While she might not be able to see why her brother is overprotective, I do. There is an innocence to her, a guilelessness matched only by a smile so bright it hurts. She’s like the sun, a light I’m drawn to, and I won’t be the only one. She’s vulnerable, achingly, painfully vulnerable, and I’m a bastard for doing what I’m going to do to her.
I should walk away from her while I still can. She’ll think me rude, perhaps even be slightly hurt, but…no. I’m not going to walk away. The damage her brother did was too great, and my fury at him is too strong.
I was the one who came home one day to find my father dead in his study with a gunshot wound to the head and blood everywhere after Ulysses destroyed his company. I was the one who had to deal with a hysterical mother unable to believe her husband took his own life. And I was the one who had to watch the debt collectors come and take everything in sight.
So no. There will be no baulking at the last hurdle. It’s only her feelings that are at risk here, and I don’t care about her feelings. I want my revenge and I will have it.
‘You can’t come all the way to Singapore and not have a drink at Raffles,’ I say instead. ‘I’ll take you if you like.’
CHAPTER TWO
Olympia
I really don’tknow what I’m doing, but I don’t care. I didn’t care the moment I saw him, a point of perfect stillness in the moving, swirling stream of guests at the gala. He was in severe black, unlike the rest of the crowd flitting around him like a host of brightly coloured tropical birds. The women in jewels and fabulous gowns, and the men, too, glittering.
I was feeling so out of my depth and then I saw him, coming towards me. His eyes were so dark, almost black, and the minute they met mine it felt as if the earth had shifted beneath my feet. It sounds ridiculous and fanciful, a cliche even, but it’s true.
He was coming for me, I knew it instinctively and I had to look away, my face flaming, a wild excitement beginning to take hold of me.
I could sense him coming to a stop beside me at the rail, just as I could sense the pressure of his gaze on me. It made me feel hot, made me blush, made me want to do something wild and reckless, which isn’t like me at all. And then he spoke, his voice deep and dark, his Greek tinged with the flavours of Italy, and I couldn’t resist it. I had to look at him and when I did I felt something kick hard inside me.
He’s the most utterly mesmerising man I’ve ever met, not that I’ve met very many men. At all. In fact, I can count the number of men I’ve met since living with my brother on one hand.
Still, I’m sure that, not only is Rafael Santangelo the most mesmerising man I’ve ever met, he’s probably the most mesmerising man I willevermeet.
He’s very tall, probably my brother’s height, which is six four, and he’s built broad. Wide shoulders and muscled chest, like a warrior out of history. Achilles, maybe, or Hector. In fact, I can see him on an ancient battlefield with a horsehair-crested helmet, riding in a chariot with a spear in one large, long-fingered hand.
Except here, tonight, he’s a modern warrior in his black evening clothes, and there are no frills or flounces about him, nothing glittering, and the asceticism suits him.
His features are rough and unfinished, yet there’s something about his proud nose, heavy eyebrows and deep-set black eyes that is incredibly and powerfully magnetic. He has an aura, this man, of darkness and violence and something tells me he’s very dangerous, but that only adds to his magnetism.
I’ve never been attracted to a man before. One of the ‘perks’ of being sheltered all my life by my brother. Ulysses means well and I know he does it because he loves me, because he blames himself for my dreadful childhood, but I’m getting tired of it. I’ve missed out on so many things a woman my age should have experienced by now. A career, friends, travel, and yes, a boyfriend.
I could leave, I know that, but I worry about him. I’m all he has and, considering that he rescued me from my abusive foster parents, cared for me in the aftermath, and gave me a home, I can’t just abandon him.
Still, I’ve been nagging at him for months to at least bring me with him on his next business trip, but then he surprised me by suggesting I go to a special gala in Singapore as his representative. I was shocked at first, then thrilled, then actually quite annoyed when he said that, although he wouldn’t be going, he would be assigning me a permanent security detail to accompany me.
That wasn’t what I had in mind, of course, but arguing with Ulysses is always pointless. He never listens to me, telling me that my safety is the most important thing in his life and no way in hell is he putting that at risk.
It was either that or I didn’t go, so in the end I had to accept the security.
It’s not so bad tonight at the gala, because they’re mingling with the guests and keeping a low profile, but I know they’re there. I can feel them watching me and watching Rafael Santangelo too.
Nerves are coiling in my gut, along with a thrill of anticipation, and even though I’ve only had a couple of sips of champagne, I already feel dizzy. Perhaps there was something in that glass after all. Then again, some deep, instinctive part of me knows that there wasn’t. And I was telling him the truth when I told him that I trusted him.
Still, it’s reckless of me to go anywhere with a man I only met two seconds ago. Ulysses would instantly forbid me. Then again, Ulysses isn’t here and Rafael’s offer is so tempting.
I study him, trying to sort out exactly what I’m feeling and why. Attraction is there, yes, I can feel that pulling me towards him like a magnet. A thrilling kind of fear too, but it’s not a bad fear. It’s a fear more akin to take-off in a plane, when you’re barrelling so fast down the runway, ready to take flight, and you’re helpless against the G-forces pushing you back in your seat.
Rafael Santangelo feels like one of those G-forces. Impossible to resist, an implacable gravity. I don’t know why that makes me shiver, but it does, and I like the sensation. I like the way he’s looking at me too, as if it’s really me he’s seeing. Ulysses doesn’t see me. All he sees when he looks at me is his own guilt staring back at him.
There’s no guilt in Rafael’s dark eyes. His stare is…intense. Unwavering. It’s as if he doesn’t see anyone else at this gala but me and it’s intoxicating. Once, when I was thirteen, I crept down into Ulysses’s wine cellar and took a bottle of champagne. I drank half of it before being sick, but just before the sickness hit, I felt amazing. As if the bubbles in the wine had crept into my blood, making it fizz and pop in my veins.
I feel that same sensation now as he stares at me, and it’s wonderful. It makes me realise how small and narrow my life has become, and gives me a glimpse of how much more it could be. How much more itwillbe.
‘I’m not sure Georgios would approve,’ I say, mock stern, my heartbeat accelerating with anticipation. I already know I’m going to take his offer and I don’t care what Ulysses will say when he finds out.
‘Fuck Georgios’s approval,’ Rafael murmurs, the pressure of his stare unrelenting.
