Christos cleared his throat. He could hear his blood pounding loudly through his body.
“That makes sense,” Filip answered smoothly. “Saves you having to take a cab. We’re going in anyway. Right?”
“Of course,” Christos nodded, his expression cold.
“There’s a restaurant he was raving about. Zucca, I think he said it’s called.”
Christos nodded. “I know it. It’s excellent. Seafood, largely.”
“Did he say anything about …?” Filip’s question trailed into the air as Elle reached over and grabbed his hand.
“We’ll talk later.” She softened the harsh invective with a smile. “Eat up. You’re going to learn what it’s like to be the son of a tycoon.” She stood, still clutching her mug. “I’ll wait outside.” Her face was stony but her implication was clear. To Christos, at least. Like always.
Christos was in free fall. She was never going to forgive him. Why should she? And why did he want her to?
He spent the morning with Filip, trying not to think of Elle. What was she doing? Andre Meyers, he knew from a google search earlier, was not only a world-leading musician. He was also old enough – almost—to be her father.
It was surely not romantic between them.
When he and Filip left that afternoon, he enquired casually, “Did Elle say if we should pick her up?”
Filip shook his head. “She’s going to go watch Andre perform again.”
“I see.” Christos’s hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles glowed white.
“He’s a great guy,” Filip said, not helping Christos’s mood.
“I’ll bet. Why did The Julliard send him?”
Familiar pride swarmed through Filip, momentarily making him forget that Elle didn’t like him to talk about her career. “Oh, they like to keep track of people like Elle.”
“How did they hear of her?”
“The teacher mom was dating sent a recording of Elle to them. Suffice it to say she progressed from Sesame Street to Mozart within weeks. She can play anything she hears, even if she only hears it once. Her memory is just … crazy.”
Even for words, he realised, thinking with harsh regret of the things he’d said to her. “Did she gain a place at the school?”
“Are you kidding? Of course she did. They’ve wanted her for years.”
“But she never went?”
Filip was torn. Loyalty to his sister was making him want to change the conversation’s direction, but he was also so proud of her he could burst. “She was due to start right around the time of the accident.” He shook his head. “There was no way she would go.”
“Because of the fees?”
“No. Not just the fees.” Filip clutched his hands on his knees. “I mean, she was offered a great scholarship. She would have been able to do it. But then there was me.” He grimaced. “You don’t know how I’ve felt, going to my great school, so spoiled in comparison, while Elle gave everything up to basically be a parent to me.”
Christos was going under with the current. “You cannot shoulder guilt for this. Elle chose to do that because she loves you.”
“I know. But life’s been anything but fair to her, you know? She’s just the sweetest girl. I love her to bits. I just want her to do what she loves and stop worrying about me.”
“You’re what she loves,” Christos pointed out as though his chest wasn’t being compressed in sympathy for Elle. “She wants to make sure you’re happy. That’s her prerogative.”
“I am happy.” Filip turned as much as he was able to face Christos. “She’s not. I mean, she doesn’t date. She doesn’t go out. She works. And she waits for me to come home in the holidays so she can make up for the fact that she has legs and I don’t.”
Christos’s heart was churning. He was suffocating with a need to see Elle. It was deep inside of him. He pulled up outside the house and rolled Filip’s chair out of the boot. He placed it beside the passenger door and watched, beyond impressed, as Filip manouevered himself into it. “What time’s the concert?”
“Not sure. They’re usually like eight o’clock.”
“Perhaps we should go as well.”
“Tickets would have sold out ages ago,” Filip said with a shake of his head.
Christos’s smile was laced with the arrogance that Filip would, perhaps, one day learn. “Filip. We’re Rakantis. Nothing is ever truly sold out.”
And sure enough, just before eight o’clock, they were shepherded to seats in the very front row. “How did you do this?”
“I told you. We’re Rakanti.”
Filip shook his head. “I don’t feel like one.”
Christos winked. “You will.”
The curtain opened and the concert began. While it was beautiful, Christos was largely unmoved. He had never heard anyone interpret music as Elle had that first night he’d heard her play. His mind was straying, going over the day’s work, thinking about the night he’d met Elle, remembering how good it had felt to be able to roll over in the middle of the night and pull her towards him, when Andre Meyers stood from behind the piano.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” his accent was Germanic, and thick. “Throughout my career, one of the most privileged things I have been able to do is mentor young musicians. Some of them have passion, some have flair and all are talented. But none combines those three qualities in quite the same way as this young lady. I would like you to welcome my favourite protégé, a woman whose name I am sure you will soon be very familiar with: Elle Bradley.”
Christos froze as Filip excitedly squeezed his arm.
“Look!” He whispered. “It’s Elle!”
And Christos was looking. Elle took to the stage, only she had changed out of the flimsy summer dress. Now, she wore a black cocktail dress, fitted to her sexy body like a glove. Her hair was back in a neat bun, and her shoes were flat.
Christos felt a groan heave through his body.
She bowed and the audience clapped politely, though there was evidently a curiosity over the unscheduled appearance. Andre stepped back into the shadows as Elle lifted her hands to the keys.
And despite the fact she was performing in front of hundreds, if not a thousand, people, she wasn’t nervous. Her hands didn’t shake. She looked utterly serene.
Like she was meant to be there, more than anywhere else on earth.
A smile whispered on her lips as she began to play the first mournful notes. It quickly picked up, moving at a rapid tempo, and her fingers flew over the keys.
“It’s Thomas Adés,” Filip whispered. “She’s obsessed. Mainly because he wrote the most technically challenging songs. There’s a running joke that he recorded most of his own songs because he’s the only one who can play them.”
Christos heard but didn’t dare respond. He wanted only to watch Elle. To hear Elle.
The audience was silent. Completely quiet. There was just Elle and the music. The piece went for several minutes, and she cast a mood as she played, captivating the entire audience. As she brought the song to a close and opened her eyes, her smile made his heart throb.
All the reasons he’d had for lashing out at her were buried deep inside his mind; he couldn’t access them. He watched as she stood to bow and he did likewise, clapping first and loudest. The audience rose behind him, standing and applauding. Elle bowed once more. Andre grabbed her hand and lifted it in the air then embraced her. “You were great,” Christos saw him whisper. “I told you.”
Elle nodded and laughed, then walked off-stage.
Christos wanted more. How dull Andre seemed after Elle! He was euphoric. The minute the concert finished, he turned to Filip in his chair, his smile broad. “She was outstanding.”
Filip nodded, as moved as ever by his sister’s brilliance. “You have to go get her. I won’t be able to get through the crowd fast. I’ll wait here. But go tell her we came and we saw.”
Christos didn’t need to be told twice. He waded towards the stage and as he
encountered security he had only to flash an arrogant smile before he was waved past. Such was the Rakanti power.
He found her in a side dressing room, still in the cocktail dress, talking animatedly with Andre.
She froze when she realised Christos was there, pushing everything back down inside of herself and looking only stern and confused. “What are you doing here?”
She spoke to him as though he were a virus she couldn’t shake. The realisation was anathema to him.
“Filip wanted to come,” he said, fudging the truth slightly.
“Filip’s here?” Her demeanour turned on a dime. “Where?”
“Front row.”
“Oh!” She breezed out of the room and as she went Christos realised her feet were bare. His lips lifted in a small smile and then he fixed Andre with a dark, assessing stare.
“Christos Rakanti.” He extended his hand.
“I’ve heard of you,” Andre said, with no indication of where. “In fact, I’ve cruised on one of your ships.”
Christos’s smile was polite. “Elle is a genius.”
“Yes. That term is often bandied about but she truly is. It is a great shame she won’t pursue it. If she did …”
“Do you have any influence with her?”
“Of course. But only a little. She is stubborn. She says only that the timing isn’t right.” He laughed. “Like all of the best artists she is riddled with personal dramas, no?”
Christos waited while Elle met with admirers. He watched. She was polite and well-mannered but she wasn’t comfortable. He wondered if this had something to do with why she hadn’t pushed to study.
Finally, she looked in their direction and reached for Filip’s hand. “You must be exhausted.”
“I’ve never felt more energised in my life,” he contradicted, smiling up at her. “I can’t believe how great you are at that.”
She shrugged. “I guess that’s what my DNA gave me.”
She took the handles of his chair and began to push.
“I got it,” he waved her away but she bent forward and kissed his head.
“I know. But let me.” She navigated him towards the doors, not even acknowledging Christos.
She had become excellent at that, he realised. To blanking him even when there was only the two of them in the room.
It angered and frustrated him in equal measure.
He wasn’t used to being sidelined.
She sat in the back of the car; it was the only way they could accommodate Filip and his chair. She didn’t mind, either. It allowed her to lean back and close her eyes, pretending to doze. It meant she didn’t have to think of Christos. She pretended she didn’t smell him. That she couldn’t feel his strength and pull emanating towards her.
When the car slowed to a stop in front of the house she alighted swiftly.
“I can do this,” Filip murmured, smacking away her hand as she went to help him out.
She nodded, understanding his independent strength, but wishing he’d slow down.
“Christos?” She said, as they moved towards the door. “Can I grab a minute with you?”
He wiped the surprise from his face and tried to temper the hope that was flaring in his gut. Filip rolled ahead and Christos leaned down, whispering in her ear so that only she could hear, “You can grab anything you want of mine.”
She shook her head, stepping back as though repulsed. “I just need one minute.” The words were delivered with disdain and hauteur but he didn’t let his smile drop.
“I’m beat. I’ll see you guys in the morning,” Filip called back to them.
“Night, honey,” Elle called. Then, she stepped further into the house, pausing at the sofa. But the memories were too strong. She moved past it, towards the pool area.
“Christos,” she began, biting on her lip and trying to find the words.
“You were amazing tonight,” he said honestly, his voice gravelly.
“Thank you.” She waved the compliment aside. “It was fun.”
“I don’t understand why you aren’t pursuing that as your career. You have a legend in the industry willing to spruik for you. You are incredibly talented.”
“Perhaps.” Her tone was dismissive. “But that’s not what I want to talk about.”
“Why not?” He put his hands on her shoulders, bringing her so close that he could see the doubt in her eyes. He waited for the moment of awakening; for the familiar, tell-tale flush that would steal into her cheeks as it always did. But there was nothing. Just resignation.
A wave of nausea rolled through him. He had to know. Did she really not feel anything for him now? It was a fact too grim to acknowledge. Slowly, slow enough for her to realise his intention and back away if she wished it, he brought his lips to her. The kiss was tender and gentle; it was a prompt. A reminder. A question.
And her answer was resounding.
She didn’t kiss him back.
She was like steel in his arms.
His heart raced as he lifted his head.
Calmly, as though he’d accidentally bumped her shoulder, she said, “Please don’t do that. I don’t like it.” And then, she switched gears, returning with the appearance of effortlessness to their original conversation. “Filip is desperate to impress you. He’s exhausted. You need to slow things down a bit.”
Christos’s mind was spinning. He was still caught on her assertion that she didn’t like kissing him. The woman had practically drooled when he’d walked in the room. And now?
She was pushing him away easily. He tried to focus on what she’d said and to formulate a suitable reply, but all he could think of was Elle. “I am going at his pace.”
“He’s changing his pace to impress you,” she denied firmly. “So you have to be the adult and slow it down. Look out for him without letting him know that’s what you’re doing.”
An idea occurred to him. “Fine. You just have to tell me if I’m doing it wrong. You can plan his days with me.”
“No.” She shook her head. Her shoulders were set; she dropped her eyes to a point just past his ear. “I’m going back to the States.”
Christos didn’t react but inside he was being torn to shreds. “What? When?”
“As soon as I can book a flight.” She crossed her arms and for the tiniest of seconds the façade dropped and he thought he glimpsed pain. It was gone again almost immediately.
He didn’t want her to go. But nor did he want to trap her against her will. “You can take my jet. Whenever you want.”
“That’s a waste of fuel. Commercial suits me fine. It’s more my speed.” She blinked up at him. The moonlight cast a perfect sliver of silver across her face and a wind rustled her hair. “So please remember to be gentle with Filip once I go. Remember he’s still a teenager, and despite how he acts, this is all new and scary for him.”
“He seems to be coping fine.”
She brushed aside his comment. “I know he seems it, but he’s an internaliser. He takes it very seriously to be macho and brave, but he’s a sensitive kid. Just … look after him. I need to trust you to take care of him.”
A muscle jerked in Christos’s jaw. “Because you are running away from me.”
She smiled up at him with such profound sadness it stole his breath away. “I thought you wanted me to stay out of your life.”
Apologise.
It was the answer but he didn’t know how.
He didn’t know where to begin.
Because deep down he was still furious that she’d gone to the papers. It was a betrayal he couldn’t forgive. An action he would never understand. If she’d wanted to, she could have gone straight to Xanthe and allowed them all time to adjust to the news privately. Instead she’d forced everyone’s hands, plunging them into a state of handling the debacle publicly.
“I want you to stay,” he said instead, reaching down and catching her hand in his.
“I don’t care what you want.” She pulled her hand free and rubbed it b
ehind her back. “Please just look after Filip.”
The water was cold; the perfect balm to the heat of the day. She kept her head submerged for as long as possible, enjoying the almost womb-like solitude of the pool. When she surfaced, the sun was bouncing off the surface and the trees were rustling in the breeze. Hundreds of thousands of people were living their lives in Athens, and millions before them had inhabited this part of the world. Living. Breathing. Loving. Dying.
All had known the grief she carried.
She wasn’t unique.
And she wouldn’t let it get the best of her.
She went back underwater, kicking to the other side of the pool, waiting until her fingertips grazed the tiled side before coming back up for breath.
Christos was crouching in front of her when she emerged, dressed in jeans and a polo shirt.
She swallowed her initial reaction and quickly built the shield back around herself.
“Hi,” she said calmly. “I didn’t realise you were watching me.”
“I wasn’t,” he assured her, his own tone imitating hers in detachment. “I came out to let you know my mother is here.”
Elle’s eyes startled wide and he was pleased. Pleased that there was some way he could spark a reaction from her, even if it was a negative one.
“I see.”
“You can’t stay in the water all day to avoid her.” He stood and smiled at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You might as well get it over with.”
“Contrary to what you might think, I’m not afraid of your mother.”
“I don’t think you’re afraid of her. I think you’re ashamed of what you did and you don’t want to meet her.”
Elle flicked her eyes sidewards, towards the house.
“Is Filip in there?”
He laughed angrily. “Yes. Don’t worry. There are too many witnesses for her to touch you.”
Elle flipped onto her tummy and set off to the other edge of the pool. He watched as she went, her stroke smooth and slow, her body dragging languidly through the crisp turquoise water. He was waiting for her when she emerged, holding her towel aloft.