Page 50 of Greek's Temporary "I Do"

‘But you are now? Because of Helena?’

Leo looked up, tilting his head back, hoping that the dampness in his eyes didn’t betray him in his voice.

‘Is she okay? She told me not to come.’ The concern in Leander’s voice was as clear when he was talking about Helena as the distance in his tone when speaking to him.

‘I’m on my way to make sure she is, right now,’ Leo replied with ruthless determination.

There was another long pause.

‘Leo, believe me, I appreciate what you’re saying, but right now isn’t a good time for me. I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess and please, tell Helena that I’m sorry for letting her down.’

Leo gritted his teeth. He knew that his brother’s coolness was justified. Five years of complete silence couldn’t be undone in one phone call.

‘You cut her off from everything and everyone she knew.’

He had done the same to Leander, his brother, his conscience cried, and guilt opened like a fresh wound across an already battered heart.

‘I need to go,’ Leander said. ‘When I come home we’ll talk properly. Okay?’

‘Okay. I’d like that,’ Leo replied truthfully, thankful for the sliver of hope Leander had created in the darkness.

‘So would I,’ his brother said before disconnecting the call.

It wasn’t the hearts and flowers reunion he might have hoped for, but neither was it an absolute no. It was somewhere to start, and he was okay with that. But it was a very different matter when it came to Helena. As the car took him closer and closer to the villa where he and Helena had arrived only seven days before, Leo grew more and more determined that he would see this through to the end; Helena Hadden was going to be his by the end of the day, no matter what it cost him.

Helena fisted her hand to try and stop her fingers from shaking. The press gathering outside the front of the villa had trebled since the news of her impending statement had been released. She risked a glance through the blinds of the windows that looked out at where they were gathered and felt sick.

A line of black-suited men in dark glasses held back the press, preventing them from trying to gain access to the grounds, as one reporter had done just as they’d turned up. Leo had sent them, she knew it.

But she pushed it out of her mind, pushed everything out of her mind, other than what she was about to do. She steeled herself and the nerves went. Because she knew this was the right thing to do. And she knew that, no matter what the outcome was, she would have done everything in her power to protect those she loved. And that was enough for her. It might not be everything she’d ever wanted, but she was at peace with it.

He had seen her. Leo had. He had recognised her as good at what she did. Celebrated that with her. But he’d been right. No one could give her what she needed. Not him. Not her parents. She had to give that to herself. She had to be enough for herself.

Helena smoothed down the dress she had chosen to wear—a simple cornflower-blue muslin V-neck. Her hair, blonde and down, made her feel pretty, feminine and her. That was how she wanted to meet the press.

She opened the front door and walked on the grey stone slabs towards the gate to the villa, where one of Leo’s bodyguards stood to attention, hands clasped in front of him.

‘Ma’am.’

She nodded and he pulled open the gate, and the sudden cry of voices and stuttered flashbulbs hit her like a meteor shower. Drawing on an inner strength she didn’t know she had, she walked out into the villa’s courtyard, where Leo’s other men were holding the press at bay. She waited until the press had calmed themselves, until the camera flashes slowed and the questions halted.

‘I’m going to make a statement which will cover as much as possible at this time,’ she explained. ‘And if you have questions, I will try to answer them honestly.’

A few flashes went off, but predominantly the paparazzi remained quiet.

‘Six months ago, I was made CEO of a charity I not only believe in, but personally benefitted from after the sudden death of my father when I was sixteen years old. Incendia raises not only money but awareness, grief support, therapy and research into rare cardiac diseases that are of no financial interest to big pharmaceutical companies. In short, it’s a godsend to those who need to rely on it,’ she said, a sad smile coming to her lips.

She took a breath. ‘Shortly after taking up the position, I discovered that an employee had stolen nearly one hundred million pounds from the charity and disappeared.’ She pushed on through the gasp of shock. ‘The previous CEO had failed to renew the business insurance and the charity will likely fail the financial review in December.

‘But what does all this have to do with the Liassidis brothers?’ she asked rhetorically.

She smiled when one reporter cried out, ‘Yes!’ much to the amusement of many present.

‘My father left me an inheritance. An inheritance that will mature when I am either twenty-eight years old or when I marry. I had hoped to use that inheritance to cover the gap in Incendia’s finances. I know that this was wrong, but I was desperate for Incendia to keep on doing the good work that it does,’ she said truthfully, feeling the damp heat of tears against the backs of her eyes.

‘Leander Liassidis offered to loan me the money, but... I have the money...or would have it in two years’ time, but for an arbitrary bit of wording that would have taken too long to challenge legally. So we decided to marry.

‘Please. Let me explain. I love Leander. Truly. But only like a brother. And while no one, not even he, thought he’d ever settle down, he did meet someone. A very special someone, whom I love dearly. But that story is theirs to tell.

---