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Greek Mavericks: The Greek's Unforgettable Secret. Кейт Хьюит
Читать онлайн.Название Greek Mavericks: The Greek's Unforgettable Secret
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780008901004
Автор произведения Кейт Хьюит
Серия Mills & Boon M&B
Издательство HarperCollins
Lizzie was easy to spot, with her shining red hair in a sea of ebony locks. There was only one empty seat left in the entire audience and that was next to her. He could have stood at the back, or at the side, but that might have looked odd to Thea.
Lizzie didn’t acknowledge him as he sat down. He didn’t acknowledge her. They might have been two strangers. Two strangers with a daughter between them.
He had a daughter.
He kept on repeating the phrase over and over in his head, as if it would finally make some sense to him.
The young musical sensation Thea Floros was his daughter… Floros was Lizzie’s mother’s maiden name.
The pieces clicked into place one after the other as he sat immobile in a state of shock. Another part of his brain was agitatedly wondering how to make up for eleven years. He had a child, and that changed everything.
The little violinist he’d got on with so well with was his daughter. And Thea was her name. He had a daughter named Thea…
Repeating this was both surprising and wonderful, and he kept on repeating it as the orchestra played.
‘Damon?’
He heard Lizzie murmur something to him, but he couldn’t answer. He didn’t want to answer her. He didn’t want to speak to her. He wasn’t ready to share the way he felt right now with anyone—especially Lizzie. He couldn’t have put his thoughts into words, anyway, and not just because the concert had started and even a cough would be inappropriate. They couldn’t discuss something as monumental as this in public.
Where could they discuss it?
There was no approved course of action. All his experience had left him completely unprepared for this. He was encased in ice, preserved and separate, untouchable, unreachable—as Lizzie had complained he was all those years ago.
He registered without emotion that this strange state of non-feeling stillness must be the calm before the storm. When he blew he would take everything with him.
And then Thea stood up.
At first he stared at her, as if she were an automaton in a museum, safe behind glass, and he was a visitor showing a passing interest in one of the exhibits. If he felt anything it was curiosity—that he could look at his daughter and not know what to feel.
But then she lifted her bow and started to play.
MUSIC COULD TOUCH HIM. It always had been able to touch him. Thanks to his father’s passion, music had always played a huge part in his home-life when he’d been growing up. Music could unlock him, and now Thea had freed emotions inside him that he hadn’t even known were there.
They must have been locked away for years as he drove forward with the business, allowing nothing to distract him. At the time he’d thought emotion a selfish indulgence and it had become a habit, he supposed. His focus had been all on working as hard as he could so his father could retire. It was only now, as Thea wove magic with her violin, that he realised how empty his life had become.
His daughter was filling it—filling him—with emotion, until it threatened to overflow. The melody she was playing so skilfully was uncomplicated, but it tugged at his heart and forced a response from him. Eleven years he’d missed of this child’s life. Eleven years. Feeling her kick in the womb, seeing her born and holding her in his arms for the first time, celebrating her first birthday and the elation of watching as she took her first steps—all gone. Hearing her first words and encouraging her to stride out bravely on her first day at school—
‘Damon? Damon…?’
Someone was shaking his shoulder, he realised, coming to fast. Feeling tears on his cheeks, he swiped them away.
His aide dipped down to speak to him. ‘I’m sorry to break in on your private time,’ the man whispered, ‘but we have an emergency at one of the plants—a fire. It’s contained now, but we could do with your steer on to how to handle the aftermath.’
‘I’m with you,’ he said, getting up. His workers were another family to him, and almost as close as his own. Whatever they needed, he was there.
Thea was family. Thea was his family.
His stare met Thea’s as he rose from his seat. It was a magical split-second. Fate had dictated that she finish her solo just as he stood. Everyone was standing to applaud. He had hoped she wouldn’t notice him leaving. He might have known she would know immediately. She was his daughter, after all.
She smiled at him—a smile that lit his world. It was innocent and happy and he smiled back, held his daughter’s open, trusting gaze, while the woman at his side—Lizzie—tugged at his arm repeatedly.
He pulled away sharply. Her hand was an unwanted intrusion on his naked skin. Raising his hands to applaud Thea, he ignored his aide’s edginess and obvious desire to go. He could spare these few seconds to let Thea understand and see how deeply he had appreciated her performance.
For each second he held eye contact with Thea he could feel Lizzie’s distress. Her tugs were becoming more insistent, and her voice, though it seemed to come from a long way away, was obviously distraught. But he couldn’t be distracted. His attention was centred on his daughter—as if in these few seconds he was making up for eleven years of separation.
‘Damon—’
‘I’m coming,’ he snapped at his aide.
With one last long look at Thea, he moved into the aisle and strode away.
Lizzie sat in her seat motionless long after the other audience members had left. People moved past her. She barely registered them. She felt cloaked in doom, and it was a doom of her own making. Of all the ways for Damon to find about Thea, this had to be the worst. How must it have felt for him to be sitting next to his daughter’s mother, only to discover that the woman he had made love to was apparently as untrustworthy as her scumbag father?
She had felt Damon quite literally shrink away from her. And she’d seen the look he’d given Thea. It had been the leader of the wolf pack acknowledging his cub. If the thought of a blood relationship between Damon and Thea hadn’t struck anyone else yet, it soon would. The ease between them, coupled with their incredible likeness, signalled their bond like a flashing beacon.
Thea was a bright child. How long would it take her to work it out?
Having never heard Thea express the need for a father, Lizzie began to wonder if that had been to save her feelings. They had been a team of two for ever, and now they were three—though not a team, and without any explanation from Lizzie.
She found herself flinching when Thea came running down the aisle, swinging her violin case as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
And why should she?
But everything was about to change for Thea. Remembering how that had felt for herself when she was eighteen—almost twice Thea’s age, with twice Thea’s experience of life—Lizzie shrank a little more inside.
‘Mama!’ Thea exclaimed. ‘Did you enjoy the concert?’ Thea was hopping from foot to foot, still fired up on adrenalin, when she reached Lizzie’s side. ‘Did you notice that note I got wrong?’
‘I only noticed that you played beautifully,’ Lizzie said honestly, on a throat so tight she could hardly breathe.
‘I played for you,’ Thea announced, throwing her arms around her mother to hug her tight.
This