Drakon’s black brows tugged. “It’s going to be all right. Rowan should be here in the next hour. We’ll soon have information about your father.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“Last night after you’d gone to bed I was thinking about everything you said yesterday—” He broke off, frowning. “Am I really such an ogre, Morgan? Why do you think I would judge you … and judge you so harshly?”

His gaze, so direct, so piercing, unnerved her. She smoothed the edge of the yellow square cloth where it met the blue underskirt. “Your corporation is worth billions of dollars and your work is vital to Greece and world’s economy. I’m nothing. I do nothing. I add little value—”

“Life isn’t just about drudgery. It is also about beauty, and you bring beauty into the world.” The heat in his eyes reminded her of their courtship, where he’d watched her across ballrooms with that lazy, sensual gleam in his eyes, his expression one of pride and pleasure as well as possession. She’d felt powerful with his eyes on her. Beautiful and important.

“But I don’t think important thoughts. I don’t discuss relevant topics.”

“Relevant to whom?”

“To you! I bore you—”

“Where do you get these ideas from?”

“From you.” She swallowed hard and forced herself to hold his gaze even though it was so incredibly uncomfortable. “I annoyed you when we lived together. And I don’t blame you. I know you find people like me irritating.”

His black eyebrows pulled and his jaw jutted. “People like you? What does that mean?”

She shrugged uneasily, wishing she hadn’t said anything. She hadn’t meant anything by it.

No, not true. She had. She still remembered how he had shut down her attempts at conversation once their honeymoon had ended and they’d returned to Greece, remembered their silent lonely evenings in their sprawling modern white marble villa. Drakon would arrive home from work and they’d sit in the dining room, but it’d been a silent meal, with Drakon often reviewing papers or something on his tablet and then afterward he’d retreat to a chair in the living room and continue reading until bed. Once in the bedroom, things changed. Behind the closed door, he’d want hot, erotic sex, and for twenty minutes or sixty, or even longer depending on the night, he’d be alive, and sensual, utterly engrossed with her body and pleasure, and then when it was over, he’d fall asleep, and in the morning when she woke, he’d be gone, back to his office.

“People like me who don’t read the business section of the newspaper. People like me who don’t care passionately about politics. People like me who don’t make money but spend it.” She lifted her chin and smiled at him, a hard dazzling smile to hide how much those memories still hurt. “People who can only talk about fashion and shopping and which restaurants are considered trendy.”

He tapped his finger on the table. “I do not understand the way you say, ‘people like you.’ I’ve never met anyone like you. For me, there is you, and only you.”