The silence was beginning to feel uncomfortable and he was examining her a little too closely. She felt herself grow warm, too warm. “They were jewelry, yes,” she said, rushing now to fill the silence, “but they were also miniature works of art, and each collection had a theme and each individual piece told a story.”

“And what were those stories?”

“Life and death, love and loss, hope and despair …” Her voice faded, and she looked away, heart aching, because the collections had really been about him, them, their brief fierce love that became so very dangerous and destructive.

“I liked them all, but my favorite collection was your last one. The one you called a failure.”

Her head jerked up and she had to blink hard to keep tears from welling up. “You’re familiar with my three collections?”

“But of course.”

“And you liked my designs?”

“You have such a unique vision. I admired your work very much.”

She exhaled slowly, surprised, touched, grateful. “Thank you.”

“I was proud of you, my wife. I still am.”

The tears she’d been fighting filled her eyes and she didn’t know what affected her more—his words or his touch. “My short-lived career,” she said, struggling to speak, trying to sound light, mocking, but it had hurt, closing her business. She’d truly loved her work. Had found so much joy in her work and designs.

He caught one of her tears before it could fall. “I don’t think it’s over. I think you’re in the middle of a transition period, and it may feel like death, but it’s just change.”

“Well, death certainly is a change,” she answered, deadpan, flashing him a crooked smile, thinking she liked it when Drakon talked to her. She’d always liked his perspective on things. She found it—him—reassuring, and for her, this is how she connected to him. Through words. Language. Ideas.

If only they’d had more of this—time and conversation—perhaps she wouldn’t have felt so lost in Greece. Perhaps they’d still be together now.

He suddenly reached out and stroked her cheek with his thumb, making her heart turn over once again.

“I liked it when you smiled a moment ago,” he said gruffly, his amber gaze warm as he looked at her. “I have a feeling you don’t smile much anymore.”

For a moment she didn’t speak, she couldn’t, her heart in her mouth and her chest filled with hot emotion.

She was still so drawn to him, still so in love with him. But there was no relationship anymore. They were mostly definitely done—finished. No turning back.

He was helping her because she needed help, but that was all. She had to remember what was important—her father and securing his release—and not let herself get caught up in the physical again because the physical was maddening, disorienting and so incredibly addictive. She hadn’t known she had such an addictive personality, not until she’d fell for Drakon.

“There hasn’t been a great deal to smile about in the past few months,” she said quietly. “Everything has been so grim and overwhelming, but just being here, having your support, gives me hope. If you hadn’t agreed to help me, I don’t know what I would have done. I’m so very grateful—”