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Ari kept his gaze fixed ahead, jaw clenched tight. ‘It’s her husband’s funeral. I’d have thought it was obvious she’s drowning in grief.’ How bitter those words tasted in his mouth. Because he knew they were the last emotion Perla Lowell was feeling. A woman who could do what she’d done with him forty-eight hours before putting her dead husband in the ground?
No, grief didn’t even get a look-in.
Whereas he... Theos.
His gut clenched hard at the merciless lash of memories. He’d gorged himself on her, greedy in his need to forget, to blank the pain that had eviscerated him with each heartbeat.
Turning away from the spectacle playing out on the altar, he followed the trickle of guests who’d started to leave the chapel.
‘Are you sure that’s all?’ Sakis demanded. ‘I could’ve sworn she totally freaked out only when she saw you.’
Ari rounded on him as they exited into dappled sunshine. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘I don’t know, brother, but she seemed to be fixated on you. I thought maybe you knew her.’
‘I’ve never been to this backwater until today, and I only came because you insisted you couldn’t make it. What are you doing here, anyway?’
‘It was my fault. I insisted.’ Brianna, his beautiful soon-to-be sister-in-law spoke up. ‘I thought, as Lowell’s former employer, Sakis should be here. We tried to call you to let you know but your phone was off and the staff at Macdonald Hall said you’d checked out yesterday.’
His jaw clenched harder at the reminder.
He’d been running a fool’s errand, desperately trying to track down the woman who’d run out on him in the middle of the night. A day and a half, he’d driven up and down the damned countryside, searching for the Mini whose red paint was a poor match for the vibrant hair colour of the woman who’d made him lose his mind and forget his pain for a few blissful hours.
Theos! How could he not have seen that it was all an illusion? They said sex made fools of men. They’d said nothing about the deadly blade of memory and the consequences of a desperate search for oblivion.
Bringing his mind into focus, he lowered his gaze away from his brother’s blatant curiosity.
‘We’ve paid our respects, now can we get the hell out of here?’ he rasped.
Sakis nodded at a few guests before he answered him. ‘Why, what’s the hurry?’
‘I have a seven o’clock meeting first thing in the morning, then I fly out to Miami.’
Sakis frowned. ‘It’s only two o’clock in the afternoon, Ari.’
His body didn’t know that because he’d been up all day and all night, searching...chasing a dream that didn’t exist.
He was losing it. He needed to get out of there before he marched back into that tiny chapel and roared his fury at that red-headed witch inside.
‘I know what time it is. If you want to stay, feel free. I’ll send the chopper back to Macdonald Hall for you two.’ He couldn’t get out of here fast enough, although every single bone in his body wanted to confront the duplicitous widow and give her a hefty piece of his mind.
With a nod at his brother and Brianna, he cut his way through the gawping crowd, uncaring that his face was set in a formidable scowl.
From the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of red hair heading his way. Although anger rose up within him, it took a monumental effort not to turn his head and see if it was Perla.
Clenching his fist, he stalked faster towards his limo, the need to be gone a fierce, urgent demand.
‘Arion, wait!’ Her husky voice was almost lost in the cacophony of the funeral spectacle. And it was a spectacle. Morgan Lowell’s starring role in his own death via a drug overdose had ensured the media would make a meal of his funeral, even with the scant facts they knew.
Ari froze with one hand on the car door. Slowly, he sucked in a deep breath and turned to face her.
The widow in black. How very apt.
The widow whose bright, fiery red hair shone in the daylight with an unholy, tempting light, the same way it had gleamed temptingly across his pillow three nights ago.
Against his will, his body stirred. Blood pounded through his veins, momentarily deafening him with the roar of arousal. Before he could stop himself, his gaze raked over her.
Although her dress was funeral black, demure, almost plain to the point of drab, he wasn’t fooled. He knew what lay beneath, the hot curves and the treacherous thighs, the delight he would uncover should he...
