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‘I had a little sister,’ he said, the words coming out hoarse. ‘And I often had to look after her. She was never a burden and I never regretted even a single moment of the things I had to do for her.’
Glory’s eyes widened. Then she asked, her lips moving against his thumb, ‘You had a sister?’
He shouldn’t have said anything, but it was too late. He’d only wanted to make her feel better, nothing more, yet now he’d mentioned Ismena, he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t.
She was such a precious memory and he guarded her fiercely even now.
You want Glory to know what you’re really like? How you were supposed to be the responsible older brother? How you were supposed to be keeping an eye on her?
The thought was barbed wire winding around his heart, cutting into him, the guilt eating away at him.
Yes, she should know. She should understand that the good side she’d apparently seen in him was a lie. That he wasn’t any kind of hero. Just a selfish man who’d put his own feelings ahead of taking care of his little sister.
He let her go and straightened, staring down at her.
Wearing nothing but his shirt, with her hair lying in damp, gleaming curls down her back, she looked stunningly beautiful. And it satisfied him on some deep level that she was wearing something of his. It made him feel territorial and possessive, feelings he should have buried the day Ismena disappeared.
Apparently though, he hadn’t buried those feelings deep enough.
You can’t let them rule you, not again.
Oh, he wouldn’t. But one night he’d allow himself and so he’d give them free rein. Tomorrow he’d bury them back in the grave he’d put them in and this time he’d make sure they stayed buried.
‘I had a little sister,’ he said at last. ‘Or maybe I still do, I don’t know. Ismena disappeared twenty years ago.’
A crease appeared between Glory’s brows, but this time he didn’t smooth it away. ‘What happened?’
‘My father was never in the picture so my mother brought us up. We lived in Athens, in a tenement. My mother worked a lot so I ended up looking after Ismena most of the time. I was...fifteen, Ismena was eight.’ He found himself fixating on one of the buttons of the shirt she was wearing. It wasn’t in the buttonhole properly so he adjusted it. ‘There was an ice cream shop nearby with a girl behind the counter that I was interested in. Another boy was also interested in her and I wanted to ask her out before this other boy did, so that night I told Ismena I’d take her out for ice cream.’ His voice got rougher. ‘There was a pet shop next door to the ice cream place and they had some new kittens, and Ismena wanted to look at them. So I told her she could while I got the ice cream, because I didn’t want her listening in to my conversation. I was only gone a minute, but when I got back, Ismena wasn’t there.’
A terrible sympathy stole over Glory’s face, and he knew all at once that if she spoke he wouldn’t be able to bear it. He’d have to turn around and walk out. Because sympathy was something he didn’t deserve.
But she didn’t say a word. Instead she reached out and took his hand.
There was warmth in her fingers and a strength he hadn’t expected, and he found himself holding her small hand in his.
He didn’t want to keep admitting to all the things he’d failed to do, yet her touch seemed to lend him some of that strength, because he found himself going on. ‘I searched all night. I searched everywhere. And I did the next day and the next, and the next. I searched for months. I searched for years. But...I never found her. There was a trafficking ring operating in the area at the time and the general consensus was that she’d been taken.’
‘Is that—?’ Glory stopped and cleared her throat, her fingers tightening around his. ‘Is that why you’re infiltrating those traffickers?’
It was a simple question and because it had a simple answer, he answered it. ‘Yes. My mother and I were poor back then, completely disposable, and the police didn’t do a thing to help us. So I swore I’d become rich and powerful enough that I’d find Ismena myself.’ He turned her hand over in his, stroking the back of it with his thumb. ‘I was single-minded in my intentions. I made myself rich and powerful. And even though I haven’t managed to find Ismena, I’ll take down these goddamn traffickers if it’s the last thing I do.’
The words hung in the space between them and he couldn’t say there wasn’t a small measure of relief at being able to say her name to another person. At having the acknowledgement that she existed.
‘Castor,’ Glory said carefully. ‘How long have you been searching for her?’
He looked down at their linked hands, her narrow, delicate fingers folded between his longer, larger ones. ‘Since she disappeared,’ he said. ‘Twenty years, though I’ve only been infiltrating the trafficking rings for ten.’
Theos.Had it really been that long? Then again, searching for her had consumed his life to the point where he couldn’t remembernotsearching for her. Couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t been the first thing he thought of when he woke up and the last thing he thought of when he went to sleep.
She consumed his every waking thought. He didn’t have room for anything else.
Glory was quiet. Then abruptly, she brought his hand to her mouth, kissing it, before releasing it and slipping off the bed to kneel at his feet.
He looked down at her, allowing himself this view because she was so pretty kneeling there with her hair all around her and her big dark eyes gazing up into his.
‘I want to give you something,’ she said. ‘A wedding present of my own. Will you let me?’
He’d had many women kneel at his feet like this, but for some reason with Glory it was different. She wasn’t looking at him like he was Castor Xenakis, playboy, but as if he was just Castor. A man she wanted. A man she even might care about.
