Читать книгу The Greek Bachelors Collection - Rebecca Winters - Страница 22

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

SO WHY WAS HE so damned restless?

Alek stared out of his office window and drummed his fingers impatiently on his desk. Why couldn’t he accept a life which—despite having a pregnant wife living in his apartment—was still tailored to fit his needs? He told himself that things weren’t really that different. Why should it bother him so much that he and Ellie were now back in separate rooms?

He still went to work each morning just the way he’d always done, although Ellie had taken to sleeping late these days instead of joining him for tea before he went to the office. At least, he was assuming she was sleeping. She might have been wide awake, doing naked yoga moves as the sun rose for all he knew. Or submerging her rapidly growing bump beneath a bath filled to the brim with sensual bubbles. He had no idea what went on behind her bedroom door once it was closed, although he’d fantasised about it often enough. Hell, yes.

He wondered if his frustration showed in his face. Whether he’d given himself away the other morning, when he’d unexpectedly seen her padding back from the kitchen clutching a mug of ginger tea as he’d been about to take an early morning conference call. Her hair had been tumbling in glorious disarray around her shoulders and the floaty, flowery robe she wore had managed to conceal her changing shape while somehow emphasising it. Her skin had been fresh and her eyes bright, despite the earliness of the hour. She’d looked more like a teenager than a woman of twenty-five and he’d felt a pang of something like regret. Just the day before, the doctor had given her a glowing bill of health. Mother and baby were ticking all the right boxes, and Alek told himself that at least something good had come out of all this.

But wasn’t it funny how you always wanted what you hadn’t got? Why else would he be craving more of her company and wishing she’d linger longer over dinner? Wanting her to say something—anything—other than make those polite little observations about what kind of day she’d had. He’d made quite a few concessions to fit in with her pregnancy, but even they hadn’t softened her resolve. Hadn’t he eaten his words and joined that wretched antenatal class, where they were expected to lie on the floor—puffing like a bunch of whales? Yet still she kept her distance. He felt a stab of conscience. Wasn’t that how he used to be with her? And wasn’t he discovering that he didn’t much like being pushed away? And in the meantime, he was aching for her. Aching in ways which were nothing to do with sex.

He’d been brooding about it all week and not coming up with any answers about how he could change things, when on Saturday night she looked at him across the dinner table with an odd expression on her face.

‘I want you to know,’ she said in the careful way people did when they’d been practising saying something, ‘that if you decide you want to start seeing other...women, I shan’t mind.’

His fork fell to his plate with a clatter. His heart pounded. Rarely had he been more shocked. Or outraged. ‘Say that again,’ he breathed.

‘You heard me perfectly well, Alek. I’m just asking you to be discreet about it, that’s all. I don’t particularly want—’

‘No, wait a minute.’ Ruthlessly he cut across her words in a way he’d avoided doing of late, leaning across the table and glaring at her. ‘Are you telling me that you want me to start dating other women?’

Ellie didn’t reply, not immediately. She fiddled around with her napkin for just long enough to hang on to her composure—telling herself that this was the only solution. She couldn’t keep him chained up like a tame lion. ‘I don’t know if want is the right word—’

‘Maybe you want to watch?’ he suggested crudely. ‘Perhaps that’s one of your fantasises. Does the thought of me having sex with somebody else turn you on, Ellie?’

‘Don’t be so disgusting!’ she snapped, feeling her cheeks growing hot. ‘That’s not what I meant at all and you know it.’

‘Do I?’ he demanded furiously. ‘What am I supposed to think, when you give me your blessing to have sex with someone else, while you’re still living under my roof?’

She glared back. ‘I wasn’t giving you my blessing. I’m trying to be fair!’

‘Fair?’ he echoed, furiously.

‘Yes, fair.’ She took a shaky sip of water. ‘I know you’re a virile man with a healthy sexual appetite and I shouldn’t expect you to have to curtail that, just because...’

‘Because you no longer want me?’

Ellie swallowed as she met the accusation spitting from his blue eyes. Oh, if only. If only it were as simple as that. ‘It’s not that I don’t want you.’

‘You just take masochistic pleasure in us sleeping apart? In me lying wide-eyed for most of the night knowing you’re in the room next door?’

‘I told you before. I can’t do fake intimacy. And I didn’t start this conversation to discuss the reasons why I won’t sleep with you.’

‘Then why did you start it?’

‘Because I’m trying to be kind.’

‘Kind?’ He stared at her incredulously. ‘How does that work?’

‘I’m just suggesting that if you want to relieve your frustrations, then feel free—but please be discreet about it. I just don’t want it in my face, that’s all.’

There was silence for a moment while he stared down at his clenched fists and when he looked up again, there was something in his eyes she didn’t recognise.

‘Why not you?’ he questioned simply. ‘When you’re the only woman I want? When we both know that if I came round to the other side of that table and started kissing you, you’d go up in flames—the way you always do when I touch you.’

‘So why don’t you?’ she challenged. ‘Why don’t you take control, as you’re so good at doing? Take the choice away from me?’

He shook his head and gave a short laugh. ‘Because that would make it too easy. A short-term fix, not a long-term solution. You have to be with me because you want to, Ellie—and not just because your body is reacting to something I do to you.’

She stared at her napkin. She stared at her water glass. But when she looked up, she shook her head. ‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘It would be insane to even try. We’re planning a divorce before too long and I want to acclimatise myself to the situation. I’m trying to get used to the separate lives we’ve agreed to lead.’

For a minute there was silence.

‘And what if I told you I don’t want separate lives, or a divorce?’ he said at last. ‘That I wanted to start over, only this time to do it differently? We’ll take it as slow as you like, Ellie. I’ll court you, if that’s what you want. I’ll woo you with flowers. I won’t take business calls when we’re away. I’ll do whatever it takes, if you just give me another chance.’

His bright eyes bored into her and for a moment Ellie couldn’t speak, because she got the feeling that Alek didn’t often ask questions like that. And hadn’t she sometimes dreamt of a moment like this—even though she’d told herself it would never happen? But it was happening. He was sitting there and saying things she’d longed to hear and temptation was tugging at her—because Alek in a peace-making mood was pretty irresistible. His blue eyes were blazing and his lips were parted, as if already anticipating her kiss—and didn’t she want to kiss him so badly? She could go into his arms and they could just lose themselves in each other, and...

And what?

How long before domesticity bored him? Before the emotional demands she would inevitably make became too tedious for him to bear? Because he still didn’t do communication, did he? Not about the things that really mattered. He was still denying that he had a brother. He was only talking this way because he was bargaining with her. Because it was probably frustrating the life out of him that she wasn’t falling into his arms with gratitude.

She shook her head. ‘I can’t.’

‘Why not?’

She realised that his pride was going to be hurt—and maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. But she needed to show him that this was about more than pride. She had to summon up enough courage and strength to present him with a few harsh home truths.

‘Because I can’t contemplate life with a man who keeps running away.’

‘Running away?’ he echoed and she heard the anger building in his voice. ‘Are you accusing me of cowardice, Ellie?’

‘It’s up to you to make the diagnosis, not me.’ She stared at the little vase of blue flowers which sat at the centre of the table. She thought how delicate the petals were. How most things in life were delicate, when you stopped to think about it. She lifted her gaze to his, trying not to react to his anger. ‘When you told me all about your family—about your mother walking out on you and the effect it had on you—I could understand why you never tried to get in touch with her. I understood that you’d taken your pain and turned it into success and that it was easier to turn your back on the past. But you’re an adult now, with the world at your fingertips—the most successful man I’ve ever met. You’re intelligent and resourceful and yet you’ve just heard that you’ve got a brother and you’re acting like nothing’s happened!’

His dark head was bent and there was silence, and when at last he looked at her she flinched from the pain she saw written in his eyes.

‘Not just a brother,’ he said. ‘I think I could have dealt with that. But a twin brother? Do you know what that means, if it’s true? Have you thought about it, Ellie? She didn’t have another baby with another man. She had one who was exactly the same age. She took him with her and left me behind. I was the one she rejected. I was the one she didn’t want. How do you think that makes me feel?’

‘I don’t think it makes you feel anything,’ she whispered back. ‘Because you’re blocking out your feelings, the way you’ve always done. You’re ignoring it and pretending it isn’t there and hoping it will go away. But it won’t go away. It will just fester and fester and make you bitter. And I don’t want a man like that. I want someone who can face up to reality. Who can accept how it’s making him feel—even if it hurts—and who isn’t afraid to show it.’

She leant forward and her voice was fervent. ‘The stuff you imagine is always worse than the real thing,’ she said. ‘I know that. When I met my father—all the dreams I’d nurtured about us becoming one big happy family were destroyed the moment he pushed the table away and my cappuccino spilt everywhere. And of course I was upset. But afterwards I felt...well, free, I suppose. I could let go of all those foolish fantasies. Because it’s better to deal with reality, than with dreams. Or nightmares,’ she finished as she rose to her feet. She looked into his face and saw the pain which was written there. Such raw and bitter pain that it made her instinctively want to reach out and comfort him.

But she knew she couldn’t rid him of his nightmares. She couldn’t fix Alek. He had to do that all by himself.