Page 105 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 1-4

‘I know, you told me—’

‘And I don’t think I ever will,’ he said, cutting her off. ‘I told you: I’m missing something...inside me. Something important. Something vital.’

‘You’re not missing anything.’ The rubies of her necklace glittered in time with her quickened breath, her dark eyes searching his face. ‘You’re just hurt. Wounded.’

He shook his head hard. ‘No. It’s not a wound, Nell. It was already there. It had to be. Why else would my mother have walked away?’

‘You can’t know—’

‘I can’t love you, Nell. I don’t know how. I don’t know if I can even love our children, and I can’t—won’t—allow that possibility.’ He took a breath and steeled himself because he knew what he had to do now. The only thing he could think of that would save her. ‘You have to leave me, understand? You have to walk away from me and never look back.’

Shock, cold as ice, seeped through her as she stared into his eyes.

He was so certain. She could see that. He believed it totally. That there was something missing from him, something broken. He’d told her as much back in Greece, and it had hurt her then. It hurt even more now. More than she’d ever thought possible.

‘You’re wrong,’ she said in a tight voice, emotion almost strangling her. ‘I don’t know why your mother walked away, but it was the worst thing in the world a mother can do to their child. You were eight years old and there was nothing wrong with you.’

‘The other foster families—’

‘You were traumatised,’ she interrupted, reaching for his hand again. ‘You were abandoned by your mother, then shipped to live with complete strangers. You were bounced from one to another, and no one made an effort with you. No one bothered to connect with you. But that’s a trauma, Bear. That’s a wound. It doesn’t mean you’re broken.’

But he was shaking his head, removing his hand from hers yet again, because she was wrong. ‘I wasn’t wounded when she left me in that church,’ he said roughly. ‘I was whole then. Or at least, I thought I was. Logic suggests otherwise.’

It felt as if he’d reached inside her and it wasn’t her hand he was squeezing now, but her heart. Making it ache. Making it hurt. ‘You can’t think these things,’ she said desperately. ‘You can’t ever know why—’

‘No.’ The word was a growl. ‘I can’t do it. I can’t risk it. Something dark in me wants nothing more than to keep you and the twins, and it will do anything in its power to make sure you can never leave. But I can’t do that to you, Nell. There will never be happiness for you if that happens.’

She swallowed, her throat thick, her chest aching at the desperation she saw in his eyes. ‘You don’t even want to try?’

‘I could, but what if it doesn’t work? What if thereissomething wrong? What if the babies are born and I feel nothing for them? What would that do to them? What would that do to you?’ He shifted suddenly, putting some distance between them. ‘I thought I would love them automatically, but I could be wrong. Some people don’t love their children, Nell.’ His gaze had darkened, going from brilliant silver to tarnished steel. ‘My mother didn’t love me, did she? If she did, she wouldn’t have walked away.’

Nell had never wanted to slap someone as hard as she wanted to slap the woman who’d left her little boy sitting alone in a church. Left him to be given to one family and then another, like an unwanted present. Was it any wonder he felt this way? With a childhood like his?

She ached and ached for him.

He was so beautiful in the black evening clothes he wore. Simple, exquisitely tailored, showing off his broad shoulders and narrow waist. His black hair, his silver eyes. His focused intensity, his electric presence.

He’d been at her side all night, holding her hand, and she’d felt him watch her, as if he hadn’t been able to look at anyone else. So many celebrities and famous people here at this gala, and all he’d been interested in was her.

He’d bought her the most beautiful gown to wear and the glorious necklace. Yet even without them, she’d still feel the way she had that first night together. Beautiful. Special. Like a treasure he’d uncovered and couldn’t believe was his. Because it wasn’t the gown or the jewels that made her feel that way. It was the glittering intensity in his eyes whenever he looked at her, the flickering heat, the desire. As if she was the only woman for him.

He’d cleared his schedule for her and she knew what that meant to him. He’d introduced her to his friend, Cesare, and his wonderful wife, Lark, and their adorable little girl. And she’d had a moment watching him as Maya had hauled herself into his lap, waving her drawing in his face, and the granite lines of his face had softened. Then he’d looked over at her and smiled, and she’d been able to see him all at once, with their own children, a patient, caring father.

He’d even handed her an organised itinerary of their visit to London, each part of the day set aside for different activities. It was very Aristophanes. But some blocks of time simply had ‘Nell’s choice’ on them, which she’d been delighted by.

He’d made an effort, she understood. Made an effort to get to know her, to understand what she’d meant when she’d said she’d wanted to be loved. An effort to make her happy.

She still wanted those things. Yet she was also beginning to understand that it wasn’t just any man she wanted those things from.

She wantedhimto make her happy, because she wouldn’t be happy with anyone else.

She wantedhimto love her, because it didn’t mean anything if it wasn’t him.

No other man meant anything except him.

You love him.

Of course she did. Perhaps she’d loved him that moment she’d opened her eyes on the pavement in Melbourne, and found him leaning over her, her hand in his, the warmth and strength of him flowing into her.

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