I’d sent her away that night to keep my own goal pure, to formulate new plans that didn’t include her, but now…
Things are different now. Even though I’m no decent father for a child, I can’t abandon one I helped bring into the world.
Don’t lie. You know what you really want.
I stare at the jewelled hair clip in my hand.
It’s true. If I really was a decent father, I wouldn’t be here. I’d be providing Olympia with money should she need it, but I certainly wouldn’t be waiting for her to show, yet again with intentions far from pure.
The real truth is that I’m not a good man and this pregnancy has just handed my revenge to me on a golden platter and it’s too good an opportunity to refuse.
Ulysses Zakynthos is a famous bachelor. A famouschildlessbachelor, which makes Olympia his heir. It will also makemychild his heir, and if I marry her, then what is hers is also mine and that includes Vulcan Energy.
I’ve spent the past couple of months congratulating myself for seeing the trap she could end up being for me and so sending her away. But when the confirmation of her pregnancy came through, it seemed as if fate had had a hand in my future after all.
The fact that she’s expecting my child has changed everything. And I’m not a good man, not even slightly. I’m still what I am, a man ruthless in pursuit of his goal, and so I will claim her, I will claim my child, and then I will claim Vulcan Energy, and once I have, I’ll have taken everything Ulysses Zakynthos holds dear.
Only then will my parents have justice. Only then will they have peace. And nothing is more important than that. Nothing.
‘She’s coming,’ my driver informs me.
I lift my head and stare out the window of the car.
There’s a taverna across the street and I sent her instructions to meet me there, and, despite the chill, there are crowds coming and going through its doors, celebrating Christmas Eve. A small figure is weaving around the crowds and I know immediately it’s her. The only reason she’s managed to escape her brother’s house is because he’s not here. He’s in LA, arriving tomorrow, or at least that’s what the flight plan for his private jet said, and that’s good. That has granted me time to make my own plans.
He has no idea that his world is about to come crashing down on him, because I am going to take Olympia back to my home in Sicily and I do not intend to set her free again.
As she makes her way towards the car, I take a few moments to watch her, to see if she’s the same as she was four months ago and if my reaction to her is the same too. In my mind I’ve tried to minimise it, tried to explain it away. It was sexual tension, nothing more, and I’ve had the same with many women.
Then again, I’ve never been so hungry for one woman that I forgot a condom, or been haunted by her for weeks on end, not as I have with Olympia. I tried to spend a night with one of my more regular lovers not long after I returned from Singapore, but the thought didn’t excite me. I only went through the motions, determined to scrub Olympia from my mind, and I failed. Failed utterly.
Now she’s coming closer and the blood in my veins starts to pump hard, my heartbeat accelerating. I want her. I want her now, here, in the back of the car, with her legs spread wide and her high heels digging into my spine. I want her panting in my ear, before screaming my name as I taste her. I want to bind her hands and her ankles, using restraint to heighten every stroke and every lick, every kiss that I give her…
She’s just about through the crowd and preparing to cross the street, when a man lumbers down the steps of the taverna and nearly knocks her off her feet.
Instantly, I throw open the door and leap out of the car, striding across the street, my black overcoat flaring out behind me. The crowd around the taverna entrance is noisy but they fall silent as I approach.
The man who nearly knocked her over doesn’t see me, he’s too busy apologising to her, but she sees me. Her amber eyes flame as they meet mine and once again I feel it, that arrow that hits me dead centre of my chest.
Her black hair is loose over her shoulders and she’s wearing a soft-looking red coat, and all I can think is that she should always wear red. I’ll marry her in a red gown, make sure her wardrobe is full of red, and when she kneels before me, she’ll be wearing red lipstick.
The man, sensing the silence that has followed me, turns quickly, spots me and my taut expression, and pales. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t see—’
I hold up a hand and he breaks off. I don’t speak. I merely go to where Olympia is standing and I slide my arm around her waist, drawing her into my side. Then, holding her close, I escort her back to the car.
She holds herself rigid, as if she’s only suffering my arm around her, but she doesn’t protest. It’s only as we get to the car that she pulls away abruptly. ‘What do you want, Rafael?’ she asks, her voice flat.
The lights shine on her lovely face, her eyes like liquid gold. She smiled at me four months ago, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, but there are no smiles for me tonight, no sparks of mischief in her gaze. She looks pale, and there are shadows under her eyes.
My chest tightens inexplicably. ‘It’s too cold to stand here,’ I say. ‘Get in the car.’
‘No.’ She folds her arms, the look on her face implacable. ‘You called me saying that we needed to talk. So. What do you want to talk about?’
She must know why I’m here—why else would I have wanted to meet? Then again, maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she’s expecting me to ask her for another night together. What is very clear is that she doesn’t want me to know she’s pregnant.
Her brother will be in the air by now and, while it takes hours to get from LA to Athens, I can’t afford to spend too much time here. I need to be back in Sicily before he arrives.
‘Please,’ I say, trying for patience and not to let my roiling emotions leak into my voice. ‘Get in the car, dragonfly.’
