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She shouldn’t have been surprised that, for a man who didn’t know anything about his past, Zeph was resuming the mantle of powerful magnate with such ease. She suspected he had been born with every imperious strain fully installed in his DNA.
So then who was the man who’d cracked jokes and laughed with her in the chopper? A long-buried and now resurfacing facet of Zeph Diamandis or a temporary aberration?
She tightened her gut against the very suggestion that she wanted it to be the former. She had no right to wish for anything where this man was concerned. What she needed to concentrate on was the future.
Her freedom. A release from this sterile marriage with her company fully under her control.
With that in mind, she tried not to react to the eyes pinned on her as she sent an email about the PR team meeting for later that afternoon.
Then she breathed a sigh of relief when Despina entered with two maids bearing trays of food.
‘I’ll go and get the doctor,’ Imogen said hastily, ignoring the fact that she had staff to do that for her.
Zeph’s steady, brooding gaze reverted to her as she went to take a step away from the charged atmosphere. But if she’d expected him to remain silent, she should’ve known better.
‘You can run as much as you like. I’ll always catch you,’ he said with deadly softness into the storm of electricity that was growing thicker in the room.
Immie stumbled.
Righted herself.
Took a deep breath.
All without looking back at him.
Because if that voice was any indication, she was terrified at what she’d see in his eyes. Hell, she was terrified anyway. Because this version of her husband seemed intently focused on what the previous version had coolly and effectively disregarded—any hint of an emotional connection between them.
And as she went to retrieve the doctor from the smaller living room, she promised herself she would conquer this new and unwanted hyperawareness she’d developed around the husband who needed to, imperatively, remain at arm’s length at all times.
Just how she would do that...she didn’t know.
But she hadn’t come this far, sacrificed this much, to fail within sight of her goal.
Determination reinstated, she showed the doctor into the living room.
She’d never met the older man before on account of Zeph being in rude health with a top-notch exercise regime in place the whole time she’d known him.
But now she watched the doctor’s eyes widen as he took his patient in. Watched his professionalism slip a little as he shook hands with Zeph.
Just like with the yacht crew and the apartment staff, he started to speak in Greek, then switched to English in deference to Immie. ‘It’s... I am so incredibly pleased to see you alive and well, Kyrios Diamandis.’
Zeph nodded, and although his smile wasn’t as wide, it was there nonetheless, fanning that flame inside Immie as she watched his sensual lips curve.
As she remembered his words to her minutes ago.
She pushed them away, concentrated on the exchange.
‘As much as I’m happy to be seen, under these particular circumstances, I wish it wasn’t necessary,’ Zeph replied.
His eyes met hers as he said the words, and she bit her lip.
As much as she wanted to get on with her life, was she, somewhere deep down, a little relieved that they weren’t locked in the perpetual state of rancour his craving for retribution had engendered?
Again, she pushed that thought away as the doctor nodded.
‘Ne, I also. Let us attempt to get you back on the road to recovery,ne?’ he said, then glanced at Imogen. ‘Your wife told me on the phone that she hasn’t observed any outward signs of adverse health?’
Zeph’s gaze lingered on her, staying for several seconds too long. ‘She’s correct. I feel fine.’
