was because he’d been waiting for the chance to savour his revenge. And who was to say this wasn’t that chance anyway? Fate, he’d come to understand, worked in mysterious ways.
He looked up at her face. The flush of colour in her cheeks was bordering on crimson. She might not want to return as his wife, but it was obvious she did want his body as much as she always had, as much as he still wanted hers—whether he liked it or not. Maybe reminding her that she would never stop desiring him, however low her opinion of him remained, would be even more satisfying. Not to mention useful.
A slow smile spread across his lips. He didn’t need her good opinion. He needed his wife by his side for the duration of his campaign, and he wanted her back in his bed one final time. Then he could discard her, exactly as she had discarded him—with a bit of luck at the exact moment he’d proved to her that her physical desire for him went deeper than any class divide.
‘No, gineka mou,’ he said deliberately, curling his tongue deliberately around the Greek for my wife. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t agree.’
The hint of menace in his voice started a pulse of trepidation behind her ribcage, but she refused to accept that its presence was justified. He was just worried about getting stung financially. ‘Please, have it checked out by your lawyers, if you wish. They’ll confirm I’m not asking you for anything.’
‘Nor would you get anything if you were,’ he replied, his tone so cold that it felt as if someone had dropped an ice cube down her back, demolishing every last hope of being able to discuss this amicably as it fell.
‘So enlighten me,’ he continued, wondering if she actually possessed the gall to come out and say it. ‘If not for money, why do you want to get divorced from me so badly?’
‘Because it’s ridiculous not to,’ she justified. ‘Legally we’re each other’s next of kin, but we don’t even know each other’s phone numbers any more. When I fill in a form I still have to tick the “married” box, even though I haven’t seen you for half a decade. It’s a lie.’
Rion looked at her intensely. ‘It wasn’t once.’
No, Libby thought bleakly, shocked that he’d brought emotions into it, and had managed to do so with just three small words. It wasn’t once. A montage of images flashed through her mind: Athens under an unexpected foot of February snow, falling like nature’s cold confetti. Tucking her hired wedding dress into her Wellington boots. Coercing two frozen passers-by to witness their simple ceremony in the town hall in exchange for the promise of hot chocolate. Their wedding day had been the first day in her life which hadn’t felt like a lie.
‘No,’ she admitted, trying to keep her voice level, ‘it wasn’t once. But it is now. It’s been five years.’
‘Indeed it has. Five years in which you could have come asking for this, but didn’t. So why now?’
She shrugged self-consciously, his words forcing her to ask herself the same question. Why had she waited so long? Because all this time she’d been hoping…? No, she’d always known they could never go back.
‘I always supposed you’d get in touch about it. Then I was too busy abroad to worry, but when my job required me to come to Athens it seemed crazy not to take the opportunity to sort things out amicably, in person.’
‘You think that there is an amicable way of divorcing your Greek husband?’ He shook his head. ‘Then you do not know very much about Greek men, gineka mou.’
‘I presumed that as a Greek you were a man of logic—able to see that there is no sense in remaining married when what was once between us has been over for half a decade.’
‘If that was the case, then I would,’ he breathed, and to Libby it felt as though the temperature in the room had dropped to sub-zero. ‘But it’s not. You still want me. I can see it. You always have, from the moment you laid eyes on me.’ He took a step towards her. ‘And even though you ran thousands of miles away from me, you still want me—don’t you?’
Libby felt her face flush instantly crimson. ‘Even if that were true, sexual attraction is no reason to stay married.’ Especially sexual attraction which had been one-sided from the moment they’d said their vows, she thought wretchedly, knowing he was just trying to find ways to talk her out of it because he thought he needed to protect his bank balance.
‘It’s a reason that’s a hell of a lot more substantial than the ones you’ve given me for getting divorced.’
Libby frantically searched her mind. ‘That’s not true. There are plenty of other reasons why getting a divorce is the most logical thing to do. I mean…maybe…maybe you’ll want to marry someone else in the future.’ The thought made her feel physically sick, but she ploughed on. ‘Maybe I’ll want to marry someone else too.’ She couldn’t imagine it ever being true right now, but at least it might convince him it was time they both moved on, that she had no financial motive.
‘So finally we get to why you are really here,’ he breathed. ‘Who is it? Let me guess. An earl perhaps? A duke?’
Libby took a sharp breath, not anticipating that he’d jump to the conclusion that she meant she was with someone now, but at the same time noticing the way his hand had moved back towards the divorce papers, as if he was finally starting to see sense.
‘Does it matter?’ she goaded.
Rion gritted his teeth in frustration, imagining some effeminate member of the English aristocracy with his hands all over her perfect body. He’d always forbidden himself to think about it in the intervening years, but he’d known her sexual betrayal was likely, for she’d been the most responsive lover he’d ever had. So responsive that at times he’d found it near impossible to show her the kind of restraint he’d thought she’d deserved. Which she never had, he thought grimly, his desire doubling at the thought of taking her with the full force of his need, proving that, even though he’d never be good enough in her eyes, no one else would ever turn her on the way he did.
‘Since I’m your husband, I don’t suppose it does matter who he is,’ he said, moving his hand away from the table again.
Libby shook her head despairingly. When had he got so cold?
‘But what possible advantage is there to remaining married? For the last five years I’ve been on the other side of the world.’
‘You’re not on the other side of the world any more.’
She shook her head exasperatedly, deciding to call his bluff. ‘So what are you saying, that instead of signing this divorce paper you want me to back as your wife for real?’
‘Yes, gineka mou. That’s precisely what I’m saying.’
CHAPTER TWO
‘YOU can’t be serious,’ she stammered.
‘I’m perfectly serious.’
Libby stared at him in disbelief. How many times had she dreamed of hearing him say that? Dreamed that all this time he’d never forgotten her the way she’d never forgotten him, that now that they were both older, had had the time to find themselves, they could find one another again? More times than she wanted to admit.
It
