Demetri had been lost even then. And one day her mother had become lost to her as well.
She forced away the memories as she made her way to the massive doors of the house. They cracked open as she arrived, and she was welcomed like a lost child. A few of the older staff remembered her mother’s death. She’d never forgotten their kindness that had made the harsh, cruel days a little softer.
They ushered her inside. No, she wouldn’t take coffee today, she said. She was only looking for her mother’s necklace, which she thought she’d tucked away safely in her room. Yes, it was a shame her father wasn’t here to see her. They all nodded, as if they understood. Though none of them could know the true extent of her suffering here.
Thea hurried up the stairs, her stomach cramping as she moved deeper into the house. Her nerves eased a little as she went into her room to fulfil the story she’d concocted. This space had been her one place of respite in the whole home, but still it oppressed her.
She fingered the necklace in her bag for reassurance. There was no time to dwell on the past. She had to move quickly to get out of this place.
Thea opened a few drawers and cupboards, to ensure the room looked searched, then set off down the hall for her father’s study. On the way she passed Demetri’s suite. The door was closed, but still a wave of nausea crippled her.
She stopped and leaned on the wall for a moment, regaining her composure. She was safe. He didn’t live here anymore. But the memories had never left. The hair-pulling and tripping as a child, which had escalated to far worse. Her father never caring.
She swallowed and kept walking. She reached her father’s study and slipped into the room. During those times he’d cut her off from the world she’d managed to sneak in and access the computer here. A poorly guarded thing, because her father thought himself impenetrable. She’d never looked for anything incriminating, only interested in getting messages to Elena and having some meagre contact with the outside world, but she felt sure there was something here that would help Christo.
Thea wiped clammy palms on her dress. She sat in the hard leather chair and fished a USB from her handbag. Switching on the computer, she waited until the lock screen appeared, asking for the password. Her father rarely changed it. When he did, in all his arrogance, he made it the name of his latest acquisition.
Her fingers trembled on the keyboard as she tried the last password—the name of his yacht, Siren. It failed. What could it be now? She took a few breaths to steady herself. There was time. His new mistress Athena? That might be it. Nothing. The date of her wedding? No. Her heartbeat spiked in panic. Atlas Shipping? Because she was sure her father coveted that too.
Nothing worked.
She pressed her palms to her eyes. She’d failed. Failed Christo. The realisation sat like a leaden weight in her stomach. What to do now?
She looked up, feeling small and ill. Like the little girl her father and Demetri had tried to defeat. Well, they wouldn’t beat her. She cast her eyes around the room. Looked at all the treasures—those old, mouldering things Tito loved more than his living, breathing daughter. A new statue stood in the corner. Some bronzed sculpture of a Hindu god. She’d never seen it before. What if it hadn’t been honestly purchased?
Thea shut down the computer, grabbed her phone from her bag and took a picture. Artefacts. She left the study and ran from room to room, snapping photographs of antiquities. It was a long shot, but the house was huge and there were rooms she hadn’t explored since she was a child, many of them closed off. Now she opened every door, taking photos of what she could.
Finally she entered a small room she’d never seen before. It contained a desk and a bank of monitors, showing views from all areas of the house. A security room. She stared at the screens as if they might disclose some secrets. Show her a place she hadn’t searched. They all flicked scratchily between different views except for one. It was fixed on the front door and drive.
And then she saw it. The sleek black car. A man getting out. Stopping briefly at the entrance. Looking up at the security camera for a second.
Demetri.
Thea froze. Then she ran.
Christo bounded up the stairs two at a time. Even in his jet it had been a gruelling flight after his tour of South East Asia’s ports. Still, entering through the door of his home he felt seized with a burst of energy. He had news about Alexis.
Christo walked past his suite towards Thea’s room, tearing at his tie and jacket on the way. He knocked on the door and opened it before there was any answer. Her scent permeated the air. Spice and honey. His heartbeat accelerated a notch. She hadn’t made the space her own. It still looked like the guest suite she’d taken over. Clearly to her it was a temporary residence, one she’d leave soon enough.
He rubbed at the strange burning in his chest. He shouldn’t be here. Not after giving the silent promise that he’d never touch her again. Though, to his shame, the horror of hurting her had subsided and his dreams were now plagued with visions of her golden skin and liquid amber eyes.
The memory of her perfume had sustained him through every smog-soaked city he’d visited. And on those lonely nights when he’d lain naked between expensive hotel
