He was hard behind his fly. She shifted to press herself into his shape and ran her hands over his back. She wanted to do everything—tear off his clothes and feel his skin and stroke him past his control and feel his lips mapping her every curve. But as he lifted his head and revealed the heat in his gaze, giving her a slow, wicked smile, she knew they had time. Her heart could race, but they didn’t have to.
She was so happy in that moment. Deliriously happy. She ran her hand up to the back of his head, urging him to return for another kiss.
When her fingers grazed the strap of his eye patch, he flicked it off and tossed it toward the night table, then scooped her off her feet and into his arms.
A knock sounded on the bedroom door.
His face blanked with outrage.
“Busy,” he bit out.
“Shall I dismiss the woman downstairs?” the butler asked. “Ms. Walker?”
“Mum?” Scarlett asked with concern. “Tell them to send her up,” she called while Javiero set her onto her feet. “I’m so sorry. I texted her when we were leaving Spain, telling her we would be here this evening. I thought she was coming on the morning train. Maybe she misunderstood.”
“Nothing a cold shower can’t fix,” he said with rueful frustration. “Invite her to join us for dinner.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“I’ve waited this long.” He caught her chin and kissed her once. Hard. “Make it up to me later,” he suggested, and disappeared into his bathroom.
She heard the ding of the elevator and hurried out of the bedroom, not worrying about the fact she was in her robe. It was only Mum.
Except it wasn’t. It was her sister, Ellie.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ELLIE WORE FULL makeup. Her hair was bumped and curled and teased into flyaway wisps. She was dressed for clubbing in a short, tight skirt. Her leopard-print top was scooped low to show a lot of her breasts.
She took a pull off her vaping pen and released a cloud of moisture while she looked Scarlett up and down, gaze sticking at her chest. “Are those real?”
“What?” Scarlett touched the pendant of the diamond-encrusted lock that Javiero had given her. “This?”
“Your boobs. They used to be a lot smaller.”
“I just had a baby.”
“Oh. Right. Where is he?” Ellie glanced around.
“With the nanny. Sleeping.” Scarlett glanced at the butler with a strained smile. “This is my sister, Ellie.”
“Shall I prepare a room?”
Scarlett realized Ellie had brought an overnight bag. “Arrange something with a nearby hotel. My treat,” she assured Ellie with a smile that hid the way she was freaking out. “So the baby doesn’t keep you up.”
Ellie made a choking noise as the butler melted away. “You have a nanny and a butler?”
And a housekeeper who also cooked, but Scarlett didn’t bother to mention it.
“It’s nice to see you. How are you?”
Ellie released a fresh cloud of cherry-scented vapor through a pursed smile that derided Scarlett’s manners.
And Scarlett gave them up as she waved to dispel the sickly sweet aroma from the air, already feeling a headache coming on.
“Can you not do that in here? Where’s Mum?” She glanced toward the elevator.
“Didn’t want to come.” Ellie turned off her pen and dropped it into her overstuffed bag. “Dad asked her to visit him tomorrow. She’d rather do that.”
“But...” Scarlett’s heart plummeted with disappointment while part of her had to wonder if she deserved that disregard. “So she’s not coming at all? Did you try to talk her into it?”
“What’s the point?”
It was a careless dismissal of Scarlett’s feelings, but not deliberately cruel. Ellie had been as affected as all of them by their twisted upbringing. Her way of coping had been to act out and run around with boys, all of them terrible. Ellie’s pain was the same as Scarlett’s and Scarlett’s was so acute her chest was tight.
“Mum sounded so excited to meet Locke,” she murmured.
Actually, Mum had tried to talk Scarlett into staying with them at the house and going to the prison with her, but Scarlett had made excuses about Javiero’s demanding schedule and her colicky son.
Maybe she shouldn’t complain about her mother’s priorities when her own were deeply self-interested, but her reasons for refusing were about protecting herself and her son while trying to help her mother. She had hoped her mother agreeing to a day trip had meant she was moving past allowing her husband to control her every move.
So much for that. Why was Mum still pinned under his thumb? Scarlett had done so much to try to pull her out of that pattern—supported her, invited her a million times to come to Greece, offered to pay any bills that would get her a divorce.
Mum stayed grimly tied to her husband. Why? Dad wasn’t using his time in prison for self-reflection and meetings to overcome his alcoholism. He wasn’t seeking counseling over the abuse he’d inflicted. Anytime Scarlett brought up his behavior, her mother defended him. Your father loves all of us very much.
“This place is unreal.” Ellie was wandering the flat, goggling at the cut crystals dangling off the lampshades and smelling the enormous fresh-cut floral arrangement. She trailed her fingers along the back of the overstuffed leather sofa. “‘Luxury must be comfortable, otherwise it is not luxury.’ Coco Chanel,” she informed in an aside, one that held the canny calculation of a fox. A survivor by any means. “You’re living really well these days.”
“This belongs to Javiero,” Scarlett dismissed.
“You’re marrying him,” Ellie said in a harder voice, her sharp gaze hitting Scarlett’s ring, then her necklace, then her earrings.
“We haven’t set a date.” Scarlett pinched her lips together.
“I guess that’s why I haven’t received an invitation. But, oh, that’s right. We never get invited anywhere. Except
