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“You’re not interested in relationships,” she said probingly.
“No.” He stayed at her eye level. “Did you report his sexual assault to the police?”
Shame spread through her as she shook her head. “I should have. But at the time, I was worried about what he might say in the press, worried about my reputation, my sponsorships. It was only a few years ago but things were different, even then. There wasn’t the groundswell for victims that there is now. Besides, I just wanted to move on and forget it. He was out of my life. I know that makes me weak.”
“Nothing about you is weak,” he contradicted immediately, so immediately that she couldn’t doubt his sincerity.
“Thank you.” And she wasn’t thanking him just for his kind words, but for the ways in which he’d been stirring her back to life. Mila had forgotten she possessed any kind of libido until meeting Leonidas. For the first time in years, she was remembering that she was a sensual woman, as well as a professional athlete.
“Would you like to see some more of the house?”
Leonidas was nota man who stayed stubbornly wedded to one plan, even when information changed. As he showed Mila around the seventeenth century chateau, with its stone turrets and open, formally landscaped courtyards, and the terrace that boasted spectacular near-panoramic views, his mind was ticking over the things she’d told him, and by the time the sun had dropped low in the sky, and the vines were rustling with the evening’s breeze, he knew he had to relent, just a little.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, leaning back in his chair with the appearance of relaxation, his fingers stroking her shoulder. “About ways for you to contact your team that won’t jeopardise your safety.”
She turned to face him so quickly that he had no doubts how much that meant to her. “Oh?”
“I have a satellite phone and as it happens, it’s untraceable. You can use it to check in.”
She considered that a moment.
“You’d have to be careful not to give anything away. They might ask questions. Where you are, what’s happened. How would you answer?”
“I can keep it very vague,” she said thoughtfully. “I hate the idea of lying to them, but I agree, until we know more, I should stay off-grid. For the next week,” she added, the addendum a talisman to them both.
“Good.” He nodded his approval even as a sense of unease spread through his gut. He wanted to control this situation, and he couldn’t do that if she insisted on contact with the outside world. But, nor could he force her to stay here, locked away from her colleagues. She had to have autonomy—she was completely right.
“I’ll go get it.”
“Now?”
“Would you prefer to wait?”
The air between them sparked but she dropped her eyes, shielding her thoughts from him. “I’m having such a nice time, pretending the outside world doesn’t exist. I’ll phone in the morning.”
But pushing everyone else away was not going to work forever, and just half an hour later, as they settled on a dinner option, his own phone began to ring. He was tempted to ignore it, but a glance at the screen showed his security chief’s face, so he lifted a hand to Mila, indicating he’d follow her inside soon, then turned his back.
“Grieg. Talk to me.”
Leonidas listened as Grieg outlined what he knew so far, his spine straightening and acid flooding his body as he imagined what Grieg was describing. When he disconnected the call ten minutes later, he knew only one thing for sure: he was glad he’d brought her here, glad he’d brought her to the edge of the world, and glad that they were together—here, with Leonidas, Mila was safe, even if at the same time, he had to face the prospect of having betrayed his dearest friend. It was a certainty that weighed down on him, but he couldn’t think of it then. Mila remained his priority.
“I’ve hadnews from my chief of security.”
At the end of a long, delicious dinner, Mila was relaxed and pleasantly full of good food and just enough wine to feel decidedly relaxed. Her body was humming with contentment, so the last thing she wanted was to be dragged so fiercely back to earth.
A tingle of fear splintered inside her. “I see.” Was that her voice? So soft and hesitant? She cleared her throat, determined not to lose her mettle now. “And?”
Leonidas was watching her carefully, as though she were made of delicate china and might crack.
“Just tell me,” she begged, hating the waiting more than anything else. “I need to know.”
He nodded slowly, his eyes grave. “He’d been up in the crawl space of the roof. The manhole cover had been disturbed, there were handprints, marks from where he’d dragged his body—there’s not much space up there.”
She shuddered. “Why in the world would he…” Realisation dawned and she stared at Leo, aghast.
Their eyes held and she knew he was fighting his own wave of disgust, that anger was darkening his eyes. She felt it coming off him, she understood. He was furious. “Small holes had been drilled so that he could watch you.”
“Oh my god.”
