Modern Romance October 2019 Books 5-8. Annie West

clouded Hannah’s eyes; the image he was painting was one that was loaded with grief.

      ‘What did you do?’

      His expression was laced with determination and she thought of a phoenix, rising from the ashes. ‘We cut the failing businesses, sold them off piece by piece, got what we could for them and recouped by aggressively buying into emerging markets. It was a high-risk strategy, but what did we have to lose?’

      Hannah felt the conversational ground shift a little beneath them. She knew there was danger ahead, but, again, something had changed, there was more clarity, as if a valve had given way and now there was a clear flow of comprehension, an understanding.

      ‘You said Amy was murdered in a vendetta against your father?’

      His features tightened, and his jet-black eyes glittered with hatred—not for her, but for the men responsible. ‘Yes.’

      It was like pulling fingernails, she knew. He didn’t want to do this, and yet, he wasn’t hiding from her, even when it was causing him pain.

      ‘He cut a deal with a prosecutor. Multiple life sentences were reduced to a twenty-year term, all because he handed over the names of his associates.’ Leonidas’s contempt was apparent, his lips little more than a snarl. ‘He didn’t, for one second, think of how that would affect us—those of us out here, living in this world.’

      ‘Perhaps he was just trying to do the right thing?’

      Leonidas surprised Hannah then, because he smiled—a smile that was tinged with grief. ‘You see the world through the veneer of your goodness,’ he said after a moment. ‘You think because your motivations are pure and good, everyone else’s must always be?’

      ‘No.’ She frowned; it wasn’t that at all.

      ‘Yes,’ he insisted. ‘How else could you have become engaged to a man who was cheating on you? You trust and you forgive.’

      ‘Is that a bad thing?’

      He was quiet, staring at her for several beats. ‘I hope not.’

      Hannah expelled a soft breath. ‘Maybe I do give people more than their fair chance. But I also see the truth—I know what people are capable of, Leonidas. I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it.’

      She looked away from him then, her eyes gravitating to the yacht as it bobbed on the surface of the Mediterranean. Everything was clear and pristine, and so very beautiful, like stepping into a postcard.

      Leonidas’s fingers curled around her chin, gently pulling her back to face him.

      ‘He hurt you?’

      Hannah’s eyes widened, and it took her a moment to think who he was referring to.

      ‘He was my fiancé, and he had an affair… Of course that hurt. But it wasn’t him alone; it was her, too. It was the fact that two of the people who were supposed to love me most in the world had been happy to betray me with one another.’ She shuddered, the shock of that moment one she wasn’t sure she’d ever get over. ‘It wasn’t losing Angus. It was the whole situation.’

      His eyes devoured Hannah’s face, tasting her expression, digesting its meaning. ‘Have you spoken to her?’

      Hannah shook her head. ‘I couldn’t. I can’t. I don’t know what I’d say. Growing up, our relationship wasn’t always…easy.’

      ‘Why not?’ he pushed, and she had a glimpse of his formidable analytical skills. She felt his determination to comprehend her words, to seek out what was at the root of them.

      ‘She was competitive, and frankly insecure. Her mother—Aunt Cathy—spurred her on, making comments about how we looked, or about grades.’ Hannah sighed. ‘I never bought into it. I mean, we’re all our own person, right? Run your own race. That’s what my mum used to say.’ Her smile was nostalgic, and then, it slipped from her lips like the sun being consumed by a storm cloud. ‘But my aunt…’

      He waited, patiently, for her to continue. Hannah searched for the words.

      ‘She measured us against each other non-stop.’

      ‘And your cousin didn’t measure up?’

      Hannah’s eyes shot to Leonidas’s. ‘I didn’t say that.’

      ‘No, you are being deliberately tactful on that score.’

      There was enough praise in that observation to bring heat to Hannah’s cheeks, but she denied it.

      ‘I’m not being coy. I just don’t think like that. Michelle struggled at school; I didn’t. I suspect she has some kind of undiagnosed dyslexia—no matter how much time we spent going over things, she found the comprehension impossible. I think she wasn’t able to read clearly, and covered it by acting uninterested.’

      ‘You mentioned this to your aunt?’

      Hannah nodded. ‘Once. She was furious.’ Hannah’s expression was unconsciously pained, her features pinched tight as her gaze travelled back towards the ocean.

      ‘And you, in comparison, excelled at your studies?’

      Hannah nodded slowly. ‘Some people respond well to the school system, others don’t. I’m lucky in that I’m one of the former.’

      ‘And a lifetime of feeling compared to has made you downplay your natural abilities even now, here, to me.’

      She startled at that insight. ‘It’s the truth.’

      ‘It is also the truth to say you are intelligent, and I would bet my fortune on the fact you worked hard at school, too.’ He softened his tone a little, but didn’t quit his line of questioning. ‘Isn’t it possible that your aunt resented how well you did, compared to Michelle? That she couldn’t get help for her daughter because it would be admitting she was, in some way, inferior?’

      ‘If I’m right and Michelle had a learning difficulty of sorts then she could have been helped, and achieved far better results than she did.’

      He dipped his head in a silent concession. ‘But your aunt didn’t want to pursue that. And so, instead, she took away your dreams, condemning you to a life of mediocrity so her own daughter would look better in comparison?’

      Hannah sucked in a sharp breath, his words like acid rain against her flesh. ‘I don’t think you could call my life mediocre…’

      ‘You should have been studying law, poised to move into the career you really wanted. And your aunt should have been supporting you. This is what you meant, when you said you have felt what people are capable of?’

      She opened her mouth to deny it, but he was too insightful. Too right. She shrugged instead, lifting her shoulders and turning away from him.

      ‘Where was your uncle in all of this?’

      ‘Gary?’

      ‘You speak of your aunt and your cousin, but I have not heard you say his name once.’

      ‘He worked a lot. We weren’t close.’

      ‘And yet he must have known how his wife was behaving. He did nothing?’

      ‘It’s not like that. Aunt Cathy isn’t a monster. It’s complicated.’

      ‘How?’

      Hannah shook her head thoughtfully. ‘It was so long ago, and I don’t really know anything for certain. It’s more just things I’ve picked up from throwaway comments. I think she was very close to my dad—her brother. And when Mum entered the scene, Aunt Cathy was jealous. Hurt. My mum was…’ Hannah’s smile was melancholy and she closed her eyes, seeing Eleanor May as she’d been in life—so vital, so beautiful. ‘She was a pretty amazing woman. A diplomat for the United Nations, well travelled, passionate, funny, and so stunning.’

      ‘So this is where you get