had. Perhaps then he could let go of his anger and hurt, and move on. Alone.
She let out a tiny sigh. ‘Then, yes. I did.’
Her words were like a fist to his gut. To his heart. ‘So you lied to me.’
‘I never specified when I was coming back,’ she said, her voice tired and sad.
‘You never said you were going. You acted like you loved me.’ He turned away from her, not wanting her to see the naked emotion he could feel on his face. She wasn’t even looking at him, but he still felt exposed. Felt the raw pain underneath the anger. Still, one word squeezed its way out of his throat. ‘Why?’
She didn’t answer.
‘Why, Lindsay?’ he demanded. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were planning to leave, that you were unhappy—?’
‘I tried telling you the truth but you never heard it,’ she said wearily. ‘You never listened.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Antonios demanded. ‘You never once said you were unhappy—’
Lindsay shook her head. ‘I don’t want to go into it, Antonios. It’s pointless. If you want an explanation, it’s this: I never really loved you.’
He blinked, reeling from the coldly stated fact even as he sought to deny it. ‘Why did you marry me, then?’ he asked when he trusted his voice to sound even. Emotionless.
‘Because I thought I loved you. I convinced myself what we had was real.’ She turned to him, her eyes blazing with what he realized, to his own shock, was anger or maybe grief. ‘Can’t you see how it was for me? My father had died only a few weeks before. I went to New York because I wanted to escape my life, escape my loneliness and grief. I wandered around the city like a lost soul, still feeling so desperately sad and yet wanting to be enchanted by all the beauty. And then you saw me and you told me you were lost, and when I looked in your eyes it felt like you were seeing me—a me I hadn’t even known existed until that moment.’
She sank back against her seat, out of breath, her face pale, her shoulders rising and falling in agitation. Antonios’s mind spun emptily for a few stunned seconds before he finally managed, his voice hoarse, ‘And that was real.’
‘No, it wasn’t, Antonios. It was a fairy tale. It was playing at being in love. It was red roses and dancing until midnight and penthouse suites at luxury hotels. It was wonderful and magical, but it wasn’t real.’
‘Just because something is exciting—’
‘Real was coming to Greece—’ she cut across him flatly ‘—and discovering what your life was like there. Real was feeling like I was drowning every day and you never even noticed.’ She bit her lip and then turned towards the window; he realized she’d turned to hide her own emotion, just as he’d tried to hide his. The anger that had been a cold, hard ball inside him started to soften, but he didn’t know what emotion replaced it. He felt confused and unsteady, as if someone had given him a hard push, had scattered all his tightly held beliefs and resolutions.
‘Lindsay...’ He put a hand on her shoulder, conscious once again of how small and fragile she seemed. ‘I don’t understand.’
She let out a choked laugh and dashed quickly at her eyes. ‘I know, Antonios, and you never did. But it’s too late now, for both of us. You know that, so let’s just stop this conversation.’
A stewardess came by to take their untouched champagne glasses and prepare them for take-off. Lindsay took the opportunity to shrug his hand from her shoulder and wipe the traces of tears from her eyes.
When she turned to look at him, her face was composed and carefully blank. ‘Please, let’s just get through this flight.’
He nodded tersely, knowing now was not the time to demand answers. And really, what answer could Lindsay give? What on earth could she mean, that she’d been drowning? He’d taken her to his home. His family had welcomed her. He’d given her every comfort, every luxury. Just the memory of how she’d responded to his touch, how her body had sung in tune to his, made a bewildered fury rise up in him again. What the hell was she talking about—drowning?
And if she truly had been unhappy, why hadn’t she ever told him?
AS SOON AS the sign for seat belts blinked off, Lindsay unbuckled hers and slipped past Antonios. She hurried to the first-class bathroom, barely taking in the spacious elegance, the crystal vase of roses by the sink. She placed her hands flat on the marble countertop and breathed slowly, in and out, several times, until her heart rate started to slow.
Telling him that much, confessing to even just a little of how she’d felt, had depleted every emotional resource she had. She had no idea how she was going to cope with seven more days of being with Antonios, of pretending to his family.
She pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the mirror and continued with her deep, even breathing. She couldn’t panic now. Not like she had back in Greece, when the panic had taken over her senses, had left her feeling like an empty shell, a husk of a person, barely able to function.
How had Antonios not seen that? How had he not heard? Maybe her attempts at trying to explain had been feeble, but he hadn’t wanted to listen. Hadn’t been able to hear. And he still couldn’t.
She’d refuse to discuss it any more, Lindsay resolved. She couldn’t defuse his anger and she wouldn’t even try. Survival was all she was looking for now, for the next week. For Daphne’s sake. Her mother-in-law deserved that much, and Lindsay wanted to see her again and pay her respects.
But heaven help her, it was going to be hard.
Taking a deep breath, she splashed some water on her face and patted it dry. With one last determined look at her pale face in the mirror, she turned and headed back to their seats.
Their dinners had arrived while Lindsay was in the bathroom, and she gazed at the linen napkins and tablecloth, the crystal wine glasses and the silver-domed chafing dishes, remembering how they’d travelled like this to Greece. How luxurious and decadent she’d felt, lounging with Antonios as they ate, heads bent together, murmuring and laughing, buoyant with happiness.
Utterly different from the silent tension that snapped between them now.
Antonios gestured to the dishes as she sat down. ‘I didn’t know what you wanted, so I ordered several things.’
‘I’m sure it’s all delicious.’ And yet she had no appetite. Antonios lifted the lid on her meal and she stared at the beef, its rich red-wine sauce pooling on her plate, and twisted her napkin in her lap as her stomach rebelled at even the thought of eating.
‘You are not hungry?’ Antonios asked, one eyebrow arched, and Lindsay shook her head.
‘No.’
‘You should eat anyway. Keep up your strength.’
And God knew she needed what little she had. She picked up her fork and speared a piece of beef, putting it into her mouth and chewing mechanically. She couldn’t taste
