Heiress's Defiance (14 page)

Then she squared her jaw, grabbed her purse and briefcase and headed for the office.

The meeting was being held in one of the main ballrooms of the hotel and it was packed with attendees. Lucilla walked in with her head held high and took her seat in the front row. Christos stood on the platform that had been set up for the purpose, his head bowed
as he went over his notes. Her heart skipped a beat as she watched him. The light shone down on his glossy black head, picked out the lines of his handsome face. He wore a tie today. She imagined loosening it, tugging it free, and closed her eyes as pain washed over her.

She would never be that close to him again. She couldn’t bear the thought that she wouldn’t, but what choice did she have? She would not live half a life with him, always waiting for their affair to end. She couldn’t.

“Good morning, everyone,” Christos finally said when the ballroom was packed. “Welcome to the annual general meeting of the Chatsfield Group. There are the usual reports to go over, naturally, and then you must vote for your board of directors, the same as every year. You have the candidates’ bios before you.” People riffled through the papers in the folders they’d been given. “As you are aware, the board of directors appoints the chief executive. I therefore must make an announcement before we continue.”

Lucilla’s heart began to thrum hard. And then Christos’s head came up and his eyes met hers across the sea of people. It was as if they were alone in the room together and she wanted more than anything to tell him
not to say another word, not to do whatever it was that he was about to do. She didn’t know what he would say, but she shot to her feet as if doing so could prevent him from speaking.

“Today, I offer you my resignation,” Christos said, his gaze still holding hers. “And I submit to you that Lucilla Chatsfield should now be your CEO.”

T
HE BALLROOM ERUPTED
. It was no murmur that swept over the crowd. It was a rush of sound, like a wildfire, and it spread to all corners of the room simultaneously. Christos was only aware of Lucilla. She stood in that sea of people as they tugged on her sleeves and pelted her with questions, but she didn’t take her gaze from his.

Her eyes, those lovely brown eyes with the golden flecks, were wide and wounded. He knew it even from here. It was hot in the spotlight but he didn’t shrink from its glare. There were reporters in the room—there were always reporters at the annual meetings—and they were frantically writing in their notebooks and on their tablets. A few tried to get to Lucilla, who was not at all prepared for the onslaught, and that was the moment when Christos knew he had to get this meeting back on track.

By the end, she would have accustomed herself to the idea and she would know what to say to the reporters. But first they had to get through the meeting.

Christos raised his voice, thundered into the microphone and asked everyone to sit. It took a few moments, but the room grew silent again. Lucilla had sunk into her chair, but her eyes hadn’t left his face. As much as he wanted to only look at her, he had a job to do.

“There is much business to be done this morning,” he said tightly. “There will be time for questions after.”

He began the process of conducting the meeting but his mind was only partly on what he was doing. The rest was on Lucilla. He’d realized in the past week that he could no longer stay in London. He couldn’t work in the same building and not want her. He couldn’t live in the same city and not ache for her. He didn’t know what the hell this was, but he had to break away from it.

And he had to give her back the inheritance that was rightfully hers. She was capable of running the Chatsfield empire, of overseeing the vast holdings and making the right decisions for the company. She was the one Chatsfield he believed in. The one he trusted. And he would no longer stand in her way.

She wanted him gone. If he gave her nothing else, he would give her that. It was the least he could do for her.

When the AGM was over, he exited the ballroom by a rear door and wound his way through the offices until he could emerge onto the street and into the waiting limo. The driver sped away just as a crowd boiled out the doors to the Chatsfield HQ.

His phone started to ring in earnest and he glanced at the display. He recognized the company name but rather than take the call he shut the phone off. He knew this game. Someone had heard he’d resigned from the Chatsfield and wanted to snag him before another company did. His phone would ring incessantly as the offers poured in. He did not want to field them today.

The limo dropped him at his loft apartment and he went inside, debating whether to stay in London a few more days or hop on his plane tonight. He could go wherever he wanted, but he was unaccustomed to having nothing to do. He’d been working since the day he’d left the juvenile-detention facility. Always in the past when he’d left a job, it was for a better job.

He’d never quit because of a woman before. He stopped in the middle of his living room
and blinked as the import of what he’d done hit him. He’d made the decision earlier in the week. He’d drank himself into a stupor—very unlike him—and then, in the middle of the night when he’d been at least half-sober, he’d called a cab and ridden to her apartment. He’d stood in the street beneath her building, staring up at her window, and wondered what in the hell he was doing.

She tangled him up inside. Made him feel things he wasn’t supposed to feel. Made him want more than he knew was safe. He’d wanted, desperately, to go up to her apartment and take her in his arms.

And because he’d wanted it desperately, he’d climbed back inside the cab and gone home. Now, he went into his bedroom and took a suitcase from the closet. He was accustomed to leaving everything behind and moving on. Today was no different. He would take his time, pick a new company to rescue and have his things sent when he was ready for them.

He finished packing the suitcase, rang for a car and then went into the library and stopped in front of the painting. He had not covered it back up. He’d forced himself to live with it, day in and day out, as if he could inoculate himself to the pain by doing so.

But he was finished with it now, like he was finished with everything here. He would have it wrapped up and sent over to Lucilla. Anonymously, of course. She need never know that he had purchased it that night. He still didn’t know why he’d done so, or what he’d thought he might do with the painting once he had, but she’d been so sad and affected that he’d known he couldn’t let it go to someone else.

He’d never quite planned beyond the moment, but he’d never intended to keep it, either.

He heard the elevator open and he turned, annoyed that the doorman had let the driver come up. He did not need help to carry his bags. But when he walked back into the living area, it wasn’t a uniformed chauffeur standing there.

Lucilla looked furious. And so beautiful she made his heart contract into a tight knot in his chest.

“You coward,” she grated. “You bloody, stupid ass. What were you thinking?”

Lucilla’s entire being trembled with fury and fear and hurt. Christos stood across the room from her, his body tall and erect, his handsome face as remote as ever. She wanted to
throw herself at him and claw his eyes out. And she wanted to sink to the floor and ask him why. Why couldn’t he love her? Why was he so determined to ruin everything he’d begun by pulling that stunt at the AGM?

He arched a cool eyebrow. “I believe I was giving you what you have always claimed to want. My absence.”

She stalked toward him. And then she stopped before she got too close, before she lost control of her emotions simply from proximity to him. “You could have asked me what
I
wanted.”

He looked surprised. “Ask you? You have made it clear from the beginning what you wanted. I did not imagine that had changed simply because I forced you to come to Greece with me.”

She’d been asking herself for the past two hours, since he’d made that announcement, just why she was so upset with him for it. Because she
had
wanted to be the chief executive. Because she believed she was the right person for the job. She’d wanted it so much she could taste it, but when he’d handed it to her on a platter, she found she didn’t like the taste all that well, after all.

“I thought we had something in Greece,”
she said, and then cursed herself for sounding so sad and needy.

He swallowed, and her heart skipped a beat at that little chink in his armor. Maybe she was too hopeful, but she couldn’t help it.

“We did.”

A wave of feeling washed over her, bathing her in heat and despair. “Then why, Christos? Why did you push me away? And why are you leaving?”

He shoved both hands through his hair and then shook his head softly. “I don’t know how to do this, Lucillitsa.”

She took a halting step toward him. “How to do what?”

His gaze speared into her, his icy blue eyes hot with emotions she’d never seen there before. He seemed on the edge of his control, and it gave her a perverse kind of hope that she didn’t dare to believe was real.

“I don’t know how to be with you. How to …
love
you.”

The lump in her throat swelled. Her eyes blurred. “I believe you do.”

He was shaking his head. “It’s better if I go. Better for both of us.”

Lucilla stiffened her spine and glared at him through her tears. “Until today, I’ve never thought you a coward, Christos. But you are.
You can’t face the truly difficult tasks. You told me I couldn’t make the hard decisions, but it’s
you
who cannot make them. You who would run away when you should stay, you who would give up—”

Here, her voice choked off. She tried to finish the sentence, but her vocal chords refused to obey. Christos didn’t say a word.

She backed away from him, turned to go. It was useless. He was determined not to feel anything for anyone, and she couldn’t force him to do so.

Strong arms wrapped around her, pulled her backward until she was wedged tightly to his body. She hadn’t heard him move, but she slumped against him, giving in to the pleasure of his embrace. Even if it was the last time. Even if it was nothing more than this simple touch.

“Lucilla.” His breath ruffled her hair, and then his mouth was at her ear. “I am damaged, Lucilla
mou
. Broken. I don’t know how to give you what you want. I wish I did, but I would only hurt you in the end.”

She shuddered in his arms as his warm breath washed over her skin. She wanted to turn, wanted to kiss him, wanted to make him realize the truth of this thing between them.
But he wouldn’t let her. So she settled for the only weapon she had.

“I love you, Christos. I love you.”

His grip on her tightened. And then it fell away, as she knew it must. She took advantage of it to turn, to cup both his cheeks in her palms.

“Allow me to make my own choices, Christos. You told me I wasn’t willing to make hard choices, but I am. And if loving you is a hard choice, then I’m making it.” A tear spilled free to slide down her cheek. “You can’t stop me from loving you. You can leave and you can pretend like it never happened, but you can’t stop me. I will love you no matter where you go.”

He shuddered beneath her touch, his long eyelashes dipping down to cover his eyes. She had no idea what he was thinking, no idea what was about to happen. But she couldn’t let him go without telling him how she felt. She’d always played things safely, always tried to take care of everyone else but herself. Well, maybe this wasn’t quite taking care of herself, but at least she would know she’d done everything she could. She would not second-guess herself once he was gone.

“I don’t know if I can love you,” he said softly. “I don’t know if I can love anyone.”

She had to hold back the anguished cry that begged for escape. “You can, Christos.” She said it firmly. “I heard it in your voice in the cemetery. I saw it in your eyes. You loved someone and you lost her, but that doesn’t make you dead inside.”

His eyes were a brilliant blue. “I feel dead inside,
agapi mou.
I always have.”

She sucked in a breath. “Always? Every moment of every day? Every minute we spent together?”

He swallowed. “No. Not every moment.”

She gave him a watery smile. “See? Progress.”

He took her wrists in his hands and pulled her palms from his face. Then he kissed them both and let her go. “That’s not good enough. Not for you. You’re a good woman, Lucilla. You deserve a good man.”

“There you go again,” she said softly, past the lump in her throat. “Making assumptions and giving orders. I’ll decide who’s good enough for me, thank you.”

He checked his watch. “The car will be here by now.” He went and grabbed his suitcase and her heart throbbed hot and fast. He stopped at the elevator and turned back to her. “There’s something for you in the library. I
was going to have it sent to you, but you can make those arrangements now.”

Her legs trembled as she watched him step onto the elevator. “If you walk away, I won’t wait for you forever,” she said, her voice thick with pain. “I’ll move on. I’ll find someone else to love and I’ll forget all about you.”

She never would forget him, but she was angry and hurt and she had to lash out or explode. Christos only smiled sadly.

“I hope you do, Lucilla
mou.
I pray you do.”

The limo was nearly to the airport when Christos suddenly couldn’t breathe. He put a hand over his chest and worked on pulling air in and out of his lungs, methodically, while a sensation very much like panic crawled down his spine and back up again. He’d felt this way before, long ago, when he’d been a kid trying to escape his father’s wrath and then later when he’d found himself in juvenile detention and responsible for his own survival in that horrible place.

If he hadn’t known it was a panic attack, he would have made the driver take him straight to the hospital as his chest squeezed tight and sweat broke out on his skin. He closed his
eyes and leaned his head back against the seat. It was panic, nothing more than panic.

It would pass.

And yet all he could see when he closed his eyes was Lucilla. Her face had been so wounded when he’d stepped into that elevator. She’d told him she wouldn’t wait, that she would find someone else to love—

His chest squeezed tighter than before and he wondered if he really were having a heart attack. But then the pain eased when he thought of Lucilla’s hands on his face, of her sweet voice telling him she loved him.
She loved him.

That thought made warmth spread through his chest and his breathing eased. But then the driver took the exit for Heathrow and the tightness started again. Christos looked out the window at the traffic, at the planes crowding the sky, and he suddenly wanted to howl. He imagined himself getting on board the jet, strapping into his seat and leaning his head back after he told the pilot to take him … where? He had no idea where he was going yet, no idea where he wanted to be.

Not true.

He did know where he wanted to be. He wanted to be in Lucilla’s arms. In her bed. He’d wanted that for weeks now, and he’d had
it for a brief while. But he had to do the right thing and let her go. He had to get out of her life and let her run her company, let her find a man who would love her as she deserved.

The thought of Lucilla with another man tightened the bands around his chest again. He tried to picture it, tried to force himself through the pain so he could make it to the other side. But everything within him rebelled. One word echoed through his brain:
mine.

He wanted Lucilla. He wanted her in his life and he wanted to try and be what she needed him to be. Christos blinked as another feeling began to swell inside him. It was as if he’d fought so long and so hard and then let down his guard, just for a moment, and the enemy at the gates had broken through.