Page 31 of Slightly Married (Irresistible #2)

I watched her turn away, and something inside me snapped. I followed, catching her just as she reached the staircase.

“Michaila, wait.”

My hand caught her wrist, and she froze at the contact. I wrapped my arms around her from behind before she could pull away.

Her body was warm against mine and the curve of her back fit perfectly against my chest. I breathed in her vanilla scent.

Kayla tensed in my embrace, though she didn’t pull away. For the briefest moment, her weight shifted back against me, offering me hope.

“Tell me what I can do to make this right,” I said against her ear.

Kayla extracted herself from my arms. When she turned to face me, her eyes were glassy.

“You want to know what you can do?” She let out a bitter laugh.

“Give me back the trust I had in you. Make it so that every time I look at you, I don’t wonder whose feelings you’re prioritizing.

Make it so my sister wasn’t hurt.” Her voice broke.

“Make it so my child won’t be born into a family divided by secrets and pain. ”

I stood silent before her demands, the weight of their impossibility settling on my shoulders.

“You can’t do any of that,” she continued. “No amount of apologizing can fix this.”

The finality of her tone ignited a spark of resistance within me. I’d been apologetic, understanding, patient. But perhaps what was needed now wasn’t more contrition.

“What would you have done?” I asked quietly.

“What?”

“If Simone had asked you not to tell me something, would you have betrayed her confidence?” I took a step closer. “If revealing her secret meant destroying your relationship with her, what choice would you have made?”

Her lips parted, but no words came.

“I made an impossible choice, Kayla,” I continued. “I should have found a way to stop Matthaios. But my silence wasn’t malicious. I wasn’t callous. I was trying to honor my aunt’s confidence while still building a future with you.”

“This isn’t about some small secret, Konstantin. This was about my family—”

“And Matthaios is my family,” I interrupted. “We grew up together. Shared everything. There’s no difference between him, Aris or Dimi to me.” I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to lower my voice. “What would you have done if revealing Simone’s secret meant betraying her trust forever?”

A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face, and she crossed her arms. Her silence was answer enough.

“I’ve arranged for Simone to be appointed CEO of Athanasiou Maritime Holdings,” I said, grasping at the one concrete thing I could offer. “The paperwork is on the counter. Your father has already reviewed it.”

“What?”

“Matthaios has agreed to let Simone become CEO. She’ll have complete operational control. He’ll retain majority ownership, but she’ll run the company.” I resisted the urge to reach for her again.

“And what do you get out of this arrangement?” Her eyes narrowed.

“My wife back, I hope.” I met her gaze. “I’m trying to find solutions in an impossible situation.”

There was a brief softening around her eyes before the walls came back up. She exhaled slowly, dropping her shoulders.

“This marriage was only meant to be temporary,” she said, her voice quieter now. “I think it’s best we return to the terms of the contract.”

With that, she turned and continued up the stairs without another word, each step widening the gulf between us. I remained at the bottom, watching until she disappeared from view, fighting the instinct to follow.

When I returned to the kitchen, Michail was examining the contents of the folder with undisguised satisfaction. The smile spreading across his face reminded me eerily of Kayla’s.

“I told you she was stubborn,” he said, patting my shoulder. “It’s my fault, I’m afraid.”

“She has every right to her anger.”

“Indeed.” His eyes crinkled with amusement. “I thought you and Simone might have made a good match.”

I stiffened at the suggestion.

“But I was wrong,” he elaborated, closing the folder. “Simone and Matthaios will make a much better couple.”

“Matthaios and Simone will never happen,” I stated, thinking of my aunt’s face when Matthaios had confessed his misdeeds last night. Disappointment and disbelief had aged her ten years in an instant.

Michail’s smile turned smug, the expression settling into the deep lines around his mouth. “You’d be surprised what time can heal, especially with the right incentives. They’ll marry within the year. You’ll see.”

“Matthaios won’t be easily coerced,” I said simply, unwilling to engage further on the topic.

“Who said anything about coercion?” He shrugged. “Athanasiou men have always gone to any lengths to claim the woman they truly want. And though I didn’t raise Matthaios, he is no exception.”

The weeks that followed settled into a frustrating pattern. I returned to Michail’s Upper East Side mansion every day, hoping for a chance to speak with Kayla. Each visit ended with rejection.

“Miss Kayla isn’t receiving visitors today,” Raquel would say, her expression sympathetic as she stood in the doorway.

I called, texted, and even emailed a journal detailing the pregnancy milestones she might be experiencing. All went unacknowledged.

Between attempts to see Kayla, I accompanied my family to the police station for interviews. My uncle’s eldest son, Leon, refused any attempt we made to communicate with him. Nolan, my uncle’s youngest son, was noticeably absent from police proceedings.

“They’ve arrested Angela for your uncle’s murder,” my mother announced as I entered the penthouse one evening.

I moved closer, intrigued. “Really?”

“Yes.” Disgust colored her tone as she set down her teacup. “She’ll finally pay for her crime.”

“Let’s hope the evidence sticks,” I said, loosening my tie and feeling relief from the constriction. “Her defense team won’t go down without a fight.”

“And Kayla?” Mother’s question pivoted seamlessly. “Any progress?”

I shook my head and settled into the chair across from her. “None. She won’t see or speak to me.”

Mother sighed, adjusting her dress. “Have you tried talking from your heart?”

“I’ve tried everything,” I insisted. “I’ve explained the situation repeatedly.”

A knowing smile touched her lips. “There’s your problem.”

“What problem?”

“You’re just like your father. Treating this like a business negotiation.” She shifted forward. “Did I ever tell you how your father and I reconciled after our worst fight?”

I raised an eyebrow, surprised by this unexpected turn. “No.”

“It was after Dimitrios was born. Your father had a vasectomy without consulting me, though he knew how desperately I wanted a daughter.” She traced her teacup’s rim with one finger. “I was furious. I didn’t speak to him for nearly six months.”

The parallel to my own situation wasn’t lost on me. “What changed?”

“He tried reasoning with me first.” Her eyes crinkled at the memory.

“I wouldn’t hear it. Then one evening, he did something I’d never seen before.

” She paused. “He kneeled before me with tears in his eyes and said he was afraid of losing me more than he feared anything in life. With each of my deliveries, I nearly bled out. He refused to put my life at risk again despite my desperation for a daughter.”

I stared at her, struggling to reconcile this with the formidable man I’d known. “Father cried?”

“Indeed.” Her voice softened. “Your father was brilliant in business, but like you, he struggled to express what lay in his heart. When he finally did, I forgave him.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t cry.”

“Which is precisely why you’re sleeping alone while your pregnant wife refuses to speak to you.” The bluntness of her statement was tempered by compassion. “You present arguments when she needs emotions, Konstantinos. Justifications when she needs to hear your heart.”

“I wouldn’t know where to begin,” I admitted.

“Start with the truth that scares you most,” she said simply, rising from her chair. “The one that makes you feel exposed.” She paused at the doorway. “The one you’re afraid to say aloud.”

Long after she’d gone, I sat contemplating her words. The most frightening truth wasn’t my longing for Kayla or my desire to salvage our marriage. It was the depth of my love for her, a feeling so essential that without her, I felt stripped bare and incomplete.

I pulled out my phone and opened my email app. Kayla’s address auto-populated as soon as I tapped the compose button.

Michaila,

I paused, thumb hovering over the screen. Words had never been difficult for me in business contexts. But this was different. I deleted and rewrote the opening three times before continuing.

I respect your need for space. I understand why you’re angry.

No, that wasn’t right. I deleted it. The statement was factually accurate but failed to convey what I actually felt.

I miss you.

I looked at those three simple words, surprised by how inadequate they seemed compared to the void taking residence in my chest since she’d left. I continued writing.

I miss the way you laugh when something genuinely amuses you. I miss you curling against me in your sleep, seeking warmth even on summer nights. I miss the discussions we have over breakfast about everything and nothing.

Each day without you feels like navigating a city whose map has suddenly changed. The landmarks are the same, but the paths between them no longer make sense.

I stopped typing, reading over what I’d written. The sentiments were true, yet the words were foreign. I’d never been this...expressive before. It made me uncomfortable, yet there was also a strange relief in seeing these thoughts exist outside of myself.

I know that actions matter more than words. Trust, once broken, cannot be restored with promises alone. I am trying to find ways to make amends, but I also want you to know that—

My fingers stilled. The sentence hung incomplete. After a long moment, I forced myself to type the words I’d never said aloud.