Bound to the Greek (10 page)

‘What did you say?’

‘I’m sorry.’ She could barely see him in the darkness; the only light was from a high, thin crescent of moon just emerging from behind the clouds. She couldn’t make out the expression on his face, but she could hear the contrition and regret tearing his voice and it startled her.

She hitched her bag higher up on her shoulder. ‘What for?’

‘For hurting you so badly.’ Jace took a step closer to her, and now the moon cast a pale, silvery glow over his features, etched in regret. Eleanor’s breath dried in her throat. ‘For walking away so utterly. For not being there when you must have been going through a very difficult time.’

‘Don’t—’Eleanor whispered. He had no idea just how difficult a time she’d been through. He had no idea how much she’d needed to hear these words, and yet how afraid she was to hear them, because an apology required a response. It meant things would change.
She
would have to change.

‘Don’t say sorry?’ Jace smiled, that wonderful crooked smile Eleanor knew and had once loved. ‘But I have to. For my sake, as well as your own. We can’t be—resolved—until I say it. I know that.’

‘I don’t need—’ Eleanor began, roughly, for her throat was already clogged and tight. Yet she couldn’t even finish the sentence. It was a lie. She
did
need. She needed Jace to apologise. She needed to be able to forgive him. For ten years she’d managed to move on without it, but her heart had stayed in the same place. She hadn’t realised just how much until Jace had come back into her life.

He was right in front of her now, so close she could reach out and touch him if she wanted to. She didn’t move. ‘Will you forgive me, Eleanor?’ Jace asked softly. ‘For hurting you so much?’

Eleanor wanted to shake her head. She wanted to cry. She wanted to tell him she wouldn’t, because she was still angry and hurt and afraid, and yet she wanted to say she would because she needed the closure, the redemption. She nodded jerkily, unable to offer him more.

It didn’t matter. Jace closed the small space between them, pulling her into his arms. She felt the soft wool of his coat against her cold cheek as she remained in the circle of his embrace, unresisting, unable to move or push away as she surely should do. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again, his voice rough with emotion, and the shell around Eleanor’s hardened heart finally cracked and broke.

‘I forgive you,’ she whispered, the words barely more than a breath of sound. Her throat was so tight. She tilted her head up to look at him, meaning only to offer absolution, yet there must have been too much yearning in her eyes?too much desire—for Jace’s own expression darkened and after a second’s hesitation—a second that seemed to last for ever—he lowered his mouth to hers.

The first brush of his lips against hers was a shock,
electrifying her from the tips of her fingers to the very centre of her soul.

Then her senses sweetly sang to life as both body and mind and even heart remembered this, remembered Jace. How he felt. How he tasted. How right she’d always been in his arms and under his touch.

Her lips yielded to his, parting, inviting, and Jace took full advantage, deepening the kiss so Eleanor felt that plunging sensation of helpless desire deep in her belly, so she craved more, and
more,
her hands sliding over his coat, across his shoulders, down his back, bringing her closer to him.

She didn’t know how long the kiss went on. And it was more than a kiss. Jace’s hands had slipped under her coat, under her dress, cold against her skin and yet still enflaming her with his touch so that both their breathing was ragged and Eleanor’s mind was as hazy and high as a cloud.

Her head dropped back, her back arching, a moan escaping her lips as his hands roved over her body and his mouth moved on hers. It had been so long. It had been ten years.

She couldn’t think past this moment, couldn’t register anything but the onslaught of her senses… until she heard two teenagers’ raucous laughter from across the pond, the ugly sound jolting her out of that desire-induced haze and right out of Jace’s arms. She jerked away, her chest rising and falling in shock, in shame, while she stared at him with dazed, disbelieving eyes. He looked back at her, his expression just as stunned. Neither of them spoke.

Eleanor could hardly believe what she’d just allowed. What she’d done. He said sorry and she melted into his arms? She’d practically begged him to touch her,
take
her? Jace looked as if he hadn’t even meant to kiss her, and maybe he hadn’t. Maybe she’d kissed him without realising?

‘Eleanor?’

‘No.’ She couldn’t hear what he was going to say, no matter what it was. Anything Jace said now was sure to break her. ‘This shouldn’t have happened.’

‘I know.’ Those two sorry words almost made her cry.
Somehow she didn’t want him to admit it was a mistake, even though she knew it was. ‘Even so—’

‘No,’ Eleanor said again. There was no
even so.
There couldn’t be. She shook her head, backing away, and then with a stifled cry she fled into the night.

Jace watched Eleanor run through the darkness as if the very demons of hell were on her heels. Perhaps she felt they were. She had clearly been shocked by that kiss, and frankly so had he.

He’d meant only to say sorry, to make up for the past, and instead he’d reopened it, ripped the scabs off their scars. His heart ached with remembered pain. His body ached with unfulfilled desire.

What was he doing? Why couldn’t he just leave Eleanor Langley alone? Jace realised he was still walking towards Fifth Avenue, following her fleeing footsteps. He slowed his stride.

Ever since Eleanor had come back into his life—ever since he’d discovered she’d been telling the truth?he hadn’t been able to stop thinking of her. Thinking about the what ifs, wondering if life could give them a second chance.

Jace stopped in his tracks. A second chance at what? At
love?

Did he really want that?

The last ten years he’d been hardening his heart against love, against any messy emotion. He’d focused on his business, building an empire instead of a dynasty.

And yet now… now he wanted more. He wanted Eleanor.

Ellie.

He wanted to reawaken the woman he’d lost when he’d walked out ten years ago. He wanted Ellie to find herself again, her true self, the self whom he’d loved and who had loved him. He wasn’t even sure why; he didn’t know what he even wanted with that woman. He’d lost her once,
and he’d spent the intervening years making sure he never lost—anything or anyone—again.

Did he really want that change? That risk?

Did Ellie?

And how the hell could any of it happen, when he was leaving in a few days?

Jace stopped walking. The past was better buried. He knew that, felt it. No matter how these if onlys and what ifs might torment him, he knew they were only that. Possibilities, not realities. Not even hopes.

Distantly he heard the teenagers move off, still laughing raucously, and the laboured chug of the Fifth Avenue bus as it headed downtown. Letting out a long, slow breath, Jace slowly turned around and walked in the other direction.

E
LEANOR
didn’t go back to her apartment. She didn’t want to be alone, so she took a cab to the West Village, where her best friend Allie had a studio on the top floor of a brownstone. They’d both been interns at Premier Planning nine years ago. Allie had lasted two weeks. Eleanor had stayed for ever.

Even though it was now after midnight, she knew she could trust Allie to welcome her with open arms?and an open heart.

Still, she had to press the buzzer for a good thirty seconds before Allie came to the intercom.

‘Who is it?’ she demanded in a voice that sounded both sleepy and irritated.

Too emotional and fragile to explain, Eleanor just said, ‘Me.’

Allie pressed the buzzer.

She was waiting outside the door in her pyjamas, hugging herself in the cold of the corridor, as Eleanor made her way up the six narrow flights of stairs.

‘Eleanor, what on earth happened? You look terrible.’

‘Thanks,’ Eleanor managed wryly, and Allie shrugged this aside, taking in Eleanor’s up-do and silvery dress.

‘Actually, you look fantastic. You
sound
terrible. What’s wrong?’

‘Everything, it feels like,’ Eleanor replied, her words wobbly. Now that she was finally here with Allie, safe, loved, the reality of her confrontation with Jace—and that
wonderful, awful, confusing kiss—was slamming into her, leaving her more than shaken. Leaving her shattered.

Allie ushered her inside the cosy apartment, plonking the kettle on the stove before Eleanor had even asked.

‘You want to talk about it? Didn’t you have an event tonight?’

Eleanor sank onto the worn futon and kicked off her heels, nodding wearily. Allie’s apartment was so different from her own modishly sterile condo; it was colourful and cluttered and shabby, and Eleanor loved it. Now it made her ache just a little bit for the kind of apartment she’d once had, the kind of life she’d once had. The kind of person she’d once been.

You’re the kind of person you never wanted to be.

Eleanor pushed the thought away. Allie sank onto the futon across from Eleanor, flicked her long braid over one shoulder and propped her chin on her fist. ‘So?’

‘He came back.’

Allie’s eyes widened, her breath coming out in a slow hiss. Eleanor knew she didn’t need to explain who
he
was. One night long ago, when they’d both had too much wine, she’d told Allie her whole sordid story. Or most of it, anyway. She’d left out some of the heartache, the consuming loss that was too private to share.

‘He did?’ Allie finally said. ‘How—?’

Eleanor didn’t want to explain it. She didn’t have the strength or will. ‘Party,’ she said simply, and Allie nodded. It was enough.

‘What happened? Did the bastard finally apologise, I hope?’

Eleanor let out a choked laugh. ‘Yes,’ she managed, and covered her face with her hands.

‘And isn’t that a good thing?’ Allie asked cautiously. Eleanor was prevented from answering by the shrill whistle of the kettle. Allie got up to make their tea, and Eleanor sagged against the futon. It
was
a good thing. At least, she’d always thought it would be. Yet when someone asked for forgiveness, you were meant to give it; you were meant to let
go. And Eleanor wasn’t sure she could. She might have told Jace she forgave him, but those were only words.
Could
she forgive him? What would happen if she did?

Allie returned, handing Eleanor a mug of tea before settling back onto the futon. ‘So it doesn’t seem like a good thing,’ she remarked wryly. ‘Why not?’

Eleanor let out a hiccuppy laugh. ‘Well, I suppose it’s not so much the apology, as the kiss that came after it.’

There was a second’s silence and then Allie nodded. ‘Ah.’ She took a sip of tea. ‘Was it nice?’

Eleanor burst out laughing, nearly spluttering her tea. It felt good to laugh, despite the pain and regret still tearing at her. ‘That was the last thing I expected you to say.’

Allie shrugged. ‘For all the apparent heartache it’s causing you, I hope it was.’

‘Very nice,’ Eleanor admitted after a moment. She gazed down into the milky depths of her tea. ‘Very nice,’ she repeated quietly. Even now she could remember how good Jace had felt, how
right,
which was ridiculous because there had been nothing right about it all. It had been very, very wrong.

‘So why exactly did he kiss you?’ Allie asked after a moment. She tucked her knees up to her chest and looked at Eleanor over the rim of her mug. ‘Was he just caught up in the moment?’

‘I don’t know,’ Eleanor said slowly. Why
had
Jace kissed her? Had it been a spontaneous gesture, as Allie had said? He had seemed so surprised, as stunned as she had… yet she could hardly believe that Jace would be so out of control. Had he been proving to her that she was still attracted to him? Had it been a mere amusement? Or worse?far worse?a
pity
kiss?

‘Eleanor, stop whatever you’re thinking. You’re looking way too freaked out.’

Eleanor groaned. ‘I’m feeling freaked out. You know I haven’t had much time—or inclination?for relationships, Allie. I can’t
do
this—’

‘Does he want a relationship?’

Eleanor groaned again. ‘No, of course not. That is—I don’t think so. I shouldn’t even care.’

‘But you do,’ Allie filled in quietly and Eleanor bit her lip, nipping hard.

‘No,’ she finally said, firmly. ‘I don’t. I can’t. Ten years ago he broke my heart and—more than that.’ She twisted the mug, her tea barely touched, around in her hands. ‘My whole life collapsed, Allie. Everything. I never told you how—how bad it was, but it was. Bad.’ She tried to smile wryly, but her lips trembled instead. ‘Really bad.’

‘Oh, Eleanor.’ Allie reached over to place a hand on top of hers. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘So am I. And that’s why this kiss—for whatever reason?was a bad idea. I’m not going to ever let myself feel that way again. Be used that way. And,’ Eleanor finished, her voice turning hard and flinty, ‘the simple fact is, I may have changed a lot in ten years, but Jace Zervas hasn’t.’ Not enough. Not in ways that mattered. She smiled grimly at her friend. ‘I don’t think he’s changed at all.’

Eleanor spent the night on Allie’s futon, and slept deeply and dreamlessly. By the time she swam to consciousness the next morning, the sun was high in the sky and Allie had already gone out for the coffee and croissants.

‘I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck,’ Eleanor muttered as she pushed her hair out of her face and blinked in the sunlight flooding the room. She hadn’t even washed her face before going to bed, and her eyes felt sticky both with sleep and dried mascara.

‘You basically were,’ Allie replied cheerfully. ‘The Jace Zervas Express.’ She handed Eleanor a paper cup of coffee and a flaky croissant. ‘Here. Sustenance.’

‘You’re amazing.’

Allie grinned. ‘I know.’

Eleanor sat cross-legged on the sofa and ate the buttery croissant, licking the crumbs from her fingers, before she
started on her coffee. She hadn’t eaten much last night, as busy as she’d been with the details of the party, and she was starving.