by Kali Anthony
His features darkened into that glorious brooding which made her heart skip a beat. With one hand he swept her hair back over her shoulder and toyed with an earring. When had his touching her become normal?
Thea allowed herself to melt into it, heat pooling in her belly. For a small while her world was reduced to Christo’s gentle caress, encouraging the pretence that this could be something different. And for a brief, bright moment she wished it was real.
He shrugged. ‘They’re trinkets.’
She shook herself out of the dream, her stomach twisting, wondering how often he bestowed ‘trinkets’ upon other women.
What on earth was happening to her? She’d no right to these thoughts. Theirs was a convenient arrangement, and most women in this situation would be overjoyed by expensive gifts. She should learn to become one of them.
Thea gave him what she hoped was a gracious smile. ‘How long are you going to keep me wondering?’
‘Not long. I’ve invited Elena tonight.’
Her heart leapt with real joy. She hadn’t spoken to her friend since her marriage—apart from a brief text from Elena saying her father was angry. Thea had a terrible feeling it had something to do with Elena’s efforts to help her.
‘Is she here yet?’
‘Soon. But first come and meet the American ambassador and his wife. I think you’ll like them.’
He swept her through the room, introducing her to more guests, never leaving her side. His hand was always at her back, its gentle pressure reassuring. His fingers stroked her body with the sway of her hips.
She became hyper-aware of every subtle touch. The way the luscious fabric of her gown fell against her as she moved. The caress of the satiny silk lining over her skin. Christo’s choice. Christo’s dress.
It was almost like his hands all over her. How much better would they feel than the silk that clothed her...? She craved it—craved his fingers exploring every curve, every secret place. The dark mystery that was Christo lit a burn deep inside her, flushing across her skin. Her nipples pebbled against the bodice of her dress, making every movement exquisite agony. She leaned into Christo’s hard body, all of her attuned to him.
He tightened his arm around her. ‘Elena’s arrived,’ he said, waking her from heated fantasies.
‘Where?’ Did he notice the huskiness of her voice? Christo gave no hint of it.
‘In the corner—near the statue of Poseidon.’
She glimpsed her friend in a yellow dress and waved, trying to get her attention through the crush of guests.
‘I’ll take you to her. You’ve done enough smiling at strangers for me.’
‘No. I’ll go myself. You’ve too many people who need to congratulate you.’
Thea moved to leave Christo, slipping from his hold. The cool air where his hand had been felt like a loss.
He raised his eyebrows, stroking his hand down her arm till his fingers entwined in hers. He squeezed. ‘You’re sure?’
Thea looked up at him, her gaze snagging on the soft warmth in his green eyes, on his full lips which quirked at the corners.
The breath jagged in her throat. She needed to leave before she embarrassed herself. ‘I’ll be back shortly.’
‘Take your time. You need some fun.’ He kissed her hand in a perfect display of chivalry and let her go.
She hurried towards where she’d last seen her friend, excited to talk to her about how her life felt as if it were achieving some form of happiness, even in this arranged marriage.
‘Thea.’
She froze. That familiar voice. Like being tossed into an icy river.
‘You’ve been ignoring your father since you married. Talk to me a while.’
The old man himself stood there, arms out wide as if wanting to give her a hug. Smiling, but not with his eyes. They were a cold, muddy brown, fixed on her like a shark seeing prey in the water. She looked around furtively, but Christo was nowhere to be seen. The blood seeped to her toes and her vision blurred.
No. She was stronger than this. Her father was the weak one, bullying women. ‘I’ve nothing to say to you.’
‘Young love! You’ve forgotten your family.’ He laughed.
The mirthless sound ran like frigid water through her veins. ‘Family? I’ve no family here.’
Tito’s eyes narrowed. There was nothing but disdain on his face now. ‘What would your husband have to say to that?’
Thea gritted her teeth. ‘He’s no part of this conversation. You sold me off for your own interests and then broke your promise to me about Alexis!’
To anyone watching it would look as though father and daughter were having a close conversation. But a war was being waged here. One she wouldn’t lose.
‘Your bastard half-brother will be interested to know how you’re playing with his future.’ Her father continued to give her that dead smile. ‘I gave you clear instructions. Where’s the information I want?’
She’d never even considered giving her father any information about Christo’s company, and yet here was more confirmation that Alexis had paid the price for her decisions. The ache of it cut deep inside.
‘Get the information yourself! You don’t own me now. You passed that privilege on to Christo and he won’t help you.’
Her father moved in close, looming over her. She wavered, the sick feeling at his proximity clawing at her throat. But she wouldn’t cower, and she wouldn’t hide. Not anymore.
‘I’m sure you could convince him to do anything you wanted.’ Her father’s hard mouth turned up in a sneer, as if he’d stepped in something bad. ‘Using your charms, your lies. It’s in your breeding, with that mother of yours.’
She took a step back, the roil of her anger burning fierce. How dared he mention Maria, when he’d tried to obliterate her memory for so many years?
‘Demetri has the same mother. Or have your forgotten that convenient fact? Watch your back, Father.’
‘I can ruin Christo and you with him. Don’t think it’s beneath me.’
She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes. ‘I don’t think anything’s beneath you. You’d eat from the gutter if it advantaged you.’
‘Careful, Thea. You want money and privilege? I’ll take all of this away if you don’t do what I ask.’
She laughed. The deluded man thought he had the power of God. ‘How can you take it? You’d never have sold me off to anyone who wasn’t richer than Croesus.’
‘Christo hasn’t told you anything?’
Tito’s eyes widened, and his smile morphed into one of pure evil. What was he planning?
A terrible chill slid through her. ‘I don’t under—’
Her father looked over her shoulder. ‘Here’s your brother to talk some sense into you.’
A shadow loomed behind her. Her father’s words could slice like a dagger, but Demetri inflicted real pain. From pulling her hair as a child, he had progressed, unchecked by a father who didn’t care about the little girl who was a constant reminder of the wife who’d left him.
Demetri’s hand clamped tight on her arm. ‘Sense? She’s a disgrace.’
‘Don’t touch me!’
But no one would notice. She was on her own. These men had perfected sleight of hand, could hurt in ways which would never be seen.
‘Have you looked at her back, Father? She’s displaying a monstrosity.’ Demetri leaned down to hiss in her ear. ‘I suspected you were cheap, but you’ve outdone yourself.’
He pulled her around slyly, so no one would notice. He was clever that way. Her arm burned in his tight grip. But she wouldn’t let him see her fear. She never had.
‘How could your husband allow you to deface yourself?’ her father spat.
She wrenched her arm from Demetri’s crushing fingers. He’d never touch her again—not if she could help it. Thea drew her
self up to face them, proudly displaying her tattoos—the symbols of her ultimate freedom. Even Christo had recognised that.
Christo.
He was cutting through the crowd. Purpose etched on his face. Eyes hard. Mouth a thin, cruel line. Looking as if he was ready to draw blood as his gaze slid from her father to Demetri. Blind fury from this man who always seemed implacable.
Her heart beat a little faster as he shouldered through his guests.
‘You can ask me yourself.’
Christo’s eyes were focused on her. She forgot everything, lost in his hot green gaze. Forgot the hatred tightening in her belly, the burning of her arm where Demetri’s fingers had been.
Her father watched him, took a step back and plastered on his usual fake smile. ‘An excellent party, Christo. It does Atlas Shipping’s history great justice.’
Tito Lambros played the charming man well. She knew better. He might sound warm and interested. She could feel the strike of cold steel underneath.
Christo pushed between her and Demetri, towering over the men in her family.
‘Are you troubling Thea?’
No niceties from her husband. His voice was stark and brutal. He wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her close.
‘Someone needs to keep her under control,’ said Demetri.
Christo turned to her brother and pinned him with a withering look. ‘What are you afraid of, Demetri? That if you let Thea be herself she’ll outwit you? I’m sorry to say she already has.’
‘She’s making a mockery of us—displaying herself in that dress,’ her father drawled, looking her up and down as if she was tainted.
‘The only thing I see is an exquisite woman wearing the gift I gave her.’ Christo’s hand squeezed her hip. ‘If you and your son don’t appreciate that, you can leave our home.’
Her father held up his hands as if in surrender. Thea knew too well it was only for show.
‘A piece of advice, Christo, from an older man who’s been married to a younger woman. It’s easy to be blinded by beauty. Let your wife rule your home at your peril. Take your father—’
‘I’ll only take advice on marriage from a person who’s had a successful one.’
Thea had never really taken notice of how her father, brother and Christo were together. Now she saw. Their dislike was palpable, and the air vibrated with mutual loathing.
‘Then we’ll leave you both to your obvious happiness.’ Her father turned to her and fixed her with his reptilian gaze. ‘Remember what I said. We’ll have lunch. It’s been too long since we’ve seen you.’
She shivered. The thought of sitting down to a meal with her father was about as welcome as the thought of being thrown into a tank of piranha fish.
‘Yes,’ said Demetri, looking at them both with contempt. ‘Tonight isn’t the time. It’s all about celebrating your husband’s exploits.’
As Demetri moved to go Christo gripped his arm, his tanned knuckles blanching as he did so. The two men stood there, glaring at each other. Demetri’s gaze was tinged with fear; Christo’s brimmed with pure hatred.
His lips contorted in a false smile, vicious and predatory. ‘Touch Thea again and I will make you bleed.’
She gasped. The threat so bold, the violence underlying it so blatant.
Demetri said nothing. He nodded his head and wrenched his arm away, scuttling into the crowd.
Thea wilted. The only thing holding her upright was Christo’s strong arm around her waist.
Dipping his head, he murmured, ‘We need some time. Come with me.’
He steered her through the crowd to a quiet corner behind some freshly installed midnight-blue velvet curtains. Her whole body shook. Christo wrapped his arms around her. Drew her close. He’d said he’d protect her, and he had. That meant more to her than she could ever have imagined.
She rested her head on his chest, relishing his warmth. He stroked her back as her shivering subsided, whispering gentle words.
‘I should never have left you alone... I didn’t believe they’d be brazen enough... Not in our home...’
Everyone would think they were having a touching moment. No one would realise he was stitching her back together. Soothing her with his quiet strength. The solid beat of his heart.
‘I’m fine now,’ she said, pulling away. ‘I need to go and find Elena. You invited her here for me.’
Christo cupped her jaw, looked into her eyes. She hated that he could see everything—especially her weakness.
‘Are you sure? You don’t have to stay any longer. I can say you were tired.’
She shook her head. ‘Now you’ve put my father and Demetri in their place it’ll be okay.’
Or would it? Considering what her father had said, the threats he’d made? She needed to warn Christo.
‘My father said he could ruin you. Take everything away. Is that true?’
A flash of red heightened his cheeks and Christo dropped his head, a frown marring his perfect features. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers. ‘I should have told you.’
‘About what?’
His shoulders rose and fell with a slow breath. ‘Atlas owes money to your father’s bank. Hector let the payments fall behind. Our marriage prevented your father calling in the debt.’
A terrible chill ran through her. Her father’s ruthlessness in business was renowned. He would have used the situation to his every advantage. Christo had said in the beginning that he needed her. She hadn’t realised how badly.
‘How did this happen?’
Christo’s jaw clenched hard. The party carried on around them. Champagne flowed. Such a celebration. And yet there was nothing to celebrate at all.
‘My father should have learned. But, no. On a quest for the love of a woman he looked in the wrong place. Again.’
‘Where was your mother?’
‘Long gone. With a flamenco dancer, I believe.’ He gave a mirthless laugh. ‘My birth was a cunningly laid trap to secure my father’s fortune, since he wouldn’t have any bastardos walking the streets. They married, I was born, it ended—although they never divorced. She came back occasionally, when his purse strings were pulled too tight. He adored her, despite everything. I suspect he still does. But love makes fools of men.’
Thea knew now why Christo didn’t believe in love. What kind of example had either of them been set? Both had been trapped in broken, hateful families.
‘I’m sorry.’
Christo shook his head, his mouth twisted in a sneer of disgust. ‘Hector always sought replacements to fill the hole my mother left. It was as if his only son didn’t matter. He became involved with an antiquities dealer. Beautiful, exotic. He threw away a fortune on priceless treasures for her. The business suffered as my father ignored it. That’s why he had to go begging to your father—to hide his humiliation. I found out too late.’
He looked around the room, hard lines of rage bracketing his mouth. ‘Then I discovered some of the objects he’d purchased had been illegally obtained. I suspect from shipments of looted items. That alone could have ruined us. I’d like to believe my father didn’t know, but the fool would have done anything for the alluring Miss Carvallo.’
Thea’s heart rate spiked. She knew that name. ‘Ramona Carvallo?’
Christo’s eyes narrowed. ‘Yes.’
‘I think I’ve met her—at my father’s home.’
He reached up his hand, sliding it through her hair to cup the back of her neck. His thumb traced a gentle line along her jaw, forcing her to look at him. Deep into the green storm of his eyes. He moved his head towards her, leaned down, his lips to her ear. And Thea’s eyes drifted shut at the light brush of his warm breath on her skin.
‘Look over my shoulder at the woman in the corner of the room. Purple dress. Do you recognise her?’
Thea
didn’t want to wake from this dream where they meant something to each other. She relished the intimacy even if its purpose was serious. Still, she did as he asked.
When her eyes focused, she saw her. ‘Ramona Carvallo,’ she whispered.
Christo’s lips began drifting a fiery path down her neck. She sighed and melted into the heat of him. What they were doing might be hiding the true purpose of this conversation, but she craved every inch of his body melded against hers.
‘Why invite her here?’ she asked. Having this woman in his home might only inflame the very scandal he was trying to avoid.
Christo pulled back, his pupils dark, his breathing heavy. Matching hers. She regretted the broken intimacy.
‘Raul’s organising security,’ he said. ‘His operatives are in the crowd...watching.’
‘What for?’
‘Your father used information about the smuggled objects as leverage against my father—the risk of disgrace, jail... I wondered how your father had found out about them. I suspect Tito and Ramona were working together. I want to see if your father reacts to her. People make mistakes. Especially arrogant, entitled people. I’m relying on it happening here.’
‘And if it doesn’t?’
‘Then it won’t change anything you and I have agreed.’
That was the least of her worries. She realised now the reason why he’d been working those long hours. The parties, the meetings...what he’d required of her. He wasn’t only inheriting the company. He was saving it.
‘I also hope to find out whether your father purchased anything questionable.’
‘So you can use it against him like he did to Hector?’
‘To stop him stealing Atlas? Yes.’
Could her father have bought illegal objects to add to his collection? Whilst she wasn’t aware he’d ever actually broken the law, she wouldn’t put it past him. He believed himself to be above everyone else. And after all he’d done to her she’d give anything to stop her father taking what wasn’t his.
‘He owns a vast collection of old things,’ she said.
Heat flared in Christo’s eyes. She wished it was for her, but she knew it was for the hope he’d described. Still, there was more she needed to tell him. The information her father had requested took on more significance now.
