Innocent in Her Enemy's Bed, page 10
It always made her long for him to kiss her or make a move when they got home, but he always stayed well on his side of the wide bed they continued to share.
Tonight, as he seated her and took her wrap, his thumb brushed into the hollow beneath her ear. His caress sent a tingling rush into her breasts.
“No makeup tonight. That’s good.”
The bruises, she realized with a sick lurch in her stomach. They had finally faded and she was glad they were gone, but there were plenty of other reminders of that dark night—the police report that had gone nowhere because Midas had an alibi, the fresh rumors Odessa had started about Ilona being in financial straits, the RSVPs to the wedding that were weighted far more heavily to Leander’s guests than to hers.
Leander’s warm hand gave her shoulder a squeeze. Affection? Reassurance?
It was gone too quickly for her to interpret. He circled the table, leaving her in a confusion of shy pleasure. He’d become difficult to read, offering those small, unexpected caresses before withdrawing. They left her bereft and swimming in yearning. She kept waiting for the fiery desire he’d shown her on the yacht to reemerge, but each time it sparked, he always seemed to douse it and move away.
While she quietly drowned in unrequited lust.
He paused with his hand on his chair and she looked up at him with her heart in her throat, wondering if he had any clue of her feelings. His handsomeness nearly undid her, with his alert profile, his tall bearing and wide shoulders, his nail beds going white as he tightened his grip on the back of his chair—
With a gasp, she swung her head around, expecting Midas to be swooping down at them, but it was only a woman of fiftyish years.
Oh! She had completely forgotten.
Ilona rose and smiled in flustered greeting. Now she felt extra foolish for the way she was mooning over Leander, but she was excited to have arranged this little surprise for him.
Her flashing glance revealed he was staring coldly at the woman, his mouth held in a grim line.
Ilona’s stomach plummeted and her blood went ice-cold in her veins. She’d made a mistake. A terrible one.
But Susan Vasilou was upon them, the moment unavoidable. Her hair was dark brunette with shots of silver, her build slight and graceful, her mouth wide like her son’s as she smiled in a way that struck Ilona as being forcibly bright.
“Darling.” She touched Leander’s arm and offered her cheek.
“Mother.” He bussed her cheek and shot a glower at Ilona. “You invited her?”
“I—” Culpability had to be painted all over her face.
“Oh, don’t scold her. I asked her to let me surprise you.” Susan tapped his wrist. “Yes, I’m joining them,” she told the server who appeared beside her.
While a chair and place setting were procured, Leander said, “I thought we would see you at the rehearsal dinner tomorrow.”
“I wanted a chance to have you all to myself.” Susan held out her hand to Ilona. “And to meet your beautiful bride. Please call me Susan.” Her Greek lilted with her British accent, but it was smooth and unhesitating.
Leander politely helped both of them with their chairs. This time, he didn’t touch Ilona as he did. He radiated so much irritation, her toes curled in her shoes with anxiety.
“Tell me about the wedding.” Susan turned her eager interest on Ilona. “How did you two meet? Tell me everything.”
Ilona practically choked on her tongue. Where to start? Not with the truth.
“Using Ilona is beneath you, Mother,” Leander said in a chilly undertone as they were left alone. “If you want to see me or know something about my life, call me.”
“But you so rarely pick up,” Susan said mildly. “And I’m genuinely interested in the woman who has captured your heart.”
I haven’t, Ilona silently moaned. If anything, she had alienated Leander by making an assumption. She had blindsided him when she was supposed to be earning his trust. I’m sorry, she tried to telegraph, but he had averted his grim expression to glare at the view of the Parthenon.
“I’m sorry I didn’t make the engagement party. Your family must have thought it odd.” Susan slid a wounded glance toward Leander that Ilona interpreted to mean she hadn’t been invited.
Why was he so hostile toward her? In their brief telephone conversation, Susan had struck Ilona as charming and likable, not cruel or objectionable. Did she overspend or speak out of turn after a few drinks? What?
“My family wasn’t there, either,” Ilona volunteered, wading carefully through the thick undercurrents. “My mother passed when I was young and my father died last year. My relationship with the rest is extremely difficult. I don’t expect you’ll meet them at all.” Not if she could help it.
“I’m so sorry.” Susan sounded sincere. Compassionate. “Every bride should have a family member who is as excited as she is. Allow me.” She propped her chin on her hand. “I adore talking about gowns and floral arrangements. Do you have a theme?”
Ilona couldn’t help it. She liked her. Conversation flowed easily between them and the meal would have been very pleasant if Leander had warmed up a degree or two, but he remained withdrawn, barely speaking.
While they were waiting for dessert, Ilona excused herself to the powder room, thinking to give them a moment to clear the air.
“I’ll come with you.” Susan rose at the same time.
“Really, Mother?” Leander gave Susan a frosted look.
“Are you afraid we’ll talk about you?” she chided.
“I know you will. Whatever you have to say can be said here, to my face.” He nodded at her chair.
They held some sort of contest of wills, one that made Ilona feel she had caused this discord between them. She nearly wilted back into her chair in miserable defeat.
“It’s all things you’ve heard before, darling. What difference would it make where I say it?” Susan sounded almost anguished, but she quickly covered that impression with a warm smile for Ilona. She tucked her arm through Ilona’s and steered her toward the ladies’ lounge.
* * *
Ilona’s heart was heavy when they returned to the penthouse. She was in the oddest position of wanting to know Leander’s side of things while wanting to defend his mother. She wanted to ask questions, but given his shuttered expression, she also wanted to respect his privacy. She settled on a sincere apology.
“I should have mentioned that she would be joining us. She called to welcome me to the family and I invited her on impulse. She said she wanted to surprise you so I...” Put him into a situation he didn’t want. “I’m very sorry. It didn’t occur to me you wouldn’t want to see her.”
The whole point in “dating” had been to get to know each other, but as she looked back on their half-dozen dinners, she realized they hadn’t revealed anything deeply personal. She knew his taste in music was eclectic and he preferred snow skiing over water skiing, but she didn’t know what his childhood had been like.
So much for honest and open communication.
“She manipulated you. Be on guard for it in future,” he warned crisply. “Take everything she told you with a bucket of salt. And don’t pretend she didn’t try to pull you to her side when she got you alone.”
She had, but Ilona didn’t feel manipulated. She felt sorry for her. Sad for both of them.
“Do you want one?” Leander was pouring himself a drink.
“Thank you.” She didn’t really want it. Most nights she changed and they spent the rest of the evening working on their laptops or watching television. Tonight, she curled up on the sofa and accepted the glass he handed her, gently asking, “Will you tell me your side of it?”
“What’s to tell? She didn’t want to be a mother, didn’t want a relationship with me when I was a child and needed her, but now she expects my attention and affection. I send her money to ensure she lives comfortably. I don’t know why that isn’t enough.”
Because Susan was lonely and regretful and had been in a no-win situation from the start, if even a smidge of what she had told Ilona was true.
“You were eight when she moved back to London?” she pried carefully.
“To star in a musical. Not even a particularly good one. Her career has always been more down than up, but she insisted on pursuing it.” His tone was dismissive.
“That’s entertainment, I think. Eternally hoping for the big break.” And wasn’t everyone entitled to dream? “Perhaps she was homesick. I used to suffer it quite badly.”
“When you were at boarding school?” He looked over his shoulder from the window.
“When I came to live with my father.”
He made a noncommittal noise and returned to glowering at the city lights.
“It sounds like she was very young when she had you.”
“They both were. My father managed to stick around so I don’t see why she couldn’t.”
I got pregnant on holiday, Susan had told her, adding with a papery laugh, I don’t know how. Leander’s father was so shy he could barely speak to me, but we had a little fling. I felt so grown-up until I was forced to grow up. My mother told me I’d better hope he married me because she wouldn’t have an unwed mother in her house.
“I have to ask...” Ilona bit her lip. Her own mother hadn’t left her by choice so it wasn’t particularly fair to say this, but, “Would you be as judgmental if your father had gone away to pursue his career?”
“He involved me in it,” he said flatly, adding with scathing sarcasm, “But I take your point. My desire to star in musicals is nonexistent. It’s my fault I didn’t see her most of my life.”
Ah. Well, then. She looked into her drink. “She never asked you to join her?”
“What was the point? I would have been at school during the day. She worked nights and weekends. We wouldn’t have seen one another.”
He and Niko were so close, Susan had lamented. Leander wanted to stay here with his father so I didn’t fight for him. I don’t think he’s ever forgiven me for that.
Leander swore and squeezed the back of his neck. “I know it’s childish to resent her. You’re right. A father can absent himself without such harsh judgment, but she made a lot of promises to me that never panned out. She took the support my father sent her, but never took me. When I told her that Midas was offering to take our software to market, she encouraged us to trust him. She wanted the financial benefit of what Midas promised without having done any of the work to earn it.”
Not unlike Midas, Ilona inferred. And the promised benefits hadn’t arrived. Leander must have felt so foolish when he realized that Midas had tricked them. It was natural to look for someone to blame. He probably thought that if his mother had cautioned him, instead of encouraging him, he might not have lost everything.
“When I found—When my father died, she didn’t turn up until the funeral service.”
Found. Oh, no. She hadn’t known that part. “I’m so sorry, Leander.”
He shook off her murmur of sympathy.
“But—” Ilona frowned. “I was under the impression she arrived right away.”
“Is that what she told you?”
“Not explicitly. It was just an impression,” she mused, recollecting Susan’s anguish.
He didn’t cry, not even at the service, he was so traumatized. He didn’t say a word to me until it was all over.
“Then she wanted me to come live with her,” he said bitterly. “But she didn’t have anything to offer me, just a flat-share and a poorly executed dream. My father had had to stop sending her support after Midas’s trickery so we were both completely broke. The house had been mortgaged to finance the development of our technology. It was already in foreclosure. My father had legal bills from trying to sue Midas for what was ours. The stress and failure were so heavy on him...” He slugged back most of his drink.
He’ll never forgive me for not being here, but I didn’t love Niko. Not the way a wife should. Marrying so young, I felt cheated of the life I should have had. I kept thinking I would prove my dreams were worth the time I had invested in them, but I never have. Not in Leander’s eyes. Somehow, I turned into my mother. I caused my own child to resent me. By the time Niko was gone, Leander wanted nothing to do with me.
“Did your father love her?” Ilona asked curiously.
“Yes.” No hesitation. It was a fact delivered with a side of scorn.
Her heart felt stretched completely out of shape then, for all of them.
“He never looked at another woman and always said he wanted her to be happy. He let her disappear and keep his name and his money... But he was miserable without her. He didn’t say it, but I could see it. How could she expect that I would side with her when she had treated him that way?”
“She let him raise her son, though. It’s fine that you’re angry with her, Leander, but surely it counts for something that she didn’t make you live away from him? She said you wanted to be here with your father so she didn’t fight for you. That you never wanted to come see her so she quit asking.”
She could only see his profile, but his expression twisted with distaste.
“Is it such a crime that she wanted to live where she chose? On her own terms?” Ilona could relate to that; she really could.
His body seemed to bunch up with tension.
She braced herself to have her head bitten off, but he shrugged away whatever impact her remark had made.
“Maybe I would have had more sympathy for her if she hadn’t lived off my father all that time. Off of me.” He turned and jabbed his chest. “I sent her home with what I got from selling the little I had left. Then I hired on with a remote labor camp and sent her half my paycheck. I still support her. So tell me again how that makes her someone I should respect?”
“Don’t then,” she said, setting aside her drink and rising to her feet. “Your relationship with your mother is your business. But from my perspective, she didn’t mean to hurt you. She was young and idealistic and misguided. Maybe she didn’t show her love the way you wanted her to, but she does love you. I would have given anything to have had that much, rather than the mother figure I had in Odessa who destroyed my self-esteem. Enjoy nursing your grudge. I’m going to bed.”
CHAPTER TEN
ILONA WASN’T ENTIRELY WRONG, which was irksome.
Leander much preferred to sit atop his high horse, but at thirty-two, he had to feel some pity for his parents, both a very young twenty when he had been born. They couldn’t have been prepared for the responsibility. His father, nerdy and chronically anxious, had still been at university. His mother had struggled to make friends in her new country because her husband had been reluctant to leave the house. When she had suggested they all move to England, his father had outright refused. He hadn’t liked change of any kind.
Ilona’s remark about suffering homesickness as a child had briefly diverted him from wondering if his mother had experienced it, too. He hated to think of how powerless and lost Ilona must have felt at five, when she’d gone to live with a stranger who failed to fully care for her.
At least he’d had his mother for eight years. She had stayed until Leander’s father earned his doctorate, then she had given her own aspirations eight years. Perhaps she would have come back on her own if his father hadn’t passed, but they would never know. Leander hadn’t given her a chance to make overtures in the subsequent sixteen years.
That remark Ilona had made about his mother coming to Greece before the funeral was niggling at him. Had she arrived sooner? He genuinely couldn’t remember those blurry days. They all bled into one another.
Very quickly, as a means of dealing with his grief and guilt, he had focused on revenge. The first step had been to make money. Fast. He had lied about his age and gotten on with a company that wanted a strong back willing to fly to remote locations and push a wheelbarrow full of wet cement. The mindless work had allowed him to plot meticulously how he would rise to Midas’s level, then take him down.
Thanks to working next to his father’s broad education in science, Leander had known a little about everything. He had quickly become an on-site resource for any sort of technical question. If he hadn’t known the answer, he knew how to find it. Soon he’d worked his way up to being flown out to solve oddball problems on difficult projects.
The bean counters had always wanted the fastest, cheapest solution, however. They had never looked at the greater costs. The need for a company that would use greener technologies became glaringly obvious, but cultural mindsets were hard to change from within. He had started his own company and, by then, had known enough people in the industry he had been able to cherry-pick the ones who didn’t need convincing. They had embraced his mindset and he’d been on a growth trajectory ever since.
Through those years, he hadn’t let anyone—including his mother—distract him from his goal. Maybe he had held on to his resentment toward her so he wouldn’t feel guilty about holding her at a distance. That’s also why he’d sent her money, to soothe his conscience.
When he had finally started his own business ten years ago, she had tried to give him all his money back, revealing that she had saved every penny he’d sent her.
He’d been furious. She hadn’t made herself more comfortable all this time and she hadn’t invested it properly either, leaving it to gather anemic interest in a daily savings account. Most excruciating, however, was that it had been hard for him to send that money to her. It had been hard to earn and hard to part with it when his desire to wreak his vengeance against Midas consumed him.
