Natalie Anderson - The Greek's One-Night Heir

‘Not yet,’ he said, obviously and unashamedly repelled by the idea.

‘Yet?’ she queried doubtfully because that wicked light in his eyes made her laugh. There was too much fun to be had first, clearly. How could he not be a playboy? All the women who’d want him, it’d be too easy. But she played along. ‘Because you have too much to do? Too busy with work? Too many other options?’

‘None of the above.’ He chose another answer altogether. ‘Hence no date to the ballet…’

‘I don’t believe you’re out of options,’ she said. ‘You’ve chosen not to bring a date.’ She cocked her head. ‘Because you don’t want to settle down at all?’

He met her gaze with knowing amusement.

She shook her head sadly. ‘Why do I get the feeling your poor grandfather is going to be waiting a while…’

He rolled his shoulders and his amusement faded as something far more serious flickered in his eyes. ‘He’s been unwell—this is preying on him. Hence the lecture.’

Leah watched him blink away that sliver of pain. That he’d not ended the call soon enough to get into the theatre showed he had patience and loyalty and respect for his relative.

‘Family expectations can be hard,’ she offered with soft honesty. ‘I’m an eternal disappointment to mine.’

He looked back into her eyes and they were held for a moment—silent scrutiny, total awareness—and she was struck by the conviction there was much more buried beneath his perfect surface.

‘I don’t believe you’d ever be a disappointment,’ he finally muttered—so low and so serious that she couldn’t smile and shake it off.

Instead a heated flush swept over her skin and she swallowed back the hard lump that had formed in her throat. ‘Well, you’d be wrong.’

He gazed at her for another moment of that unspoken communication—the deeply guarded truth, not the superficial denial that there was anything wrong.

Then he blinked and his lips twitched. ‘Your family want you to marry too?’

Laughter burst out, breaking that intensity. She shook her head.

‘Quite right, it’s a dreadful idea,’ he teased.

‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘It isn’t—’

‘You’re wrong.’ He saluted her with his drink again. ‘All marriages end up miserable.’

‘Wow…is that what happened to you?’

He almost choked on his drink and then laughed. ‘Not married. Never married. Never will marry.’

Yes, the only ring in his world was the ring of finality.

‘Because…’ She inhaled deeply as she studied him thoughtfully. ‘Parents?’

He flashed a look at her—pure pain, pure denial, pure promise of retribution.

‘Yeah,’ she murmured meekly. ‘Poor grandfather.’

‘You think I’m that predictable.’ He took another sip.

‘I think that everyone feels pain, sometimes,’ she said. ‘And often the people who inflict the most pain are the people we’re meant to be closest to.’

‘I’m not close to them,’ he said softly, then forced another smile. ‘So, tell me about your dancer friend. Is it her debut?’

‘No, it’s just that I’ve only recently moved to London so I haven’t been able to see her perform until tonight.’ She shifted guiltily on her chair as she remembered. ‘And now I’ve missed her.’

‘Only the first half. And she doesn’t need to know you’ve missed that.’

‘You think I should lie to her?’

He smiled at her as if she were a timid little lamb. ‘You’re omitting a little of the truth. That’s not a lie.’

‘Of course it’s a lie,’ she corrected him flatly. ‘It’s not completely honest.’

‘And we should always be completely honest?’ He shook his head and laughed openly.

‘You think I’m wrong?’

‘Naïve, perhaps.’ He leaned closer. ‘Sometimes telling the truth serves no purpose. When it can only hurt the person who has to hear it, why would you?’ He broke off with a sharp breath.

She had the feeling he wasn’t thinking of her little ‘missing the first half’ mistake any more.

‘So you’d omit the truth, or tell a lie, to protect someone?’ she asked.

‘Of course.’

He said it with such quiet certainty, she knew he had and did. She thought of the grandfather all over again and wondered what it was he protected him from.

That quizzical look lit his eyes again. ‘What would hurt your friend more? Knowing you missed the first half, or never knowing you missed it?’

‘If she ever found out I lied , that would hurt her the most. But if I tell her the truth, she’ll just laugh at me.’

He stilled, his gaze keen on her. ‘And that doesn’t hurt you?’

She shrugged. ‘My crime isn’t that critical and I’m already laughing at myself.’ She eyed him. ‘We can laugh together. Sharing pain takes some of the sting out of it, doesn’t it?’

‘Not always.’

‘Hmmm.’ She pondered it. ‘The problem is, one omission inevitably leads to more lies—she’ll ask what I thought of something in the first half and I’d have to lie then.’

‘Or you could just not talk about it at all.’

She laughed. ‘So your solution is to just bury everything and live in total denial? Pretend nothing bad ever happened?’ She leaned closer. ‘It’ll only come back to haunt you.’

‘Don’t tell me you believe in ghosts.’

‘Well, I believe some things—feelings mostly—can’t stay buried. They rise like zombies and eat your brain to the point where you can’t think clearly any more.’ It happened to her frequently.

‘So you always act on your emotions?’ he queried. ‘Act on gut feelings rather than with rational thought?’

She sighed. ‘I’m human. I try to be a good one and not hurt others.’

‘So honesty it is?’

‘Ideally, yes.’

‘Ideally.’ He sent her an indulgent smile. ‘So how, ideally, will your friend react?’

‘I know she’ll laugh. It’s not the first time I’ve messed up.’

‘You’ve known her a while?’

‘We grew up in the same town and were in ballet class together.’

‘But you don’t dance any more?’

‘My passion outweighed my talent.’

‘Surely passion’s the most important ingredient?’ His eyes gleamed. ‘Talent without passion is nothing. Skills can be learned, passion can’t.’

‘Well, that may be so, but I’m already taller than average.’ She shrugged, long skilled at masking her self-consciousness about it. ‘Put me in pointe shoes and I tower over most men.’

It wasn’t the only reason she’d quit, but he didn’t need to know anything more about her constant inability to meet her parents’ expectations.

‘Is that why you wear flat shoes now? So you’re not taller than your men?’

Her men ? She choked back a laugh at the thought. ‘I wear them because they’re comfortable. I dress to please myself, not some man.’

He grinned appreciatively. ‘Sure. But you’re not taller than me. You could wear high heels when we go out.’

‘I’m not going out with you.’

‘Aren’t we out right now?’ he teased.

She shook her head. ‘By accident, not design.’

‘So wouldn’t you go out with me if I asked?’

‘Would you ask?’

That smile hovered around his mouth and he took another sip. ‘Perhaps it’s better if I omit to answer—the truth might terrify you. It mildly terrifies me.’ His gaze clung to her lips and radiated a flash of heat that rippled over her. ‘What is it you like about ballet? The costumes? Because it’s romantic?’

‘There’s nothing romantic about ballet,’ she scoffed, covering that moment of awareness. ‘It’s ruthless.’

‘You mean bloody blisters and sprained muscles?’