Greek Mavericks: Seduced Into The Greek's World. Julia James

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       CHAPTER TWO

      HE STILL COULDN’T remember his name when he was wheeled out of the hospital in a wheelchair and physically moved into a van designed to accommodate his limitations. But he did know that all of this ate at his pride. He did not like to need the assistance of others. He did not like to be at a disadvantage. And yet here he was, completely dependent, his pride in shreds.

      Strange how he had no memories and yet he still knew these things. Bone-deep.

      He knew his name. He knew his name because it had been spoken around him, over his head, as his wife and various medical professionals made decisions for him. But that was different than knowing his name. Than recognizing it. He was unable to remember who he was, but he wasn’t stupid. Still, that seemed to constitute a compromise that he could not be trusted to make his own decisions.

      The drive to the airport was long, and painful, every dip in the road aggravating some injury or another. He was lucky to have less broken than he did. But he was still far too sore to walk on his own. He had a couple of broken ribs, but other than that it was mainly deep contusions. So he had been told. He knew his extensive list of injuries. Had done his very best to memorize them, just so there was something in his brain he knew. Something he knew about himself.

      But it was a rather depressing list of facts, he had to admit.

      Still, they were the only facts he had.

      According to his doctor, there were basics that he would be told. But there were some things that were best allowed to return organically.

      He hated that, too. Hated that he wasn’t just dependent on others for physical care. But that he was dependent on them for knowledge.

      Every single person in the exam room earlier today knew more about him than he did. His wife knew whole volumes more than he did, undoubtedly.

      He looked at her profile, her stoic expression as she looked out the window, watching the scenery go by.

      “I know you very well,” he said. He hoped that by saying it it would make it so.

      He must. He must know what she looked like beneath her clothes. He had touched her. Kissed her. Countless times, he would imagine. Because they were young—reasonably so—and in love, he presumed.

      “I’m not entirely certain of that,” she said.

      “Why wouldn’t I?”

      She blinked, looking startled. “Of course you do.”

      The startled expression, he realized, was her correcting herself. Realizing she had done something wrong.

      “Now you are being dishonest with me,” he said.

      “I’m not. I’m just doing my best to follow the doctor’s orders. I’m not sure what I’m allowed to say and what I’m not allowed to say.”

      “I don’t know that it’s detrimental either way.”

      “I don’t want to put memories into your head that aren’t there.”

      “Nothing is there at the moment. I’m a blank slate. I imagine I could very easily become victimized by you.”

      Color flooded her cheeks. Angry color, he guessed. “I’m not going to do anything to you.” She turned away from him, her gaze fixed out the window again.

      “So you say. But I am at your mercy.”

      “Oh, and I am so very terrifying.”

      “You could be. For all I know, this could be an elaborate ruse. I appear to be a very rich man.”

      “How would you know?”

      “I had a very nice private room, and an awful lot of attention from doctors.”

      “Perhaps it is because you are a special case,” she said, her voice so brittle it reminded him of crystal.

      “Oh, I have no doubt of that. There are certain things that I seem to know. That I feel, down deep in my bones. Other things you have told me, such as my name, I simply have to believe. But my importance, the fact that I am a special case, that I know.”

      “Amazing,” she said, her tone arch. “Apparently nothing can beat your ego out of you, Leon. That is an amazing feat, I will bow to that.”

      “So I am an egotist in addition to being special? I must be very charming to live with.”

      She blinked slowly. “You often travel for work. I typically remain in Connecticut. I suppose we find we get on best that way.”

      He lifted a shoulder. “Nothing unremarkable about that. I doubt very many people are suited to cohabitation.”

      “Another thing you’re very confident about?”

      “Yes. I am confident.” He knew that. He felt that. He turned his focus to his wife. “This has been very trying for you,” he said, trying his best to eliminate some of the waxen quality in her face. He did not like seeing her like this. Which was strange, considering he couldn’t remember what she was like on a daily basis. Still, he knew he did not like her being in distress.

      “Nobody wants to hear that their husband may never regain his memory.”

      “I can imagine. No man wants to hear he may never regain his memory.”

      She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry. This has nothing to do with how difficult it is for me. You’re the one who’s injured.”

      “That isn’t true at all. Of course it matters if this is difficult for you. We are one flesh, are we not, agape?” He leaned in slightly, her light floral scent teasing his nose and stimulating...nothing. At least nothing in terms of memory. He was a man, after all, so it did stir something in his gut, low and deep. She was enticing, if not traditionally beautiful. “And if we are one flesh,” he continued, “then what affects me also affects you.”