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Slowly, one by one, each member nodded their consent to his removal.
‘But how?’ asked Klaus.
‘There are ways,’ Olena said, not so cryptically.
‘The Greek, Livas,’ Javier asked. ‘He gave you his shares in Kozlov’s company?’
‘Yes, and combined with mine, we could have used them to bribe him to leave,’ confirmed Aleksander. ‘But the moment Ilian realised he’d lost the controlling shares of his company, he sold out.’
‘What’s he playing at?’ Klaus demanded. ‘He’s been parading that company around like it was his firstborn.’
‘Well, it’s orphaned now.’
The group digested that as they realised they’d lost their only decent bargaining chip.
‘We could—’
‘No,’ the others said unanimously when Klaus began to offer what they all knew would be highly illegal and downright violent.
Aleksander glanced at his watch. ‘Let’s take a break and meet back here in an hour.’
Henna had left the cabin when the staff had arrived to set up lunch. She told herself that the necessary secrecy surrounding this visit meant she hadn’t wanted to be seen, but that wasn’t the reason she had come out to the furthest edge of the peninsula and the view that had bewitched her on first sight. Salt burned her tongue as she breathed in each wave that crashed against the rocks at her feet.
Last night had felt like that. Waves, crashing over her, drenching her in a pleasure she’d never experienced before. It had never been like that with Nils. No, Aleksander was raw and powerful like the force of nature she was witnessing now. He had drawn a line between what would and wouldn’t happen between them, but he had not held back. It had been a passionate onslaught that still sent tremors of pleasure through her body even now.
But, no matter how much he had given her last night, it wasn’t enough. Everything in her roared with need and she wanted to fight him, make him change his mind, make him see that there was so much more than he was limiting himself to. Not with her, no. Henna wasn’t naïve enough to think that they could ever be more than these stolen moments. He was a king and she—simply the girl he’d picked up from the floor of the maze in his garden one day many years ago.
The crunch of footsteps behind her startled her and she spun round to face Aleksander, who seemed surprised by the emotion she knew was in her eyes. He stepped towards her. For a moment they stared at each other, joined in the knowledge that they both saw what the other was trying to hide. The want, the longing. Henna realised that for her it had always been there, and in that moment she believed that it always would be.
She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, wanting him to know, but he interrupted her, as if he’d known and was refusing to hear it.
‘Lunch is ready.’
Ten minutes later she was sitting at a table filled with coal-roasted fish, sea vegetable salad, perfectly toasted rye bread sliced so thinly and a brooding king. His arms were crossed, head turned out towards the sea and body so tense the only two things that moved were the finger tapping out a catastrophic rhythm at his elbow and the muscle flexing in his jaw. He’d been like that ever since he’d piled his plate with food he hadn’t yet touched.
She sighed and put down her knife and fork. ‘Can I help?’ she asked, hunger completely forgotten.
‘Help?’ he queried, pinning her with that mahogany gaze.
‘I have very little experience with the kind of world domination you’re planning,’ she only half joked, ‘but perhaps I could...offer a different perspective?’
He seemed to consider her question seriously, which surprised her.
‘I...believe that we’re at a stalemate,’ he hedged.
‘Okay.’ She nodded, wondering if he’d continue.
‘We have...a problem that we need to solve.’
‘Aleks,’ she said softly, ‘you could continue to be cryptic and all cabalesque, or you could simply trust me enough to tell me what’s going on so that I might genuinely be able to help.’
His eyes flared as if fighting a years-old instinct to secrecy, but when he pushed his plate out of the way she knew he’d given up the fight. He explained about the organisation, how he’d been approached by a business mentor he’d encountered at university in London. How they had become fast friends and, until his death, Aleksander hadn’t known a single thing about the secret organisation. The fondness with which he spoke of his mentor made Henna glad that Aleksander had met someone who had perhaps helped him to heal a bit. His mentor had been in the upper echelon of this organisation, and in taking his place Aleksander was given access to some of the world’s greatest financial, political and scientific minds. For the most part, members had the same goal—to do everything they could to ensure the future stability of the world as a whole, rather than focusing on any country. But then came Kozlov. A man whose business dealings were barely legal, whose personal dealings were vicious, and when they weren’t they were lecherous. The only satisfaction Aleksander hadeverhad when dealing with him had been obtaining controlling shares in his precious company.
‘He is not a reflection of our values and each and every month he seems to get worse. He threatened Marit when Lykos came too close to taking over his company,’ Aleksander concluded.
Henna’s fury that Marit could have been in danger from this man was fierce, he could see it blazing in her eyes. Her desire to protect his family floored him. He forced his mind back to the conversation. ‘We thought the easiest way to bring him to heel would be via his company.’
‘How did you end up with the controlling part of his shares?’
