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The prospect of spending time there exhausted him. At least being newly married he could reject the menu he’d be offered there without anyone questioning it. Tonight would cost him only money, not his soul. All he had to do was keep his father’s associates happy and try to recover what Hector had wrecked—ensure the upcoming celebration of Atlas Shipping’s seventy-fifth year didn’t become a wake instead.
‘Ah. More business.’
He didn’t miss the raised eyebrow, her loaded tone. He could show her again how they combusted together. Then she’d ask him to stay.
Christo took a step forward. Thea stepped back, eyes wary. He hesitated. She didn’t desire this like he did. So he couldn’t ignore his gentlemen guests’ request to take tonight’s party elsewhere.
‘Sadly,’ he said, and meant it. But he knew too well when he wasn’t wanted.
‘I won’t keep you from your fun.’ She gave a wan smile. ‘I’m tired. I want to go to bed.’
Thea blew out the last candle, plunging the room into darkness. He watched as she walked down the hall, slender fingers still clenched over her wax-encrusted palm.
* * *
Thea sat up with a jolt, heart pounding, a slick ache between her thighs. She pushed her palms into her eyes and rubbed till bright flashes burst behind her lids.
She was trying and failing, to scrub away a dream of she and Christo entwined. Touching. Tasting. Indulging in her sleep, what she wouldn’t take for herself when awake. The vestiges of desire clung, making her nipples hard knots, abrading even under the soft fabric of her top.
She could ease the ache herself. It wouldn’t take much—not the way she felt...
No. Christo would remain off-limits in both fantasy and reality. It was safer that way.
She picked up her phone to check the time, noticed the message alert flashing bright. Two in the morning, meaning it was about eight in the morning at home in Athens. A message. Alexis. Could it be?
Thea grappled with the handset. Fumbled her password twice before succeeding.
Her heart leapt for a moment, then her shoulders dropped as she saw the name. Not Alexis. Demetri.
You’re taking your time.
He was referring to the information her father had demanded about Christo’s business. She wanted no part of this, or their shady schemes. Whatever information her father and Demetri requested, it wasn’t for honest reasons.
Thea typed her reply. Damn her clumsy, trembling fingers.
Go to hell.
A response pinged back.
Will see Alexis there first if you don’t get what we want.
She swallowed the tight ball closing her throat. There it was. The threat. The reason they’d reported him to the police. Her fault—again.
She tossed her phone onto the bed. Choked back a sob. She had no way of easing the emotional pain threatening to crack her. The crushing pressure that made her want to scratch at her skin, to flay it from her body till she bled.
Not even the bright burn of that candle wax had diminished the relentless ache. Thea rubbed at her palm, still tingling after all these hours. What a foolish move that had been—especially with Christo witnessing her weakness. She recognised that moment earlier for what it had evidenced. Desperation. Where was all her caution, her control?
She curled into a ball on the bed for a few moments and then rose, refusing to lie there and feel sorry for herself. She needed to do something—anything to keep moving, give herself time to think.
Her stomach griped with the twin agony of nerves and hunger pangs, punishing her for not having eaten enough. That was as good a motivation as any.
She traipsed down the unlit hall towards the kitchen. The astonishing New York skyline glittered through every window, lighting up the space in its silvery glow. She glanced over the view, unmoved.
Once at the refrigerator, she grabbed some bread, cheese and milk—ate in the comforting darkness because she didn’t care what she put into her stomach so long as that crippling inertia didn’t steal over her again.
The apartment lay silent. Sergei and Anna were sensibly asleep. Christo was still out. It was better that she didn’t see him. Her emotions regarding the man were a tangle she couldn’t sort through. Simpler to avoid it. Anyhow, they’d be returning to Greece soon. Back to the numbing routine of Christo working long hours and her futile efforts to find Alexis.
She needed someone with different skills. Perhaps Sergei would help? Anna had told her he’d been in the Special Forces in his home country. But how to convince a man as immovable as a hunk of concrete to assist her?
