Page 53 of Greek's Temporary Cinderella

Rebellion rose up in him.

Six years ago I let her leave me. I let money be more important to her than loving me. I let her do that. I didn’t challenge it... I didn’t fight her for it.

Because six years ago she hadn’t been worth fighting for.

But this time...

This time she is.

Whatever had happened to her in the dysfunctional marriage she’d made, she had changed. She must have changed. Or else why would she not have taken from him everything she could? All that he had originally promised her? She’d refused gifts of jewellery, left her couture wardrobe behind. Walked away with nothing of what he’d offered her when he’d told her he wanted her to go to Paris with him.

And what they’d had in Paris had been good.

Maybe I didn’t understand what was happening to me—to us. Maybe I still wasn’t sure what I wanted. But now—Now I won’t lose it. I won’t let it go, never to return.

He felt his hands clench into fists. This time he would not give up on her.

He stared, unseeing, across his office. Emotion was churning inside him. Powerful. Insistent. Focussed on one goal only.

Eliana.

Getting her back.

Eliana was back at work, back to stacking shelves, back at the till, back to fetching and carrying. She wasn’t working full-time any longer, but the wage she earned was still essential to her finances. The supermarket was farther away from where she was now based, and she was on the lookout for something closer. She wished she could find something better paid, but that was unlikely, given her lack of marketable skills.

She gave a sigh. No point wanting things that were impossible.

Like wanting Leandros.

No, she mustn’t let her thoughts go there, or her memories. It was like pouring acid on an open wound.

I survived a broken heart six years ago—I can survive it again. I must.

Because there was no alternative. As before, she’d made her choice—and now she was living with it.

No point complaining or repining.

Numbly, mechanically, she went on stacking shelves.

Leandros frowned. This apartment block might be in a better street than the dump Eliana had lived in before, and it was in better condition—cleaner and well-kept—but it was not what he’d expected. Had she really taken up with someone who lived here?

But it was not where that someone lived that he cared about—it was that there was a ‘someone else’ at all.

How could she? How could she after what we had in Paris? Did it mean nothing to her?

His thoughts darkened as he walked into the lobby. Six years ago her time with him had meant nothing to her either...

He gave her name to the concierge—at least this block had one. The man frowned for a moment, then his face cleared.

‘Second floor, apartment six—opposite the stairwell,’ he said. ‘Do you want me to phone?’

Leandros shook his head, vaulting up the stairs.

As he gained her floor he stopped dead. What the hell was he doing? He’d trekked here to fight for her—thinking that this time she was worth fighting for. But was he just fooling himself? Whatever had happened in Paris, she had still walked away from him as she had done before.

Six years ago he’d known who she’d left him for. And why.

Last time around I knew. This time around I don’t need to.

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