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Because...dear God.
That voice.
Deep. Rasping. Commanding.Hypnotic.
It had sent CEOs and minions alike scurrying for cover. It’d sent her own father into a downward spiral that had ultimately resulted in Imogen being offered up as a completely unwilling sacrifice.
It’d sent her alternately sobbing and raging when its owner had drawled his refusal to listen to reason. When he’d dispassionately rejected her every imploration to reconsider the heinous price he’d demanded from her family.
In her darkest nights over the last ten months, she’d wondered why she was so tormented by the notion that she’d never hear his voice again when she should’ve been relieved that she was finally,finallyfree.
Hearing it now, she knew she’d only been fooling herself. Somehow, she’d known she’d never be free of it, ofhim, until she took definitive steps to make it so.
It was why she’d never given up trying to find him.
And now she had—
‘I asked you a question. If you’re going to interrupt my wedding, at least have the decency to tell me why.’
My wedding.
Had he gone mad? Or did power truly corrupt absolutely as the saying went? Because this was truly next-level insanity. This was hubris above and beyond what even she’d imagined him capable of. And he’d shown her a lot during their short, intensely charged time together.
Before he’d vanished off the face of the earth.
She took one last step and the angle of the light changed, throwing him into sharp, dramatic relief. Imogen inhaled sharply, right before her breath locked in her lungs.
After so many dead ends, she hadn’t, deep down, believed that this new lead would pan out. Hadn’t believed that the man she’d been searching for had been right here in Greece all along. In this backwater village tucked away out of sight, where the Internet was sketchy to the point of non-existent, and indoor plumbing was considered a luxury, according to her handsomely paid PI.
Was she missing some vital angle? What the hell was he playing at?
A softly murmured question in Greek made Imogen turn her attention to the woman at his side. Tucked under his protective arm.
Something caught tighter in Imogen’s chest as several uncharitable thoughts flitted through her head.
Was she some sort of witch? Or, worse yet, considering they were in the very birthplace of Greek mythology, asiren? Because none of this made sense.
She took a step closer, to get a better view of her, then froze when the man stepped forward to block her way.
The protective arm he kept around the woman sent sharp darts through her Imogen didn’t want to acknowledge. So what if he was protective of this woman? Theirs had never been that sort of relationship. It’d been forged within the cold, clinical walls of the boardroom, finalised in an even colder civil court in Athens. And in light of what had come after, that was where it’d end.
Soon, she silently prayed.
She’d put her life on hold for not one but two men—her father, and this man. Simply because she’d been born a woman.Enough.
‘You know why I’m interrupting. God, you’re not going to claim some sort of mistaken identity, are you? Or that you have a twin brother?’
Surprisingly, a whisper of uncertainty flickered in his eyes before his jaw clenched and he exhaled with visible displeasure. ‘Not that I’m aware of,’ he said.
‘Then can we dispense with this façade?’
‘I assure you, the only strange activity going on here currently is your uninvited presence here, Miss...?’
Imogen started. ‘Seriously?’ She cast a look around, clocked the avid gazes of the congregation. Forced herself to look closer, to see if there was anyone critical she’d missed. Any of the notable people of industry who’d tended to gravitate towards this man’s power like moths to a flame. Anyone who could explain why this ruse was necessary. When she didn’t, when all she saw were villagers dressed simply, with openly curious stares and none of the cut-throat machinations she was used to seeing in the business world, she faced him again. ‘If you’re pranking me, I assure you, this isn’t funny in the least.’
‘And I assure you, the only person making a ridiculous spectacle of themselves is you,Miss...?’ The second pointed query came sharper now, that imperious tone she was well familiar with rumbling through the silence. Another hushed murmur went through the crowd, as if they weren’t used to hearing this timbre. As if this version of the man who was familiar to her was a stranger to them.
Familiar.
