by Kali Anthony
He accepted her explanation reluctantly. After all she was an adult, could look after herself.
‘Now, go,’ she said, with a flick of her hand, her engagement ring twinkling in the fresh morning light. ‘Sergei can look after me. That’s why you hired him, isn’t it?’
She turned back to her breakfast and he felt strangely dismissed.
* * *
An amateur mistake, wearing white. Thea stormed into her room and tore off her shirt, throwing it on the dresser. She should have been more careful. Yet she wasn’t thinking clearly, being ruled by emotion. It was causing her to make stupid mistakes.
She reached behind her, peeled off the dressing and turned to look in the mirror. Okay, more bleeding than she’d had before, but not infected—at least she didn’t think so. This tattoo hurt more than usual too, but that was bound to be its position on her spine.
She peered over her shoulder at the flock of birds soaring across her back, showing that no matter how many people tried to cage her, in the end she’d be free.
Christo couldn’t hold her. Nor could her father. They’d all try, but she’d slip through the bars one day and fly away for ever. Until then she’d add bird after bird. Marks to commemorate each insult as a reminder that her time would come.
Thea grappled with the dressing, twisting awkwardly as she tried to replace it. Only a few days and the tattoo would heal. She’d just be more careful. Perhaps she should wear a black shirt?
Then in the mirror she saw a movement. Christo. Watching with fury twisting ugly across his features.
‘What the hell is this?’
She snatched up her shirt. Clutched it to her chest. And all the simmering feelings bubbled and boiled and spilled over in a scalding flood.
‘Get out!’ Her composure was gone in a torrent of white-hot anger. She trembled as it burned through her. ‘You’ve no right to be in here.’
‘I have every right. This is my house.’ He towered in the doorway. Jaw hard. Mouth stretched in a thin, brutal line. ‘You’ll explain this.’
‘It’s my body. I can do what I like with it.’
Christo’s lip curled into a sneer. ‘What else have you been doing with it when my back’s been turned?’
‘I’m sure your imagination can conjure any number of horrors.’
The cool air of the room chilled her overheated skin. Or perhaps it was the cold rage in Christo’s eyes. She felt too exposed, with the shirt held in front of her and his icy gaze flicking to her tattoos reflected in the mirror behind.
‘And you will document each one for me,’ he said. ‘My study. One hour.’
* * *
Christo hadn’t thought himself a fool for years—not since childhood. Not since he’d believed his parents’ false promises time and again, till he’d stopped believing anything. Yet here Thea was, sitting in front of him, her whole presence mocking as if he was one.
He’d gone to check on her. Genuinely worried. And what had he found? Evidence of betrayal. Lies. People always told lies. Especially those you allowed close to you. Never again.
It was clear she didn’t care. Leaning back in the chair opposite, arms crossed, a victorious gleam in her eye. That was why she’d looked so happy—because she’d thought she’d won.
It might not be a real marriage, but he’d made vows and he’d keep them till the end. He’d expected the same of her.
Where to begin when the rage scorched through him? He searched for the chill usually running in his veins. She did this to him—made him unreasonable. And he was usually a reasonable man.
‘Sergei’s employment has been terminated.’
‘That’s unfair. I want you to reinstate him. He’s an excellent bodyguard.’
‘He told me everything.’
Actually, Sergei had only admitted to an error of judgement—trying to protect Thea’s shattered honour, no doubt. But Christo knew there was little that would make a consummate professional like Sergei forget where his allegiances lay. An illicit affair with his employer’s beautiful young wife was the only explanation.
But Christo wanted the truth from Thea’s lips, not Sergei’s. The truth that she hadn’t stuck to their bargain of fidelity, that she was like his parents. An opportunistic liar.
As he stared her down, myriad emotions flickered across her face. It was like watching a movie on fast forward. Surprise, disbelief, sorrow. Until she plastered on her usual smooth veneer of calm.
‘Love can make a man do uncharacteristic things. Of course you don’t believe in love, so you would never know.’
Christo gritted his teeth. His suspicions were right. A pain knifed him deep inside, causing an aching wound to his soul. He’d craved her. Kissed her. And for what? Merely to repeat Hector’s mistakes?
‘You’re so like your father.’
Damn his mother’s words—the last she’d spoken to him. They hadn’t been meant as a compliment.
He cast them into the wasteland of his memory. They had no place here. He’d married Thea for convenience, not love. So why did evidence of her betrayal tear to the very heart of him?
He gripped the arms of his chair till his nails bit into the leather. ‘I’m sure you’re easy to love when you want to get your own way.’
The cool calm thawed and her eyes widened a fraction. Triumph leapt inside him, a bitter white-hot flame. He’d caught her out.
‘You think...? Me?’
She sounded incredulous—another act.
‘That I’d trade myself to Sergei to get what I want? I may be many things, but I’d never do that.’
‘Don’t lie to me.’ Christo flew from his chair, hands trembling. Every part of him was too hot, too tight for his suit. He tore off his tie before it choked him. ‘I won’t be taken for a fool like my father!’
Turning a blind eye to his wife’s outrageous behaviour. Ignoring it till she ran off with her latest lover. Christo thought he’d avoided his genetics, the weakness allowing him to be conned by women. He had believed Thea was more. But glorious curves and luscious kisses had caused him to look past the truth of another duplicitous female.
‘I’m not lying. Even though you’ve done nothing to earn my trust.’
He placed his hands on the desktop and leaned forward. Thea didn’t move, her expression placid, as if she’d done nothing wrong at all.
‘Sergei was protective,’ he hissed. ‘There’s only one reason a man behaves that way!’
She laughed at him—a cold jeer. It was the way his father had been laughed at for years by his mother in the charade of their marriage.
‘As you know so well, being the great protector that you are.’
He refused to be mocked. ‘How quickly you move on from one man to the next. I hope using Sergei was worth it to get back at me. What happened? Did you seduce him when you realised Alexis was unavailable?’
Thea leapt from her seat, chest heaving. ‘Alexis is my brother!’
A dreadful quiet fell in the room, taking on a life of its own. Heavy, oppressive, punctuated by Thea’s ragged breaths. A clock on the wall ticked seconds in an ominous rhythm.
‘He was like the brother I should have had.’
She only had one brother. Didn’t she?
More lies.
‘You want to know why I did this?’ she asked.
Thea grabbed the bottom of her shirt and tore, buttons scattering as she hurled the ruined fabric to the floor, then whipped round, displaying her back. Christo stared at the birds sweeping across her skin, at the spidery detail of the feathers in their vivid colours.
‘The first, I was eighteen. For all the times my father prevented me from seeing my mother. For the way she begged the staff to allow her to visit her little girl. I learned then the value of secrets and lies. This is a reminder of the sacrifices she made. How she fought to be free.’
The birds looked joyous as they twisted their way from the slender curve of her waist across her lower back and up her spine. Christo counted. Nine. Nine bluebirds.
‘The one in the middle—the largest—it hurt the most. But not as much as what I did to earn it. Demetri promised me to one of his business associates. To close a deal.’
Christo froze in horror. No.
‘Luckily the man desired a “compliant” woman,’ she spat, ‘not one who’d fight. So I remained untouched. Demetri wasn’t so forgiving. He always enjoyed hurting little girls.’
‘But your father...’ Surely he should have protected her?
She gave a mirthless laugh. She was still facing away from him, hands now defiantly planted on her hips, her nails digging into her flesh.
‘My father didn’t need his fists to make an impression. He’d take my phone—prevent my contact with the outside world to ensure compliance. I thought I’d go mad at times. In the end I behaved. Or he thought I did.’
He couldn’t stand here and let her continue baring herself like this. ‘Thea. Stop.’ The words were rough as ground glass in his throat.
She shot a look behind her. ‘Oh, please... You wanted to know and I’m keen to enlighten you. This bird, at my side...’
She catalogued a litany of deprivations. Too many for someone so young. He wanted to rage. To tear her family apart on her behalf. To fix this.
‘But this last one. This one is all for you, Christo, my beloved husband. When I told my father I wouldn’t marry you Demetri stepped in to convince me. Alexis and Demetri fought. Then the police...’
She stopped. Slumped a little. Her shoulders rose and fell. Then she straightened.
‘That’s when my father discovered who Alexis was. He said he’d go to jail for assault unless I married you.’ Her voice broke and trembled.
He wanted to reach for her. Hold her. Make it better, somehow. But the painful truth of their deal and what it had cost her was etched on her back, red and angry-looking. His fault and his shame.
The realisation sat leaden in his stomach.
‘And you think I used my body, used Sergei, to get him to do what I wanted?’
She turned, bared to him apart from her bra. Christo couldn’t keep his gaze from her devastated eyes.
‘He doesn’t deserve to be fired for doing what a good man should. Yes, Sergei’s protecting the one he loves—but it’s not me. I just blackmailed him into doing what I wanted.’
Defiant, she bent down for her shirt and shrugged it over her shoulders as she made for the door. When she reached it, she stopped.
‘I’ve learned that blackmail is a blunt but effective instrument. As you know too well, being so good at it yourself.’
She left the room, clicking the door softly behind her.
The sound held more quiet horror than if she’d slammed it in his face.
* * *
Christo stood outside Thea’s room, a bundle of papers in his hand. Even though he was the last person she’d want to see, he couldn’t leave her alone. Not after what she’d disclosed. He wanted to prove to Thea that he wasn’t like Tito or Demetri, that he could be trusted.
He took a steadying breath and tapped on the door, trying to ensure it sounded like a request to enter, not a demand. If she wanted her space he’d give it to her, but there were things that had to be said.
When there was no reply he turned the handle. Thea sat on her bed, leaning forward. She hadn’t changed out of her ruined shirt, which still hung open. Her hands were clenched into rigid fists on her thighs.
He eased into the room.
She didn’t look at him. Eyes fixed to the floor.
‘I have the papers I promised,’ he said, crouching down in front of her. ‘Our settlement for when my father dies...the divorce. If you sign them, they’ll be filed as soon as the will takes effect.’
‘Do you have a pen?’ Thea’s voice was the barest whisper.
‘You should read them first.’
‘I don’t care. I want nothing of yours.’
He handed her the sheaf of documents, which she glanced through. Then he drew a pen from his pocket. She took it and scrawled her name on the last page. His gut roiled as she signed, in a feeling of loss, a regret he had no right to have when for him, relationships had no permanence.
She thrust the documents at him, the papers quavering in her hand. ‘Fill in what you need to when the time comes.’
Christo took them from her, dropped them on the floor beside him. ‘No one should have gone through what you have.’
‘And you care? I’m just a means to your end.’
Her fingers clenched tight again. He knew what she was doing now. Castigated himself for not realising before.
He took her hands in his. Stroked his thumbs over the blanched knuckles, absorbing the tremble running through her. She relaxed a fraction. He opened her fingers. Her nails had scored red crescents into her palms. He circled his thumbs over the livid marks, trying to smooth them away.
‘You hurt yourself...’
Her eyes flicked to him. They were red-rimmed, her face flushed.
‘This, the candles, the tattoos...’
He continued soothing her palms. Her hands burning hot under his thumbs.
‘Not the tattoos. They’re a reminder.’
‘Of things you should never have experienced. If I’d known—’
‘You wouldn’t have done anything differently.’
Sunlight flooded in through the window behind her. It was such a glorious blue-sky day outside, and yet she spoke truths that broke a storm inside him.
Her accusation was right. He would have done anything to save Atlas Shipping. The knowledge sat heavy on his chest, making it tight and hard to breathe.
He couldn’t change the past, but he could help with the present. ‘Tell me about Alexis.’
The tremble in her body intensified, as if she was barely holding herself together. He steadied her hands between his.
‘He’s my half-brother,’ she whispered, as if she were disclosing some terrible secret.
‘And your father didn’t know about him?’
Thea lifted her head, looked at him straight on. She chewed on her bottom lip, which quivered under her teeth.
‘My parents were promised to each other from birth—an arrangement to merge two families’ wealth. But my mother fell in love with someone else. At seventeen, she had Alexis. He was taken away. Adopted. My father still married her. He was only interested in the money he’d gain from it.’
Thea seemed so tired and worn down, with no fight left in her. As if it was an effort for her not to curl into herself and disappear.
‘How did Alexis become your bodyguard?’ asked Christo.
‘My mother spent half her life trying to find him. When she did, she told him he had a little sister. He said he’d find a way to look after me.’
She stopped. Took a shuddering breath. Christo squeezed her hands in reassurance.
‘He worked in security. A position became vacant in my father’s home. He applied. When he finally told me who he was it was like life began again.’
Thea sat up, pulling her hands from his. She wrapped her open shirt around her, hugging herself.
‘The theft...it’s a lie. When I agreed to marry you, I negotiated some money. Fifty thousand euros. Alexis was supposed to leave the country. Start again. But I couldn’t save him.’
She dropped her head, toying with her engagement ring—another symbol of her failed efforts to protect her brother.
Christo’s heart ached for her. She blamed herself, and yet Thea’s only failure was in trusting that her father and Demetri would keep their side of the bargain.
‘Do you know where he is?’
She shook her head. ‘Sergei’s been looki
ng.’
He understood the blackmail now. The last resort for a desperate woman.
‘He doesn’t have my resources. I’ll engage Raul’s company. If anyone can find him, Raul can.’
Her eyelids fluttered shut. She clasped her hands as if giving a silent prayer. ‘Thank you.’
He stood. Thea’s trembling had turned into a shiver which racked her body. Her face and chest were flushed red. Christo reached out to cup her cheek. She burned.
‘You’re not well,’ he said.
She tried to wave him away, but it seemed as if she was having trouble raising her arm. He pulled his phone from his pocket and called his doctor. Demanded he come to the house within the hour.
‘I only need rest,’ she said.
The slightest nudge and she’d collapse to the bed. He was sure of it. ‘Then lie down...sleep a while,’ he murmured.
Thea eased onto the pillows with no argument, curling on her side. Christo covered her with a blanket, tucking it tight around her as her teeth chattered.
His concern escalated. ‘The doctor will be here soon.’ Whilst he was no expert, her tattoo looked too pink. He only hoped she’d been looking after it as she should.
She stared at him, eyes glazed.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘If there was any way this could have been different...’
He stroked her hair and Thea’s fever-bright eyes drifted shut. Her breathing slowed in the rhythm of sleep. He pulled over a chair and sat next to the bed.
And as he watched her fitful rest he made a promise to do everything in his power to ensure Alexis’s safety and to punish Tito and Demetri for what they’d done to her.
CHAPTER NINE
THEA WALKED INTO her bedroom and flopped into a chair, escaping the chaos downstairs. A flurry of party planners had transformed the huge lounge and entertainment area into a sumptuous ballroom for the evening. The home’s modern lines had been draped and swathed until they mimicked the art deco opulence of the Queen Mary—the perfect setting for Atlas Shipping’s anniversary celebrations.
