“You want answers?” I lean in, voice low, dangerous. “Then you’ll obey me.”
“Fuck you,” she snaps, looking mutinous, and sexy as hell.
“Not now, kardhoúla.” I smirk. “But later, yes. I will fuck you. And you’ll love it.”
She stares at me like she wants to slap me and straddle me at the same time.
“You really are an arrogant asshole. You know that, right?”
“I do.”
Of course I do.
Arrogance runs in my blood.
If my bastard ancestors were still on a throne instead of buried in forgotten graves, they would have called it confidence.
“Atlas?”
“What.”
“Where are we going?”
“To my house in Mykonos. Then we board my yacht. The captain will marry us at sea on the way to Bodrum.”
She exhales. “Bodrum?”
“Turkey.”
There’s a small, resigned pause. A heartbeat. Then, she exhales.
“Okay.”
Pleasure rises in me like the tide, unstoppable.
I nod once so she knows I heard her.
She makes me feel protective.
Needy.
And hungry.
Also, suspicious.
Cecilia’s agreeing too easily, and I don’t know why.
Maybe she wants control, maybe she wants freedom, maybe she wants me.
I’d take any of those answers—and all of them.
But underneath the lust and the impatience, there’s something else boiling in my veins. That’s purpose.
I swore on my father’s deathbed that I would make the men who ruined him pay. That this deal—this fucking deal—would be my revenge.
But the second she walked into that boardroom tonight?
Everything changed.
