walked out on their marriage. He didn’t need to explain himself.
His heart began to thump rhythmically inside his chest, and an old, familiar feeling of bitter, impotent fury formed a knot in his stomach. She was right. He should have dealt with this years ago—because even though he had succeeded in erasing her from his heart and his home, he had never quite managed to wipe her betrayal from his memory.
How could he, though? Their relationship had been over so quickly and had ended with such finality that there had been no time to confront her properly.
Until now.
Teddie stared at him in appalled silence as, leaning back, he stretched out his legs. Moments earlier she had wanted to throw George’s existence in his face. Now, though, she could feel spidery panic scuttling over her skin at the thought of how close she’d come to revealing the truth.
‘So let’s talk now,’ he said, turning to nod curtly at a passing waiter, who hurried over with almost comical haste.
She nearly laughed, only it was more sad than funny. He didn’t want to talk now any more than he had four years ago, but he knew that she wanted to leave so he wanted to make her stay. Nothing had changed. He hadn’t changed. He just wanted to get his own way.
‘An espresso, please, and an Americano.’ He gave the order without so much as looking at her, and the fact that he could still remember her favourite drink, as much as his arrogant assumption that she would be joining him, made her want to scream.
‘I’m not staying,’ she said coldly. She knew from past experience that his powers of persuasion were incomparable, but in the past she had loved him to distraction. Here, in the present, she wasn’t going to let him push her into a corner. ‘And I don’t want to speak to you,’ she said, glancing pointedly past him.
He shrugged, a mocking smile curving his mouth. ‘Then I’ll talk and you can listen.’
Cheeks darkening with angry colour, she sat mutinously as the waiter reappeared and, with a swift, nervous glance at Aristo, deposited the drinks in front of them.
‘Is there anything else, Mr Leonidas?’
Aristo shook his head. ‘No, thank you.’
Teddie stared at him, a beat of irritation jumping in her chest. It was always the same, this effect that Aristo had on people. When they’d first met she’d teased him about it: as a magician, she was supposed to be the centre of attention. But even when his wealth had been visible but not daunting, he’d had something that set him apart from all the other beautiful rich people—a potent mix of power and beauty and vitality that created an irresistible gravitational pull around him.
She could hardly blame the poor waiter for being like a cat on hot bricks when she had been just as susceptible. It was still maddening, though.
Some of her feelings must be showing on her face, for as he reached to pick up his cup, he paused. ‘Is there a problem?’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Other than you, you mean?’
He sighed. ‘I meant with your drink. I can send it back.’
‘Could you just stop throwing your weight around?’ She shook her head in exasperation. ‘I know it must be difficult for you to switch off from work, but this isn’t one of your hotels.’
Leaning back, he raised the cup to his mouth, his eyes never leaving her face. ‘Actually it is,’ he said mildly. ‘It’s the first in a new line we’re trying out—traditional elegance and luxury with impeccable sustainability.’ He smiled at the look of frozen horror on her face. ‘And a constantly rotating collection of contemporary art.’
She felt her breathing jerk as out of the corner of her eye she noticed the tiny lion’s head logo on the coaster. Cheeks burning, she glanced furtively over at the Warhols.
Damn it, but of course they were real. Aristo Leonidas would never have anything in his life that wasn’t one hundred per cent perfect—it was why he’d found it so devastatingly easy to abandon her.
Her heartbeat stumbled in her chest. No doubt he’d only wanted her to stay here so he could point out this latest addition to his empire.
Cursing herself, and Aristo, and Elliot for being so useless at managing their schedule, she half rose.
‘Sit down,’ he said softly.
Their eyes clashed. ‘I don’t want to.’
‘Why? Are you scared of what will happen if you do?
Was she scared?
She felt her insides flip over, and she suddenly felt hot and dizzy.
Once she had been in thrall to him. He’d been everything she’d wanted in a lover and in a man. Caught in the dark shimmering intensity of his gaze, she had felt warm and wanted.
And now, as the heat spread outwards, she was forced to accept again that, even hating him as she did, her body was still reacting in the same way, unconstrained by logic or even the most basic sense of self-preservation.
Horrified by this revelation of her continuing vulnerability—or maybe stupidity—she lifted her chin, her eyes narrowing, muscles tensing as though for combat.
‘I’m not, no. But you should be. Or maybe you like your suits with coffee stains?’
His dark eyes flickered with amusement. ‘If you want me to get undressed, you could just ask.’
He was unbelievable and unfair, making such a blatant reference to their sexual past. But, despite her outrage, she felt the kick of desire. Just as she had that night four years ago, when her body had betrayed her.
Her heart thudded. How could she have let it happen? Just hours earlier they’d been thrashing out their divorce. She’d known he didn’t love her, and yet she’d still slept with him.
But she could never fully regret her stupidity for that was the night she’d conceived George.
She glowered at him. ‘I don’t want you at all,’ she lied. ‘And I don’t want to have some stupid conversation about coffee or art.’
He held up his hands in mock surrender. ‘Okay, okay. Look, this is hard for both us, but we share a history. Surely if fate has chosen to throw us together we can put our differences behind us for old times’ sake,’ he said smoothly. ‘Surely you can spare a couple of minutes to catch up.’
Teddie felt her heart start to pound. If only if was just the past they shared. But it wasn’t, and hiding that fact from Aristo was proving harder than she’d ever imagined.
But how could she tell him the truth? That he had a three-year-old son called George he’d never met. She caught her breath, trying to imagine how that conversation would start, much less end.
More importantly, though, why would she tell him? Their marriage might have been short-lived, but it had been long enough for her to know that there was no room in her ex-husband’s life for anything but his career. And, having been on the receiving end of her father’s intermittent attention, she knew exactly what it felt
