groan at herself if she could get enough air into her lungs. You'd think with the way she kept taking in his scent she'd have plenty of air, but she felt light-headed anyway.
And that was her only excuse for what she did next. Lack of oxygen to the brain.
SHE curled her hands around Spiros's lean hips and then she flicked her tongue out to taste the skin tantalizing her senses so thoroughly. Salty. Sweet. Warm. Addictive.
She tasted him again, this time letting her tongue linger just a bit longer.
Suddenly one of his hands was buried in her hair, pressing her face into his neck. "Bite me."
The guttural voice vibrated through her and made disobedience or even a question out of the realm of possibilities. She delicately nipped at his skin, sucking a little, taking more of the wonderful flavor into her mouth.
He growled, a sound at the same time animalistic and intensely masculine.
Then that big hand was pulling her head back, and his own was coming down. Their lips were touching.
They kissed. At first carefully, as if neither could believe this was actually happening. Then they were devouring each other. Lips and teeth moving, clashing. ..claiming. She'd never been kissed like this. She'd never kissed this way either.
So erotically---like they were having sex with their mouths. Making love as surely as if they were both naked and writhing together on a bed.
So possessively---like they were marking each other for life, claiming the taste, feel and scent of one another in a molding of mouths as intimate as any other act of love.
So intently---like nothing and no one else existed in their universe.
She couldn't get enough of the feel of his lips against hers, of the taste of his mouth. Of anything.
It was all so very wonderful...amazing...unexpected.
So perfect.
She'd had so many dreams of this moment, and none of them even came close to the overwhelming sensuality of his actions or her own.
Strong hands grasped her bottom and lifted her until her body was not only flush with his, but the apex of her thighs cradled an unmistakable hardness. Her own hands had been forced to let go of his hips as she was lifted, so she locked them behind his neck.
The bunching of muscles against her and a sense of disorientation told her they were moving, but she was so focused on the kiss she couldn't be bothered to lift her head and find out where. Then the hard wall was against her back, and that hardness was being thrust against her in a way that sent jolts of electric pleasure zinging through her.
One right after another. Until she felt like she was going to explode any moment in a shower of sparks.
And still the kiss went on. And on. And on.
He tasted her; his tongue dominated the interior of her mouth; his teeth rubbed against her own. It was hot...passionate. Completely astonishing.
Spiros was always so suave, so laid back. She hadn't known he had this inside him. Or, frankly, that she had it inside herself. However, the shock coursing through her in no way impinged on her passion.
His hard body held her against the wall, and despite the heat he emanated she was shivering with reaction. Desperate little noises came out of her mouth--- muffled by his lips and tongue, but there all the same.
She needed more. Oh, please. Just a little more.
Her body tried to tell him what she needed, since she couldn't do so with words. Her pelvis pressed against him in an instinctive move she had never practiced before. Her legs spread, making room for him to press against her feminine center more fully. And he did.
The sensation was so intense she screamed into his mouth, her body racked with shudders. The pleasure built and built. She was sure she was going to shatter into a million pieces any second. But she didn't. And the ecstasy did not abate either. It got bigger and bigger. She couldn't possibly hold it all in.
What was happening to her?
It was so intense, so much.
The man she loved was doing this.. .she was doing this. This was so much more than a kiss. This was a melding of their souls.
The thought sent the stars inside her exploding into a supernova of delight so consuming that the world went black around the edges and then disappeared altogether.
Her eyelashes fluttered as she woke. But her eyes did not open. Her body felt languid. Not tense, like she usually was during finals week. As she lay there she tried to make sense of where she was---when it was. She had been studying. Spiros had come. Images flashed through her mind. Then memory came flooding back in a tidal wave, accompanied by remembered pleasure, and she moaned.
"Phoebe, byba, are you all right?"
She opened her eyes to see a nervous-looking Spiros hovering beside her bed. He was frowning, his hair a tumbled mess of curls around his face. He'd obviously been running his fingers through it.
She smiled, though it was an effort. She was wrecked. If a kiss could do that to her, how would she ever survive making love completely?
She realized she'd asked the question aloud when Spiros's frown got darker. "You are overtired from studying too many hours and not eating. You must take better care of yourself."
"Trust me when I tell you that today is the not the first time I missed my dinner. And I've never passed out like that."
"Naturally not. You are promised to Dimitri. You are not kissing other men. I should never have kissed you."
She wasn't getting into her attempts to overcome her feelings for Spiros. He would never understand. He truly considered her engaged to Dimitri, even though no formal announcement had ever been made. And now was not the time to discuss her differing perspective on the subject. He looked so miserable.
She pushed herself into a sitting position. "I started it."
"You are an innocent," he said dismissively. "You did not know what effect your small touch would have on me."
That was true. She'd had no idea her touch could affect him at all---small or otherwise. "But it is not something I regret."
"And you should not. It was not your fault. You must forget about it. Get past it." He was babbling.
Spiros, Mr. Sophistication himself, was prattling on like a new student on orientation day.
It would be endearing if he wasn't trying so hard to pretend nothing of import had happened between them.
She looked down at her clasped hands and said softly, "I don't think I can forget."
How could she forget the best moments in her life? She didn't even want to.
"Please, byba, you must try. For the sake of our friendship, for the sake of our families. I know I should not have kissed you. It was wrong. I cannot believe I did such a thing. I have more integrity than that." His voice had grown husky and he had to clear his throat. "For those moments I was not myself, and I took you to a place neither of us should have gone, but we do not have to allow the last twenty minutes to have a permanently tarnishing effect on our honor."
He sounded desolate, more hurt than he'd been in her memory. And there was no mistaking the self-loathing lacing his voice. It tore at her heart.
Oh, man... A Petronides in full guilt mode could be scary. Really, truly frightening. She'd seen it before. Not often, mind you. The men in that family were fanatical about not letting others down. If she didn't do something soon, it was going to get out of hand.
"It was not your fault. I was with you all the way."
If anything, his expression turned more pained. "Do not say that," he instructed her fiercely. "You are years younger than me, and inexperienced. I take all the blame."
"For what? It was a kiss.. .with unexpected results, maybe, but still just a kiss."
"Yes. Only a kiss. Remember that. You have nothing to reproach yourself for."
She wasn't regretting anything, but she knew he definitely did not want to hear that. She'd never seen him so distraught.
She stood up and tugged at the hem of her T-shirt. "Okay. No tarnished honor. For either of us."
Now was not the time to discuss her breaking off things---such as they were---with Dimitri. That was something she had to do on her own anyway. Right now she had to get things back on an even keel with Spiros. She loved him too much to watch him beat himself up like this.
Their parents had done a real number on both Dimitri and Spiros. Not that either had ever admitted it, but how could they help being impacted by a mother who'd been a serial adulterer and a father who had loved her too much to refuse to take her back when the latest affair had ended. Like they always had.
Phoebe had been a baby, but she knew the stories as well as anyone in the two closely knit families.
The pattern had been repeated right up until the end, when the couple had been killed in an accident while trying to return to Greece together. Timothy had followed his wife and her newest paramour to a ski resort, to beg her to come home. What that must have done to his Greek honor Phoebe could only guess, but his behavior and that of his wife had certainly impacted their sons.
Dimitri was glacier-cold in the emotions department. Spiros was warmer, but he had an overdeveloped sense of honor and a fear of being like either parent that was as obvious as glowing neon to someone like Phoebe, who knew him so well. She figured both men's attitudes could be laid squarely at their parents' dead feet.
"No more thinking or talking about the kiss," Phoebe said now in a brisk voice.
"Good. Yes. Right."
Okay, it really was endearing to see him like this, but it also tugged at her compassion. "Go wait in the living area and I'll change so you can take me to get something to eat."
"I do not know if that is a good idea."
"You would prefer I missed dinner altogether?" She knew it was blatant manipulation, but sometimes a girl had to do what a girl had to do. "Or we could order something in?"
He vehemently shook his head. "No. I will..." He sucked in a deep breath and let it out. "I will take you out to eat."
"Thank you."
She didn't want him drawing into himself, or going off on a private Petronides guilt-fest.
Spiros kept his distance the rest of the night, but by the time he dropped her off at her apartment the self-disgust lurking in his eyes was gone and he even teased her about her study habits. Only he neglected to give her a kiss on the cheek goodbye.
She didn't lament it too much, though. Her memories of the earlier real kiss were far too strong for her to worry about one small lost opportunity. Frankly, it would have surprised her if he had done it. And she wasn't sure if she was prepared for any level of physical intimacy herself---even something as simple as a kiss goodbye.
The earlier kiss had done more than send her physical reactions haywire. It was still playing major havoc with her emotions and her thoughts. She had been so sure after so many years of unrequited love that Spiros could never have those sort of feelings for her. Now she knew irrefutably that he could.
It was hard to take, and even more difficult to trust...
\*
Phoebe returned to the present, renewed in her determination to speak to her father about dissolving the promise between her and Dimitri. The only question in her mind was: would it be better to wait until after she and her father had discussed her job with the company?
Phoebe looked up when she heard her name spoken.
"You can go in now," the secretary said.
Phoebe jumped to her feet and just barely remembered to keep her pace at a sedate walk as she crossed the reception area and knocked once before entering her father's inner sanctum.
Aristotle Leonides came around from behind his desk to take her in a hug and give her a kiss of greeting on both cheeks, which she returned affectionately.
"So, how is my beautiful, educated daughter today?" he asked, with obvious paternal pride.
She grinned. "I am well. Thank you for inviting me to your office."
His smile slipped and he nodded. "Yes. We need to talk, pethi mou."
She nodded too, and made an effort to simulate his serious air, despite the happiness bubbling inside of her.
"Here---have a seat." He guided her to a chair in front of his desk, and then went back around it to sit in his own executive chair.
She allowed herself a small smile. "I've always thought you looked like you ruled the world, sitting there."
Sadness came over his features. "I only wish. In fact, if you cannot see your way to helping out the company, I will soon not be in charge of anything at all."
She leaned forward earnestly in her seat. "You know I will do anything I can to help at Leonides Enterprises."
His shoulders seemed to relax just a little. "I only hope that is true."
"Of course it is, Papa. You have always been good to me, and the company is important to all of us."
"I am glad to hear it. I told Theo I thought that would be the case, but it is good to hear you confirm your love and loyalty. I am a blessed man to have such a daughter."
Tears pricked her eyes. Now was not the time for maudlin sentiment, but her father's words meant so much. Though he had been more supportive of her dreams than many Greek fathers of their acquaintances would have been, he was still very traditional in some ways. He reserved most of his verbal approval for her younger brother.
"Whatever job you want me to do, I will do it," she reaffirmed.
"While some women consider marriage a chore, I am not sure I have ever heard it referred to as a job before," he said, with a return of some of his humor.
"Marriage?" What was he talking about? "I don't think I understand."
Again Aristotle's demeanor became very serious, almost guarded. "This is not an easy thing for me to talk about. You understand?"
"Of course." Though she didn't. Not at all. She had no idea what he was referring to. But he needed her confirmation so she gave it.
"I have made some bad choices these past two years.. .they have affected the company in very detrimental ways."
She began to understand his somber air. It would be difficult for most people to admit these kinds of mistakes, but even worse for a man as proud as her father. "I'm sorry."
"Yes, I am also. Your grandfather---he wasn't one for insurance. It was one of the few things he and Tio Theo used to fight about." Aristotle let out a tired sigh. "It was an area I followed your grandfather's example in. We've had setbacks---severe ones. This past year especially. And no insurance to cover the losses."
"What does this mean for the company?"
"Without the infusion of a significant source of capital, there will no longer be a company."
"How significant?"
He said a number that made her eyes widen and her hands go clammy. "How can we possibly raise that much money? Unless you want to go public?" It was something she'd talked about with him before, but he had always been adamantly opposed.
His expression of distaste now said that his opinion on that issue had not changed. "Going public saves the company, but not our family's role in it. We might as well close our doors, for we would no longer be Leonides Enterprises."
"I'm sure the hundreds of employees who work for us would not feel the same."
Her father's eyes flashed. "I do not dismiss my responsibilities so lightly."
"I never said you did." And she hadn't meant to imply it either.
"My desire to save your brother's birthright may be old-fashioned, but it is not wrong."
"What of my birthright?"
"You are a Leonides. It is your birthright."
"I'm glad you think so."
"We are talking in circles."
"I am sorry."
"As I said, we need a large infusion of cash."
"But how are we going to get it?" She could not see even Theo Petronides loaning such a large sum to her father with no surety, and other than the company--- which they were trying to save---they had nothing worth so much.
Her parents were wealthy, and lived as such, but this was beyond personal riches. This type of money only changed hands on a corporate level. At least in her experience.
"Theo Petronides has agreed to a merger of sorts."
"A merger? Like Leonides-Petronides Enterprises?"
"In a manner of speaking."
"I don't understand."
"It is a. family merger." Her father tried for a smile, but it was strained. "Of a sort. With a single stipulation."
A very ugly sense of impending doom came over her. "What stipulation?"
"It is nothing bad, pethi mou. He simply wishes to see our families joined prior to the business merger and the transfer of funds. Understandably, he could not make such a large single investment with a mere friend, but family is a different thing." I
"Our families joined!" she asked faintly. "In marriage?" She wasn't stupid. She'd finally figured out where this was leading. "I should have realized you weren't inviting me here to offer me a job. After : all, it's Chrysanthos's birthright, not mine." I
His mouth twisted in a grimace at her last words, ' but all he said was, "I wish it was something so simple."
"I don't want to marry Dimitri." It was one of the hardest---no, definitely the hardest thing she had ever had to say.
"He will be a good husband, Phoebe. He is a good man."
"How can you say that? He doesn't love me. He ; doesn't even like me." I
"Of course he likes you, child. And love can come later."
"You loved Mama when you married her." I
"We were lucky. But I would have married her even ' if I had not."
"That is so easy to say, but you were never put in this position."
"It is not a bad situation for you."
"According to you."
"Yes. According to me." He said it as if his word should be final.
But this was not the Middle Ages. "I am not you."
"No, you are my daughter. My loyal daughter. Your love for our family and our company is too great for you to put your own personal feelings ahead of everything else."
He was right, but that didn't mean she was going to marry Dimitri. "There has to be another way that does not involve selling your daughter to the highest bidder." She knew it was more complicated than that---that she had made a promise four years ago she should never have made. But still.
"I am not selling you," her father said in freezing tones.
"What would you call it?"
"Ensuring your future."
"You mean your future and that of your heir" But, again, it was far more complicated than her bitter words allowed. There were generations and multiple decades of family pride in the business at risk, her mother's lifestyle, as well as her father and younger brother---and those hundreds of employees she had mentioned earlier.
"I will not dignify that comment with a response."
That did not surprise her, and in a small way she felt she deserved such a reaction. But in another way.. .not.
"What about Spiros? Couldn't I marry him instead?" she asked a little desperately.
"He is like a brother to you," he said, repeating the sentiment he had expressed four years ago.
"He is not my brother. We're not related even distantly. We've never lived together in the same house. We aren't siblings. We're friends and I would rather marry him."
Her father looked singularly unimpressed with her words. He really did see her and Spiros as almost siblings, but they weren't. "You agreed to the promise four years ago, Phoebe. You agreed to join our two families through marriage to Dimitri. It is time to make good on that promise."
"I was too young to be making such a commitment, and you should have known that." Heck, as much as she loved him, her father had no doubt taken advantage of that fact.
"Nevertheless, you did make it. And, lest you forget, your mother was only two years older than that when she married me."
"Two years can make a big difference. I knew by the time I'd turned twenty that I'd made a mistake agreeing to the proposed future marriage with Dimitri as well."
"Yet you never said anything."
"Neither did you.. .about me following through on it."
"We were waiting for you to finish your education."
"Why bother? You clearly had no intention of me ever using it." I
"Do not take that tone with me." He stood up and paced over to the window, looking out. Unlike his usual almost military-like bearing, his shoulders were I stooped, and an air of defeat clung to him. "This situation is difficult enough for me as it is, without having my daughter turn on me."
"I'm not turning on you."
He turned to face her, his complexion pale, his eyes pleading in a way she knew he never would with words. "So you agree to keep your promise?"
She wanted to agree. She did. And if that kiss had never happened she knew she would be agreeing right now. But she had one final chance at her heart's dream and she had to take it. "I want to talk to Spiros."
"You are always welcome to talk to him. He is your friend and your champion. But it is Dimitri you must work to love, Phoebe."
"What if I can't?"
"You must."
She did not quite have the courage to tell her father of her love for Spiros. Like the man she loved, Aristotle was bound to see it as a betrayal of her honor. But it wasn't. No one should have pushed her into the promise of future marriage to Dimitri to begin with.
Her intended could care less about her. He couldn't possibly want to marry her. Dimitri was not the right man for her. And she was not the right woman for him. Her loving his brother was not a bad thing.
She stood up, knowing that she needed to speak to Spiros as soon as possible. He would help her sort through this mess. He had to. She crossed the office in record time.
"Phoebe?" her father said as she reached the door.
She didn't turn around, but placed her hand on the knob. "What?"
"The money will not come from Theo...it will come from Dimitri."
She spun to face her father. "From Dimitri? But I thought you said it would come from Tio Theo."
"It is better this way."
"For who?" Did Spiros even have that kind of money? Would his brother loan it to him?
Even more troubling---if it was already arranged, then had Dimitri agreed to the marriage? And, if so, why?
Maybe Spiros wasn't the only one she needed to talk to.
"I need to go," she said, her sense of desperation almost choking her as it grew.
"What are you going to do?" her father asked, his own desperation in no way hidden from her.
She didn't answer. She couldn't because she wasn't sure. She wanted to be---oh, how she wanted to say she was going to marry Spiros and everything would be fine. But she couldn't say the words with absolute conviction.
If his brother insisted on making good on her four-year-old promise, Phoebe very much feared that Spiros's sense of familial obligation would not allow him to gainsay that.
Her throat clogged with tears, she wondered how her bright and shiny future had come so quickly under clouds of such doom.
"Phoebe... ?" her father prompted.
But she merely shook her head and, saying nothing, left her father's presence for the first time without giving him the courtesy of a goodbye.
SPIROS pressed the disconnect button on the intercom with his secretary. He'd asked her to tell Phoebe he was on a conference call. Phoebe had said she would wait for him to finish.
And why not?
When had she ever shown up at his office, at his home, even when he had been at university, and he had not made time for her? The answer was never. So it should be no surprise she assumed he would do so now.
The only problem was that for the first time in their lifelong friendship the last person he wanted to talk to was Phoebe Leonides. He should have been prepared for this visit. He had certainly expected it...only sooner. She'd been back in Greece for five days. Before his spectacular act of stupidity, that would have been four days longer than it usually took her to call him and arrange to see him.
And he had never minded before. Phoebe had always been one of the best parts of his life. But now she was the worst. Because she represented his loss of honor, his betrayal of his brother---something he had never believed himself capable of.
Even worse, he feared she could represent a similar loss again. He had to be stronger than that for both his brother's sake and that of his grandfather's health. The old man was putting off surgery until the engagement was announced formally. Dimitri's agreement wasn't enough.
Stubborn old goat was right.
The most painful realization for Spiros was that he wasn't entirely sure he could be as strong as he needed to.
He'd asked...begged...Phoebe to forget the kiss. But he never would. He never could. He would never forget her taste, or the passion that lay secreted in her untried body.
He should never have tasted that passion before his brother. He should never have tasted it at all.
He was not like his mother. He was not morally weak. He did not let his libido dictate his actions, nor did he convince himself he was in love with everybody he wanted to sample.
He was not like his father either---willing to compromise his own personal sense of integrity for the love of a woman.
Timothy Petronides had lost his life for the sake of an obsessive love. Spiros was determined never to succumb to anything of the like. The affection he had for Phoebe had never fallen into that realm. It had always brought out the best in him, made him strive to be a better boy and then a better man. Until now.
This hiding from her was only another indication of a moral weakness he refused to harbor within himself.
He straightened his shoulders, buzzed his secretary, and told her to show Phoebe in.
A few seconds later the door slammed open, revealing a distraught-looking Phoebe sans his secretary. [
"Where is Ismeme?"
For a second Phoebe looked confused by the question. Then she shrugged her fine-boned shoulders. "I showed myself in. I knew the way."
He waited for Phoebe to tell him why she was there. , His hands curled into fists as his body tensed with conflicting emotions. j
She stared at him, her dark brown eyes worried. "Is | everything all right, Spiros?" j
"Yes, of course. By your dramatic entrance, I would say that you appear to be the one with the problem." :
"Yes, I do.. .1 am. I just... This isn't like you." I
"What, exactly?" As if he did not know. I
She started to speak. Stopped. Then started again. ' "You know me so well." She paused and started pacing, wringing her hands as she walked a path to his window and back again. "Better than anyone else, I think. Even my parents."
"That is possible." Before the kiss he would have assured her that, yes, she was right, but he had to distance himself from her, taper off the level of their intimate friendship. ;
He owed it to Dimitri. He owed it to his grandfather, | the one constant in his life. He owed it to his own honor. \*
She stopped pacing and stared at him again.
"There you go.. .doing it again."
"Perhaps you should get to the point of your visit?" he said, not asking again what "it" was. Safety lay in maintaining surface ignorance.
"No...not if you're upset about something." She looked around, obviously distracted, her expression so troubled he was tempted to pull her into his arms for comfort. But he was smart enough to withstand the urge. She seemed to notice the still open door and moved to close it. Then she turned to face him again. "Maybe we're worried about the same things."
"Perhaps we are." She was trustworthy and very loyal. She wouldn't want to betray Dimitri or their two families any more than he did.
"I.. .it's just.. .usually when I'm upset you know."
"Yes."
"But then I guess you did notice. So that's normal. Only this isn't." She frowned at him.
Again he refrained from asking what "this" was. He knew. She knew. The way he was holding himself back from asking what was wrong. The way he was holding himself back, period. He could not fix it. To do so would be to invite further intimacy---intimacy they could no longer afford.
She chewed on her bottom lip for a count of four seconds. Yes, he kept track. That lip tasted like ambrosia, and he had to force himself to stay on his side of the desk.
"You know usually.. .I mean every other time. When I come to you upset, you notice. Then---well, then...you ask me what is wrong and what you can do to fix it. I mean, that's just what you do. Every time. But you're not doing it now. And I need you to do that now, more than ever." The last came out as an agonized whisper.
Again he had to force himself to refrain from going to her. It was not easy. In fact it was almost impossible. Which further underlined the unacceptable intensity of their friendship.
Looking back over the history of that friendship, he realized she spoke the truth. But only now did he see how dangerous that kind of behavior was. It had led to expectations she should have of Dimitri, not Spiros.
"I hope that I am always here for you, Phoebe, but you are an adult. You must handle your own problems." The words were harsh, and it hurt to say them, but they had to be spoken for both their sakes. He did not bring up Dimitri because for some reason he could not make himself do so.
"I am an adult?"
"I just said that."
"You think there is something wrong with me coming to you for help?" she asked, sounding and looking hurt.
He manfully ignored the pain in her voice and her gaze and gave a small sigh. "Not wrong, precisely, simply not appropriate."
"Why would it be inappropriate for me to come to the man I---to my best friend for help?"
"As I said, you are an---"
"Adult," she said, interrupting. "Yes, I heard that part. But even adults sometimes need help."
"So what exactly do you need help with?"
"I wish I knew why you are acting so weird," she said, instead of answering, her eyes suspiciously moist.
Do not cry, he silently begged her. This was difficult enough.
"I'm sorry you think my behavior is abnormal, but I assure you everything is fine." Or as fine as it could be with him lusting after his brother's intended fiancée.
"Okay. If you say so. I guess that's good. I.. .um..."
Again he waited without comment.
Finally she continued. "My father. He invited me to his office to talk. I thought he was going to offer me a job."
"He did not?" Spiros asked, genuinely surprised and more than a little relieved that she had come about something so mundane.
Not about the kiss. Not about emotions and desires that had no place in their lives.
He could fix this easily. He would talk to Dimitri about offering her a job.
"No," Phoebe replied. "He said he had something more important to discuss." Phoebe's eyes glistened with unmistakable tears now. "He's broke, Spiros.. .on the verge of losing the company."
He had not realized things had got so bad. His grandfather had said nothing. But then since the night his grandfather had extracted that promise from Dimitri to set a wedding date, Spiros had been avoiding them both. "Your father is a strong businessman. I am sure something can be done."
"He won't take the company public."
"Naturally not."
Phoebe made a rude sound that implied she did not agree with his or her father's views on that particular topic. "There is only one other way to raise the sort of funds he needs to save it."
"As I said, he is a smart man. I am not surprised he has already discovered a way out."
Phoebe shook her head, her obvious distress once again nearly breaking his determination not to touch her.
"What has you so upset?" he asked instead, unable to help himself.
"It's the way he's seen fit to fix the problem." She took a deep breath that came back out in a short sob. "He wants to sell me."
"What?" Spiros yelled.
"To your brother. I...I can't do it, Spiros. Not after our kiss."
Spiros's agile brain whirled with the implications of what Phoebe was saying. Apparently her marriage to Dimitri played some role in saving Leonides Enterprises. And she had a problem with that because of their kiss. He could not allow that to remain an issue.
It was all so damn complicated. But he had to do the right thing. And there was only one right thing here, wasn't there?
"Of course you can marry Dimitri. I told you to forget the kiss."
"I can't."
"You must try."
"Have you?" she challenged. "Forgotten, I mean?"
And for the first time in their relationship he lied to her. "Yes."
Her eyes widened, as if she had not expected that answer.
"I kiss a lot of women, Phoebe." That at least was the truth.
"But I thought... I mean.. .why can't I marry you?" she asked, all in a rush.
Spiros felt like she'd knocked the air out of him. "You are promised to my brother."
"But you're the one I kissed."
"As I said, I've kissed many women, but I have never ended up married to one of them."
"But..."
"But what? Phoebe, it was a moment of weakness on both our parts. You should not let guilt drive you into doing something rash."
"It's not guilt."
"What else could it be?" he asked. But he had no intention of giving her a chance to answer. He couldn't afford to. If she said the words, they were both in trouble. "Love? I don't think so. You're as close to being my little sister as it is possible to get without sharing a blood relationship."
That was also true.. .just not the whole truth. He felt nothing like her brother. Though he did feel like her friend. Her best friend. And, as such, it was his job to do what was best for her.. .what was best for all of them.
"So the way you kissed me---it meant nothing?"
"It was pleasant." Another damn lie. It had been world-shattering for him.
Were these lies necessary? Was any of this necessary? Then he remembered the ashen tone of his grandfather's skin due to his heart condition. Spiros reflected on Dimitri's determination to marry Phoebe. In this situation he---Spiros---had no rights. He had to remember that as well.
But it was so hard.
"Pleasant? Our souls connected. You had to have felt it."
Now, that was not something he was willing to admit---even to himself. "You are an innocent.. .your reaction overwhelmed you. You must trust me when I say it was simply a kiss. As I have said, I have kissed many women and never proposed to one."
"Dimitri has never proposed to me either," she said, as if that were some insurmountable obstacle.
"I am sure he will get around to it, but until then Grandfather has acted in his stead." He assumed that was what had happened. It was perhaps a bit old-fashioned, but certainly not beyond the realm of permissible.
Awfully cold, though. He would have to speak to his brother at the earliest opportunity. And if the thought of advising Dimitri on how best to treat Phoebe made the bile rise in Spiros' stomach, that was his own problem.
"That is positively draconian."
"Hardly."
"Dimitri does not care about me."
"He is willing to marry you, of course he cares."
"He's never kissed me, never looked out for me. You always have, and your kiss.. .it was more than you are willing to admit. You can deny it all you want, but I remember what you were like, and you did not kiss me like a brother!"
"It was a one-off thing. It will never happen again and, since you will be marrying my brother, I would appreciate it very much if you never mentioned it either." Even as he spoke the words he wondered if he was right to do so.
Phoebe deserved better than what Dimitri had given her so far. Perhaps Spiros should speak to both his older brother and his grandfather... But if he did that, would it precipitate the heart attack they all feared? What mattered more here---his grandfather's health and family honor or Phoebe's feelings?
It felt like a betrayal of the worst sort against his lifelong belief in himself and his sense of right and wrong when he could not decide.
She stared at him, her mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out, her eyes dulling with a pain he could not stand to see.
His resolve broke in the face of it. He started to move around the desk, but she was backing up toward the door.
"You really want me to marry Dimitri, don't you?"
He couldn't answer. Too many thoughts and feelings roiled inside him, reminding him of the days of emotional chaos when his parents were still alive. That chaos paralyzed him.
"I guess my personal happiness doesn't matter to anyone else but me," she whispered, as she opened the door and backed out of it. I Spiros stood there, stunned, unable to process the words she had just spoken. When had he ever not cared about her happiness?
Was she saying that she would be miserable married to Dimitri? Of course she was. Hadn't she implied as much before? But she wouldn't. His brother would treat her well. Dimitri was a good man. But he wasn't Spiros, that annoying voice whispered.
No, damn it. He wasn't. And she was scared. Spiros should have recognized that. She was hurting and frightened, and he'd been so worried about his responsibility to his family he'd dismissed what she needed from him.
He had not been there for her like he usually was. Out of his own fear. Because of his inadequacy. He needed to go after her, to talk, to make her see that it was all going to be all right.
He ran out of his office and headed for the elevators, hoping she hadn't made it onto one yet, but she was nowhere to be seen when he got there.
He noted from the light that the elevator was already halfway to the ground floor. He hit the wall and then stabbed the button.
Phoebe held control by a thin thread that threatened to snap with every breath she took.
The kiss had meant nothing to Spiros. An act that she had believed had changed her life and opened the possibilities to her most deeply held dream had been nothing more than one in a long line of similar moments for him. Considering how it had ended--- with her blacking out from the pleasure and him getting nothing more out of it---he probably didn't even have fond memories. No wonder he wanted to forget it.
She wished she could.
The pain was so intense she felt like she could not breathe. Nothing was as she'd believed it to be when she'd come back to Greece.
Her father did not want her working with him. He saw her as little more than a commodity to barter for the livelihood of the family company. A company he intended to leave to her brother. It was Chrysanthos's birthright.. .not hers.
But her father's betrayal was nothing compared to how much it hurt to realize the truth about Spiros. She'd been weaving daydreams around that kiss until she'd been almost sick with happiness. Now her heart bled from a million pricks made by the leftover shards of those dreams.
The elevator door opened and she rushed outside, running to her car as if being chased by demons. And in a way she was. Personal demons she knew from experience she could never outdistance, but that didn't mean she had to let everyone see her cry.
She made it to her little car and got inside, started it and pressed on the accelerator, yanking the wheel and forcing the car into traffic amidst the cacophony of honks and rude words shouted at her. She didn't care. She came within inches of smashing into another car and told herself she didn't care about that either. But even in her current state she could not stand to be the cause of someone else's trauma.
She pulled into a parking garage, following the narrow lane to the very top floor. She guided her car into a spot far from the few other cars that had come to this level to find parking. With a vicious twist of her wrist she turned off her car, then leaned forward on the steering wheel and wept.
Spiros did not love her. Not like she needed him to. How could she have been so stupid as to believe otherwise? He was not even attracted to her. Not really. He saw her as a little sister. Nothing more. He wanted her to marry Dimitri.
Everyone wanted her to marry Dimitri.. .everyone except her.
But what difference did it make? Spiros was never going to fall in love with her and she was never going to love anyone else. Dimitri might be a good man, but he was also a man who kept a mistress. If he married another woman he might hurt her with his infidelity. Phoebe didn't care, though. Him keeping a lover wouldn't hurt her. It simply did not matter. Nothing mattered. Why should it?
She saw that all her fantasies about the future had been without substance.. .a mist easily dispelled when exposed to the burning light of reality. Impossible. All of them. But maybe she could save another woman from having her dreams shattered.
Certainly agreeing to marry Dimitri would preserve Phoebe's father's hopes for the future. It would ensure her little brother his birthright. It would maintain her mother's standard of living---Basila's sense of her place in the world.
Phoebe could not stand to see her father broken, as he would be if he lost the company. Nor could she allow her mother to be shamed, as she would be if that were to happen.
She knew what she had to do. She had to be the adult Spiros had reminded her she was. But she let herself grieve the loss of her own dreams, crying until she was empty of emotion and numb to the pain.
Then she drove home, sneaking in the back way so no one would see her with puffy eyes and streaks of mascara down her cheeks.
That evening she told her father that she would marry Dimitri.
He thanked her and told her he'd known she would not let the family down, that it was for the best. She did not disagree, but she remained stiff when he embraced her.
It was not anger that kept her so, but apathy.
He announced the upcoming wedding to her mother and Chrysanthos over dinner. Her brother made a joke about getting married right out of university. A few hours ago it would have stung. Thankfully, now she was too numb to be affected.
Basila immediately began making wedding plans, asking Phoebe her opinion on this, that and the other. Only Phoebe didn't have an opinion. She simply didn't care. She agreed to anything her mother wanted, smiling when her mother wanted her to smile and assuring Basila that she could have free rein with the preparations.
"You young women today---you have no sense of romance," Basila lamented.
Phoebe just shrugged, studiously avoiding the odd looks her father kept sending her. She didn't see anything remotely romantic about an arranged marriage, but maybe that was just her.
She liked the numbness, though. It was better than pain and disappointment.
It even made it easy for her to answer Spiros's many messages, left on her voicemail while she had been purging her emotions through tears earlier.
"Phoebe! Are you all right?" Spiros asked.
"Yes, of course."
He was silent for a second. "Byba...we need to talk."
"No, we don't."
"I should have asked what was bothering you... I should not have remained so aloof in my office."
"It does not matter."
"Of course it matters."
"As you said, my problems are not your responsibility. I'm a grown woman and it's time to put my childish thoughts behind me." She had a duty to her family and she would fulfill it.
"Uh...Phoebe...?"
"I don't need a shoulder to cry on." And if she did she would never again go to him. He was off-limits. She wanted to remain numb, but more than that she wanted to stop loving him, and their friendship had only fed her feelings. It was time to starve them. "I told my father tonight that I would keep my promise to marry Dimitri."
"You did?"
"Yes."
"You will be my brother for real." For a moment the numbness was pierced, and agony made her almost bend double, but she forced herself to straighten and pushed the pain away to that place deep inside where it could not make her cry anymore.
"Phoebe? Are you okay?" He sounded like he really cared.
"My mother is already making wedding plans," she said, rather than answer that question again.
It didn't really matter what she said, did it? Her father had asked her the same thing after dinner. But if she said no would it make any difference? She knew it wouldn't. Both her father and Spiros would simply feel compelled to convince her what a good man she was getting in Dimitri. Why it was "best for her" to go through with the wedding. And really? She didn't want to hear it.
"Is she?" Spiros asked, his voice tinged with something odd she made no effort to decipher.
"Yes."
Another short silence. "You should probably expect Grandfather to put his oar in as well."
"He and Mama will have to battle it out."
"Not you too?"
"No."
"Why not? Don't you care what your wedding is like?"
"No." It wasn't her wedding. It was a business merger..^ wedding others wanted...and she was going along with it, but it wasn't hers. It could not be hers and have the groom be the eldest Petronides brother.
"Phoebe---"
"I need to go. Mother has more plans she wants to go over." She was sure that was true, but was even more certain she had to get off the phone. Talking to Spiros was too detrimental to the sense of detachment she needed so badly to get her through the next few weeks.
She did not think her father or Theopolis Petronides would want a long engagement.
"I'll talk to you later." Funny.. .he sounded as numb as she did.
It must be a trick of her hearing. "Goodbye, Spiros."
He didn't know it, but she was saying farewell to a lot more than a simple phone call. She clicked the phone shut before he had a chance to answer or say anything else. It was time to start her campaign to rid herself of a love that had caused her far too much pain and brought not nearly enough pleasure.
SPIROS left Phoebe yet another voicemail and then clicked his phone shut. For the past two weeks she had either ignored his calls or kept their dialogues short. She responded to one out of three e-mails with pithy notes that did not encourage further correspondence. Apparently she had decided to cool their friendship.
He should be glad. With the attraction he felt toward her, it was no doubt for the best for them both. But he missed her. More than he'd thought possible. And every day that drew them closer to her marriage to Dimitri, Spiros hurt more.
He couldn't stand talking to or about Dimitri, he was so envious of what his brother had. Phoebe. So he avoided his family as assiduously as Phoebe avoided him.
He was worried about her.
She refused to discuss anything personal. He'd tried, wanting to somehow fix everything going wrong with and around them. But she'd refused. The one time, in desperation, that he'd brought up the kiss, she'd hung up on him and ignored any attempt to communicate for three days after. She was missing the spark that was so much a part of who she was and he didn't know how to bring it back.
When he asked how the engagement plans were going, she told him they were fine as far as she knew. As if her marriage to his older brother had nothing to do with her. He couldn't be nearly as sanguine.
Phoebe might say she was fine with the merging of their two families, but she obviously wasn't. And there was nothing he could do about it. She shut him down when he tried to talk to her, refusing to acknowledge anything was wrong, and had managed to imply that her emotional state was none of his business.
He knew it was his own fault, but that didn't make it hurt any less. For the first time since she was a year old he felt disconnected from her. He had never realized before how much he relied on their relationship, how much it meant to him. It all left him feeling helpless.
Something he had vowed to himself would not happen again after the death of his parents. He had been helpless in the face of his mother's behavior, which had torn at the moorings of his family. Then death had snatched away the two most important people in the world to him.
Since then he had not wanted to give anyone the power to hurt him. He had maintained a certain emotional distance, even from his older brother and grandfather. But Phoebe had climbed the walls around his heart as surely as she had climbed his body like a jungle gym when he was a boy and she just a toddling baby girl. No matter how much distance she thought they needed, this was too much.
The prospect of her hurting and him having no way to fix it made him cranky as hell. His secretary hid from him, and the managers under his authority walked a wary path around him right now.
He was not used to getting this sort of treatment. Of the two of them, he had always been more personable and approachable than his brother. But he'd overheard one of his employees saying she would happily transfer to Dimitri's division just yesterday.
Spiros sighed. Now, that was as good an indication as any that he was on the slippery slope to the most overbearing of Petronides male behavior.
And damned if he could do anything about that, either.
Phoebe read the announcement of her upcoming marriage to Dimitri in the society section of the paper. Everything about it was in order...was exactly as it should be, in fact. The only abnormality in the situation would not show up on the printed page. Though readers might find it odd that two individual pictures of the parties involved had been included rather than a joint one. Since she had yet to see Dimitri since agreeing to go forward with the marriage, that small anomaly could not be avoided.
It was strange to her how the people around her acted like this should be a huge celebration, as if her and Dimitri's marriage was the romance of the century. When in fact it couldn't be further from that. Her mother and Theopolis Petronides were planning a wedding fit for royalty in one of the largest Greek Orthodox cathedrals in Athens. And though it felt like such a farce to her, she simply didn't care.
It was not her fault that a ceremony that should be sacred was going to be conducted for the sake of business.
It wasn't the first time such a thing would happen and it would not be the last. She would play her part, but she would not pretend to the role of blushing bride when she was simply a form of barter---surety on a loan, the connection of two old and powerful business families.
Her plan to starve the love from her heart was in
full swing.
She'd done a pretty good job of avoiding Spiros, keeping busy working with her father. His request that she work on the recovery package for Leonides Enterprises was no doubt an attempt to make up to her for selling her into marriage in order to save the company. But she found the work challenging, and felt a measure of gratitude for having it to keep her
occupied.
Not only did it make a good excuse to avoid Spiros, but she had immersed herself so completely in spreadsheets, industry research, meetings and the like that she had managed to duck out of almost all of the wedding plans. She'd also spent minimal time with her family in the past two weeks, eating only one dinner at home and leaving for the office before even her father did so.
Papa had chastised her once for neglecting her family. She had apologized, and then continued on as she had been doing. Her mother had tried to get her involved in the wedding plans, but Phoebe refused to engage. Though she was very careful not to hurt her mother's feelings, she refused to pretend like everyone else that this was her chance at happiness.
Her life was forfeit for the well-being of her family, and while she did not begrudge them that--- she loved them, after all---she would not buy into a fantasy that had no basis in reality. She had done that with Spiros, and would never again set herself up for the kind of disappointment she had experienced upon her return to Greece.
Phoebe walked into the very exclusive and equally elegant restaurant. She had come directly from the office, taking a few minutes to freshen up before leaving the Leonides company headquarters.
Her father and mother were at the table already. Her mother was beaming; her father wore the stoic expression he had begun to adopt the last week or so. He was under a tremendous amount of pressure---more than she could have envisioned, having only academic experience in business. But she understood what had gone wrong, and how a couple of poor decisions could lead to the decline of an otherwise solid company if those decisions were big enough. Papa's had been.
He carried the weight not only of bringing the company back, but of knowing he was directly responsible for the place it had gotten to. She did not envy him.
Her brother was here as well, and he smiled with a typical teen look of borderline cynicism when he saw her. She smiled back, glad that he seemed unaffected by the stress pressing down on her and Papa.
Her gaze scanned the others at the table, her smile sliding from her face. Spiros was there. Images and remembered passion swirled through Phoebe's mind and body and she fought to tamp them down. How could the wall she'd fought so hard to build around her memories crumble so easily?
He chose that moment to look up, his eyes catching hers. He was trying to convey something with his, but she refused to attempt to decipher what it was. She simply nodded in greeting, then went to say hello to her family, giving each one the traditional kisses on cheeks. Her brother, characteristic of his age, was less than enthusiastic in his teenage affection for an older sister.
Just to torment him a little, she chose to sit beside him, so he wouldn't be able to avoid all the hoopla dinner was destined to be.
"I do not rate a real hello?" Spiros asked from a couple of seats away on the round table.
"Good evening, Spiros."
His eyes narrowed, letting her know he was aware she knew exactly what he'd meant by a hello, and it had not been the word. But she wasn't doing physical affection with this man. Just seeing him was putting her hard-won composure at risk. She was not putting it to further detriment.
"Have you heard from Dimitri?" Spiros asked. "He and Grandfather were coming together."
"I haven't spoken to Dimitri in nearly a year. I would not expect him to call me and explain his tardiness to his engagement dinner."
Spiros looked shocked. "You have not seen him since... since...?"
"Since the last time our visits to our home country coincided."
"But that was last year!"
"Yes." And she was perfectly aware that Dimitri had been in Greece for the past few days, but he'd made no effort to contact her.
Spiros looked furious. She couldn't imagine why. Her relationship with his brother was nothing to him.
Her mother patted Phoebe's hand. "I am sure he will make up for his inattentiveness now that the engagement has been announced."
Phoebe smoothed her napkin in her lap. "It does not matter."
Spiros muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Like hell it doesn't." Then he frowned at her. "You have been very busy these past weeks."
There was no mistaking the censure in his tone.
She shrugged. "I have been working."
"With your father?" he asked, looking genuinely interested.
"Yes. I'm sure I told you that." She had mentioned her temporary position at Leonides Enterprises during one of their few phone calls. Hadn't she?
"So he offered you a job after all?"
"Of sorts," she said noncommittally.
Clearly if she moved to Paris to live with Dimitri she could not continue to work at Leonides Enterprises. They did not have an office in the City of Lovers. Her mouth twisted at the thought of that name for her future home. She was not even sure she would be sharing Dimitri's bed. It was something they would have to
discuss.
She might very well be the first married Greek woman to die a virgin, but she had no intention of allowing Dimitri access to her body if he kept a mistress. She also did not intend to tell him to get rid of the other woman. Every time she thought of having sex with the ice man, bile rose in her throat. So she avoided thinking of that aspect of her upcoming nuptials as much as possible.
Spiros looked bothered about something. Phoebe reminded herself that, whatever it was, it was of no concern to her. She was marrying his brother.
For the first time in two weeks the numbness of her soul was pierced, and the mental reminder of her future caused unwelcome agony deep in her soul. She looked away from Spiros and toward her brother, intending to ask about how school was going, but she couldn't make the innocuous question come out.
Not while she was screaming inside. How was she supposed to marry Dimitri when she loved Spiros? How could she spend family holidays with him while intimately tied to his brother? Even if it was in name
only?
Before the kiss Phoebe might have been able to do it, but now she felt like she would shatter at the mere thought.
She would simply have to avoid family events in future. Dimitri would have to understand. If he didn't---too bad. She wasn't putting herself through that kind of hell on a regular basis. And maybe as time went on it would get easier. It had to.
Unreturned love could not live forever.
She forced her mouth to form words, asking her brother the question she'd meant to, only to receive a very teenage roll of the eyes. "We aren't in school right now, sis."
"Oh. I guess I'm out of the loop, huh?"
"Only a little," he said, with humor-filled sarcasm. "Don't sweat it. Mama says you are working like a slave at the company."
"Not a slave.. .but a lot of hours, yes."
"Will Papa expect the same of me right out of school?" Chrysanthos looked disturbed at the prospect. "I'm the son, and it'll be worse, won't it?"
"There are some things going on right now--- hopefully nothing like it will be happening when you finish school."
"You think so? I really wanted to do some traveling before buckling down to my destiny, you know?"
She smiled. "I understand. You could always attend college overseas, like I did." He was due to start university the following year.
"You don't think Papa would be disappointed if I don't attend his alma mater?"
"I think you have to do some things for yourself. You never know when that opportunity will no longer be open to you."
"Like you, you mean?" he asked shrewdly. Her heart stuttered. "What do you mean?" "You think I don't know what's going on, but I'm a teenager, not an idiot." He gave her the most serious look he ever had. "If you are doing it for me, don't." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek with spontaneous affection. "Don't worry about me, little brother. I'm a grown-up. I can take care of myself."
"Just so long as you aren't sacrificing yourself to take care of everyone else."
Her brother's concern when there had been nothing of the kind from her parents was almost enough to destroy her cool facade, but she took a deep breath and bucked up her resolve. "Thank you, but I will be fine." They had been speaking in whispers, and when she looked up she caught a speculative look on Spiro's features, the same stoic expression on her father's, and a slightly worried frown on her mother's.
Phoebe pasted a smile on her face. "Has anyone phoned Tio Theo to find out what the hold-up is?"
"I will call Dimitri," Spiros said, and got up from the table to make the call.
He returned moments later, looking pale and shaken.
"What is the matter?" she asked, before she could think better of it.
"It is Grandfather. He's had another heart attack." "Another?" Phoebe asked with dismay. She loved that old man like family. "I did not know he had one before."
Her father looked guiltily away, while Spiros merely shook his head as if trying to clear it. "You were studying...learning of it would only have distressed you. He would not have had another if he had agreed to have the bypass surgery when the doctor recommended it."
"But he didn't?" she asked in shock.
Anger flashed in Spiros's golden-brown eyes. "The stubborn old man refused until Dimitri promised to marry and give him grandchildren."
Thank goodness she was sitting down. Because if Phoebe had been standing her legs would not have held her up. Dimitri had had to be blackmailed into this marriage too? No wonder he had not contacted her. But how on earth did their families expect them to have any kind of happiness together when both the bride and groom were marrying against their will?
She turned to her father and asked in an angrier voice than she had ever used with him, "Have you and Tio Theo lost your minds? Did nothing but family legacies mean anything to you?"
Her father had the grace to look abashed, but it was far too little and far too late. Her own father was setting her up for the marriage from hell and he did not even care. The only thing that mattered to him was his precious company and his equally important---to him--- pride.
She said a word that had her mother gasping her name.
Spiros looked like he'd been thinking the same one. "I have to go to the hospital."
And, despite everything that had happened, she could not let him down in his time of need. "I'll come with you."
"We all will," her mother said. "After all, Phoebe is practically family."
"Mom! Sheesh!" Her brother's exasperated exclamation almost made Phoebe smile.
Almost.
After arranging transportation for everyone, Spiros led Phoebe to his car. No one said anything about her not riding to the hospital with her own family. Why would they? As far as anyone else was concerned Spiros and Phoebe were still the best of friends.
And honestly? She couldn't fathom leaving him to his own devices at a time like this.
Theopolis Petronides had raised his grandsons after the death of their parents and his own beloved wife. Neither Spiros nor Dimitri were outwardly demonstrative, but there was no doubt how devoted they were to that old man.
Spiros's tightly clenched jaw and white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel spoke eloquently of how worried he was.
"He's a strong man. He will be fine," Phoebe said into the tense silence of the car.
"I pray that is true." Spiros downshifted and ran a red light. "Stubborn old man," he said, as cars honked and Phoebe prayed for more than his grandfather's health.
She wanted to ask about the deal Theo had made with Dimitri. She wanted to know why Spiros had not told her the truth of it. She wanted to know so many things. But right now was not the time to ask.
For the first time since the meeting with her father, Phoebe spared some real sympathy for Dimitri. Both of them had been pawns in an older generation's dreams. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. And she still saw no way out for herself.
She was not naive enough to believe that an emergency operation on his grandfather would compel Dimitri to renege on a promise made under duress. If she knew Petronides males, he would be even more set on following through than beforehand.
It was their way.
Personal and family honor above all.
Dimitri was in the waiting room when she and Spiros walked in. He looked up and she gasped. He was gray with stress, his eyes haunted.
Spiros crossed the room and took his brother in a bear-hug.
"It's my fault," Dimitri said in tormented tones when Spiros stepped back.
"It is his own fault for not having the surgery when he was told he should."
"No...I upset him."
"You two argued? This is nothing new. Again, I say, if he had had the surgery---"
"I told him I would not marry Phoebe," Dimitri said, interrupting Spiros.
This time Phoebe's knees wobbled, and she fell back into one of the waiting chairs. Dimitri's words were so unexpected she desperately sought proof this was not some strange dream. The antiseptic air of the hospital provided it. Dreams didn't have smells, did they?
Dimitri's gaze connected with hers for the first time since she had arrived. "I am sorry, Phoebe."
She nodded, totally clueless about what to say. That it was okay? That she didn't mind? That she was relieved! She definitely was. But that made her feel guilty. How would her father save Leonides Enterprises now? And her relief was at the cost of Tio Theo's health.
"What do you mean, you told him you refused to marry Phoebe?" Spiros asked, fury sharply edging every word.
"Some things are more important than promises." Dimitri looked incredibly tired, but absolutely certain of that statement.
Then the story came out, and Phoebe listened in rapt fascination while Spiros glared like a bad-tempered guardian angel. Dimitri had a mistress, just as she had surmised. What she had not realized---and neither had he, apparently---was that he loved the other woman. Enough to break his vow to his grandfather and marry Xandra if she would have him. It was obvious that Dimitri felt deadly remorse for the way he had treated both Xandra and Phoebe.
Phoebe could not find it in her heart to blame him. She only wished they had talked before. Maybe together they could have come up with a solution.
Now everything was tangled in a Gordian knot she had no idea how to unravel.
Most disturbing, though, was the revelation that the other woman was pregnant and that she had disappeared without a trace. Dimitri had the best detective agencies in the world working on finding the French model, and so far nothing.
"You kept a mistress the entire time the understanding existed between our two families regarding your eventual marriage to Phoebe?" Spiros asked in a chilling voice.
Dimitri stood straighter, putting his shoulders back as if preparing to take whatever came his way. "Yes."
Spiros's fist connected with his brother's jaw in a resounding crack.
Phoebe yelped, and Dimitri crashed backward into the nondescript waiting room wall. He righted himself, but made no move to return his brother's gesture of anger.
SPIROS looked ready to take another swing at him, and that had Phoebe surging to her feet.
She grabbed his arm. "Stop it! That whole understanding was stupid, and apparently only Dimitri and I realized it."
Spiros glared down at her. "You didn't take lovers while you waited for my brother."
"I was not waiting for your brother---and, frankly, if I could have taken a lover and enjoyed it, I would have!"
Spiros looked like she had hit him. "You don't mean that."
"I don't know," she admitted. "And I don't care, either. Dimitri has a right to happiness, and none of you has the right to try to steal it from him. Not with emotional blackmail or guilt trips."
She was talking about herself too, but that didn't matter. Her chance at happiness had been a fleeting thing, and she wasn't going to spend the rest of her life lamenting her lot. Somehow she would help her father save the company, and one day she would get over Spiros.
But right now someone had to stop the two brothers from becoming enemies. And it looked like that someone was her.
"I am not trying to steal his happiness."
"Aren't you? Your brother has fallen in love with a woman who carries his child. She's disappeared because he let his duty to his family supersede his obligations to her. He's hurting. She's no doubt hurting." Everyone was hurting---was she the only one who saw that? "Dimitri needs your support, not your condemnation, and if you can't give it, you aren't the man I know you to be."
Dimitri's hand landed on her shoulder. "Thank you, Phoebe. I do not deserve your championship."
"Wrong." She turned and hugged him fiercely. "You did the right thing, telling your grandfather you could not marry me. I respect that choice and admire your courage. Never believe any different."
"I cannot believe this," Spiros muttered with disgust.
Phoebe turned to glare at him.
But he did not look repentant. "You do realize that you just hugged my brother for the first time in my memory? After you have both agreed that you will not marry."
"So?"
"So I should have seen how poorly suited the two of you are a long time ago." Spiros still looked disgusted, but maybe it was not merely with his brother. "We all should have."
"Yes, we should have," her father said from behind her.
The sound of his voice surprised Phoebe as much as the words. Not that they meant anything.
Two weeks ago those words would have given her joy, but they were nothing but empty syllables now. Her future had not changed from an hour ago. Except for the unknown identity of the man she would have to marry. The company still had to be saved.
Without acknowledging either man's comment, she returned to the seat she'd practically fallen into earlier. She looked at Dimitri. "How long do they anticipate the surgery taking?"
He answered---and from there the conversation moved away from their failed engagement. Spiros sat down beside her and she took his hand, holding it in silent comfort. He spared her a grateful glance filled with a mixture of other emotions she could not decipher.
Then he turned to engage his brother in a more detailed discussion of his grandfather's health. Her father asked questions, and was the first to congratulate Dimitri on his upcoming parenthood.
Her mother had gone home with Chrysanthos, which was why it had taken her father so much longer to reach the hospital than Phoebe and Spiros.
"I will have to tell your mother to stop the wedding preparations," Aristotle said when there was a lull in the conversation.
"I apologize for not knowing my own mind sooner," Dimitri said somewhat stiffly.
Her father shrugged. "It is the way of life," he said philosophically. But as the evening wore on it became obvious it was not only his old friend's health he was worried about.
The survival of Leonides Enterprises lay heavily on him. And on Phoebe too. As much as she hated being the sacrificial goat, she knew as well as her father that something had to be done. She'd felt responsible before, but now, after working so closely with her father on the recovery measures, the knowledge of how dire was the situation was even more acute for her.
Her family's livelihood and that of hundreds of employees hung in the balance.
Spiros swung back and forth between civility and borderline hostility with his brother. He had not forgiven the slight on family pride as easily as Phoebe had forgiven his behavior against her.
But she had no grudge to hold onto. Dimitri loved. And if Spiros had been willing to take his place she would have broken her promise without a second's hesitation. That their kiss had meant nothing to Spiros had nearly destroyed her, but she was honest enough to admit to herself that she would have let Spiros make love to her even when the promise to Dimitri had stood. If he had encouraged her she would have gladly given him anything.
But Spiros did not see that side of things. All he saw was how his brother had let him down...like his parents. Phoebe hurt for them both.
So much pain and no end in sight.. .not with Xandra missing, tormenting Dimitri with "what ifs". Not with Theo in surgery and at risk. Not with Spiros so set on family pride that he was blind to love himself. She was grateful that he was ignorant of her love, but she pitied Dimitri that Spiros was so blind to brotherly love right now, and to the deep feelings Dimitri had for his former mistress, how much they were tearing the older man apart.
Dimitri got up to check at the nurses' station for any news, and Aristotle went to stretch his legs in the hospital courtyard. Phoebe turned to Spiros in the waiting room, now empty but for them. "You need to give him a break."
"Who?" he asked, as if he didn't know.
She glared at him. "Dimitri needs you right now. This is hard enough for him without you going all judgmental. He doesn't need a family rejection as well."
"He should have thought of that before.. .before..."
"Before what? Giving in to love and sullying the Petronides name?" she asked with sarcasm.
"You think that is why I'm so angry?"
"Yes." Why else would he be so mad at his brother?
"If Dimitri had told the truth to begin with---both to himself and to his girlfriend---this whole mess could have been avoided." He looked away and then back at her, his gaze burning into hers. "You would have been saved a lot of pain."
"Me?"
"Yes, you. I know I messed up that one time in my office, but, damn it, Phoebe, where do you come off thinking I care nothing for your feelings?"
"You wanted me to marry Dimitri."
"Are you sure about that?"
"You told me you did. Don't lie to me now."
"Maybe I changed my mind."
And maybe the moon had fallen from the sky. She just gave him a look. "We can discuss this another time. We need to discuss your problem with your brother now---before there's an irreparable rift between you."
"He did dishonor our family name, Phoebe."
That was more what she'd expected, but somehow he'd said it with not nearly the conviction she'd thought he would. "Are you saying that your family name means more to you than your brother?"
"No, but the family name should mean something to him as well."
"It does, and he wants to give it to his child. How can that be wrong?"
"That is not wrong. It is very right. But it is the way he went about things up to this point that is so wrong."
"Like you have so far to talk."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"You've hardly been celibate this past four years."
"It is nothing the same. I had no promised fiancée."
"Only because you are younger than him. If you'd been the oldest you would have been the one in that ridiculous agreement."
"Had I been, I would have honored it."
"That is so easy to say, Mr. Casanova, when you didn't have to live like a monk for four years."
"Dimitri did not."
"No, and you of all men should understand why."
"Why me?"
"As you told me, Spiros, you have kissed many women---and done more with them---but you haven't married anyone yet. What does that say for your sanctimonious judgments?"
He stared at her in shock, as if he could not believe she would take him to task. "The women I took to my bed understood there was no commitment involved."
"That is so sad, Spiros.. .and I bet Dimitri thought Xandra understood the same thing."
"She got pregnant. What are the chances?" His tone was more tired than judgmental, though.
"I don't know, but I certainly consider it a blessed gift from God, and that you don't does not speak well of you in my eyes, old friend."
"I never said I didn't. You take a lot of things for granted, you know that? And you have not treated me like a friend these past two weeks." Hurt shadowed his beautiful eyes.
She steeled herself against it. "Ditto."
"I have called you many times. You only respond infrequently."
"You knew the truth about Dimitri being blackmailed into marriage to me." Her heart stung with humiliation. As if this situation was not detrimental enough to her pride---and her heart. "Yet you didn't tell me. That is not the action of a friend."
"I thought telling you would only cause you more pain."
"Do you think he and I could have built a marriage on that kind of foundation?" she asked in disbelief.
Spiros shook his head tiredly. "What does it matter what I think? You've refused to discuss anything of a personal nature with me since you ran from my office."
"You're the one who pulled away from me."
"I made a mistake."
"No. If I had ended up married to your brother that distance would have been necessary," she was compelled to admit.
"But intolerable."
She wanted to believe that. She really did. But right now trusting anything, even in his lifelong affection for her, was pretty hard. There had been too many disappointments, too many betrayals...too much pain lately.
She stood up. She was suffocating in emotion and she just wanted it to stop.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm going home," she said, making a snap decision. "My father can bring news."
"Don't leave, Phoebe."
She clenched her hands. "Why?"
"I need you now." His shoulders hunched. "You are my best friend."
She could not deny that need---was not sure she would ever be able to. "I need some caffeine. Do you want anything?"
He stood. "I'll go with you. We can bring drinks back for your father and Dimitri."
Okay, so that scuttled her plans of some time alone. But, true to her see-sawing emotions tonight, she didn't mind.
She slipped her hand in his again and squeezed. "All right."
The sound of her mother's voice laced with hysteria drew Phoebe away from her original course. She had intended to get something to eat now that she'd woken, She'd slept quite late after getting home in the wee hours of the morning. They had all waited until Theo's surgery had been pronounced a success and the doctors had assured the Petronides brothers that the old man was on the mend.
She walked into the drawing room and found her mother pacing back and forth, practically yelling into the phone. Tabloid and more reputable newspapers were strewn over the sofa as well as the coffee table. The thing they all had in common was that each one was graced with pictures of Dimitri with a woman Phoebe assumed must be Xandra.
Some pictures showed them sitting together at a cafe table. Some showed them in an obvious argument. Next to these images---and it appeared to be in every single paper---was a photo of Phoebe from her university yearbook.
She picked up one of the tabloids and started to read. The lurid headline had nothing on the baseness of the article itself. It implied everything from her being a duped innocent to being a participant in a sleazy ménage a trois. She picked up another paper and read its article. This one focused on Xandra's "supposed" pregnancy and her recent disappearance. Foul play was alluded to, and the reporter couldn't decide if Phoebe or Dimitri was the most likely culprit.
Several of the articles speculated about the monetary aspect of her merger with Dimitri, and some went so far as to suggest her father's company might not be as solvent as it appeared. Since it was not a publicly held company no one had been able to get any firm numbers to back up the theory, but that didn't stop them from guessing.
She had no doubt her father's pride was taking a severe beating today. Her mother was almost incoherent in her upset, but Phoebe couldn't tell if it was on her daughter's behalf or simply her own. Obviously the articles were embarrassing for everyone involved. Including poor Dimitri---and he was carrying a big enough burden of Petronides' guilt as it was.
She really pitied him. But judging from her mother's continued haranguing of her father things weren't going to be cherries and ice cream around here either.
"I can't believe you didn't warn me," her mother said in an aggrieved voice, several decibels down from when Phoebe had first entered the room. "You told me there wasn't going to be a wedding, but not about this. It is a disgrace."
Phoebe didn't stick around to hear more of the same. If the knowledge that his grandson was backing out of the marriage had sent Theopolis Petronides into heart failure, she couldn't imagine what these news stories were going to do. She needed to call Spiros.
\*
Spiros stared at the ringing phone, but could not make himself pick up. The caller I.D. said it was Phoebe's cell phone. He'd wanted to talk to her for the last two weeks, but not right now.
Right now he was trying to deal with his fury at his brother for making such a mess, and with his own out-of-control emotions. The news articles were bringing back so many bad memories.
The Petronides name had been dragged through this kind of foul-smelling refuse by the media by his mother. She had not been discreet in her liaisons, and had been ignorant or simply uncaring of the effect her indiscretions had had on her family.
He remembered listening to his grandfather and father having shouting matches about it. Grandfather had not approved of Timothy taking his wife back after every infatuation burned itself out. He had argued that for the sake of their sons his own son needed to stand firm as a man, and if not divorce his wife at least separate from her.
Papa had countered with the argument that he loved his wife, tacking on as an afterthought that he might not have full access to his children if he separated from her. This last was what had always swayed his grandfather, however. To Timothy's claim of love he had always replied that he'd loved his wife more than life itself, but would never have tolerated her behaving in such a dishonorable way.
The thing about Mama was that she had not been a witch.. .she'd been lovable, and her sons had loved her. In spite of everything they had missed her when she'd left with her paramours, and prayed for her to come back. The last time she hadn't.. .and neither had their beloved if ineffectual father.
Spiros had vowed never to treat his family with such contempt---and never to allow another to do the same to him. Now his older brother was doing it---and not just to him and their grandfather, but to Phoebe as well. He knew it was unintentional, but that wasn't doing much to mitigate his anger at the moment. Dimitri had been Spiros's hero his whole life. How could the older man have been so stupid in his dealings with women?
If Dimitri had not wanted to marry Phoebe he should have had the guts to say so and call the promise off. Instead he had allowed them all to believe Phoebe was spoken for.. .off-limits.
If Spiros spoke to Phoebe right now she'd probably yell at him for being too hard on his big brother. Only Spiros had been through hell for years, trying to keep his hands to himself where Phoebe was concerned. And he'd done it. For four long years. Only to be tossed into a whole other kind of purgatory when he'd betrayed his brother and finally kissed Phoebe so passionately.
He'd spent the last two weeks trying to figure a way out of the marriage between Dimitri and Phoebe for her sake, convinced he'd lost his one chance at having her himself.
He had always been Phoebe's protector and he had failed her. That day in his office and in the two weeks since. He should have told her about the blackmail. Maybe she would have understood better about his own position. Maybe she wouldn't have hated him so much.
And now there was only one thing that could right the wrong his family had done to hers. Marriage.
Certainly not between Dimitri and Phoebe.
She deserved better. She deserved a husband who would not be pining for another woman while taking her to his bed.
She deserved Spiros. But he was certain she no longer wanted him.
No doubt her father would only be too happy to agree to new terms---the company was still in deep water financially, after all. And her mother would be grateful for an action that would separate Phoebe's name from Dimitri's. But what would Phoebe think?
Somehow Spiros did not think she would be falling all over herself with thanks. In fact he had no doubt that he had his work cut out for him if he wanted to convince her to go along with the idea at all.
He wouldn't consider the possibility that he might fail. He'd spent enough time pining for Phoebe. Now he was going to have her. Somehow he would make it up to her so she was happy to have him too.
Not only was she not grateful, but his lifelong friend, the woman who had haunted one too many of his dreams lately, was as coldly withdrawn as a marble statue.
He'd never seen her like this. Not when she was angry. Not when she was hurt. Not when she was disappointed. But that spark that had been missing the past couple of weeks was still hiding, and in its place was an icy core that was nothing like his Phoebe.
"So you are offering to marry Phoebe in your brother's place?" Aristotle asked, with his own lack of warmth.
"That is correct. It will go the longest way to distance her from Dimitri's scandal, and stop speculation that she has something to do with Xandra Fortune's disappearance."
"What assurances do we have that you do not have your own floozy waiting in the wings somewhere?" Basila asked.
Phoebe turned her cold-eyed stare on her mother. "Xandra Fortune is not a floozy. She is the woman Dimitri loves, and I find it personally insulting that you refer to her in such a fashion."
Wow. She really stood up for what she believed. She always had, and Spiros couldn't help the spurt of pride that gave him.
Her mother, however, did not look impressed. Her mouth gaped like a hooked fish. Aristotle made a sound of displeasure, but Phoebe stared him down.
"It is not merely your name being bandied about, Phoebe Leonides. This scandal reflects on us all," her mother finally got out.
"Be that as it may, leave off making your digs about floozies. I knew about Dimitri's girlfriend. I would know if Spiros had one as well. He's never hidden his personal life from me."
"That is true...but this whole thing feels a bit incestuous, if you ask me," Aristotle said.
"While Phoebe and I have been as close as any two siblings for two decades, she is not my sister---nor do I harbor sibling-type feelings for her."
Aristotle nodded, as if taking Spiros's word for it, but Phoebe gave him an indecipherable look.
"Again, I need to ask what kind of assurances we have that you will not back out of the engagement as your brother has done?" Basila asked.
Spiros lifted his briefcase and unlocked it to open it. He pulled out a sheaf of papers. "This is a contract that stipulates I will supply the same capital investment my brother was going to provide. I am prepared to sign it before the wedding. Right now, in fact."
Aristotle nodded, his dark eyes gleaming with approval.
For the first time Basila stopped wringing her hands and looking ready to break down crying at any minute. "You are serious?" she asked.
"As serious as I have ever been in my life."
"Then we accept," Aristotle said.
Phoebe stood up and looked at all of them with the same dispassionate stare. "Excuse me, Papa, but this is not the Middle Ages. You cannot accept a marriage proposal on my behalf. That is something I must do for myself, and I am not prepared to do so at this time."
"What do you mean, Phoebe?" her mother asked shrilly.
"I need time to think."
"How much time?" Spiros asked.
"A week."
"Impossible," her father stated. "If we want to alleviate more scandal it must be done at once."
"Tomorrow?" Spiros asked Phoebe, recognizing the stubborn look tightening her features.
"Forty-eight hours, and that is as much of a compromise as I am willing to make. Surely you cannot begrudge me that much time to be sure of my future? We are talking about the rest of my life, and how it is to be lived and with whom, you know."
"Of course. I..." Basila looked older than her years and very vulnerable. "We want you to be happy, Phoebe. We do."
"Then give me some time to decide if I can be... with Spiros."
Aristotle sighed. "If two days will give you time to adjust to your circumstances, then take it."
He made it sound like Phoebe's decision was a done deal. Probably for him it was. After all, Phoebe had agreed to marry Dimitri, who she had voiced numerous concerns about. She was now being asked for the sake of both their families to marry the man who up until two weeks ago had been her best friend. And as far as her parents knew he still was,
Spiros knew differently, and he could only hope her parents' confidence was not misplaced.
Phoebe didn't respond to her father, but simply shook her head and walked out of the room.
Spiros stood to leave as well. "Again, I am profoundly sorry for the effect my brother's actions have had on your family. I will wait to hear from you."
Both Aristotle and Basila hugged him before he left.
PHOEBE bumped into a tall, wiry body as she left the drawing room.
"Ooph...you're more solid than you look," her brother complained as he grabbed her shoulders to steady her.
"Sorry," she said.
"No problem. You look like you could use a break. Come with me---I've got just the thing."
Before she had a chance to say yes, no or maybe, she was being steered outside to Chrysanthos's waiting car.
"Get in. It's safe," he said, as she hesitated at the open passenger door.
"Uh..."
"She's a classic, not decrepit. I did all the renovations myself."
"Papa let you?" Phoebe asked in shock as she allowed herself to be guided into the seat.
Her brother waited to answer until he had gone around the car and climbed into the driver's seat. "He didn't know I was doing them until it was finished."
"But..." Hadn't her father offered to buy her brother a car, the same as her? Or had things been tighter in their personal finances than she'd realized?
"He never brought up buying me a car, and neither did I."
"I bet he regretted that when he saw this."
"She's a beaut." The car certainly sounded healthy, purring to life as her brother started it.
"I'm just amazed you did this.. .I had no idea your strengths were in this direction."
"Oh, it's just a hobby. A guy's gotta have 'em, you know?"
She smiled for the first time in days. "Sure."
"So, I was listening at the door when Spiros was talking to you all."
"Didn't Mama teach you better?"
He just snorted. "Please. I'm no mushroom."
"You don't like being kept in the dark?" she guessed, doing her best to translate his teenspeak.
"Would you?"
She thought of all the things her father should have told her over the past four years but had not---and the things Spiros had kept from her as well. "No. I don't like it at all."
"So what's the big deal with this marriage thing?"
"You said you were listening."
"I was. I got that Leonides Enterprises is in trouble and we need a lotta money, yeah?"
"Yes."
"But how did Papa come to the conclusion that selling you was the way to do it?"
It was what she'd accused her father of, but it sounded so much worse coming from her brother's mouth. "I don't think he sees it that way. He wanted our families joined all along. That's why he and Theo pushed Dimitri and me into making the promise we did four years ago. The fact that the marriage itself was a way of digging the company out of a very deep hole was a side benefit."
"If that's true, why is he pushing you to marry Spiros now?"
"Same reasons."
"He still wants our families connected?"
"Yep. Too bad Dimitri and Spiros don't have a younger sister, isn't it?"
"Bite your tongue. I'm so not ready to get married."
"I wasn't four years ago."
"Are you ready now?"
"I don't have much choice."
"You do. You don't have to marry Spiros."
"Then the company goes under."
"No. Then Papa has to take it public."
"We may be past where that would help. The situation gets worse the longer the infusion of capital doesn't happen. It wouldn't look that good to investors right now, and Papa would probably end up losing control at this point."
"So we start over."
She loved her brother's attitude, but she couldn't share it. "I think it would kill Papa and Mama."
"Really kill.. .like a heart attack?"
"Or something. Tio Theo isn't the only one who works too hard and hasn't exercised enough in the last ten years."
Chrysanthos headed into the city, his expression sober. "So you are going to marry Spiros?"
"Probably."
"Why did you agree to the promise with Dimitri in the first place? You didn't know we needed money then."
"I wanted to get over someone else...make him see me as a woman."
"Did it work?"
"Not the way I planned."
"You aren't over him?"
"No."
"Does he see you as a woman?"
"Yes. But my promise got in the way of him doing anything about it."
"Was it Spiros, then?"
She laughed. "How did you get so smart?"
"Hey, I've managed to go my whole school career without getting twisted around some girl's finger. You can't do that without being aware of what's going on around you relationship-wise."
"Everyone else thinks Spiros and I are like brother and sister."
"People see what they want."
"You don't see it that way?"
"You make the guy crazy, Phoebe. You have for a while. And the way you look at him.. .it's all heated. Not a sister look. And those I know, being your brother and all."
He was right.
Chrysanthos took Phoebe to a popular dance spot, and she spent hours dancing with her brother's friends and perfect strangers. It was fun, and it did exactly what her brother had promised it would. It got her mind off Spiros and the whole marriage thing for a while.
She exhausted herself physically and was able to fall asleep when she got home late that night. The next morning she felt strangely at peace when she woke.
The old adage that sleeping on something made it look more bearable in the morning had proved true. This time. What had helped as well were Chrysanthos's words about Spiros. Her brother had said she'd been making him crazy for a long time. Okay, so the comment had been highly embarrassing when he'd made it, but, looking back, it gave her hope.
Apparently Spiros had been attracted to her for a while. She hadn't noticed. But she'd convinced herself it was never going to happen. So she hadn't been looking for the signs.
When they had kissed in her tiny student apartment his passion had been too overwhelming for her to blind herself to it. But then later he had dismissed the kiss as nothing special.
Now she had to wonder. Had he played down its impact on both of them because he refused to compromise his integrity? She had been promised to his brother, and Spiros had made it more than obvious that he placed the highest priority on keeping promises. He would not have wanted to compromise her ability to do so.
But this was all speculation.
There was only one way to find out if he wanted her. The question was, did she have the courage to push the issue? Could she face another rejection if she was wrong?
When faced with a loveless and passionless marriage as a possibility if she didn't, she knew she had no choice. Better to deal with rejection now than a lifetime of marriage to a man she loved but who didn't want her. What she could have tolerated with Dimitri---a marriage of convenience---would be pure torture with Spiros. And she couldn't do that to herself. Not even for the salvation of Leonides Enterprises.
Spiros let himself into his apartment, checking the voicemail on his mobile phone as he did so. Still no word from Aristotle or Phoebe. It had only been the better part of a day, but that didn't prevent his impatience from growing. He wanted to know if Phoebe would agree to be his.
He poured himself a whiskey and took a sip just as the buzzer for downstairs went off.
He pressed the intercom button. "Who is it?"
"Phoebe."
What was she doing here? Had she come to tell him her answer in person? He pressed the unlock buzzer and then waited for her to arrive.
Her unmistakable knock sounded on his door and he let her in, scrutinizing her features for clues as to what she had decided. She looked.. .resolute.
Was that good or bad? And what was he? A woman, that he should be so worried about all this?
"Would you like something to drink?" he asked as she sat on the edge of the butter-yellow leather sofa.
It was very comfortable, but he still wasn't sure about the color. But it went with the rest of the room and, according to the decorator who had done his apartment, that was what mattered.
"What are you having?" Phoebe asked.
"Whiskey."
She scrunched her nose in a wholly adorable way. "Maybe a wine cooler?"
"We're in Greece, Phoebe. Not the States."
"So? Mix some wine with club soda and juice."
He left and returned a few minutes later, carrying a glass full of a pale pink beverage. He'd made it for her before, but gave her a hard time about it as a matter of course. He handed it to her. "Your wine cooler."
"Thank you." Her smile was not up to its usual wattage, but it was better than nothing.
"You ever hear the term high-maintenance?"
"Yes." A mischievous glint shone in her dark eyes. "I've looked it up, even, and one of the definitions just said Greek men."
"I think not. Here I sit, drinking a simple whiskey, while you ask for a concoction of three different beverages."
"Is it a Scotch or a malt whiskey?" she asked, all innocence.
"Malt." He'd been in the mood.
"How old?"
He frowned, guessing where this was going. "Old enough."
"And expensive enough too, if I don't miss my guess. You had to go through a special supplier to get it, didn't you?"
"Naturally."
"Whereas my drink is made up of three easy-to-come-by, not so expensive ingredients. I rest my case... High-maintenance, thy name is Spiros."
Warmth went through him, and some of the tension he'd been feeling drained away. "It is good to have you teasing me again, byba."
"I haven't felt much like joking about anything lately."
This he had noticed. "I am sorry for that."
"I'm relieved Dimitri backed out." She looked down, no longer willing to meet his eyes. "I know Papa and Mama are very upset, but I'm glad. I am not a good daughter."
He could not believe what he was hearing. "You are a very good daughter. You were willing to marry a man you believed would make you miserable in order to maintain their livelihood and lifestyle."
"I wouldn't have been miserable. I just wouldn't have been happy," she said in a low voice.
And suddenly the thought of her less than perfectly happy was too much for him to bear. "Thankfully, you face neither fate."
"That's what I'm hoping."
"We have been friends for years, and other than the last two weeks we have always gotten along."
"We fight."
"Yes, but we also make up. It would not be good to marry someone with whom you were not comfortable disagreeing." The truth was, he was more comfortable with her on every level than with any other woman he had ever known---more than any person, even his brother and grandfather.
"That's true." She was looking at him again, studying him like she was trying to see something.
"What?" he asked.
"There's more to marriage than being compatible as friends."
"It's a start."
"Yes, but for it to work for us there has to be more."
"What more exactly are you talking about, Phoebe?"
"Sexual compatibility."
He choked on his whiskey, and nearly dropped the heavy crystal glass. "What?" he gasped out between wheezing breaths, while the alcohol burned his throat in a way it had not since his first drink.
"I want to test our sexual compatibility."
Impossible. He had not heard those words out of his byba's lips. "You did not say this to me."
"I did."
"No. I did not hear it."
"Stop being stubborn. You heard me."
"You want to test our sexual compatibility?"
"Yes."
She was serious. After what had happened in her student apartment, how could she doubt their compatibility in this way?
This was ridiculous.
"No way. I won't do it."
She put her drink down and stood, that expression of determination back. "That's unfortunate, because I won't marry you if I'm not sure we can satisfy one another in the bedroom. You'll have to find another way to redeem your family's honor."
She turned to leave, and he was so shocked by her words that he let her get all the way to the door before he barked out an order for her to stop.
She faced him and waited by the door.
"You can't be serious, Phoebe."
"I am." And, damn it, she looked it.
"Surely after that kiss in your apartment you cannot doubt we share a suitable rapport?" Damn it. He sounded like a politician, not a man hot to share her bed. And he was. Very hot.
She winced, and he figured she agreed. "That was very one-sided."
"I was more turned on than I have ever been," he admitted, refusing to hide behind euphemisms any longer.
"Yet you found it so easy to dismiss the encounter as meaningless."
"You were promised to my brother."
"So you pretended something profound had meant nothing?"
"Yes." If she wanted the truth, he would give it to her.
"You lied to me?"
"Yes." And he was not proud of that fact.
"Your lie hurt me."
"I am sorry."
She shrugged, as if his apology meant nothing, and that stung.
"You do not believe I am sincere?"
"I believe you put more importance on family honor than on not hurting people who are supposed to matter to you. You hurt me. You hurt Dimitri. If you had been Dimitri you would have married me and left the mother of your child in the cold."
"I would not have gotten another woman pregnant," he said through gritted teeth.
Phoebe looked at him for several seconds of silence. "I believe you."
"Then believe me when I say that we are in perfect accord physically." He was still reeling from her accusations of hurting the people he cared about, but he could not allow himself to get sidetracked from their initial discussion.
"No."
"What do you mean, no?"
"I mean that this is not a negotiable point."
"It should not be a point at all. You already know the answer---there is no need for further testing."
"So you say."
"Yes." And his word should be good enough. Besides, she had been there. The true surprise was that she had believed his denial of how powerful it had been.
But she had believed, and she had been hurt---and there was only one way to make up for that. If she would let him.
"How can I know you are telling me the truth now?" she asked, proving her mind was traveling along the same path.
Only she had a different destination in mind.
"Because I am."
"Not good enough. You lied to me once, according to you.. .and you could do it again. And I wouldn't find out until it was too late to rectify the problem with anything but a divorce. Mama is upset enough about the current scandal. That would unhinge her completely."
"There will be no divorce," he bit out. How could she even suggest a thing?
"That is my hope as well. But if there is not love between us at least we need to know we are a good match sexually. We can build on that."
"You love me. You said so." Okay, she'd stopped herself from saying it completely, but he knew that was what she'd meant.
She flinched, but then she shrugged. "My feelings, or lack thereof, are not up for discussion right now."
"Phoebe, I have always loved you."
She looked both sad and happy at that. "I know. As a very dear friend---probably the most dear friend in your life. But you still turned me away when I needed you most. You aren't in love with me, but if you truly want me I think we can make a marriage work."
The fact she believed he had abandoned her when she had needed him most was a shard of pain lodged deep inside him. "I was trying to protect you."
"It didn't work."
"Of that I am aware. I knew I'd made a mistake after you had gone. You would not talk about it later, though."
"There was nothing to discuss any longer. I was engaged to your brother."
"Yes."
"Regardless of why, you did not want to marry me. Now you do. For reasons I find personally hard to trust. I need other assurances."
"You are saying if I make love to you, you will marry me?"
"I am saying that if we make love and it is good it will help me make a choice in your favor."
"But surely you know...sometimes these things take more than one effort to establish."
"You mean our sexual compatibility?"
"Yes." What else had they been discussing these past ten minutes?
She cocked her head to one side. "Do you doubt your ability to please me?"
"Of course not." He'd given her so much pleasure with a kiss that she had blacked out.
"Then it's my ability to satisfy you that you doubt. To be honest, that has me worried too. Which is why I'm here."
"That's not what I meant, either."
She looked at him like he'd lost some of his marbles in the last few minutes. Hell, maybe he had. "There are only two options."
"I'm just saying it doesn't always go smoothly the first time. I don't want you turned off from sex and thinking you don't want to get married because the loss of your virginity is painful."
"So it is your performance that has you concerned?"
"No, damn it."
"Prove it."
"This is ridiculous," he felt compelled to say, though his resistance to the idea had dwindled to almost nothing.
"No more so than a twenty-first-century father selling his daughter to save his company."
"I am not buying you!"
"What would you call it?"
"Marriage. Families supporting one another."
"But you wouldn't give the kind of support outlined in the contracts you brought to the house if you didn't marry me."
"I would if you asked me to."
She stared at him, her expression stunned. "You mean that?"
"Of course."
"But my father would not accept without our marriage."
"I think he would."
"Then why didn't you just offer the money?"
"Because I want to marry you."
"Why?"
"I need you in my life. If nothing else, I have learned that lesson over the past weeks."
"Okay."
"So you will marry me?" he asked with cautious optimism.
"I meant okay I believe you. But I still want to make sure we've got both sex and friendship going for us. Is that really so much to ask?"
He looked down into her beautiful but troubled dark eyes and shook his head. No, it was not too much to ask. She had been through so much in a short period of time, and she was feeling very out of control. In essence, she was simply trying to take some of that control back.
And, like every time but one when she had come to him for help, he could do nothing but assure she was given what she needed.
The truth was, if he'd helped that one time as well, none of the subsequent public scandal would have been caused. Dimitri's girlfriend would not have gone missing and his grandfather would have had his surgery under less life-or-death circumstances.
He wasn't going to screw up that way again.
"Come here, Phoebe."
Phoebe couldn't believe he was going to make love to her. But she could see from the serious expression in his golden brown eyes that was exactly what he had planned. Coming here tonight had not been a mistake. Spiros understood, even if he did not agree. And he'd told her he wanted to marry her irrespective of the money deal between their families. Even if it was only because he'd realized how important their friendship was to him, that was still good to know.
His eyes burned over her with the same flame of desire she'd seen that night in her apartment. They were going to make love. She was so keyed-up by the prospect she could barely breathe.
Her body drawn by a relentless invisible cord, she moved toward him.
He reached out when she was close enough and pulled her the rest of the way, his mouth coming down toward hers even as their bodies came together.
"Never doubt that I want you." He spoke against her lips in a low but firm voice.
"Show me," she challenged.
"Oh, I will."
Then he kissed her. The caress against her lips did not last long, but it touched her to the very marrow of her being.
"Your mouth is perfect, so kissable," he murmured against the very lips he was praising.
"I couldn't imagine doing this with Dimitri."
"You are not to try to imagine doing anything with him ever again."
She almost laughed at the possessive growl, but had a feeling he would not share her amusement. "You were the one who told me I had to marry him. That you wanted me to."
"I believed it was the only way."
"And now you think the only way for your family's pride to be salvaged is to marry me yourself?" There was no bitterness in her voice, only awe at his unswerving sense of right.
She had known her whole life she could count on Spiros, and he only bolstered that fact with his actions. What she had not realized before was that her ability to trust his integrity implicitly superseded her ability to trust him emotionally. Perhaps one day that would change.
After all, she had not believed he could ever want her. But that had changed.
"It is not something I regret."
"Are you sure?"
He didn't bother to answer, simply renewed the kiss, his lips staking a claim that she knew he would be intent on keeping this time. His honor demanded it.
His hands traveled down her body, as if memorizing the dips and valleys that made up her figure. Then he was swinging her high against his chest and carrying her down the hall toward his bedroom.
Only he did not stop at his bedroom door, but carried on to the oversized balcony at the back of his apartment. He had removed all of the wall except the support beams that separated the back bedroom from the balcony, and created an extra-large outdoor living space right in downtown Athens. He'd even installed a small spa in one corner.
He didn't take her to the spa, though. He took her to the double lounger that she'd shared with him many times---only in a very different capacity. It was designed to lift at opposite sides, so they could face each other in a lounging position, which they'd done many times in the past while sharing a rousing game of cards.
But right now it was completely flat, making it the size of an oval-shaped double bed. He laid her onto the cushions. They were covered in a polished cotton upholstery of such a fine weave that it felt like silk against her heated skin.
"You look so perfect there." He stepped back and began to undress. "I cannot believe you doubt the chemistry between us. I have wanted you for a long time, pethi mou"
"You hid it from me."
"Too well, apparently."
"So fix my misconceptions now..."
BUT he'd already fixed one. Phoebe didn't have to be intimately acquainted with male anatomy to see that he was aroused.
Especially when he unzipped his pants.
Nervous, but determined to match him, she reached for the hem of her top.
"Stop," he ordered.
"Why?"
"Because I want you to."
"But..."
"I will undress you for this first time. It is both my right and my privilege."
"Oh." She didn't know why it mattered to him, but the concept made her feel cherished, and lent an air of specialness to what they were doing. She wasn't about to argue with that.
This was a special moment. Not only because it was her first time, but because she was finally making love with the man she had been in love with for years.
Letting her hands fall to her sides, she watched him finish undressing. She had seen him in swim trunks before, so his perfectly sculpted muscles were no surprise, nor was the golden tone of his skin, or the curly black hair on his chest, thinning as it traveled down his stomach.
But seeing those things in this situation had a profound impact on her. Heat suffused her body, while she felt a tremble work its way from her core outward.
"You are incredibly beautiful," she whispered,
He stopped in the act of pulling off his silk boxers and stared at her, nonplussed. "Men are not beautiful, pethi mou."
"You are."
He laughed a little, shook his head, and then laughed again. "If you say so."
"I do."
"I am glad to hear my body pleases you."
"It always has."
He nodded and pushed the boxers off, allowing that part of him that made him so intensely masculine to surge upward. It was big, and pulsingly alive. A darker color than the rest of his skin, his sex stood out proudly from his body in testament to the desire he claimed to have for her.
"What do you think?" he asked.
"My friends at university told me that the pictures of men in magazines were not representative. That the average man was not nearly so.. .um.. .happily blessed in his nether regions."
Spiros shrugged. "This is true. Are you disappointed?"
"No.. .I.. .um.. I... .don't think you are the average man."
Once again he laughed, but this time more fully. "I do not measure myself against other men."
"Liar."
He winked. "Perhaps once or twice I have eyed the competition, but a man must learn how to make love to a woman, not merely have the tool to do so. It matters not how one measures in comparison without
that."
"Even if that measurement is very impressive?"
"Be careful, or you will make me blush."
"Maybe I'd like to see that."
"I think you would rather feel right now, byba. Don't you?"
"I don't know.. .would I?"
He came down on the double lounger, his hot body above hers. "Trust me, you would."
"I do trust you, Spiros. More than anyone or anything."
"I am glad to hear it, Phoebe." He leaned down and kissed her again, then started divesting her of her clothing. "Let's get rid of these, shall we?"
"If you insist," she tried to joke, but her voice came out too breathy, and just a little high.
"Oh, I do." His voice was sultry, and sensual as sin. Wow. Just wow. And maybe darn.
His fingertips traced her skin as he removed her clothing, sending shivers throughout her body as he removed one article of clothing after another. She'd expected him to spend extra time on commonly accepted erogenous zones, was even preparing herself for it. What she was not prepared for was the way he found nerve-rich centers in the most unexpected locations and spent time with his hands and mouth playing to her sensitivity.
Places like the arch of her foot. And just behind her knee. And the small of her back. The nape of her neck. And the underside of her chin. Yes, her nipples were responsive, achingly so, but by the time he got to them she was so aroused she cried out in pleasure as his mouth closed over one hardened bud. When he sucked, she bowed up off the lounger, feeling the cataclysm she had felt once before at his touch building inside her again. And he brought her to it without giving her a chance to catch her breath or touch him or anything. Building, building, building, until her whole body went rigid and then convulsed in ecstasy.
She lay there, a boneless heap, and thought at least this time she hadn't passed out.
He wasn't finished with her yet, though. In fact, from the rigid hardness pressing against her, he was a long way off from it.
He started touching her again---this time his hands going between her legs, his fingertip slipping inside her, pressing massaging...making her ache all over again. He added another finger to the first as he started speaking to her, telling her how beautiful she was, how much she excited him, how different it was with her than any other woman he had been with, how she was made for him.
She didn't think he knew what he was saying... she'd heard of sex talk...but she liked it. She didn't care if he didn't mean it. Hearing those things while he touched her so intimately made the experience absolutely right.
He built the ecstasy again, slowly but inexorably, until she was shaking underneath him and begging him with little whimpers to complete his possession of her body. When he did it, there was a stinging pain that made her cry out and try to push him off her.
But he didn't move. At all. He just waited, talking in that low, seductive voice right in her ear. Telling her it would get better, that the pain was natural, inevitable in one so innocent. And he was right.. .it did get better. She made an experimental wiggle and an arc of enjoyment shot through her.
He began to move, and she realized the pain wasn't gone completely, but pleasure was there too. And it was so special, so incredibly intimate to have him inside her, that she would not wish him anywhere else.
He reached between them, carefully touching the bud of her pleasure as he continued to talk to her between kisses, coaxing her body into the response he wanted. And when he climaxed with a shout, the pulse of warmth, the swell of his flesh inside her at the last moment, sent her over the edge again. This time she collapsed back onto the lounger, just barely with it enough to notice the sting as he withdrew slowly.
"Does it hurt every time?" she asked.
"No. But we need to let you heal before we repeat this experience."
"Oh." Healing sounded good. The experience had been awesome, putting all her fears about him not being truly attracted to her at rest, but she was going to be feeling it for a while, she could tell.
He cuddled her for a long time, before bathing with her, keeping constant physical contact, but he wouldn't let her spend the night because it would upset her parents, he said.
His insistence that she leave heightened her certainty that she had to go through with the proposal for him and her father she had been working out in her head over the past twenty-four hours. She was pretty confident of their physical relationship, but there were still some assurances she needed.
They made plans to meet in her father's office the next afternoon, and then she drove herself home, sure that if he loved her she wouldn't be spending the night alone---not after they had made love the first time.
Spiros watched Phoebe come into the room with a foreign hunger. It was more than simply being turned on by her presence. He was hungry for her, not just her body. He'd missed her over the past weeks, and last night had only brought into sharp relief how much.
He'd hated sending her home after their time of intimacy. But he would not be responsible for her parents getting angry with her or denigrating her actions.
In some ways he understood her need to test their compatibility. He'd done too good a job of convincing her that their first kiss had meant nothing to him. And he had hurt her. Something he would not easily forgive himself for and a reality he would do his best to make up for.
He had never reacted to a woman so strongly. On any level. At first he had believed the difference was their close friendship, but he was beginning to wonder if there wasn't more to it. Love.
Could he have fallen after spending a lifetime determined to avoid the emotion?
"Good afternoon, Father. Spiros." Phoebe did not smile, and she was dressed as if they should be in a boardroom.
Although, looking around the older man's office, Spiros considered that perhaps discussing their upcoming wedding here was little better. It was why he'd taken the contracts to the Leonides home the first night. For him, this was not merely a business proposal. "Good afternoon, Phoebe," Aristotle said. "I called your office earlier, but you were not there." "No, I wasn't."
The older man frowned at the non-answer. Spiros stepped forward and gave Phoebe a traditional greeting. She was stiff in his arms, but she did not reject him. Was she shy now, in front of her father? Worried he would know what they had done?
Aristotle indicated a seating area surrounding a low table over by the window. "Let's sit over there. Though I still think we should have at least met at a restaurant." "Why?" Phoebe asked as she moved across the plush carpet in her Italian heels. "This is a business meeting---business I prefer will have no chance of being overheard by a passing waiter or fellow eater."
"You have a point," the older man said heavily.
Phoebe sat down in a chair, leaving either end of the couch for Spiros and her father. Both men sat.
"I take it you are now willing to agree to the marriage?" Aristotle asked.
Fully expecting an unqualified agreement after their activities of the previous night, Spiros was struck dumb by Phoebe's next words.
"If certain conditions are met, yes. But there are stipulations I will not be moved on, and I don't know how open either of you will be to fulfilling them."
It was a good thing he couldn't speak, or the words whirling furiously in Spiros's mind would have revealed his and Phoebe's secret in no uncertain terms.
Her father was not so impeded. "What are you talking about? What kind of conditions? You think to hold me hostage with my company's well-being?"
"Isn't that what you've already done with me?" Phoebe asked, without a tremor of emotion in her voice.
Aristotle flinched as if struck. "That was not my intention."
"But it is the reality. So let's dispense with false protestations and get down to establishing bargaining positions. The way I see it is this---Spiros wants to redeem his family's honor."
Spiros nodded. That much he could do at least--- though she was certainly oversimplifying his reasoning.
"Father wants to save his company."
Aristotle nodded.
"Neither of you would feel your needs were met simply by a large loan being tendered by Spiros."
"No," the two men said in unison.
While he had offered that option, he had also told Phoebe he needed her. Did she remember that?
"That is what I thought. The family merger being via marriage is almost as important as the other issues."
Again the two men spoke in accord. "Yes."
"I too want to see the company saved, and for Spiros to be at peace with his brother---which I don't think will happen unless he is given an opportunity to right the wrongs he perceives."
"Yes," Spiros agreed.
"The only thing hanging in the balance is the rest of my life."
"Mine too," Spiros said.
"Yes," Phoebe acknowledged.
"You said you had requirements for the marriage to take place?"
"I do." She handed a sheaf of papers to each man and kept one for herself.
Spiros looked down at his. The top page was a simple contract---not legal so much as a formal acknowledgment of certain things. Things that she should not feel the need to spell out. He flipped to the second page before he let the growl of irritation past his lips.
The following pages were a formal contract that guaranteed Phoebe two things to do with the company. The first was a seat on the Leonides board of directors. The second was half of whatever interest in the company was granted to Spiros because of his investment. Again, that should go without saying. She was to be his wife. Half of all he had would be hers.
Funnily enough, there was no prenuptial agreement spelling that particular truth out.
Aristotle was silent until he got to the last page of the documents, and then he started to splutter.
Phoebe clasped her hands in her lap and stared at both men. "I do not think my stipulations are unreasonable."
"You want to sit on the board of directors? You are not even twenty-five yet."
"It's my life being sacrificed to save the company, I believe that gives me a place regardless of my age or experience."
"These other requirements.. .they are an insult."
"I presume you are discussing my contract with Spiros?"
"You know that I am."
"So you think it insulting that I retain a real and material interest in the company?"
Aristotle just glared. "It is not necessary."
"In your opinion."
"I am your father."
Phoebe said nothing, but the look in her eyes said an important facet of father-daughter trust had been lost between them. And the stubborn tilt of her chin said she wasn't budging, regardless.
"I have no problem with the contract you want me to sign, but I agree that the terms are insulting to me," Spiros said.
"I am sorry it offends you, Spiros. Truly." And her expression was as sincere as her words. "But I have my reasons."
"They are not reasons you will discuss in front of me," her father slotted in, faster than Spiros could take a breath.
"I will not agree to the marriage until he signs the contract," Phoebe said with intransigence.
"I will sign." But he would make her explain her so-called reasons to him later.
"Good." She turned to Aristotle. "And you, Father? Will you sign your contract?"
"It requires both my signature and Spiros'."
"I am aware of it. But he has already said he will sign-The older man sighed, looking every one of his years. "Yes, I will agree to your terms."
"Perfect. Then I think we can go out to lunch to celebrate," Phoebe said, as if a business negotiation had gone well.
Aristotle shook his head as he signed all three copies of the contract relating to the company. "I need to go home and speak to your mother. Informing her of stipulations three and five on Spiros's personal contract is not something that should be done over the phone."
"You aren't going to make me break the news to her?" Phoebe asked, sounding shocked.
"It is the least I can do," her father replied gruffly.
Phoebe stood and gave an impulsive hug to her father, which he returned with a great deal of strength---a Greek man obviously bordering on emotion he was hoping not to show. Not that Greek men were as afraid of showing their feelings as some, but men like Aristotle would never be comfortable with that sort of thing. Regardless of their heritage.
Phoebe waited for Spiros to bring up the contract over lunch, but he seemed content to chat about inconsequential topics.
Her nervousness grew with each minute that went by without the subject being raised, until finally she blurted, "I'm surprised you signed the contract without argument."
"Would you have compromised on any of the points?"
"No."
"Then I made the right call."
"But you didn't even try."
"Your father did not want to know your reasoning, and / knew to do so would be an exercise in futility. So I opted not to waste any of our time."
"How could you know?"
"Do I really need to answer that?"
"You think you know me inside and out."
"I do. Just as you know me."
"There are still things neither of us know...about feelings, memories we don't share and haven't discussed."
"Naturally. But you knew that even if I did argue, I would sign that damned contract---just as I knew you would not compromise on the elements."
"You're not happy about it?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"You tell me."
"No."
He sighed. "Fine. I'm angry you felt the need for the contract at all."
"Your pride has been offended?"
"Yes."
Looking into his golden-brown eyes, she saw something else. "You're hurt too."
He didn't answer, but his lack of denial was enough.
"I'm sorry," she said in a low voice, feeling her own emotions roil. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"I know that."
"You don't know everything." Sometimes he could be so exasperating.
"Nor do you, it would seem." He took a sip of the champagne they had ordered with their celebratory lunch.
Before she could ask what he meant, their gazes caught.
"You did not need to ask for any of those things."
"Right. Like you were, planning on proposing," she said, mentioning the first requirement on her list.
"You are so sure I was not?"
"Dimitri didn't."
"I am not Dimitri."
"Thank goodness. I didn't want to marry him."
"But you do want to marry me?"
"I'll take the fifth."
"That's an American Constitutional provision, not a Greek one."
"You know what I mean."
"I do."
"And you seriously expect me to believe you were going to agree to a small wedding?" The man was Greek, and it would have been his grandfather in total cahoots with her mother over a wedding that would never be now.
"I want to save you further censure in the public eye, not cause it. And I know you were not looking forward to all the hoopla our families had planned. You are far too introverted for that."
"So we are agreed on a civil ceremony?"
"I did not say that."
"I do not want a blessed ceremony."
She'd managed to shock him with that one. "Why not?"
"To say vows before God means making promises we don't mean and cannot break."
"This marriage is for life."
"You say that now, but you might fall in love...I might want out someday. I don't want us to promise love when we don't mean it." By we she meant him, but she wasn't going to say so and lay her heart bare.
He was silent for several seconds, and she wished she'd been more specific on stipulation five. His eyes narrowed in thought and he said, "Leave it to me."
She took that as acquiescence, just glad he hadn't dug further into her reasoning. "So, you really are okay with all my requirements?"
He sighed. "I can see we will not have peace until we have discussed each one. One, yes, I will propose---but when will be at my discretion. Two, I have no problem with you having a career. I cannot imagine you not using the education you fought so hard to attain. But I would prefer you take a job with my company rather than your father's," he said, ticking each point off on his fingers as he went.
"Agreed." Her father's willingness to sell her life for his company would take a long time getting past. She didn't particularly want to work for him any longer.
"Three, no children for five years. You realize I will be jealous of my brother's fortune until you agree to share that joy with me, but I will not push."
She nodded, a lump forming in her throat so she could not speak. She'd put that stipulation in so that if they did divorce down the road no children would be affected. And she didn't want to work full-time once she had a baby. However, she had a feeling she would be craving a child with him long before her stipulated time restraint was over.
Lucky for her that she was not in the fertile part of her cycle, because they had not used protection the night before.
He smiled, reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "All will be well, byba. You must trust me on this."
She wanted to blurt her love out right then. He was looking at her with such tender care---like so many times in the past. "You are a good man," she said instead.
His smile was brilliant. "Thank you. Shall we continue?"
"You've already covered the lack of a big wedding."
"But I did not mention number four." The promise for total fidelity. "I... You..." She felt the need to explain, but words were deserting her.
He waited patiently, his expression unreadable. "You said you'd been with a lot of women. That you hadn't married any of them."
"I said I'd kissed many women I did not end up married to."
"But I knew what you meant." "And you assumed I would continue?" "No, I thought you might get bored," she said, all in a rush.
"After last night, you thought this?" He shook his head, his expression only too easy to decipher now. Total disbelief marked his handsome features. "Impossible!"
"It's not. It can't always be that good." "You are right."
She swallowed another lump of emotion. "It will be better," he said with absolute conviction. "I want no other woman but you. I have not since I kissed you the first time." "Is that true?"
"I do not make it a habit to lie." "Only when you are trying to protect yourself from betraying your honor," she said in wonder.
"Yes. But it did not help and I will never do it again,"
"Good."
"So we are in agreement?"
"Yes."
They toasted their fully discussed deal with a glass of champagne.
He proposed that night, over a candlelight dinner in his apartment. Then he made love to her again, and he had been right. It was better.
Once again he made her go home---but told her to be ready to travel early the following morning.
Their flight on the Petronides jet was short. Her best friend from college was waiting at the airport.
She led Phoebe to one of the two limousines waiting on the tarmac. "No wonder you've been gaga over that guy for so long. He's a total romantic."
"What do you mean?" Phoebe asked with only partial attention as she noticed Spiros getting into the other car.
"Wait until you see."
Her friend had not been overstating the case. Phoebe was taken to a castle in the hills of Southern Italy. The room she was led to could have belonged to royalty. And the wedding dress her friend helped her don was totally over-the-top gorgeous. By the time they made it down the grand staircase and to the beautiful chapel that smelled of roses and old wood Phoebe was in a state of shock. Her family was there, so was Spiros's, but no one else except Phoebe's friend was in attendance.
She stared at the priest, and then turned to Spiros. "You agreed to---"
He leaned down and kissed her. Right there, in front of all their family. When he lifted his head his eyes were suspiciously moist. "I agreed to a small wedding. But we will make vows we both mean--- promises neither of us will break in this life."
"But..."
"I love you, Phoebe. I always have. You thought I was angry with my brother because of family honor, but my fury was because his promise and subsequent agreement to the marriage plans kept me from you. I fought my love, I fought my need to beg him to give you up so I could have you. I lost on both counts. I was ready to do my begging the night of the betrothal dinner. Now that I have you, I will never let you go."
Tears threatened her eyes, and her heart swelled to bursting. He meant every word. She could see it in his eyes. "Never?"
"Never."
"I love you, Spiros. So much. I always have."
"I know."
She laughed through her happy tears, and then they said their vows.
Promises of love and commitment they both meant to the very depths of their souls.
Vows that would indeed last a lifetime.

