As Edward poured himself a whiskey from a crystal decanter it seemed to him that his libido had been doing all his thinking for him. That shook him inside out. In fact, he broke out in a cold sweat at that knowledge while he paced the pale limestone floor. He drained his glass and set it down with a definitive snap. Was he more like his father than he had ever suspected? Too weak and selfish to behave honorably? More likely than most men to succumb to a sexual obsession? After all, Anatole Zikos had promised repeatedly to end his relationship with Bastien's mother but somehow he had always ended up drifting back to Athene while coming up with one excuse after another. In truth, Anatole had been too obsessed with Athene to ever give her up and her death had devastated him.
Edward was all too well aware that he was the son of almost neurotically volatile parents, who had remained locked in an emotional triangle of high drama throughout their marriage. His home life had been a nightmare and when he had visited his friends' homes he had marveled at the quiet normality that they took for granted. When it came to what he viewed as his dodgy genes, Edward had always been relieved that he appeared to have skipped that over-emotional inheritance and was far too cold-blooded and logical to become obsessed with any woman. Indeed since his troubled childhood had taught him to mask his feelings and rigorously suppress or avoid any more intense reactions he had struggled to deal with any strong emotions.
But that approach wasn't likely to work for a male who had conceived a child with another woman in the run-up to his own wedding, Edward conceded bleakly. Everyone concerned had a right to strong emotions in a scenario like that. He had made the same mistake his father had—he had got the wrong woman pregnant. Wilfully or accidentally—did it matter which? Unlike his father, however, he would not compound his error by marrying a different woman and dragging her into the same shameful chaos. He had some tough decisions to make, he acknowledged grimly. It was no longer a matter of something as self-indulgent as what he wanted, but more a matter of honor. Such an old-fashioned word, that, Edward conceded ruefully, but if it meant that he accepted the need to put logic and fairness at the top of his list, it perfectly encapsulated his duty. And unlike his father, Edward planned to put his child first and foremost.
Around seven that same morning, Bella emerged from the shower, wrapped a fleecy towel around her, and wondered ruefully where her cases were. Their frantic charge to the bedroom the night before had left no time for such niceties as unpacking. Her face burned and she glanced in one of the many mirrors, angry and ashamed of herself because she was still acting out of character and letting her life go off the rails. One mistake did not need to lead to another, so why had she slept with Edward again last night? Waking up in bed alone in the silent apartment with her brain awash with unfamiliar thoughts of self-loathing had unnerved her. Edward, she had decided miserably, Edward was bad for her.
She crept out to the hall where her luggage still awaited her and she was about to lift a case when she heard a sound from another room and stiffened uncertainly.
'Bella...is that you?'
It was too late to retreat with any dignity but the discovery that Edward was still in the apartment and had not yet gone off to work as she had dimmed was unwelcome. She moved to the doorway of a large ultra-modern room flooded with light from a wall of windows and saw Edward. Her breath hitched in her throat. Barefoot, clad in only a pair of jeans unfastened at the waist and an unbuttoned shirt, Edward looked heartbreakingly gorgeous with his messy black hair, stubbled jawline, and stunningly unreadable dark eyes gleaming in the sunlight.
'I thought you were out,' she confided. 'I need to get dressed.'
'No hurry... Housekeeping doesn't get here until nine.' Edward stared at her, his eyes eating her alive in the pounding silence. With her red hair rippling damply around her narrow shoulders, her triangular face warm with color, and her sea-glass eyes bright and evasive, she reminded him of a pixie. She was tiny and her curves were gloriously feminine. He wanted to tell her to drop the towel. The swelling at his groin was more than willing to bridge an awkward moment
YOU ARE READING
GREEK HUSBAND
Romance'This was more than a little push,' Bella censured. 'I don't know why you're doing it either. You can't want me as a wife that much.' 'Why not?' 'I'm just ordinary.' 'I don't see you that way, meli mou,' Edward countered. 'I see you as different, as...
