‘Why can’t I live in Athens too?’ With you.

It would be the perfect place finally to put my art degree to good use. To start a career.

His hardening features broadcasted his displeasure at that question even before he spoke. ‘Why force us to endure one another when we don’t have to?’

‘I’m perfectly happy living on my own. I can rent a flat, get a job in an art gallery—’

The twist of his lips reminded me again of how hot his kisses could be. ‘What’s the point of staging an elaborate wedding to fool the world if my wife immediately moves into an apartment?’

‘Then why did you do it?’ I challenged.

‘Your father timed his strike to perfection—because my company needs stability now more than ever.’

Invisible walls closed in on me. ‘So this is a business decision?’

His jaw clenched. ‘Everything that has transpired between us has been based on a business decision.’

Even last night?

My heart lurched and I was glad I was sitting down. ‘There has to be another way.’

‘There is. You stay here, in our purportedly happy home. You’ll want for nothing. Your every wish will be catered for. Buy as much art as you wish to—or even make it if you want.’

Yesterday the promise of freedom from this nightmare would have brought boundless relief. Today, all I felt was...trapped.

‘I can’t. I can’t live like that.’

The words were uttered more for myself than for him. Born from my deep desire never to fall under another’s command the way my father had forced me to live under his.

‘How long am I to stay in this gilded prison?’

His eyes darkened. ‘If this is a prison, yineka mou, it is not of my making. I tried for months to make your father listen to reason. He caused this situation, not me. If you want a way out of this, then find one.’

With that, he walked out, leaving my insides cold as ice.

Axios’s words echoed through the long days and nights that followed his departure from Agistros. Long after the days in the luxurious paradise had begun to stretch in brain-numbing monotony.

My new husband, having made his feelings clear about our forced marriage, didn’t bother to come home. The stunning villa had indeed become my prison, and its elegant walls and priceless furnishings closed in on me more with every day that dragged by.

And the more my world became narrow, the louder my mother’s words and the contents of my grandmother’s letter clamoured.

By the end of the second week dejection had me in a constricting hold. But alongside it was the discomfort in my abdomen, which wouldn’t let up. Telling myself it was a psychosomatic reaction to my current situation began to feel hollow when I knew my grandmother had felt similar symptoms in the year before her death.

Then the housekeeper informed me one sun-drenched morning that Axios had left a message to say that he would be away on business in New York for another ten days. It seemed like the ominous catalyst I needed.