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‘Theron didn’t say anything other than that he needed you in Greece?’
‘Óchi.’He shook his head. ‘He said he had to go. That Summer needed him. If something has happened to Katy, their little baby girl—’
Marit reached across the space between her seat and his, anchored by the seatbelt needed for the private jet’s descent into Athens. That he didn’t shake her off was sign enough to Marit that this man who, by all accounts, considered himself an island, untouchable and above the connections of the mere mortals around him was scared,terrified, for his friends.
Disembarking the plane happened in the blink of an eye, a sleek black town car waited for them on the runway, chauffeured by a suited man in dark glasses and a set jaw. Through the entire journey to their destination Lykos’s knee bounced against one fisted hand, the other tightly wrapped in Marit’s. She knew better than to assure a man with Lykos’s life experience that it would all be okay. Instead, she became the silent support she instinctively knew he needed.
They pulled up to a house and the sight of other cars lining the grand estate did absolutely nothing to ease the tension racing through each of them—as if they were now connected on a level Marit didn’t yet comprehend. The car stopped opposite the front door, Lykos only releasing Marit’s hand to leave the confines of the car and vault up the steps to the door, where he paused as if bracing himself for what he might find. Marit slipped behind him, her hand on his back, and finally his fist fell on the door.
What happened next was so confusing it took Marit a moment to sort through it all.
A tall, dark-haired Greek with a broad smile opened the door to demand what had taken Lykos so long. Behind him was the sound of a party in full swing, the happiness and bright sunshine utterly at odds with the drama of Marit and Lykos’s desperate journey here at dawn, fearing the worst.
Beside him was a small but utterly beautiful woman with a tiny baby held preciously in her arms. The woman seemed to realise what had happened much more quickly than her partner—which Marit guessed by the way that she reached out to slap his arm.
‘Theron, Itoldyou he would think the worst,’ she scolded angrily in English.
‘What? No, I just knew he wouldn’t come otherwise,’ Theron Thiakos said happily to his wife, until he finally caught sight of the expression on Lykos’s face. ‘Ach,sygnómi, Lykos.’ Summer, from what Lykos had told Marit about Theron and his partner, looked between her partner and his friend and, cradling the baby with one hand, pulled Lykos into a firm hug with the other.
‘Lykos, he’s an unthinking beast. I’m so sorry,’ she said.
‘Does that mean you’ve come to your senses and will finally leave themalákafor me?’ Lykos teased.
Marit could have had whiplash from the change in Lykos’s tone. Summer seemed equally suspicious, but Theron was instantly put at ease. Neither was Marit fooled by the teasing, bold flirtation, having experienced the real thing the night before.
‘That’s my woman,’ growled Theron.
‘I am no one’s woman, thank you very much,’ Summer replied in English. ‘Please ignore these brutes,’ she said, playfully swatting them both on the arm—even though there was something softer when she looked at Lykos. She introduced herself and their little baby girl Katy—short for Catherine—and brought them into the beautiful villa.
‘Why the cloak and dagger?’ Lykos asked in English for the benefit of Summer and Marit.
‘We didn’t think you’d come,’ Summer explained.
They looked between Summer and her husband until Theron said, ‘Kyros is here.’
A swift sharp nod preceded a clenched jaw. ‘Of course. He is your father. I wouldn’t have expected anything less.’ The shoulder shrug should have dismissed their concerns but it only raised Marit’s curiosity, until she linked the name with the father figure who had betrayed Lykos.
‘Which is why I expected you to find an excuse not to come,’ Theron clarified, cutting through Marit’s thoughts.
‘Fair,’ Lykos admitted, seemingly good-naturedly.
‘That’s what I thought. See?’ He turned to Summer. ‘Told you.’
Summer bumped shoulders with her partner and turned back to Marit. ‘Forgive me for staring, but you do look quite familiar. Have we met?’
It took ten minutes to talk Summer down from her panic at having a princess at their party and then another ten to assure her that they didn’t have to follow any particular rules of etiquette. Marit, as if sensing the broiling mass of emotions swirling like petrol in his stomach, drew Summer and Theron into a conversation about Katy—which would give Lykos anywhere from five to twenty minutes to get himself under control.
He pulled at his cufflinks and flexed his hand, opening and closing it to restore circulation to his fingers. His pulse was still wildly out of control, not that anyone would know to look at him. He had found himself in a quiet corner of the estate, in the garden overlooking the Aegean Sea, a sight that had always calmed him in the past.
The rays of the midday sun beat down on his skin, familiar and welcoming. It was a ridiculous sentiment, but one he couldn’t shake. A London sun could be painfully harsh or frustratingly weak. Hong Kong’s was humid, damp, and for Lykos was too close to the skin. But here it washome.
But even such serene thoughts did nothing to diminish the pounding at his temple. It was too soon for another migraine, surely. He ran his palm over the stubble on his jaw, not having had time to shave when he’d come here thinking the worst.
Christé mou, he’d thought something had happened to Katy. Fear and frustration had pounded through him all the way here. And now that he knew Katy was fine, his pulse still raced. Concern still edged at his awareness and he could no longer ignore why.
In ten years he’d amassed a fortune that would have made his father weep and Kyros blink. He’d dominated financial markets, his name whispered in the wealthiest of circles. He had apartments all over the world, and a woman whenever he wanted...
But none of them had made him feel anything like what he had experienced last night with Marit. And she was the one woman he would never be allowed to keep. She was one thing that no amount of money, no amount of apparent respectability could attain. Marit must return to Svardia so that she could be married off to some titled noble, as Svardian legislation decreed. Lykos let out a bitter laugh. No matter how much money he’d made, or what he’d achieved in the time since he’d left Kyros, itstillwasn’t enough.
