A Perfect Love: International Billionaires VI: The Greeks (10 page)

“We have some things we need to discuss before we land.”

Her stomach knotted around the food she’d eaten. He might appear approachable, but his voice told another story. His voice was hard and determined.

Backing away, she sat with a thump. “What things?” she managed through the sudden burn in her throat.

“Once we arrive,” he said, “my mother and sisters are going to want to spend time with the boys.”

“Of course.” She sagged into her chair, relieved. “I would never object to that.”

“Yet they will object to you.”

The bald statement hit her like a punch. “Why would they do that? They liked me when you and I were…”

His mouth turned into a sarcastic smile as she slid to a stop. “
Nai
?”

Grabbing her pride, she propped it up. “When we were dating. The point is, I always got along with your family.”

“That was before. This is now.”

“I can’t think what’s changed—”

He laughed. “Can’t you?”

“Unless you’ve poisoned the well before I even step into your home.” Her accusation flamed into him and set him to blaze. She could tell by the sudden tenseness of his shoulders and the way his eyes turned to black fire.

“You did all the poisoning yourself.”

“I don’t understand.” She truly didn’t. Previously, she’d been accepted into his family as a daughter and sister. Beyond her love for Rafe, she’d found in the Vounó villa the home life she’d never had. His father had been warm and charming. His mother had been loving and kind. Rhouth had promptly become her best friend with Rhachel not far behind. Though she’d rejected the family’s son at the end, she’d never exchanged one bad word with any of the other Vounós. In fact, she’d spent months and months writing letters to Rhouth…

With no response.

“They hate me because I split with you? Ten years ago?”

He bent forward, his arms on his knees, his hands clasped before him. The pose projected ease and dismissal. His white fingers told her something far different. “They hate you because you are a Drakos.”

“So are the boys.”

“No.” He shook his head slowly. “The boys are Vounós.”

“The boys are mine, too.”

“I’m working on that.” Threat laced every word and her greatest fear raised its head inside.

He hadn’t said what his phalanx of solicitors was working on now the DNA test had been done and Haimon had escaped. However, a person didn’t have a phalanx of solicitors around to do nothing. “Don’t threaten me.”

“That wasn’t a threat.” His gaze blazed with intent. “It’s reality.”

“I won’t let them go.”

“Let’s put this to rest for now.” He eased closer. “What we need to do is come to an agreement.”

“Why do I always feel like I lose whenever I make an agreement with you?”

A dark brow arched. “Lose? You’ve just spent a week in a very nice hotel—”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“You’ve been wined and dined. Taken to the theatre. Spent the day at the pool.”

“I don’t care—”

“You haven’t had to spend a dime in the entire week—”

“I didn’t want or ask for any of that.”

“Yet you accepted the gifts. All of them.”

He was right. And the thought of being beholden to him, of what this made him think of her, crushed her. He didn’t know how capable she was, how much she could do. The only thing he saw when he looked at her was a parasite. She couldn’t stand the thought. “You’ve made your point.”

His hands loosened on his taut thighs. “Then the agreement I ask of you should be fairly simple.”

“What?”

“Let my mother and sisters have their time with Isaák and Aarōn.” His words were laced with a disbelief that made it clear he found it impossible to think she’d comply. “Don’t mother them, stifle them. Don’t make them choose between you and my relatives.”

She stared across the aisle at him. Not only did Rafe think she was a parasite, he thought she was a control freak. He thought she was cruel enough to tear the boys apart with a demand for their loyalty. She was nothing like this. How could she possibly prove this to him?

By agreeing.

By getting her feet on the ground and finding a job once they arrived in Greece.

By showing him what she really was instead of trying to tell him.

“I would never do such a thing,” she stated. “I want the boys to know their new family.”

“Their only family.”

“Hey, Tam!” Isaák rushed right between them, breaking through the awful tension. “Come and see what movie we’re watching.”

Tamsin let herself be led away, a dead weight inside her. By the time she returned to her seat, Rafe was on the phone, his laptop in front of him.

She didn’t want to talk to him right now anyway.

She needed to reinforce her defenses before arriving in Greece.

During the last few days, as she’d reconciled herself to going back to Greece, she’d been worried, yes. And angry, true. But in the mix had also been a wistful happiness. The memories of Greece had washed over her: the blazing blue of the sea, the smell of the dry land, the heat of the sun. For years, she’d blanked Greece out of her mind as a necessity. Yet for these last few days, she’d let Greece seep into her heart.

Greece. Her old home.

Where, apparently, she was not going to be welcomed back with open arms.

Isolated. Rejected.

That is what she had to look forward to when this plane landed.

Her throat hurt from stuffing down tears for the rest of the flight. She wished with fervent, irrational hope the plane would never arrive. That they would fly and fly and fly until this wretched pain inside her disappeared.

The thud of the plane’s wheels on Greek land hit her with stark despair.

“Cool!” Isaák danced down the stairs to the tarmac. “Another limo.”

“As if we were going to met by anything else, idiot.” Aarōn strolled across to stand by his brother.

A twitch of concern tightened in her neck. Tam didn’t think it was good the boys were getting used to this kind of lifestyle. The nonchalant acceptance of luxury wasn’t a good thing.

“Get in.” Rafe’s impatient voice cut through her worry.

The boys’ chatter kept her from any further rumination as they drove away from the airport and into Athens. Before she could strengthen her confidence, the limo was turning into a familiar driveway.

Except it wasn’t.

Ten years ago, the driveway had been gravel, the line of carob trees had been untrimmed, the gardens behind the drive had grown in glorious disarray. Now the limo’s wheels drove efficiently up a concrete path. The trees were cut back in rigid formation. The gardens tamed into austere elegance.

“Wow!” Isaák hopped up and down on the seat beside her. “Look at that!”

Aarōn twisted around to stare at the villa appearing over the hill. “I didn’t expect it to be so rich looking.”

She hadn’t either. While the Vounó villa was set in the exclusive northern suburb of Ekali, when she’d been here last, the graceful home had been slightly shabby. Rafe had told her the house had been in his father’s family for a hundred years. Clearly the Vounós were proud of their home, but it had appeared to her interested eyes at the time that there wasn’t quite enough money to keep everything maintained.

Not anymore.

The limo drew to a stop at a black-spiked gate. A large medallion hung in the center with the image of a centaur edged in gold.

“That is Chiron,” Rafe said. “A figure in Greek mythology.”

“I don’t know much about mythology.” Aarōn frowned, obviously offended he didn’t know everything about his new home.

Another stab of guilt slashed at her heart.

“You will.” He waved at the attendant in the gatehouse. “It’s your family crest.”

Tamsin slumped in her seat, dazed. When she’d last been here, this particular gatehouse had been a crumbling structure. The gate before them had needed some paint. Only the medallion had gleamed with familial pride.

“We’ll be at your new home soon.” Their uncle eased forward, catching the twins’ interest. “I’ve had some major work done during the last few years.”

“I can see that,” she blurted.

His dark gaze ran over her and then away. “Behind the main villa,” he gestured. “Is the new pool and cabana.”

The limo rolled along, relentless, as the boys shot eager question after eager question at their uncle. She sunk back into the leather seat, wishing she could sink back into her old life where she’d been important.

The limo stopped. The door opened.

Out of the villa poured a swarm of laughing, crying people. Rafe hopped from the car and reached in, drawing both boys into an adoring group of Vounós.

Their family.

Tam sunk farther back, angry at her cowardice, but unable to force herself into a crowd she’d been warned was antagonistic towards her.

She spotted Rafe’s mother, Nephele, her grey hair now tinted a becoming silver, her big dark eyes filled with happy tears. Rhachel stood by her mother, a small boy held in her arms, his lolling head showing the loud chatter around him wasn’t disturbing his sleep. Tam recognized her old best friend, Rhouth. No longer a young girl with a sweet smile on her face. Now, she was a woman fully grown, her long, black hair pulled into a fancy coil, her baby fat melted away into an elegant figure. She stood, smiling at the twins, a handsome man standing beside her, holding her hand.

A tear slipped down Tam’s cheek as she stared through the limo window. Her friend. All grown up.

“
Eláte
.” A hand suddenly appeared in front of her face. A masculine hand, long-fingered, with a slight wisp of dark hair on its back.

She didn’t want to grasp the hand, the strong hand before her. Grasp it and be pulled into a world she’d left so painfully many years ago. A world that would not welcome her if what he said was to be believed.

Yet, she wanted to take this hand. Touch the elegant length of the fingers. Take the warmth and love it had offered her when she’d been sixteen. Believe there was acceptance in this hand.

“Tamsin.” He leaned into the limo door, his eyes meeting hers. “Take my hand.”

Sliding her fingers along his, she noticed the play of her light skin on his dark. Felt the crease of his palm as he tightened his hand around hers.

And pulled.

A hush came over the happy crowd. She felt as if every eye landed on her with a potent punch.

Rafe let go of her hand.

She stood alone.

The eyes around her, the eyes ranging from deepest black to amber brown, the eyes of this family all stared at her.

With hostility.

“Tammy.” Isaák bounded over and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Isn’t this cool?”

Cold would be the word she’d use. Extremely cold.

Aarōn stepped in front of her and grabbed her hand. Her cold hand. “Come on, Tam. Let’s go inside.”

“Together,” Isaák chimed in.

She forced herself to smile. The boys loved her. That was the only thing that mattered. Without thinking, she glanced over and met another set of eyes. Black eyes filled with turbulence. Filled with mistrust.

Filled with male need.

And Tam knew deep inside, like a shot of pure pain, that the boys’ love was not enough. Not any longer. Not anymore.

“
T
hey are precisely like Ben
.” His mother wiped joyful tears from her cheeks.

Hopefully not
. The betraying thought shot into his mind before he could quash it.

Rafe strode to the antique oak desk his father had once presided behind and leaned on the edge. The sounds of the rest of the family rang from across the hall, their excited voices a restless backdrop to the comparatively quiet library he’d brought his mother to so she could recover her composure.

“I can’t wait to hold them again.” She beamed.

“Soon,
Mi̱téra
,” he said. “They needed to wash after the traveling.”

“
Nai.
” She straightened on the plush velvet sofa. “They appear healthy. Well cared for.”

“
Nai
.” He echoed her one word, the truth of it sticking in his throat.

“I highly doubt Haimon Drakos or his wife had much to do with that.” His mother’s voice went dry.

He crossed his arms, tapping one finger on the linen of his sport coat. He couldn’t force another confirmation out because it would lead to yet another conclusion he didn’t want to agree to also.

Her mouth firmed. “We can’t say Ben had anything to do with it either.”

The ache in her voice brought an ache to his throat. “
Mi̱téra
—
”

“
No, no, Raphael.” She closed her eyes, suddenly looking all of her fifty-eight years. “We must face the fact your brother abandoned his responsibilities.”

He could think this, but he didn’t want his mother to. The acknowledgement of her oldest son’s lack of conscience would only cause her unnecessary pain. “Who knows what really went on? This is all in the past.”

Her eyes snapped open to alight on him. “So. You don’t wish to share what else you found in Ben’s papers.”

He straightened his stance; his jaw tightened. “There wasn’t much.”

Her gaze narrowed.

“What is important is I found the boys.” He shifted his weight. “That’s what we need to focus on.”

“You know more.” His mother never yelled. Never screeched. Instead, she used her indomitable will in a relentlessly mild way. The method could be just as effective in handling her children as any loud fight.

Still, this time he would not budge. She didn’t need to see the damning letters, the filth his brother had rolled in, the ugliness he’d uncovered. “I don’t know everything. I can’t be sure of what Ben was thinking when he kept the knowledge of the boys from us.”

Maybe Ben knew the man you’d become—angry, hateful, ruthless—and didn’t want his sons anywhere near you.

The memory of the accusation, and what he’d done when it had been thrown at him, made him suck in his breath.

“What?” His
mi̱téra
swiveled on the sofa, her expression alert and focused.

“Nothing.” Rafe tried to thrust the accusation and the memory of what had happened after away. Far away. Yet the memory curled back around. Swished past his intention to forget. The argument and the kiss swamped his brain before he could push the thoughts back once again.

The way her mouth wrapped around each painful word, slurring them into his heated blood.

The flash of her green eyes as she hurled another insult at him, making him burn with anger and lust.

The taste of Tamsin.
Theé
mou.
The taste of her.

“Raphael?” His mother’s gaze pierced him. “There is clearly more going on here.”

He wrenched himself upright. “I’m sorry. I am a bit tired from traveling. There’s nothing else wrong with me.”

A frown creased her brow. “We were talking about your brother’s papers.”

“
Nai, nai.
” He cursed himself under his breath. The last thing he wanted his mother to scent was his turmoil about
Tamsin
.

“Is there something wrong with you?” Concern flashed across her face.

“I just told you exactly the opposite.”

His
mi̱téra
cocked her head. “There is something more here.” As usual, her voice was calm and cool and hard as marble. “Tell me.”

“No
.”
He held himself still. “There is nothing more than two boys who are now welcomed back into the family.”

A chilly silence fell and for a moment, Rafe felt all of eight-years-old. The force of his mother’s wishes pushed against his rigid determination.

Then she sighed. “All right. We will visit these topics at another time.”

Topics. Plural. God help him. There would be no revisiting. But he didn’t want to pollute this important moment with an argument. “Let’s focus on the boys.”

She turned to gaze at the open doorway, a pensive look filling her expression. “I don’t have to know everything you do to know who I can thank for the boys’ obvious health and well-being.”

The conclusion he had not wanted her to jump to rolled right toward him. Why did he even hold out a hope for any other outcome?

This was his mother.

The mother who had instantly known who had broken the dining room window when he’d been seven. The mother who’d known he’d needed a special place to keep his collection of wounded birds and rodents. The mother who could read minds and hearts and souls even when a man attempted to keep all of it hidden.

Naturally, his mother would have taken one glance at the boys and known.

“Tamsin,” she said softly.

He stiffened, but was able to mask the reaction by prowling across the room to the marble fireplace. “I had to bring her.”

“Of course you did.” He felt her gaze, her strong, knowing gaze burrowing into his back. “She’s grown into a beautiful woman.”

Beautiful would not be the word he’d choose. Stubborn. Sly. Seductive.

“As a girl, she was very pretty.” His mother continued to muse in a low, thoughtful tone. “Now, though—”

“What does it matter?” He jerked himself around to meet her gaze. “She’ll be gone before too long.”

A dark brow, much like his, rose. “Is that so?”

She didn’t sound approving. How could this be? More than anyone else, his mother should hold a grudge against any person with the last name of Drakos. She gazed at him now, her eyes opaque, her face no longer filled with emotion.

His temper, his frustration stoked. “The twins won’t need her after they’ve adjusted. A few weeks at the most.”

“Hmm.” She brushed her hands down her silk dress, a slight frown furrowing her brows. “We’ll see.”

He’d thought all his family would agree. No Drakos should be around the boys. Yet he read his mother well. She wasn’t on board. She didn’t agree. “Why can’t you see—?”

“
Mana
.” His sister, Rhachel, burst into the room, her face flushed with excitement. “The food is ready.”

“I’m also sure your uncles are hungry.” Nephele laughed as she rose. “I will go—”

“Wait.” He needed to make this clear, didn’t he? He needed to make sure his mother wanted Tamsin gone from here as soon as possible.

His mother swung around to stare at him, her dark gaze keen and wise. The look shook him deep inside, where he never ventured to go. Not anymore. Not since he’d managed to patch his family together in the best way he could.

Immediately after his father’s death, his
mi̱téra’s
eyes had grown dim and distant. For a long time. He’d worried for endless hours. He’d worked hard to pay the bills and to give her luxury and stability, if not the love of her husband. Over time, her dark eyes had cleared, the pain and sorrow washed away by the life he managed to give her.

His sisters had done their part during the years, too. Marrying good men, having babies, staying with his mother as she nursed her grief. Even now, ten years later, none of them had left Nephele. The villa had become a compound: Rhachel and her family on one side of the vast garden, in a home he’d built for them, Rhouth on the other side of the pool cabana, settled nicely in another house.

And Rafe himself. Never straying far. Always coming home to make sure his mother’s eyes were no longer dead.
Nai
, he had his house in Sparti, yet he never spent more than a long weekend there.

“Raphael?” The dark eyes of his mother never left his face. “Did you have something to say?”

The bitter words clutched in his throat.

We need Tamsin to feel unwanted, unneeded here.

We need her to leave.

I need her gone before…

He opened his mouth—

“Raphael.” His youngest sister barreled into the room and ran over, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. “How wonderful you are.”

He didn’t feel wonderful. He felt tortured and angry and frustrated. He’d thought this would be easy. He’d thought his family would drive Tamsin out of the boys’ life. Out of his life. However, if his mother wasn’t in agreement, then what the hell was he going to do?

Rhouth lifted her head and gave him a wide smile. Her amber eyes twinkled with happiness. “Isaák and Aarōn are a gift to us. A gift from Ben.”

Not Ben. Ben hadn’t raised them to be the boys they were: smart, well-behaved, stable. The person who’d done this, given this gift was—

“Tamsin.” His youngest sister spat the word out, her face turning dark with disgust. “Tamsin is the only problem.”

The bitter words clutching in his throat sank into the pit of his stomach, making him sick. Not because he hadn’t said them but because he knew, suddenly, he didn’t believe them. God help him, he didn’t want her to leave, he wanted her—

“We’ll get rid of her.” Rhouth hugged him once more, a tight strangle of raging emotion. “Don’t worry.”

“Rhouth.” His mother sighed.

“You know I’m right,
Mana
.” She dropped her arms and turned to meet Nephele and Rhachel’s skeptical gazes. “We’ve talked about this since we knew they were coming.”

“You talked,” Rhachel inserted. “We listened.”

Tension vibrated from his youngest sister’s thin body. “I thought you agreed.”

“I think the boys need their sister. There’s obviously a bond there.” His mother’s quiet voice slid above the simmering conflict.

Her words sank into him, the truth in them too clear and pointed to ignore. When he’d decided to take Tamsin with them to Greece, he’d convinced himself it was only because his solicitors had counseled him to do this. They’d advised it would be extremely difficult to radically change the boys’ guardianship so quickly. Better to pretend to work with her, cajole her with the perks money could buy, lull her into a false sense of security. Then, when the timing was right, only then would he drive her away.

But now?

Now he knew better. What he’d tried to push back before, hit him with stark clarity. Pulling her apart from the boys now or for the near future would damage them.

And he wasn’t going to do it.

“Tell me you have a plan to get rid of her.” Rhouth rounded on him, her expression intense. “Tell me, Rafe, you’ll get rid of her.”

Her passionate fervor struck him. “Why do you care so much? She’s merely the boys’ sister. So what if she stays for a while?”

His mother let out a soft breath.

“Why do I care?” His sister’s spine went rigid. “After what she did to you?”

“Ten years ago.” The realization hit him that the fierce anger he’d held so tightly to when he’d first confronted Tamsin at the rundown hotel and morphed into…into… “A long time ago.”

His
mi̱téra
made a low sound in her throat, and he pivoted to stare at her. Her face was devoid of emotion, yet something in her eyes moved. Something that tweaked him inside.

“What she did changed you, Raphael.” His youngest sister continued, relentless. “Not for the better either—”

“Now, now.” Nephele’s quiet voice was implacable. “Enough.”

“I won’t forgive her.” Rhouth marched to the fireplace and stared down at the cold logs waiting for a match. “I don’t care how many letters I got from her.”

He jerked his gaze from his mother and stared at his sister. “Letters?”

The sleek twirl of her dark hair bobbed as she shook her head. “Never mind.”

He shouldn’t mind or care. “She sent you letters?”

“Not many.” She turned to face his disbelief. “She stopped sending them after a few months.”

“When you didn’t respond,” he guessed.

“Of course I didn’t respond.” Her mouth moued with remembered anger. “She’d broken your heart.”

No man wanted to hear those words spoken about him, even if they were true. Which, in this case, they were not. “Stop with the girlish imaginations,” he scoffed. “I barely remember Tamsin.”

“That’s not true—”

“Then there should be no problem in welcoming her to the family for an extended stay.” Nephele walked over and slipped her hand under his arm. “It’s time we go and greet the family and begin the meal.”

“The first meal with Isaák and Aarōn.” Rhachel’s face creased with a wide smile.

“And Tamsin,” his mother added.

Rafe frowned at her, knowing she’d detected what he’d tried so hard to conceal. Her dark eyes didn’t tell him what she thought about the turmoil roiling inside his gut. But he knew enough to know his
mi̱téra
wasn’t going to allow anyone in this family to drive Tamsin away.

Other than himself.

T
he bedroom had new wallpaper
.

The change didn’t do much to stop the slide into ten-year-old memories.

Tamsin plopped down on the bed. She smoothed her hand across the misty-blue coverlet. The same. She scowled at the cream bedding with the golden-filigree edge. The same. She tried to focus on the blue-sprigged wallpaper that had replaced the plain, painted walls she remembered. There wasn’t enough difference to stop the painful recollections.

She forced herself to look.

Look over at the far end of the bedroom. Past the antique chestnut armoire and dresser. Past the pretty vanity table and the pillowed stool where she’d perched as a sixteen-year-old gazing at her flushed cheeks in the mirror. Past all of it to the window.

The same misty-blue cushion on the window seat she remembered.

The same window seat she’d sat on when she’d stared at the stars and dreamed her silly, girlish dreams. The same seat where she’d peered down right into a pair of dark eyes laughing up at her.