A Perfect Man: International Billionaires IV: The Greeks (24 page)

S
ophie sat
at Alex’s architect desk and sifted through the sketches she’d spotted the first day here in his hut. During the entire time she’d been here, he hadn’t glanced this way at all. Not once had she seen him sit down and draw, even though it was clear this desk was well used.

Was it because she was here? Ready to pounce with her questions and suggestions? Was he reluctant to follow his obvious passion because she might insist on knowing what he felt when he drew his lovely homes instead of his imposing and impressive dick buildings?

Sighing, she stood and ambled to the fireplace. On her tiptoes, she scanned the clutter. Unlike his NY penthouse mantel, these items weren’t chosen to impress. They were here because they meant something to Alex.

But what?

She hadn’t a clue.

Three days she’d been here with him. They’d ridden every day. They’d had another rousing snowball fight. They’d hiked down to the pond several times. They’d cooked together and yes, laughed together. They’d made love. Kind of. Because just as with the other activities, she felt as if she were wrestling with two different men.

In bed and out.

The Perfect Man would appear every time: the charming smile, the smooth moves, the bland gaze.

Then, because she had to, she’d poke and prod.

And right before her eyes, Mr. Perfect would disappear and in his place would be the surly, angry, growling man with the ugliness in his eyes and the dangerous trouble bubbling in his soul.

Sophie snagged a black-and-white photo held within a simple wooden frame. The man looking back at her had a smile much like Alex’s, yet his wide dark eyes and black hair reminded her of Ceci.

Alex’s father. Had to be.

He appeared confident, happy, alive.

He died of a heart attack.

The words had been smooth that night, delivered in Mr. Perfect’s usual even tone, but underneath, she’d heard and felt the pain and the ache in the real Alex.

You loved him.

Yeah.

That wasn’t a big deal. She loved her dad too. Most people loved their fathers. Still, there was something here beyond that. During the last few days, she’d watched him come back to this photograph over and over again. She’d watched his back grow taut, his hands fist, and when he’d turned away, every time, she’d seen the ugly in his eyes.

“Oh, Alex.” She slid her finger across the photo tracing the dark eyebrows that arched exactly like his son’s. “What is going on with you?”

He’d hiked to the main house this morning to get some supplies. She’d decided not to go with him because she wanted some time to dig. If she couldn’t dig it out of
him
, maybe this hut would yield some clues.

Putting the photo down, she grabbed an old pair of spurs. Three days ago, she wouldn’t have had a clue what they were, but she’d learned.

They were small, too small even for her.

A child’s spurs.

The iron had oxidized long before, leaving a reddish tinge. The color contrasted nicely with the silver plating.

Sophie turned the spurs in her hands.

There was a brass decoration on the sides with a tiny horse head inlaid at each end. Why did he have these spurs on his mantel?

That was important to him. To get ahead. To make his mark.

Alex wouldn’t talk about anything of consequence, yet she’d noticed the few times she’d mentioned his father again, he would become even more agitated than usual.

Had his dad given him these spurs? Had there been some silent prod in the gift?

Laying down the spurs, she plucked up the next photo. This one was of Henry and Alex. They were very young, probably still in college. Both were lanky and a bit gawky, with wide grins and casual clothes. Surprisingly, Henry had longer hair than Alex; a thick, straight fall to his shoulders.

For all the trouble lying between the two men, it was clear to her they had a long and loving history binding them together.

Why didn’t Henry see his partner didn’t want to build the emir’s dick skyscraper? He was Alex’s best friend, and yet blind to what seemed so obvious to her. Alex needed to be designing and building lovely family homes, not big, black dick skyscrapers.

Had he never shown his best friend his secret sketches?

From the way he’d reacted to her looking at them, she’d bet he hadn’t.

Why not?

The next picture was of Alex’s mom and sisters. His
maman
sat in royal elegance on the straight-backed chair while her daughters circled, some standing behind her, others leaning on the arms. Ceci smiled brightly from her perch at her mother’s feet.

Alex’s love for his family was real and deep. He’d been willing to talk about his sisters and their husbands, his nieces and nephews, and his beloved
maman
. But she’d detected something else within the love. A thread of guilt, a whisper of angry remorse.

He also did too much for them. Or at least he did, in Sophie’s opinion. He managed his mother’s estate, he counseled his sisters on their finances, he appeared to think of himself as Ceci’s quasi-father.

Yesterday, she’d suggested it might be time for his sisters to stop depending on him so much.

The subject of his relatives had immediately plopped into the
out of bounds
box.

Why didn’t his sisters and mother see they demanded too much from the perfect son? Why couldn’t they tell there were too many demands for one guy to handle?

Slapping the family photo down, she turned and paced into the kitchen. She couldn’t heal his relationship with Henry and he didn’t want to hear her opinions about his relatives. And since Alex’s father was no longer around to quiz, the only thing she could think of to do was cook. It seemed to be all she could do to make her love happy. Even sex with her appeared to be too fraught with trouble for Mr. Perfect.

She’d bake something today. Perhaps a delicious
pomme tatin
with pecans and apples. Or a
tarte vanilla
or
mille-feuille
. She didn’t have many ingredients, not like at her bakery, yet she could improvise.

Her hand stilled on the wooden counter.

Her bakery.

This was the busiest time of year for her business. Her dad and her assistants were great and she was sure they were doing a good job, but the bakery was her place, her responsibility.

She loved Alex. He needed her here, even though he growled and groused at her endless questions. However, she had a business and she really, really needed to be there.

“Fantastic,” she snarled to herself as she lifted the flour container down from the ledge. “Another wonderful conversation topic sure to cheer Mr. Stravoudas.”

The front door slammed open.

Jerking around, she saw Alex’s tall silhouette standing in the doorway, tense and taut. He held no bags of supplies in his big, brute hands. The air around him fizzed with tension.

“Alex?” She took a step toward him in an immediate, instinctive drive to help. “What’s wrong?”

“
W
e’re going back
to New York.”

Sophie’s eyes widened at his harsh tone and Alex cursed himself for taking his anger out on her. He’d been doing it off and on for the entire time they’d been here and she didn’t deserve to bear the brunt of his confused fury.

“Well.” She edged around the sofa and walked to him with a tentative smile. “I was just thinking I need to get back to the bakery.”

Another slug of guilt slammed into him. Again, he’d only been thinking of himself, his needs, his problems. When all along, he’d stolen Sophie away from her business. A business that meant everything to her.

Not everything
, his heart whispered and hoped.

“I’m sorry.” He stepped into the hut and closed the door behind him with a hard jam. “I’ve taken you away for too long.”

“Not too long.” She looked at him, her cocoa eyes warm and kind. “My dad knows how to run a bakery. And anyway, you needed me.”

You needed me.

The truth in her words froze a piece of his heart because they were true and he didn’t know how to handle that. He had too many other things in his life to straighten out right now. He didn’t have the time or the energy or even the will to figure out why he needed Sophie. “I had no right to bring you here. It wasn’t in the contract.”

Her warm gaze went cold. She took a step back. “The contract?”

Hell. Why had he mentioned the contract? Frustration and guilt roiled around the anger until Alex thought his insides might shatter. Instead of being his usual self—the self that knew how to smooth things along, the self that knew where he was going, the self that never lost a grasp on what was important—for the last few days, for the last few weeks and months, he’d been all over the place.

Time to stop that for good.

“Let’s get packed and on the road.” He ignored her cool silence. “The plane is waiting and we’ll be back in New York City by this evening.”

Not knowing what else to say or what else to do, he sprinted into the loft and started stuffing his clothes into his suitcase. She didn’t follow him; he still felt the deadly silence emanating from below. “Come on, Sophie. We need to get going.”

“Why are we going back now?” Her voice echoed from the kitchen, a touch of asperity riding the question.

“Because I need to get back to finish the deal.”

“Finish the deal?”

“With the emir.” His hands tightened around a sweater before he slammed it into the suitcase.

“You’re going to build the dick skyscraper?” Her second question was laced with disbelief.

“Yes.” He yanked the suitcase zipper closed. “Obviously.”

“I thought you told Henry no.” Her little, round face appeared at the head of the staircase. “You said you didn’t want to spend four years—”

“I was confused.” Alex turned to look at her. He forced a smile. “But I’m not anymore.”

“Really.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. “I’d say the exact opposite.”

Immediate anger flooded through his tense body. He didn’t need this. He didn’t need sharp, wise Sophia poking him, questioning his decision. He knew what was right. He knew the promises he’d made. Sure, he’d had a few days here where he’d questioned everything about his life, but that was over and done with. He’d walked into the big house and it was as if his father’s ghost had come from the past to confront him. To make him realize, once more, what he’d momentarily forgotten.

There were expectations he couldn’t walk away from.

And there were promises he couldn’t break.

“Pack.” Wrenching his suitcase off the bed, he passed her tense body. “I’ll be waiting by the car.”

He had to wait a good half hour before Sophie appeared, dragging her luggage behind her. “I should say good-bye to Nella and Petros.”

“I already did for both of us.” He grabbed her suitcase and threw it in the back, slamming the car door behind. “Time to get going.”

In the entirety of their strange relationship, there’d been all kinds of silences between them. There’d been the silences filled with tension, silences filled with questions, even silences filled with peace. Still, this silence he’d never experienced with her. The silence filling the car now was one of disappointment, disillusion…

Disenchantment.

Something inside his heart wrenched and tore. Alex ignored it, focusing on the winding road before him. Sophie might be his lover, and yes, his friend, but she didn’t know everything about him. She didn’t understand what drove him.

Because you won’t tell her.

His hands tightened on the wheel. How could he? How could he confide his darkest, ugliest secret, when all he wanted was for her to respect him? When all he wanted was the warmth of her cocoa eyes smiling at him with affection and lust and…love.

The little frozen piece of his heart cracked.

He didn’t have time for this. He didn’t have the energy to take on someone else’s needs and hopes and love. And who even knew if Sophie felt the same? Knowing his firecracker, if she felt anything for him at all other than desire, she’d have said so.

Alex forced himself to glance over.

She met his gaze, her brown eyes muddy and dark.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“No, you’re not.” Her bow mouth turned down.

The words burned like boiling water, yet he couldn’t go further for her. He couldn’t.

She did for you
.

The memory of her confession of the tragic story, how brave she’d been, how open and vulnerable, hit him right in the center of his chest. The gift had been priceless, far and away the best present he’d ever received. He’d known then that losing Sophie would be the worst moment of his life.

But he didn’t have room inside himself to take her on.

“Alex, listen to me.”

He couldn’t give her what she wanted. He couldn’t betray himself and his father and all the myriad decisions he’d made in his life to get to this point. “I don’t want to talk.”

She sighed. “You never want to. Not about what’s truly important.”

The tight knot of indecision he’d been dealing with for days, weeks, months billowed inside once more. However, he wouldn’t go down that path again. It led to him being something he was not. Angry, selfish, a traitor to his word.

He couldn’t be that man.

Not even for Sophie.

S
ophie stood
in the middle of Alex’s penthouse, surrounded by a boisterous pack of revelers. They laughed and grinned and chatted and cheered.

New Year’s Eve did that to a crowd.

She shouldn’t be grumpy at them.

But she was. Because there couldn’t be another girl in New York City who had less desire to celebrate and dance and drink than yours truly, Sophia Feuer. All this chatting and cheering only made her more aware of her predicament.

After New Year’s Eve came New Year’s Day. And after the day came the New Year.

The year where Alex would proceed to ruin his life.

“Sophie.” Henry appeared at her side, a big grin on his face, his hazel eyes dancing with tipsy glee. “Smile.”

She tried.

“No, no.” He wrapped his arm around her and squeezed her to his side. “This won’t do, Soph. You need to be happy on New Year’s Eve.”

How could she be happy when Alex was so clearly not?

Why couldn’t Henry see this?

True, she hadn’t seen much of Alex during the last two weeks they’d been home. She’d been at the bakery for eighteen hours every day trying to fill the holiday orders that had poured in. Even more orders than last year due to the big splash her Paris trip had made on TV. Alex had made himself scarce, too. Whether it was because of his own work or whether he didn't want to hear what she had to say, he’d barely been at this penthouse.

They’d made love precisely zero times since getting back to New York.

Yet she knew, right down to the bottom of her soul, that what Henry wanted was not what Alex wanted. Being his best friend and his partner, he should know that.

“Come on, Sophie.” The dumb lug peered into her face. “What’s wrong?”

Everything. Sure,
Pure Pastry
was going gangbusters and Freddie’s prediction about her becoming a national star appeared like a strong possibility, but everything else? Everything else was wrong.

“Henry.” She’d try. Try and make everything right. “Alex isn’t happy.”

He frowned and swung his head around looking through the crowd until he spotted his partner across the room by the fireplace. “He looks fine to me.”

“He’s not.” She sucked in her breath and made her pitch. “Have you seen any of his sketches of family homes?”

“Family homes?” The man’s eyebrows rose in astonishment.

“Obviously not.” How could she explain the brilliance of those ideas if she didn’t have anything to show him? Damn. She should have socked some examples into her suitcase before they’d left Greece. She would have if Alex hadn’t surprised her by demanding to leave within a half hour.

“You have to understand.” Tugging her to the side of the room and out of the crowd, Henry leaned in, his face filled with seriousness and condescension. “My partner might blow off steam doodling around, yet his gift is designing big and brilliant.”

A tight, hot anger zinged through her. “No, it’s not.”

“I know you’re his fiancée and I know you love him.”

Sophie blushed, the love so new and fresh, it still startled her. The fact that it was so obvious even clueless Henry could see it disconcerted her.

“I’ve known him for years and years, though. He’s always wanted to be the biggest and the best.” Henry squeezed her shoulder, his smile growing wider. “He and our company are on the cusp of becoming just that.”

“You are the one who doesn’t—”

“Granted, we had a small hiccup in Paris with the emir—”

“That wasn’t a hiccup,” she stated, a tang of fury in her voice. “That was your friend trying to break free—”

“But that’s been smoothed over since we got back to New York.” He beamed, continuing with his clueless recitation of the facts as he saw them. “Once we get the signed deal for the skyscraper next week, we’ll be right on track to go public by the end of the month. What my partner and I have dreamed of for years is coming true.”

She looked at his face and knew it was hopeless. He wouldn’t listen exactly like Alex wouldn’t listen.

“Cheer up.” He flicked his finger under her chin. “Soon your fiancé is going to be the talk of the town again.”

Deep inside, a sudden chord of understanding rang. The man she’d met—the Perfect Man, a part of the Perfect Couple—had been a mirage. A caricature of the real man; the man she’d spotted in Paris and found in Greece. Alex, along with a big help from Henry and everyone else around him other than her, was trying to slip back into that suit he thought defined him. A suit of needing to be perfect and needing to make everyone happy. A suit that was going to stifle him and make him terribly unhappy. However, no one would listen to her, not even the Perfect Man himself. So what was a girl to do?

Drink.

Giving Henry a tight smile, she edged away. “Time I got some champagne.”

He gave her a last cheerful wave and disappeared into the crowd.

Her depression deepened.

With a weary sigh, she trudged into the cold, lifeless kitchen, filled with another happy group of revelers, and glanced around for some champagne.

Or maybe some whiskey. Or perhaps she’d go right to pure alcohol.

“Sophie.” Freddie bopped to her side, her smile as wide as Henry’s and as damaging to her latest chemical peel as sitting in the burning sun for an hour or two. “You look amazing.”

Looking down at the red dress and gold shoes her fake fiancé had bought her, she felt a pointed pang of bittersweet emotion run through her. She’d picked this dress for tonight to send a signal to him. To show him he’d healed her and she was whole now. She’d hoped he would understand that he could heal too and he could be whole.

Instead, he’d glanced over her once and then, ignored her for the rest of the night.

“Thanks.” She managed a stiff smile and grabbed a full glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. “Alex chose it.”

“He has superb taste, your fiancé.” Her producer nodded her head wisely. “Just look at this magnificent penthouse.”

A place he didn’t fit in. An image flashed through her brain of him riding his horse: his head thrown back in laughter, the brown wool hat fraying at the edges, his blue eyes blazing with freedom and fun.

“I mean, the elegant lines of this kitchen are stunning,” Freddie continued.

Other images sped by: the simple lines of his hideout, the rugged lines of his pool, the welcoming lines in his drawings of family homes.

“The only thing I don’t like about this place is that strange aquarium in the dining room.”

“Actually, it’s a terrarium. And it’s the best part of this whole damn place.”

The older woman gave her a look of astonishment. Maybe it had something to do with the way Sophie had said the words. Stinging and enraged.

She’d tried to keep her spirits buoyed for hours now. She’d tried to be the fiancée she’d promised him she’d be. She’d greeted all his guests and hers. She’d put on the red dress. She’d put on a happy face. Still, suddenly, it was just too much.

Turning, she paced out of the kitchen.

“Sophie,” Freddie cried, but her voice was soon swallowed by the chatter of the crowd circling the center of the room, propping themselves on the ugly leather couches and crazy, spacey chairs.

Her cozy, warm apartment would be empty now that her mom and dad had left for Florida. She’d go back there and sulk. Perhaps, God help her, even cry for a while.

“Sophie.” Melanie and Jack materialized from the crowd, both smiling like everything was right with the world.

Their world. Not hers.

“Hey.” Her teeth gritted as she plastered on another fake smile.

“You need more champagne.” Jack glanced at the empty glass she gripped in her cold hand. “Let me take care of that.”

“Everything okay?” Melanie turned back from smiling at her departing boyfriend to eye her with a skeptical gaze. “Why do I think all is not well between you and Alex?”

“Why would you say that?” Mel had been her confidant from the moment they’d met in college, but her best friend didn’t see the real Alex and she wouldn’t understand her fears for him.

“I don’t know.” Mel slid her hand down Sophie’s arm, a worried look crossing her face. “Maybe the fact that I haven’t seen you together all evening?”

“Neither of us cling.” She kept the smile on her face. “We like to mingle.”

“You are both independent.” Her friend focused on her face with a keen gaze. “And did I mention, perfectly suited to one another?”

“Yes.” The smile began to give her a headache. What she really wanted to do was escape the fact she couldn’t reach Alex. She couldn’t help him and she couldn’t heal him in time to save him from the disaster he was heading towards. “I believe you have mentioned it.”

“Don’t give up on that.” Mel squeezed her arm in encouragement. “I know with Jack, we went through some tough times, but it was worth it in the end.”

“Here we are.” Jack’s eager grin and held-out champagne glass effectively stopped the counseling session, much to Sophie’s relief. A few more moments of Mel’s affection and concern, and she’d have begun a weepfest.

“Thanks, Jack.” She hid behind her glass, taking a long sip of the sweet, zippy liquor.

“Mel, I wanted us to be standing by the windows when the midnight clock ticks down.” Jack glanced at his watch. “We better head over there now.”

“Go on.” She waved them away, keeping the headache-inspiring smile on. “I’m fine here.”

“Go find Alex.” Melanie threw at her as she was whisked off.

Because of her stilettos, Sophie could see over a few shoulders. It didn’t take much to spot him once more. Now he stood with Henry by the glass-enclosed pool, both laughing and joking as if everything was right, everything was perfect.

The darkness behind him, lit only by the muted blur of the lighted pool, seemed ready to swallow him whole. His golden hair gleamed from the lights above; his broad shoulders filled the custom-made tux; his tall, lean length exuded surety and strength and stamina. But the only thing she saw was the vulnerable man, the man who couldn’t see himself truly and so was throwing himself into a bottomless pit for at least four years.

And horribly, there wasn’t anything she could do.

The tightness in her throat, something she’d been fighting all evening, all day, for weeks, the tightness swelled.

She needed to leave. Right now.

Sophie wove through the crowd to the front door, keeping her head down, blocking any further conversation. Attempting to muscle through to the closet to get her coat, she was stopped by a firm grip from a small hand. “Where are you going?”

Away from here. Yet evidently, sneaking out wasn’t going to be easy. She turned to meet Alex’s sister’s concerned face. “Hi, Ceci. Happy New Year.”

Dark brows crunched and the resemblance to Alex’s caramel frown made her want to cry right here instead of waiting until she got to her apartment.

“You don’t look very happy,” Ceci said. “What has he done?”

“Alex?” She pinned one last determined smile on her face. “Nothing. Everything’s fine.”

Black eyes bored into hers. “He can be a dick.”

A choked laugh burst from her mouth. For the first time tonight, someone besides herself saw something in Alex other than his cool perfection. “Yes. He can be.”

“And my bet is, currently, he’s being one to you.” His sister’s grip tightened. “Isn’t he?”

“Not to me.” A strong yearning came over her, a yearning to lay her head on the younger woman’s shoulders and surrender all of her emotions. Rather than making that mistake, she allowed herself a tiny slip, a small confession. “To himself.”

Ceci’s expression went blank. “What?”

“Never mind.” She patted the hand on her arm. “It’s nothing.”

“If you’re worried, and you obviously are, it’s something.” Deep, dark eyes stared at her.

The memory of the photo of Alex’s father washed through Sophie. These were the same eyes, the same gleam, the same determination. “Ceci—”

“If you say there’s a problem with him, then there is.” The younger woman’s wide mouth, so like her brother’s, firmed. “You need to fix it.”

The weight of the demand settled on her shoulders like a large boulder. “I can’t.”

“I knew the moment I saw you—you were what my brother needed.” His sister’s claim blazed with assurance. “I also know a fighter when I see one.”

“I don’t think—”

“There must be something you can do.”

Ceci’s words rang inside her head like a gong.
Boom. Boom. Boom.

There must be something you can do.

And then it hit.

A terrible idea. A perfect idea.

“You’ve thought of something. I can see it on your face.” His sister’s voice rose in excitement. “What is it?”

What it was was a betrayal. What it was was breaking a promise.

What it was was Alex’s escape.

She wavered on her golden stilettos. “I don’t know if I can do it.”

Ceci’s hand tightened on her arm, not letting her get away. “You can do anything.”

Sure you can, Sophie. You can do anything.

His sister’s words echoed Alex’s own. The memory of his confidence in her rolled through her like a wave and precisely as before, it melted her heart and stoked her courage.

She could do this.

For him.

“I’ll do it.”

“I don’t know what
it
is, but by the look in your eye, I know it will work.” Ceci gave her a brilliant smile. “Go do your thing.”

Her thing.

It means firecracker. As in, everything you touch, everything you say, blows up everybody’s plans. Everybody’s dreams.

Her heart trembled. Because she would be doing it again, being exactly what he’d accused her of. Destroying his plans and blowing up his dreams.

Yet these weren’t his dreams. They weren’t. She knew this in the core of her being and if she didn’t step forward, if she lost her courage, then she’d lose her heart’s true love and he’d lose his soul.

“Go on.” Ceci pushed her at the center of her back. “Go find my brother.”

And blow him up.

Sophie walked through the crowd in a daze. Her heart jumped in a crazed dance, emotions jangling in a discordant mess. All the consequences of what she was about to do thumped into her brain in a wild march of falling dominos.