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"Slow down, Rowan, who drew a gun on you?"
"Your gate guard, excuse me,security specialist," she emphasized. "He scared the bejeebees out of me. I don't like wearing heels."
"I know. You mentioned it once when we were dancing."
He'd asked her to dance at one of the dos for a charity both her ex and Lysander had supported. That the two men agreed on even that was almost a miracle. She'd learned that after the dance though. When Cyrus had berated her for dancing with the other man.
"But he's your brother."
"My half-brother. Why my father chose to acknowledge him, I'll never understand, but we aren't legal family."
Which meant what? She'd always wondered. They weren't legal brothers, but they shared half their DNA and they'd been raised by the same father, though saying Baptiste Andino had had a hand in raising his mistress's child was a bit of a stretch. But he had acknowledged Lysander as his son publicly and paid for his support and schooling, something that Cyrus resented. The connection had never been a secret. Her ex had resented that too.
Rowan had quickly learned that Cyrus took it as a personal affront if Rowan so much as smiled at Lysander, much less talked to him. Cyrus had frozen her out for a week after that innocent dance.
"We have only danced once," she pointed out now. "And trust me the exercise isn't likely to be repeated. I'm totally off men who have their security trained to treat visitors to their estate like the international most wanted."
"Gregor will bring you to the house." Then the call dropped. How rude. He hadn't even said goodbye.
Suddenly the gate started to slide open, and the security specialist headed toward her with rapid steps. His gun was still holstered, but the look on his face showed intent. Rowan just knew that intent had something to do with her.
Just how ridiculous her plan was washed over Rowan and filled her with embarrassment. Why had she thought Mr. Eligible Bachelor himself would want to sleep with her when he could have pretty much any woman, or man if he swung that way, in Athens? Like heck she was sticking around so he could laugh in her face at the very idea.
She took a step toward her car and nearly fell again. Crud, that had hurt.
Her knees were still stinging and any movement made the pain more acute, but it was her ankle that was making walking difficult. She limped as fast as she could, but hadn't yet reached her car when a hand came around her wrist like a manacle.
She gasped and yanked against the hold instinctively. Her wrist remained firmly in the security specialist's grip.
"Mr. Baros would like you to come to the house so he can speak to you." The guard's tone was polite, but that didn't make her any less his prisoner.
"Mr. Baros can call me at his convenience. I want to leave," Rowan said tartly. "Let go of my hand."
Even if she still thought her idea was a good one, and she didn't, she had no desire to meet up with Lysander with skinned knees, a sore ankle and a sweaty brow from stress.
CHAPTER 2
"Please be reasonable, Miz Johnson. You came here to see Mr. Baros. If you come with me, you can do that."
"I would rather go home."
"Klaus is bringing your car up to the house already."
Sure enough, her little electric car was being driven through the gate by a man as large as the one in possession of her wrist, but with blond hair. He grinned at her and tipped an imaginary hat in her direction through the window of her car.
"Hey, you can't steal my car," she shouted at him. To no effect.
"He's not stealing it. He is merely parking it for you. It is a courtesy," Gregor said, his own expression as impassive as it had been since the beginning of their discussion.
However, there was something around his eyes. Something that told her he was amused by this situation. Rowan was not.
"How am I supposed to get up to the house? I don't know if it escaped your notice, but I twisted my ankle."
"I saw." No apology for his part in her debacle, just an admission he'd seen it happen.
She glared at him. "So?"
"I have a vehicle here." He helped her over to a vehicle that might have been a golf cart in another life. In this one, it was painted a discreet grey with the logo of a security firm emblazoned on the side.
