Then he turned around and strode to the closet.
She watched him dress and then disappear from the bedroom. He’d called her my love, and while it had given her an indescribable thrill, it was obvious that it wasn’t something he meant to say.
But he had said it. She held tight to that truth as she got out of bed to dress. Not knowing how he felt about her and why he took such pains to hold himself distant had puzzled her from the beginning. Was it because of her memory loss? Did he fear that her feelings for him couldn’t possibly be considered valid while he was still a stranger to her?
She’d focused so much on her own problems that arose from the gaping hole in her past, but it was obvious that he, too, had difficulties with the situation.
If only she could remember. If only she could reassure him that she loved him whether or not she could remember loving him in the past.
All she could do was show him. And hope that her memory was restored before too much longer.
Chrysander sat in his office, staring out the window that overlooked the beach. Marley stood close to the water, her feet bare and the maternity dress she wore rippling in the breeze. He kept careful watch over her and had instructed his security team to do the same. He wouldn’t take any chances after her fainting spell of the day before.
Just moments earlier, he’d hung up after speaking to the lead investigator on Marley’s case. There had been no arrests made yet. No leads. The men who had abducted her were still out there. Still a danger to her and their child. It was unacceptable.
The detective had promised to stay in touch and to inform him the moment there was a break in the case, but Chrysander still wasn’t satisfied. He wanted results. He wanted to make the men who’d dared to touch Marley pay.
He focused his attention back on Marley, who was still staring out to sea. Every once in a while she raised her hand to shove the curls from her face, only for them to blow back. She lifted her chin and laughed, and Chrysander could feel the impact from where he sat.
She was beautiful and carefree. Unguarded in the moment. He searched his memory for the times when they had been together. Happy. He hadn’t appreciated it at the time, but their relationship—he now admitted to himself that they’d had a relationship—had been open and undemanding.
So what had driven her to betray his trust? He’d almost have preferred she’d betrayed him with another man; but no, she’d gone after his family, his brothers. And that he couldn’t forgive…could he?
Indecision wracked his brain. A large part of him was still conflicted and angry. But another, smaller part was ready to move on. To forget what she had done and embrace a new beginning. Maybe she’d never remember, and if he was honest, it would make things easier if she never did.
He continued to watch her, and his gaze moved beyond her to where one of his security detail stood on guard at a distance. She continued to defy him, and he pretended annoyance, but all he did was make sure his men shadowed her at every turn. Her determination to go against his wishes amused him because he didn’t sense any real irritation on her part. She liked goading him.
And he knew he was being overprotective, but the fact that her kidnappers were still out there, that they still posed a threat to her and their child, sent dark fear through his veins. She was his. He’d failed her once. No matter that she had betrayed him. He’d sent her and his child unprotected into the hands of her kidnappers because he’d allowed emotion to cloud his judgment.
He turned in annoyance when his phone rang. Tearing his gaze from Marley, he put the phone to his ear.
“Mr. Anetakis.” Roslyn’s voice broke clear over the line.
“Roslyn, have you spoken to Piers about the status of the Rio de Janeiro deal?”
“Yes, sir, and he said to tell you that if you’d answer your phone he’d let you know how things were going himself.”
Chrysander chuckled. “I will deal with my younger brother.”
“If at all possible, you need to attend a conference call tomorrow evening, seven our time. I’ll send out an e-mail with the details. Theron and Piers will both be on hand, but Mr. Diego specifically wished to speak personally with you.”
“I’ll make it,” he said.
“And how are things with you?” Roslyn asked hesitantly.
Chrysander frowned and glanced back to the beach, where Marley stood watching the waves roll in.
“Has she regained her memory yet?” she continued.
“No,” he said shortly.
There was a moment of silence, and he could hear Roslyn’s soft breathing as though she battled over whether to say what was on her mind.
“If that’s all,” he said in an effort to end the call.
“Have you considered that she’s faking her memory loss?” Roslyn said in a rush.
“What?”
“Think about it,” she said impatiently. “What better way to circumvent your anger than to pretend to have forgotten it all? You can’t even be sure the child is yours. She was in captivity for months. Who’s to say what went on during that time?”
Ice trickled down Chrysander’s spine. “That’s enough,” he said tersely.
“But—”
“I said enough.”
“As you wish. I’ll phone you if anything changes.”
Chrysander hung up and yanked his gaze back to the beach, but Marley was gone. Could Roslyn be right? Could Marley be faking her amnesia? The thought had crossed his mind when they’d still been in New York and Marley was fresh from the hospital. His instincts said no, but then he’d already been so wrong about her in every way. If someone had told him six months ago that she was capable of betraying him as she had, he would have cut them down to size.
Anger and confusion took turns battering his head. He rubbed a weary hand across his face and closed his eyes. It didn’t really matter what he thought at this point. She was pregnant with his child and that took precedence above all else. He could overlook a lot for his son.
A sound at the door made him look up. Marley stood just inside his office, a sparkling smile on her face. Her eyes glowed with…happiness.
He found himself relaxing, the turmoil of a few minutes ago dissipating.
“You grew tired of your walk on the beach?”
Her lips twisted ruefully as she walked forward. “I should have known you knew exactly where I was.”
He gestured toward the window. “I had a prime view. You looked to have enjoyed yourself. Are you feeling well today? You haven’t overdone it?”
She stopped at his desk, and he nearly gestured her around to settle on his lap, but he refrained, needing to maintain a distance while he felt so volatile, so uncertain. He didn’t want to think of her as a deceiver, nothing more than a practiced actress bent on escaping retribution.
