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“I shall arrange for a tutor to teach you your new language, glyka mou.”
“My language is English,” she said, despising the petulance in her own voice.
“Your new home is Greece.”
“No. It isn’t. My home is the place you took me from. That will always be my home, and I’ll never let you forget it.” She glared at him, her breath coming quickly, furious at him, at herself, at what was happening, what she had brought down on herself. “And if you really think I’d starve myself and hurt my baby—”
“My baby,” he said coldly, all the ease of the last moments gone. “Not yours.”
The true answer, the one she longed to give him, feared to give him, danced on the tip of her tongue. He claimed he hadn’t loved Kay, but Kay had sworn he had. There were too many lies, too many layers of them to risk the one truth that might tear the whole web asunder.
Far too much risk.
So Ivy bit back what she’d come close to saying. Damian filled the silence with yet another order.
“You will eat properly. And you will not contradict me in front of my people. Is that clear?”
“Do I have to genuflect in your presence, too?”
No telltale twitch of his lips this time, only a cold glare.
“If you feel you must, by all means, do so.”
He turned away. So did she. There seemed nothing more to say.
They ate in silence.
Ivy tried to pretend disinterest in her food but she was ravenous. Had she eaten anything since her first confrontation with Damian? She couldn’t remember.
The steward cleared their tables and brought dessert. Two crystal flutes filled with fresh strawberries, topped with a dollop of cream. She could, at least, make a stand here.
“I never eat whipped cream,” she said with lofty determination.
“I’m happy to hear it because this is crème fraîche.”
Hadn’t she promised herself she wouldn’t try to fight him on little things? Crème fraîche was absolutely a little thing, wasn’t it?
Little, and delicious. She ate every berry, every bit of the cream…
And felt Damian’s gaze on her.
His eyes—hot, intense, almost black with passion—were riveted to her mouth as she licked the last bit from the spoon.
A wave of heat engulfed her; a choked sound broke from her throat. He heard it, lifted his gaze to hers…
The cabin door slid open. Thomas appeared, looked quickly from his master to Ivy…
Ivy sprang to her feet. “Where’s the—wher
e is the lavatory, please?”
“In the back, miss. I can show you…”
“I can find it myself, thank you,” she said.
And fled.
They were flying through a black sky lit by a sliver of ivory moon.
