see before her a man who wanted to get to know her again, who was looking at her with hope. She saw a man who was afraid that she was after his fortune, who was prepared to do anything to protect it.
She took a shaky step in the direction of the door. ‘I shouldn’t have come here. I’ll instruct my solicitor to be in touch. Perhaps when he tells you that I want nothing from you, you’ll believe it.’
He took a step towards her. ‘You aren’t curious to find out whether the sex between us is as good now as it was then?’
Libby’s breath caught in her throat. She could smell the distinctive scent of him, which she’d always thought would sell by the ton if it could be bottled. But there was no way it could be, because it didn’t contain any tangible ingredients. It was the smell of pure male heat, energy, virility, as potent as the first taste of mint on the tongue. It was overlaid with some expensive aftershave now, but she felt in danger of bursting into flames before she even got a whiff of that. And maybe she would have, if not for the cold douse of remembrance that she had never made him feel anything other than lukewarm in return.
‘Come on, Rion, don’t pretend I satisfied you in the bedroom any more than I satisfied you in any other area once we were married.’
He stared at her, almost unsure that he’d heard her correctly. Didn’t she know that even now he was fighting to stop himself from lying her back against the desk and making her his in the most basic way there was? That, despite how far he’d come, she alone seemed to possess the unwelcome ability to remind him how un-refined he truly was?
‘You think I’m pretending? Then stay. I can assure you I will take great pleasure in convincing you that I’m not.’
Libby shook her head. He was just trying to use her weakness for him against her. ‘You can drop the act, Rion. I know you’re only afraid that I’m after your money.’
‘Oh, I am, am I?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Or do I just want to give our marriage a second chance?’
Libby swallowed hard, felt her heart begin to pound, felt it echo at her temples, ‘No…I know you don’t.’
‘Well, if you’re so sure then I guess this is it,’ he said, his eyes never leaving hers as he swiftly slid the divorce papers back across the table towards her. ‘But I don’t doubt we’ll be seeing plenty of each other in court. If you still intend to proceed, that is?’
‘I—’
‘You really ought to think very carefully about exactly what you want,’ he cautioned, as he reached for a slip of paper from the inside drawer of his desk and scribbled down an address. ‘I’m travelling to Metameikos on business tomorrow afternoon. Should you wish to join me, we leave from this airstrip at four.’
She did a double-take. ‘Sorry?’
‘I’m travelling to Metameikos tomorrow,’ he repeated, handing her the slip of paper. ‘Come with me and let me spend the next two weeks showing you why getting divorced isn’t in the least bit logical. If I fail, then at the end I will sign.’
Libby’s mouth dropped open in shock.
She’d been sure he’d only suggested trying again to protect his bank balance. But now…
‘Even if…I can’t—I’m supposed to be working out some potential new tours for next season before my first group arrives,’ she stuttered.
Rion frowned. ‘Tours?’
‘It’s my job,’ she said, realising she’d never explained what had brought her to Athens in the first place. ‘I work for a company called Kate’s Escapes.’
So she was working, he thought in surprise. In the tourist industry. That explained the tan, but not why. Surely Ashworth Motors had to have fallen on hard times. ‘So come to Metameikos.’ He shrugged. ‘Work out a potential tour there. The scenery is the most beautiful in all of Greece.’
Libby’s eyes widened even further.
‘I…I—’
‘Shouldn’t make an impetuous decision, gineka mou,’ he finished for her, striding forward and pinning back the door. ‘Think about it. You have until tomorrow to decide.’
And with that he ushered her out of the door and closed it behind her.
Outside his office, Libby stood rooted to the spot, not sure she was capable of the neurological function required to make it down the stairs.
He’d said he wanted to see whether they could make their marriage work. Even more astounding than that, he’d asked her to go away with him, to work alongside him, in Metameikos.
They weren’t the kind of statements that sounded particularly momentous. They didn’t offer an answer to world peace or hint at a cure for some deadly disease. But to Libby they stopped her world on its axis and started it rotating in the opposite direction from the one in which it had been spinning for the last five years.
Because it showed her that he might be ready for marriage now, in a way that neither of them had been before.
For never, in the three months they had spent together as husband and wife, had he seemed to want to spend time with her or share his work with her, and he’d only ever discouraged her from working. Nor had he ever really spoken of Metameikos, never mind suggested he had attachment enough to return to the place where he’d grown up.
Libby leaned back against the door, her memories surfacing like lava in a volcano disturbed.
No, from the day they’d arrived in Athens, his focus had always been on leaving the past behind him and making it on his own. And whilst she’d been delighted to escape her tyrannical father and leave her past behind too, she’d arrived with a head full of dreams. Dreams about living a life which didn’t revolve around money and status, but love and freedom. But they’d barely finished saying their vows when he’d thrown himself into working eighteen-hour days. She’d virtually never seen him, and on the rare occasions when she had, all he’d done was talk about moving to a bigger apartment, putting money down on a house, finding an investor in his business idea.
At first Libby had admired his diligence. She knew very little about his childhood, but what she did know was that, unlike her, he’d grown up with nothing, on the poor side of Metameikos. It was understandable that getting another decent job was important to him—especially after the way her father had treated him—and she knew they couldn’t survive on their wits alone. But as he’d come home later and later every day, she’d found his obsession harder and harder and harder to cope with. Because she had known that simply working eight-hour days earned him enough to cover the rent and the bills, so why did he feel the need to work any more? If he loved her, wasn’t spending his evenings and his weekends with her worth more than overtime pay?
It hadn’t seemed to be. And as the weeks had passed she’d begun to wonder if he had ever really loved her at all. Because not only had it appeared to fail to cross his mind that a life spent isolated and alone, wondering if and when he was going to come home from work, was nothing like the life she’d imagined when she’d married him, but he hadn’t even really talked to her about his job either—hadn’t involved her in the very thing that had determined the course of her days. The same way it had been with her father and Ashworth Motors. Perhaps she could have dealt with that if they’d
