‘Have you looked at her back, Father? She’s displaying a monstrosity.’ Demetri leaned down to hiss in her ear. ‘I suspected you were cheap, but you’ve outdone yourself.’
He pulled her around slyly, so no one would notice. He was clever that way. Her arm burned in his tight grip. But she wouldn’t let him see her fear. She never had.
‘How could your husband allow you to deface yourself?’ her father spat.
She wrenched her arm from Demetri’s crushing fingers. He’d never touch her again—not if she could help it. Thea drew herself up to face them, proudly displaying her tattoos—the symbols of her ultimate freedom. Even Christo had recognised that.
Christo.
He was cutting through the crowd. Purpose etched on his face. Eyes hard. Mouth a thin, cruel line. Looking as if he was ready to draw blood as his gaze slid from her father to Demetri. Blind fury from this man who always seemed implacable.
Her heart beat a little faster as he shouldered through his guests.
‘You can ask me yourself.’
Christo’s eyes were focused on her. She forgot everything, lost in his hot green gaze. Forgot the hatred tightening in her belly, the burning of her arm where Demetri’s fingers had been.
Her father watched him, took a step back and plastered on his usual fake smile. ‘An excellent party, Christo. It does Atlas Shipping’s history great justice.’
Tito Lambros played the charming man well. She knew better. He might sound warm and interested. She could feel the strike of cold steel underneath.
Christo pushed between her and Demetri, towering over the men in her family.
‘Are you troubling Thea?’
No niceties from her husband. His voice was stark and brutal. He wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her close.
‘Someone needs to keep her under control,’ said Demetri.
Christo turned to her brother and pinned him with a withering look. ‘What are you afraid of, Demetri? That if you let Thea be herself she’ll outwit you? I’m sorry to say she already has.’
‘She’s making a mockery of us—displaying herself in that dress,’ her father drawled, looking her up and down as if she was tainted.
‘The only thing I see is an exquisite woman wearing the gift I gave her.’ Christo’s hand squeezed her hip. ‘If you and your son don’t appreciate that, you can leave our home.’
Her father held up his hands as if in surrender. Thea knew too well it was only for show.
‘A piece of advice, Christo, from an older man who’s been married to a younger woman. It’s easy to be blinded by beauty. Let your wife rule your home at your peril. Take your father—’
‘I’ll only take advice on marriage from a person who’s had a successful one.’
Thea had never really taken notice of how her father, brother and Christo were together. Now she saw. Their dislike was palpable, and the air vibrated with mutual loathing.
‘Then we’ll leave you both to your obvious happiness.’ Her father turned to her and fixed her with his reptilian gaze. ‘Remember what I said. We’ll have lunch. It’s been too long since we’ve seen you.’
She shivered. The thought of sitting down to a meal with her father was about as welcome as the thought of being thrown into a tank of piranha fish.
‘Yes,’ said Demetri, looking at them both with contempt. ‘Tonight isn’t the time. It’s all about celebrating your husband’s exploits.’
As Demetri moved to go Christo gripped his arm, his tanned knuckles blanching as he did so. The two men stood there, glaring at each other. Demetri’s gaze was tinged with fear; Christo’s brimmed with pure hatred.
His lips contorted in a false smile, vicious and predatory. ‘Touch Thea again and I will make you bleed.’
She gasped. The threat so bold, the violence underlying it so blatant.
Demetri said nothing. He nodded his head and wrenched his arm away, scuttling into the crowd.
Thea wilted. The only thing holding her upright was Christo’s strong arm around her waist.
Dipping his head, he murmured, ‘We need some time. Come with me.’
He steered her through the crowd to a quiet corner behind some freshly installed midnight-blue velvet curtains. Her whole body shook. Christo wrapped his arms around her. Drew her close. He’d said he’d protect her, and he had. That meant more to her than she could ever have imagined.
She rested her head on his chest, relishing his warmth. He stroked her back as her shivering subsided, whispering gentle words.
‘I should never have left you alone... I didn’t believe they’d be brazen enough... Not in our home...’
Everyone would think they were having a touching moment. No one would realise he was stitching her back together. Soothing her with his quiet strength. The solid beat of his heart.
‘I’m fine now,’ she said, pulling away. ‘I need to go and find Elena. You invited her here for me.’
Christo cupped her jaw, looked into her eyes. She hated that he could see everything—especially her weakness.
‘Are you sure? You don’t have to stay any longer. I can say you were tired.’
She shook her head. ‘Now you’ve put my father and Demetri in their place it’ll be okay.’
Or would it? Considering what her father had said, the threats he’d made? She needed to warn Christo.
‘My father said he could ruin you. Take everything away. Is that true?’
A flash of red heightened his cheeks and Christo dropped his head, a frown marring his perfect features. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers. ‘I should have told you.’
‘About what?’
His shoulders rose and fell with a slow breath. ‘Atlas owes money to your father’s bank. Hector let the payments fall behind. Our marriage prevented your father calling in the debt.’
A terrible chill ran through her. Her father’s ruthlessness in business was renowned. He would have used the situation to his every advantage. Christo had said in the beginning that he needed her. She hadn’t realised how badly.
‘How did this happen?’
Christo’s jaw clenched hard. The party carried on around them. Champagne flowed. Such a celebration. And yet there was nothing to celebrate
