Genevieve reached up and cupped his stubbled cheek. ‘Why do you blame yourself for that, Nikos? An accident is an accident.’
He closed his eyes briefly and she felt his pain as though it were her own. She moved her hand from his cheek to his back, curving it behind his spine and stroking him slowly.
‘She had been upset, on the phone, only an hour before she died. She wanted me to come home, but I was working. I was in the midst of negotiating to buy a string of golf resorts across Europe—I had been negotiating the deal for months, and it had come to the final stages. She was furious.’
Genevieve made a clucking sound of sympathy.
‘I grew up so poor, Genevieve. After my father’s death…’ His throat shifted and he shook his head. ‘On the island, you asked about the choices my mother had to make. I didn’t realise, at first, what she resorted to, in order for us to survive.’
Genevieve blinked up at him, waiting, feeling the way he was opening up to her, sharing himself.
‘Selling herself,’ he muttered. ‘It was her only option.’
Genevieve closed her eyes on a wave of pity.
‘I was too young to help, and she died before I turned my life around.’
Genevieve reached out, putting a hand on his forearm. His jaw only tightened.
‘Then all of a sudden, I was making money, hand over fist. More money than you can possibly imagine. I didn’t care about things like this.’ He gestured to the yacht. ‘It was about each deal, each metric of success, that made me feel I’d come so far from the boy I’d been. That made me feel safe, like I would never again know that kind of poverty. I can’t explain it properly, but growing up like that, it shaped the man I am today. No matter what amount of wealth I have, I have spent years feeling as though that poverty is right there, a shadow waiting to swallow me back into it.’
‘I understand,’ Genevieve murmured. ‘Once my dad died, we struggled, too. It was such a stark contrast to how it had been before. So when I met James and he love-bombed me with expensive gifts and amazing experiences, I got totally caught up in that lifestyle.’
Their eyes held for a long moment of shared understanding. ‘But you walked away.’
‘That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I walked away, because I couldn’t possibly stay. I believe, in my heart of hearts, that Isabella would have divorced you, if she’d been as miserable as you believe.’
‘The arguments—’
She sighed. ‘Arguments are just a way of communicating.’
He shook his head. ‘I never listened.’
‘You listened. You just didn’t agree.’
‘She told me what she needed.’
Genevieve compressed her lips, ignoring, for now, the glaring rejoinder: but what aboutyourneeds?
‘I still don’t know why you blame yourself,’ she said, quietly. Wishing she could fix this for him, with the click of her fingers.
‘She was driving to my office,’ Nikos said, after such a long silence Genevieve wasn’t sure if he’d return to the subject. ‘She missed a stop sign. A car was coming through the intersection and to avoid hitting them, she swerved. Her car wrapped around a pole. Isabella died instantly.’
‘Oh, Nikos,’ she said, tears forming in her eyes.
‘There was no investigation. She’d run a stop sign and died.’
Genevieve nodded, knowing he wasn’t finished yet.
‘When I got home, much later that night, I saw the whisky bottle, on the kitchen counter, with a single glass beside it. Her lipstick on the rim.’ His eyes were boring into Genevieve’s and, in their depths, she saw the plea he wouldn’t voice.Forgive me.‘I drove her to drink, and then she was coming to the office, undoubtedly to finish the argument I’d refused to have. She used to hate that I wouldn’t fight back. That I wouldn’t lose my temper.’ His face contorted into a mask of sheer pain. ‘You can have no idea how much that has tormented me. How often I have reflected on my choices, the way I treated her.’
Genevieve’s tears fell unashamedly now. She shook her head a little, unsure what to say. ‘Nothing good can come from hating yourself. You can’t change the past.’
‘I’m aware of that. And I’m not looking for anything good. In fact, that is the exact opposite of what I want.’
‘You want to be miserable and alone.’
‘As she was.’
