“My men unearthed a police report. A sexual assault. Against your mother. The timing was…in line with you being born.”
Ari felt a roar in her ears, a heat in her face. Any hunger pangs she’d felt turned to a heavy weight of dread in her stomach. She tried not to freeze, but with her body a riot of negative reaction and her mind trying to make sense of his words, she no doubt looked like some kind of deer caught in headlights.
It had never occurred to her that her mother might have…actually reported it. It made it worse, somehow, that she had.
And no one had done anything.
But it changed nothing of what had happened, nothing of what she knew. So there was no reason for this…shame, this…whatever it was making her feel sick to her stomach.
“It seemed to me,” Zervou continued. “That you, too, might have a taste for revenge against the man. So, I learned about you. And what a fascinating character I stumbled across. You are lethal, Ariadne.”
She didn’t feel very lethal right now, but she knew she needed to maintain that outer shell. She lifted her chin, met his gaze. “So are you, Zervou Kritikos. At least, you have the money to be.”
His mouth curved, and she was not naive, so she read the sharp blade of threat in that smile. He no doubt thought he’d hidden it behind charm and wealth.
But Ari knew every sharp blade was dangerous.
“So, I have developed a plan, as the one thing I have not been able to do is ferret your father out of whatever cave he hides himself in.”
“Do not call him that,” she snapped.
“What? A ferret? I can assure you—”
“My father. Do not call him my father.”
“Ah. Noted.”
Noted.She felt…foolish. Like a petulant child. But shewasn’t. She forced herself to take a bite of food. Even though there was a glass of wine in front of her, she ignored it and took a sip of water to wash the food down through her too-tight throat. No doubt it was delicious, but she couldn’t manage to taste it.
“My proposal is this. We will begin to be seen out together. Photographed. Let the whispers intimate that there is something going on between us. Then we will fake an engagement. Play it up in the papers. Draw your… Draw Erjon out. There is no way he will stand for his daughter being engaged to the man who sent him running in the first place. He will feel forced to act.”
Ari sipped her water, studying the confident, too-handsome man before her.
She wasn’t sure she agreed that Erjon would feel forced. It had potential, though. Erjon would certainly not want her marrying someone with the kind of wealth and power that could be stronger than his own threats and influence.
She also had long assumed his vague threats of return, ofusing her for what she was worth, involved selling her off to his cronies. Perhaps he’d already promised her to them—though they had not come to collect yet. Erjon had probably made it so they couldn’t until he was free to reap the rewards.
He wouldn’t want her making her own reward, that was for sure.
She eyed Zervou. Did the plan really make sense? Or was it a lie she was meant to fall for just because she wanted revenge? “Do you really think anyone will be all that interested in your choice of fiancée? Even if I am an unlikely choice.”
He smiled at her, all sharp edges and ill-intent. “I always garner interest,glikí mou.”
Well, that was probably true. Even if he didn’t, he could likely pay to garner interest. But engaging in some kind of fake relationship seemed rather…silly, when besting Erjon was not a silly matter.
She had no doubt her father had done exactly what Zervou claimed. He was not above murder. She had never seen even a shred of humanity from the man. If he’d ever had any, his involvement as an enforcer for a crime family had certainly killed it.
But Erjon was…savvy. He might sniff it out as a trick from the start. He’d sniffed out all her other attempts to track him down and end the noose around her neck. And put one on his.
“And if we play up this engagement, and he remains in hiding?” Ari asked.
“You will have enjoyed all the benefits of being connected to me for a time—wealth, influence, et cetera. No harm. No foul.”
Ari doubted it. There was always harm and foul when you gambled. She had learned that one the hard way thanks to her mother. Perhaps this was not traditional gambling, but it was still a gamble.
Or was it…simply a risk? She took a risk every time she stepped in the ring. Every fight she agreed to. Every blow she didn’t dodge was a risk. One she took on willingly. Because it made her feel alive.
Some of Zervou’s staff appeared with a new array of plates of food. One person cleared the first round, while the other served them the new course.
