What The Greek's Wife Needs - Dani Collins Page 0,28

father’s business—a business built on lies and cheated negotiations.

Leon hated to see anything of his father in himself, but that tainted blood showed up at different times in ways that never ceased to make him loathe himself. Hell, he was so much like his old man that his wife felt scorned and tricked by him, the same way his mother had always felt about his father.

I thought you felt something for me. We were sleeping together.

Leon had felt toward Tanja what he had felt toward any attractive, available woman who reciprocated his interest—sexual desire. Granted, it had been an acute level of that sort of interest. Before meeting her, he’d had relationships of various lengths from one-night stands to yearlong affairs. All had been pleasant, and none had inspired more than basic levels of affection.

Tanja had been different. Obvious in her interest, which was always a kick for a man’s ego, but mesmerizing in how she was both playful and earnest. Sincere.

Leon had known deep down that she took things more seriously than he did. The connection between her and Zach and their father was infinitely more complex and real than anything he could begin to comprehend. Being around them had been both fascinating and puzzling. Intimidating in some ways because it was one of the few things in life he knew he would never grasp or properly experience.

Leon had known in his gut that having an affair with Tanja would lead her on, which was probably why he’d wound up proposing. He’d been convinced they wouldn’t last, that she would eventually figure out he wasn’t capable of giving her the emotional depth she expected, but he’d wanted her anyway.

And she had been a grown woman capable of making her own decisions. That’s how he’d rationalized it. In reality, he’d wanted to sleep with a woman who appealed to him. That’s what kind of man he’d been—not devoid of conscience, but with a very superficial grasp of right and wrong. Not much sense of consequence, either. All that had mattered was getting what—or who—he wanted when he wanted them.

He’d grown up since then. Now he considered what was best for other people, not just himself.

Finally getting a divorce? Good idea, Zach had said a minute ago.

It was. But something in Leon balked. He was a champion at heart. That’s why he’d won more races than he’d lost. That’s how he’d pulled his father’s company back from the brink. A stubborn refusal to fail wasn’t much use when one party wanted to end things, though. He knew what it looked like when people who resented one another stayed married. He couldn’t do that to himself, or Tanja, or the baby who rested her head on his shoulder.

He absently rubbed Illi’s back, listening to Tanja wrap up with her brother.

“Let Dad know I’m fine. Tell him I’ll call soon.”

“I will. Love you, Books.”

“Love you, too. All three of you.” She ended with a happy sigh and set aside the phone to hug herself. “I’m an auntie. How amazing is that?”

Technically, that made Leon an uncle, but he didn’t allow that flitting thought to land and take root.

Tanja sipped her smoothie, then frowned.

“Not sitting well?”

“Just a lump of banana that surprised me.” She took another sip and made a face. “I really am feeling a lot better. I think some of it was seasickness.”

He came across to touch her forehead. She wasn’t feverish.

Illi smiled and reached for her, making Tanja smile. “Hi, baby doll. Come here.”

That brightness was back in her face. A woman in makeup and heels was undeniably attractive, but Tanja, fresh faced and wearing nothing but confidence and the sheen of unconditional love, was spellbinding.

He had an urge to cup her cheek and caress her soft skin with his thumb. He wanted her to look at him with that warm, unabashed smile.

Disturbed, he made himself give her the baby and picked up his phone.

“Don’t try to rush your recovery. You’ve been through a lot.” He had already relayed to staff that she needed supplements. He would ask them to add some rich desserts to the menu, too. She could stand to gain a few kilos.

“I don’t want to rely on you any longer than necessary. Kahina was so generous and understanding, but you know what they say about houseguests.”

He lifted his gaze.

“They’re like fish. They start to stink after three days.”

“Is that what they say?” He smirked as he went back to checking his emails. “Well, I’ve asked my lawyer