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The sound of a laugh cut through her thoughts and, although it was still early, she noticed that all around them bars and cafés were bustling with people and animated conversation, the air electric and infectious. Everyone looked glamorous and sophisticated, bright and colourful and Summer felt the opposite of her namesake in black cropped chinos and a white and black striped boatneck top.
But she had learned a long time ago not to draw attention to herself. Each of the Soames girls had. It wasn’t the ‘done thing’ to have children by three different fathers and, while no one had said anything to their faces, the whispers and drawn curtains and judgement was evident from parents, teachers and neighbours alike.
And then choosing to study science? Worse, a subject like geophysics. The first and only time she’d worn anything remotely bright to class it was as if she’d thrown potassium into water. God only knew what would happen if she’d dared to wear make-up. Or—heaven forbid—askirt.
Theron Thiakos turned into a bar on the corner. Large windows had been folded back like a concertina and people spilled onto the outside seating area. It was like everything Summer had encountered so far, colourful and riotous. She watched as he was greeted by a group of friends, shaking hands and kissing cheeks, and she barely resisted the urge to rub at her own tingling cheek.
‘Good evening, are you looking for a table?’
Summer’s focus on Theron was such that the waiter had to repeat his question before she realised he was speaking toher.
‘Yes.’ The word jerked out of her before she could change her mind.
‘Theron, what are you doing here?’
It was the second time someone had asked him the same question and, unsurprisingly, his response was the same. A tight smile reminded them that not only was he their boss and the owner of the hugely successful international company they worked for but that he didn’t have to explain himself to anyone. As expected, the person who had asked the question scurried off into the crowd.
He was here precisely because he didn’t want to be. It was good for him to keep himselfandhis staff on their toes. But as he accepted a drink from the waiter he couldn’t block out the conversation he’d had with Kyros’s niece that morning.
It’s just family. I’m sure you understand.
Just family.
Family.
Four hours ago, Theron had ensured an irritated Kyros boarded the boat kept docked at Piraeus, which took him away to the ‘surprise’ family gathering that the Agyros clan had organised. It had been pitched as a celebration, but it was so close to the first anniversary of Althaia’s death that neither man had been fooled. Kyros had left to commemorate the loss of his wife and Theron hadn’t been invited.
He had watched the boat sail out from the harbour, ignoring the devastating ache deep within and instead feeding the belief that he was better off alone. Repeating that thought like a mantra in his mind, he tuned back in to the sounds of the bar. Over the low hum of voices, glass shattered, a woman screamed in delight and a man laughed. His head snapped up.
It was the tone of their laughter that gripped him. It poked and prodded at a memory from Theron’s childhood—from the orphanage in the days before he’d met Kyros. From before his life had changed irrevocably. It was snide, conspiratorial, mean and it cut him like a knife.
He turned to search out the source of the laughter amongst the bar’s patrons. Noticing the two younger men standing on the brink of the outdoor seating area, he followed their gaze towards a blonde rolling her shoulder as if working out a tight muscle.
His gaze stuttered over her and a sudden rush of incendiary heat poured over him. A heat that felt without beginning or end, but one most definitely with her at its focal point. She glowed, a golden halo of hair, her skin warm like the first blush of life and her lips...the kind of fresh luscious red that money couldn’t buy. Hungrily, he consumed what he could see of her, gorging himself so quickly he could only take in broad strokes. He almost stepped back to sever the power of his reaction.
He forced his gaze back to the two men and it was clear. She was their intended target.
Picking up his drink, Theron pulled out his phone as if checking an email and slowly closed in on the men.
‘I bet you one hundred euros that she’ll spend tonight in my bed.’
‘Her? Why?’
‘Why not?’
All three men turned to look at her as she thanked the waiter in English and the second guy grinned. ‘Two hundred says she’ll be in mine.’
‘Three hundred with photos,’ the first said with a leer that made Theron see red.
He forced himself to loosen his grip or he’d break his mobile. And he’d much rather break something of theirs.
He watched as the first guy made his approach, the way they tag-teamed it made Theron fear just how many times this had happened before. Surreptitiously, he took photos of both the men before putting his phone away, looking up to check the girl’s reaction. They had chosen her because she was on her own, English, a tourist, atarget.
The word ricocheted through him, bouncing off different memories from the past. In those first few months in the orphanage, he had seemed like a target to the other kids too. But he had learned and paid attention and used everything available to him so that no one considered him a target ever again. Him or those he cared about.
Through the haze of his thoughts, he felt her eyes on him, pulling him back to the present, and an unholy need exploded into being deep within him, like a punch to his gut. She held his gaze as if she was there with him, standing in the eye of the storm of need, and it was an experience unlike any he’d ever had.
And then one of the men moved between them, cutting off Theron’s line of sight and taking a seat at her table. By the time he could see her again, she was smiling, her face open and curious and wholly unaware of the danger she was in. Theron rejected any further prevarication.
