Modern Romance December 2015 Books 5-8. Kate Walker

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СКАЧАТЬ quite believe him. She believed his words, but there was a part of Talos he kept closed off. Physically, he was the most generous and giving lover she could have dreamt of, but he had demons inside him she couldn’t reach—demons she caught glimpses of when he would shout out in his sleep, cries in Greek she didn’t understand.

      She’d asked him about it and he’d affected ignorance, saying he didn’t remember his dreams. She didn’t believe him but hadn’t pushed the subject. If he wanted to open up to her, he would. And, really, she was hardly in a position to demand to learn all his secrets when their whole relationship was based on sex and getting her performance-ready for the gala.

      ‘So you’ve never had a relationship of any kind?’ he asked.

      ‘I’ve had boyfriends,’ she corrected him, ‘Quite a few of them.’

      ‘And they didn’t try to get you into bed? Were they gay?’

      She gave a bark of surprised laughter. ‘I suppose it’s possible, but the relationships weren’t like that. It was more about a meeting of minds than physical chemistry.’

      ‘Isn’t that what normal friends are for?’

      ‘Probably.’ She swallowed. ‘We would kiss... But my boyfriends were the type of men who were happier to spend an evening discussing Mozart’s eccentricities and how it affected his music rather than trying to get me into bed.’

      He flashed her a grin. ‘I don’t pretend to know anything about Mozart, but if I did I can assure you I would be happy to discuss him with you—provided I could be stripping you naked at the same time.’

      ‘But that’s what I was hiding from,’ she confessed.

      ‘You liked those men because they made you feel safe?’ he asked.

      For such a physically imposing man Talos was incredibly perceptive—something she was coming to understand more on a daily basis.

      ‘I...’ She stopped to gather her thoughts. ‘Yes. You’re right. After my parents divorced my mother fell head over heels for so many different men that I lost count, but she couldn’t hold on to any of them. Her heart was broken so many times it was painful for me to watch.’

      ‘Why couldn’t she hold on to them?’

      She shook her head and inhaled deeply. ‘I don’t know. I think it was because my father spoilt her during their marriage. He adored her, you see—worshipped her. He treated her like his queen for fifteen years. It was what she was used to and what she expected. And I think it’s what pushed her lovers away—they would fall for her beauty and fame, but as soon as they found the needy woman inside they would run a mile. It hurt her very badly. She would smile and sing to the world, pretend nothing was wrong, but behind closed doors she would wail like a child.’

      ‘And you witnessed this?’

      She nodded.

      ‘I can understand why that must have been painful for you,’ he said quietly.

      Hadn’t he witnessed his own mother’s pain enough times to know how damaging it could be? Especially to a child? The helplessness of being too small and insignificant to offer any protection—either an emotional or a physical sort.

      ‘I know you must think my mother is a brat, and she is. But she’s also funny and loving and I adore her,’ she added with defiance.

      ‘I can tell,’ he said wryly, turning the car into the road marking the start of Kalliakis land. ‘But you have to admit that it isn’t fair of her to place all her emotional problems on your shoulders.’

      ‘She can’t help the way she is. And, fair or not, it’s no less than I deserve.’

      ‘What do you mean by that?’

      She didn’t answer, turning her face away from him to look out of the window.

      ‘Amalie?’

      She placed a hand to her throat, her words coming out in a whisper. ‘Her misery is all my fault. If it wasn’t for me, my father would never have divorced her.’

      A lump formed in his throat at the raw emotion behind her words. ‘I don’t believe that for a minute.’ How could a child influence its parents’ marriage? ‘But I am surprised to learn that your father divorced her. From what you’ve said, I assumed your mother had divorced him.’

      ‘My father worshipped the ground she walked on but to protect me from her ego he divorced her when I was twelve.’

      The pieces were coming together. ‘Which was around the time you were pulled from the spotlight. I assume the two things are connected?’

      ‘Yes,’ she admitted hoarsely, before closing her mouth with a snap.

      He brought the car to a stop outside her cottage and reached out to stroke the beautiful hair that felt like silk between his fingers. He wanted to gather her in his arms, not just to devour her body but to give her comfort. It was a feeling so alien to him that the lump in his throat solidified.

      Giving comfort implied a form of caring, and if there was one thing Talos avoided with the zeal of a medic avoiding the plague it was caring. Sex wasn’t meant to be anything but fun; it was an itch to be scratched. Nothing more.

      Before he could withdraw she turned her face back to him and raised her hand to palm his cheek. Helpless to resist, he brought his mouth down to hers and breathed her in, his heart thundering as he felt her own inhalation and knew she was breathing him in in turn.

      Being with her was like living in a fugue of desire—a constant state of arousal that needed no encouragement.

      It struck him that touching her and being touched in return was becoming as necessary to him as breathing.

      Theos.

      He had to keep his mind focussed on the bigger picture.

      No matter how good the sex was between them it didn’t change the fact that Amalie was in Agon for the gala and that it was his job to get her on the stage and performing for his grandfather. She had come on enormously in the past fortnight, but still she wouldn’t play his grandmother’s composition for him, although she would perform other pieces. She swore she knew it by heart and only wanted to perfect it, and he believed her, but the clock was ticking painfully. The gala was only a week away.

      Where had the time gone?

      He could sense she was close to unbuttoning the secrets she clutched so tightly, and knew it was the key to unlocking what she kept hidden—the thing at the very centre of her stage fright.

      A creamy envelope lay on the welcome mat of the cottage, the sight of which made him blink rapidly. It was an official royal envelope.

      Amalie opened it as she walked into the living room. ‘I’ve been invited for dinner with your grandfather,’ she said, passing it to him.

      His heart accelerating, he read the invitation, which was for dinner that coming Wednesday.

      ‘Did you know about this?’ she asked.

      ‘No.’

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