The Savakis Merger (23 page)

His arms dropped to his sides, empty without her.

‘That doesn’t matter,’ she murmured, clearly lying. He felt her hurt and cursed himself for his stupidity. ‘What matters is that I don’t want to stay indefinitely till you feel I’m able to stand on my own two feet.’

She wrapped her arms around herself as if cold. ‘I’m quite capable of looking after myself.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Frustration filled him and the need to understand.

Her hair swirled round her as she shook her head, her face growing animated. It blazed with an anger that made her eyes shimmer jewel-bright. ‘I’m not some charity case, Damon. I realise your intentions are good but I don’t need pity from any man.’

‘Pity? It’s not pity I feel for you.’ It was on the tip of his tongue to blurt out exactly how he felt. But the look on her face stopped him.

She wasn’t ready to hear. Not yet. She still didn’t trust him, so why would she believe him?

Callie stared up at his wrinkled brow and the grim lines around his mouth. No. He really didn’t understand. He’d only tried to help her. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t love her.

Suddenly her anger seeped away. She was tired. So very weary.

‘I know how you interfered in my affairs.’

That stopped him in his tracks. His head reared back.

‘I owe my inheritance to you.’

‘You were entitled to it. And I could easily cover the sum.’ He spread his hands in a gesture of openness.

He’d looked just the same all those weeks ago talking to Paulo about endowing a charity. He’d seen the need and he had the cash. Of course he’d step in to fix the problem. That was the sort of man he was.

Generous and with an overactive instinct to protect. To set things right.

Except she wasn’t a charity. She was a woman in love with a man who saw her as a problem to be fixed. The knowledge seared a hole in her chest, making it hard to breathe.

She didn’t want Damon as a benefactor.

She wanted him as her equal.

‘And the cheap rent in your new building?’

His gaze flickered. Obviously he hadn’t expected her to find out about that. ‘The place is perfect for you. It seemed a crime not to help you start up there.’

‘But I have to do it myself. Don’t you see that?’

If just once he’d say he’d acted out of love for her, because she was special, the woman for him…but that was wishful thinking. He’d acted to give her a new start after discovering the hurdles she had to overcome.

‘You won’t accept my help?’ He drew himself up straighter, the distance suddenly yawning between them.

She shook her head. ‘It’s not about help.’

‘So perhaps it’s about control,’ he murmured. ‘You said your husband was a control freak. What exactly did he do?’

Callie frowned, not following his train of thought. ‘I don’t understand.

That’s not relevant.’

‘Won’t you tell me?’ The sincerity in his voice, the tenderness in his eyes undid her resolve. Even now he cared. He wanted to remedy the past.

Whereas she wanted to forget the past and build a future.

Pity the only future she could visualise was a fantasy, with Damon by her side.

She sighed and Damon tensed at the pain on her face.

‘Alkis always set limits. People I couldn’t see, places I couldn’t go. I lost count of the design classes and small business groups I joined only to find I had to withdraw. It was no longer convenient or we were taking an extended trip, or he was unwell and needed me. Always some excuse.’

‘You could have gone anyway.’

She shook her head. ‘He’d have found out and life would have been unbearable. He always knew where I was. Over dinner he’d quiz me about people I’d met that day, people who’d spoken to me.’ She looked up and saw Damon’s frown. ‘He had me watched all the time, reports made on my movements. There wasn’t a thing he didn’t know about.’

Damon wished her husband wasn’t dead so he could take him apart piece by piece. The damage Alkis had caused with his twisted desire for control was appalling. No wonder Callie was desperate to assert her independence.

What damage had Damon done?

Unwittingly he’d tapped into a vein of ingrained vulnerability. Nothing he did now could convince her he wasn’t like her bastard husband. He’d tried to help but she thought he’d taken control of her life.

Damon swore under his breath, cursing his drive to act decisively.

Should he have held back and consulted her?

He winced, knowing the answer.

‘You think I’m like him.’ He turned and paced the room.

He’d taken for granted Callie trusted him. More, that she reciprocated his feelings.

Had he pushed her so far he’d lost her for good?

‘No! Of course you’re not.’

But the misery was clear on her face, in the way she wrung her hands.

Her pain belied her words.

He wanted to sweep her up and cosset her and caress her and make love to her till she forgot her pain. And he could. He knew even now that he could overcome her scruples and seduce her with his loving.

But the pleasure would only be temporary. Sooner or later she’d turn those sad eyes on him again.

‘How can I prove you wrong?’

She frowned as if he spoke a foreign language.

‘What can I do to make you trust me?’

‘I trust you, Damon, I just…’

Don’t love you?

Don’t want you controlling my life?

Can’t live with you?

Damon had never felt so helpless. So desperate.

‘Then tell me what I can do. What will make a difference?’

He’d do anything. If there were dragons to slay he’d conquer them. He’d fight battles for her, overcome any obstacles. His only hope lay in proving to her he was the one man she could trust with her life.

Her mouth twisted and she shook her head.

‘You can let me go.’

‘THE new stock I mentioned has come in. Over on that wall.’ Callie smiled at one of her best customers then moved away, letting the woman and her companion browse in peace.

It was almost the end of another long day and she was exhausted. Not from physical tiredness. She still got a thrill of pleasure from her work.

It was emotional strain that made her feel like a wrung-out rag.

Five months, three weeks and six days since she’d seen Damon.

With each day she grew more needy, hungrier for a glimpse of the man who’d dragged all her skeletons from where they hid in her cupboard, who’d made her face her greatest fears. The man who’d infuriated her and challenged her and disrupted her life.

Who’d supported her and listened to her and given her peace as well as pleasure.

The man she’d rejected because she was too proud to settle for anything less than his love. Because with him she’d finally convinced herself dreams might come true. And her dream was Damon—loving her.

Her heart plummeted. Now she had the independence and the opportunity she’d fought for so long. It was wonderful, satisfying and challenging. Proof that she was capable. That she was worth more than Alkis or anyone else, herself included, had thought possible.

But independence wasn’t enough. Not now she’d had a taste of life with Damon.

She was greedy enough still to dream of what might have been. If only he’d loved her.

He must have cared for her a little, to go to so much trouble on her behalf. But being pitied and propped up was no life for her. To be cared for because he felt sorry for her—that would have destroyed her.

Especially when he moved on to his next charity project.

Or worse, fell in love with another woman.

Callie tucked her hair behind her ears, blinking rapidly as she finished unpacking a consignment of lamps.

No, Damon didn’t love her. He found her sexually compatible. She stirred his protective instincts. But in the end he hadn’t tried to stop her leaving. That had hurt the most, the knowledge she’d been right, that what he felt for her was simply pity.

By now he’d have moved on. Found another lover. A man like Damon would never be short of female companionship.

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip in an attempt to stop a betraying wobble.

Callie avoided the news as much as possible, not wanting to see him with another woman on his arm. She wanted him to be happy but she couldn’t bear the thought of him bestowing that special, bone-melting smile on someone else.

Her vision blurred.

‘They’re beautiful.’ A warm voice behind Callie made her swing round, blinking hard.

A woman in her late fifties or early sixties beamed at Callie. Her dark eyes gleamed as she gestured to Callie’s silk hangings on the back wall.

There were only two left of her series of seascapes. One day, when she had more leisure, she’d make some more. Her embroidery work had always been therapeutic, especially in the dark years of marriage when she’d had few outlets for her creativity and energy.

‘I’m pleased you like them,’ she murmured.

Truthfully Callie would be glad to see them go. Those seascapes held too many memories.

She’d begun them in the early days of widowhood: stormy scenes of lashing waves or foggy, deserted coastlines. She’d finished them in a burst of energy and happiness when she lived with Damon. In those the sea was clear and calm, the mood exultant.

Looking at them now, so vibrant and serene, Callie felt more than ever she lived in the shadows. Despite the thrill of her initial tentative business success, the joy was missing.

‘My daughter tells me they’re your work.’

‘Your daughter?’ Callie struggled to focus on the conversation.

‘Yes.’ The woman gestured to her elegant companion bending to examine a small bronze sculpture Callie had just put on display. ‘She bought one a few weeks ago and I had to come and see the rest for myself.’ Her smile widened. ‘And the remarkable woman who made them.’

Callie remembered that hanging so well. Once upon a time she couldn’t have imagined selling it. That scene reminded her of all she’d let slip through her fingers. Of the happiness that had shone so briefly. But in the end keeping it had been too painful.

‘Thank you.’ Callie wished she felt more enthusiasm for her work. She should be thrilled, but it was a struggle to summon the energy.

Yet the older woman’s interest was genuine and Callie forced herself to focus.

‘Would you like a closer look at them?’ Together they walked towards the hangings.

‘I sew myself, but nothing as beautiful as this,’ her companion said. ‘I can’t believe what you’ve achieved with fabric and thread.’

‘Why, thank you. What sort of sewing do you do, Kyria…?’

‘Savakis.’ Her dark, intelligent eyes took in Callie’s instant reaction, watching calmly as she jolted to a stop, eyes widening. ‘But please, call me Irini.’

Damon shot to his feet.

‘She’s where?’ he barked into the intercom.

‘In the foyer, Kyrie Savakis. Shall I tell Reception to send her up?’

‘Yes. Straight away.’

Damon put the phone down, registering the bolt of electricity hot-wiring his body. His pulse leaped at the thought of Callie here. In his office.

His brain buzzed with possibilities. Why here? Why now? Thoughts crammed and jostled for consideration till he slammed a lid on them.

He sat back in his chair and propped his fingers under his chin.

Six months since Callie had run from him. Six torturous months in which he’d plumbed the depths of doubt, fear and despair. Letting her go had tested his resolve beyond bearing. Allowing her distance till she was ready to trust had almost killed him when his instinct had been to hold her close and prevent her leaving.

She’d left him no option but to stand helplessly and watch the woman he loved walk out of his life. That had gutted him, knowing he’d hurt her and there was nothing he could do to rectify the situation but wait and pray.

Today he’d reached the end of his endurance. He’d promised himself, after half a year of waiting, he’d visit her apartment this very evening.

He’d given her enough time, surely, to deserve a second chance.

Why was she here?

His lips thinned. Whatever her intentions, what mattered was the outcome of their meeting.

There could only be one possible result.

The alternative, to continue life without her, was unthinkable.

He’d driven his staff, his friends and his family to their wits’ end, pushing himself harder than ever, yet unable to stick to anything. He’d lost his enthusiasm for work, for socialising. Even for sailing.

He had to resolve this. Now.

‘Enter.’

Callie stepped over the threshold of the massive doorway and halted, her heart leaping against her ribs.

Just as dark as she remembered. Just as virile and stunningly good-looking. If anything, Damon looked even better than before. Hungrily she devoured the sight of him.

With his sleeves rolled up, his top button undone and his tie missing, he looked as though he’d been working hard. His hair was slightly rumpled as if he’d dragged those long fingers back through it, as he’d once caressed her own locks.

Her thoughts juddered to a halt. Intimate images swirled before her and she had to shove them aside.

‘Hello, Callie.’ She couldn’t read his voice, or his face, it was poker-blank. Unlike her own. She was sure her roiling emotions were visible for him to see.

‘Hello, Damon.’

The door snicked shut behind her and she jumped, feeling the weight of tension bearing down on her.