Thea shut the crossword book. ‘I don’t want to risk hearing about any more of your odd culinary extravaganzas.’
‘Not my experience with sea cucumbers in China? Where’s your sense of adventure?’
‘I’ve never been encouraged to have one.’
‘Shame... I’m travelling to New York in a few weeks. I thought you might join me.’
Her heart leapt. He was going to the city her mother had promised to take her.
An awful yearning replaced the sense of fun. It clutched at her, twisting hard. She toyed with the corner of the book in her lap, staring out past filmy curtains to the floodlit balcony. The illuminated olive trees waved silvery in the night breeze.
‘I’ve never been out of Greece.’
Christo leaned forward, forearms on his thighs. His wedding ring glinted in the lights. ‘What was your father thinking?’
That if he kept her in a cage she wouldn’t fall, like her mother had before her marriage.
‘He’s protective. There was always a driver. Always a bodyguard. Something I rely on now.’
The lie caught in her throat. Her father had been her jailer. Demetri his enforcer.
‘Come to New York with me and you’ll have a driver. I’ll also organise one of my security detail to attend you. If that’s what you want.’
It was. Desperately. Because here was her way to locate Alexis. Christo had power and reach she didn’t. If anyone could find him it was her husband.
‘I’d like to bring my own bodyguard.’
‘My men are all provided by Raul. Highly trained and supremely trustworthy.’
Could she tell him the truth about Alexis? That he was the child her mother had been forced to relinquish? Her half-brother, who’d kept her going on her darkest days?
No lies. No manipulation.
No. She couldn’t trust anyone who did business with her father—especially if that business involved her.
She licked her lips. ‘I only trust Alexis Anastos—the man my father engaged.’
Christo lounged in his chair, but there was a tension about him which told her he was watchful.
‘Where is he now?’
‘I’m not sure. He was released prior to our marriage. Said he was going to take a long holiday. Something about working with me making him need one.’ She laughed. It sounded hollow.
Christo’s eyes narrowed. His body stilled with predator-like intent.
‘How close were you to him?’
The question was measured, quiet. But the implication of the words burrowed under her skin. What did he think she was? A hot roil of anger seethed inside her. Newly married and already seeking out someone else? Anyhow, they had an agreement—one she loathed, but she’d stick by it nonetheless.
‘He was like the brother I should have had!’ she snapped.
Christo cocked his head. Stupid. Her emotion would give everything away.
Thea levelled him with a steady gaze. ‘Besides, I’m not his type.’
That seemed to relax the crouching panther a little.
Christo settled back into the comfortable cushions of the couch. ‘Let me know the security firm he works for and I’ll look into it.’
She breathed out slowly. ‘Thank you.’
‘I said I’d do anything to make you happy here.’
That voice. Soft as the caress of silk sheets. But his eyes held the promise of a brewing storm. And she wasn’t even sure he was trying. If he did, Thea knew the man would beat the devil in his ability to tempt.
‘Are you really going to insist on doing this every evening?’
‘I seem to recall you offered.’
‘It was the lesser of two evils.’
‘A similar position for both of us,’ Christo said. ‘We could try to get to know each other, since we might be together some time.’
Thea’s stomach churned like a twisting pit of vipers. This could go on for years. Yet she couldn’t pray for his father’s death to free her any faster.
Her pulse leapt, threatening to rampage out of control. Her breathing became short and shallow. These episodes had increased in their relentless frequency since her engagement. An old, bitter enemy challenging her from the shadows. But she wouldn’t let it consume her in front of Christo.
Thea flipped the pencil in her hand and pressed the sharp point into the pad of her thumb, concentrating on the pain. Her heartbeat slowed. The twist in her stomach eased. She relaxed the pencil’s pressure and rubbed the spot with her index finger, soothing the sting.
‘So, what? We play twenty questions?’
He smiled in that wolfish way of his and her toes curled into the plush carpet.
‘Would you prefer truth or dare?’ he asked.
‘I’m a bit old for that sort of game.’ She sniffed. In reality, she’d never played any sort. Though she’d always craved the freedom to make mistakes of her own.
‘What would you like to play?’ Christo asked, his tone all soft invitation.
Could he have been one of those mistakes, if she’d been allowed to make them? In other circumstances might she have fallen for the ruinous gleam in those gold-green eyes or the dark promise in his midnight voice?
No. He wasn’t her mistake to make. Now or ever.
She sighed. Rolled her eyes for added effect. ‘Ask your questions, Christo.’
Christo stood and walked to the bureau, where he poured himself a cognac. He sipped the drink as he regarded her over the rim of the glass. ‘My mechanic was impressed with your bike. Where did you develop an interest in vintage British motorcycles?’
Her heart stopped for a beat. In truth, before becoming her interest it had been Alexis’s passion. She had to step carefully. Christo didn’t really want to get to know her. He was littering their conversation with landmines to trap her.
‘And here I thought you were going to ask me my favourite colour. Which, for the record, is red.’
‘Why does that not surprise me?’ he said, smiling. ‘Mine’s green.’
‘Opposites.’
‘They can attract.’
‘I’m thinking oil and water.’
‘And I’m thinking you’re avoiding my question.’
Clever man.
She tried for her most guileless look. ‘I like the glossy black paint and glistening chrome.’
Which was what she saw the day Alexis had proudly delivered her gift—a classic of British motorcycling. Then he’d taught her to ride. Hours with the wind in her face, as if she was flying. And
