Page 11 of Virgin's Night with the Greek

‘There’s little of that afternoon Idon’tremember,’ he said dryly. ‘What happened?’

‘She went into hospital for a routine surgery and never woke up from the anaesthetic.’

‘That must have been devastating.’

In so many ways...

‘My father’s never really recovered,’ she admitted, swallowing down the small lump in her throat that always formed when she thought of the sorrow that still ravaged him. ‘He’s more or less a recluse.’

‘And you?’

Her? Hmm. Where to start? She’d become convinced that the fate that had befallen her mother could well befall her if she ever went under the knife. She’d witnessed first-hand, on a daily basis, the traumatic effect of her mother’s death on her father. What ifshewent ahead with the operations she’d been told by doctors would alleviate the pain she suffered month in, month out and one day didn’t wake up? He’d have lost a daughter as well as a wife and she couldn’t bear to think how he’d cope with that.

From there she’d developed a deep-seated fear of romantic love and falling into it. The idea of history repeating itself had tormented her day and night for months. What would her demise—in whatever form it took—do to someone who loved her, such as a long-term boyfriend or husband of her own? Wouldtheywithdraw from life, destroyed and hollowed out by grief? Wouldshe, if the situation were reversed?

The greater the love, it seemed, the greater the potential devastation and she couldn’t—and wouldn’t—put herself or anyone else in that position. In the end, she’d figured it was far safer not to let anyone emotionally close in the first place. Far easier to simply keep her heart locked up in a cage, throw away the key and get used to the loneliness. She wished she felt differently; she didn’t want to be alone for ever, but it was what it was. At least her way, only one person had to suffer.

But all that was far too intimate to share, so perhaps it would be best to present him with the obvious.

‘It took a while,’ she said, remembering instead the shock and the sorrow and the many long solitary walks she’d taken to process what had happened. ‘It rocked my world. I don’t expect the grief will ever go away—or the anger, for that matter—but you learn to live with it.’

‘That’s true,’ he said with a slight nod, never missing a step as he smoothly moved her around the dance floor. ‘My father died when I was nineteen. A heart attack. Also sudden.’

‘Selene said. He sounded like a formidable man.’

‘He was.’

‘How did they meet?’

‘At an embassy party in Paris. She fell for his British stiff upper lip and dashing looks. By all accounts she was dazzling, but I suspect the real attraction was the Kallis shipping company that he wanted to merge with the Stanhope bank.’

‘That’s cynical.’

‘Or realistic. They married after a whirlwind two-month courtship. The honeymoon didn’t last long. They were fundamentally too different. She was temperamental. He was cold. And obviously clueless when it came to handling her. He was perfectly capable of disciplining us, but for some reason he stuck his head in the sand with her. She ran rings around him. Her many affairs are unfortunately well documented. No wonder he had a heart attack.’

‘Yes, well, maybe “handling” is the trouble,’ she said a little archly. ‘Maybe you should try working out and understanding where her behaviour comes from instead.’

His eyebrows lifted. ‘Did I ask for your advice?’

‘No, but you have it anyway and maybe you should heed it because your current methods aren’t exactly working, are they?’

‘I live in hope. At least I try to do something about it instead of opting for denial without a care for the effects of her antics on the family.’

‘On you?’

‘None of us emerged unscathed.’

His cryptic response piqued her curiosity, but the shuttering of his expression indicated it would be pointless to probe. ‘Do you know she calls you the fun police?’

‘I am aware of that,’ he said, the muscles of his shoulders beneath her palms relaxing a fraction, which suggested he appreciated the shift in topic. ‘But my youngest sister was only nine when my father died. Someone had to be the adult.’

‘And that someone was you.’

‘I’m the eldest. I was the head of the family suddenly. It was my duty. And not everyone’s definition of fun is the same.’

Despite believing him to be wholly misguided on the subject of his mother, Willow felt a pang of sympathy. Being landed with thatandinheriting a vast global business at the tender age of nineteen, presumably while still grieving himself, couldn’t have been easy. ‘She also described you as emotionally repressed and far too serious.’

‘So I’ve heard.’

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