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“Fine. Go to Athens. Do your socializing and networking. And when you come back, we’ll have a little chat about Stefan Bianco. That man’s been in a thorn in my side for too long.”
The minute Jackson left, Clio’s legs gave out from under her. She sank to the thick carpet, the pristine white walls closing in on her.
Telling herself that she had gotten through the hardest part, she took a deep breath.
She turned on his laptop, then picked herself up and wandered into Jackson’s study, looking in his cabinets and drawers. Her heart thudded in her chest but she knew he wouldn’t come back tonight.
There was nothing to salvage in her relationship with Jackson. He had trampled her heart and shattered her trust.
Clio shuddered and typed in the password to their company’s database, wondering if she would ever be whole again.
CHAPTER FIVE
CLIO LOOKED AROUND the ancient structure of the Parthenon and felt a measure of peace she hadn’t felt in a long time.
Christian’s wedding last night had been the most beautiful ceremony she had seen in a while.
Deciding to walk the short distance from the luxury hotel to view the ancient ruins up close was the best decision she had made.
The lunch on the terrace this afternoon with Rocco and Olivia, Zayed, Christian and his new bride Alessandra, and Stefan, had begun so well. She had felt like she was among friends.
Olivia had asked so many questions about when the four men and she had been at Columbia together over a decade ago, and Clio had regaled them with stories, glad to fill the brooding silence with chatter.
Until the discussion had turned to Clio’s own life.
What had Clio been up to all these years? Was Clio involved with anyone?
They had all been only polite questions from people who were interested in her life. But what did she have to tell them?
Turning around, she clicked a couple more pictures with her digital camera, marveled anew.
Her raised hand stilled as she saw the tall, wide frame of Stefan coming close. June sun shone behind him, leaving his defined face in shadows. His paper-thin white cotton shirt was buffeted against his broad frame, tapering against his waist. Even though he couldn’t see her, Clio dragged her gaze away from following down. She didn’t need to see his powerful thighs encased in jeans.
The whipcord tightness of his muscles, the tensile strength of his legs, the wide swathe of his shoulders and the way they narrowed down her world to him, she had noticed far too much of him already on their flight to Athens. The sheer luxury and scale of his private jet, which she’d learned was the closest thing to a home for him, had rendered her mute. But it was the man himself who had occupied her mind all through the flight.
All the while she had been packing for the trip, all through the limo ride to the private airstrip where he had been waiting, it had been easy to tell herself that she would see this through.
She still wanted to. Because what Jackson had done had poisoned her so much that she couldn’t look at her own reflection in the mirror without wanting to shatter it into a million shards.
It was the man she had gone to, to accomplish her revenge who continually disconcerted her.
Stefan had been nothing but courteous and concerned on the flight, if a bit preoccupied. And yet every time their gazes met or they accidentally touched, the moment arched and stretched, a latent energy pulsed until one of them looked away, or stepped back.
It was the last thing Clio wanted to face.
He came to a halt about a foot from her, watching her.
Feeling compelled to break the intense silence, she waved her hands around. “I can’t believe Christian obtained private and uncurtailed access to the Parthenon, of all places. Even I’m impressed by this show of power and status. Does Alessandra mean so much to him, then?”
For once, she was glad that there was no wistful note in her tone. Only open curiosity.
Stefan shrugged, a cold light in his eyes. It was like there was frost all around them even as the sun cast long shadows. “If Alessandra was the kind to be impressed by this, it would make sense. For all the success he has achieved, Christian has a chip on his shoulder about where he started in life.
“He doesn’t realize yet that Alessandra is one of those rare women who care nothing about his wealth or status.”
Clio blinked. It was her casual comment that a woman would be impressed by the power that clung to the Columbia Four that had made him look so coldly forbidding.
Did he still think of Serena, the woman who had so blithely broken his heart? Did he think all women were like her, that Clio was like her?
