Page 50 of The Billionaire's Seduction Revenge

Costa was gone.

Vasilios clearly didn’t want her here.

She’d been true to her word, and stayed with Vasilios to the end, but there was no reason to linger now.

The best thing she could do, the only thing she could do, to preserve her pride and protect her heart, was to leave.

But not without saying goodbye. She had too much respect for what they’d once been, for what she felt for Vasilios, to be so weak.

Emma found Vasilios in the study, a crystal decanter of scotch and a single glass in front of him. His eyes were a little bloodshot but otherwise, he looked so exactly like himself that her heart twisted and she yearned to be able to step back in time to when things were simpler, happier, when they hadn’t been tested by a loss such as this.

But they’d both known it was coming.

They’d known that day in Paris, and every day since, and yet it wasn’t until Costa had died that Vasilios had changed, as if he really hadn’t grappled with the reality of this until it was upon him.

Tears gathered at the back of her throat and she stood just inside the door, staring at him, speechless despite the words she’d come here to say.

Outside, it was a perfect, summer’s day. The funeral had been before lunch, the wake just after, and the last of the mourners had left allowing for the private burial. Emma and Vasilios had been amongst just a handful of people, those closest to Costa, who’d attended the gravesite.

“Do you need something?” The words were perfectly civil, but his tone was not. It was gruff and unwelcoming. He might as well have asked her to leave him the hell alone.

Well, he’d soon get his way.

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m leaving.” The words sounded so incredibly discordant. She cleared her throat. “This afternoon.”

He stared at her, jaw squared, eyes hard like flint, then he reached for the scotch, took a drink, carefully replaced the glass on the table before lifting his eyes to her once more.

“You don’t have to go.”

“Don’t I?” She tried to flatten the bitterness from her tone. “Are you saying you want me to stay? Because you’ve been acting as though you can’t stand the sight of me.”

He half-grimaced before turning to stone. “I mean to say that you can stay here, at the Villa. Without me.” He took hold of the scotch glass, but didn’t lift it. “Costa suggested it.”

She flinched. Of course it had been Costa’s idea. She wrapped her arms around her chest.

“You don’t have to leave. He wanted you to feel free to stay here for as long as you want. Forever. It’s fine. I don’t come back often.”

The awful, cloying sting of tears filled Emma’s mouth. She looked at Vasilios as though he was a stranger. Shards of memories tore through her.

Marriage had been exactly like this: before long, she’d felt as though she was walking on eggshells. The Jack she’d met and married was gone, and in his place was a man with a varying temper, unpredictable, controlling and arrogant. Emma had never known exactly where she’d stood with him and bit by bit that had robbed her of confidence. She’d sworn she wouldneverlet herself be in that position again, and yet here she was.

She was so angry with herself! How could she have been so stupid?

“It’s fine,” she whispered. “I don’t need to stay.”

He drank from his scotch. “No? Where will you go then, Emma?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

He stared at her for a long, cold moment and then nodded. “È vero.”It’s true.

She blanched. Was that it? She stood there, waiting, wondering if he would say something, if she should say something, wondering how they could possibly have ended up like this, two strangers. And did any of that matter?

“Okay.” Her eyes tilted towards the window. The blue sky made a mockery of her mood, of the tone of her conversation. “Well, I guess that’s it then.”

She turned to the door, walked towards it, back ramrod straight, opened it and then hesitated. If she walked out of this room without trying to clear the air between them, she would always regret it. She’d stayed quiet in her marriage when she should have spoken up. Wasn’t that what you were meant to do in relationships? Speak up, speak your mind, be yourself? She’d changed since losing Jack. She’d grown stronger, more sure of herself, and in part, Vasilios had helped her become both.

She spun quickly, and he clearly wasn’t expecting it, because she caught him in an unguarded moment, head bent into the palm of one hand where it sat cradled, his elbow braced on the desk. His posture was that of total surrender.

---