He wouldn’t act on any of it. But seeing her again—seeing her smile when he gave her the news about her brother—that was all the reward he needed.
Christo stalked downstairs, searching. Thea wasn’t by the pool, lazing in the sunshine, showing off the slick honey-bronze skin he’d fantasised about too many times to count. Nor was she in her favourite place, at the table under a gnarled olive tree overhanging one of the more secluded terrace areas.
He’d joked that she hid from him there, and yet more often than not they’d both migrate to the dappled shade and drink coffee, whilst Thea tried to embarrass him in front of the staff with increasingly fanciful untruths.
He laughed—then stopped. Lies. Their whole liaison was built on them.
He looked up at the hazy sky peeking through green-grey leaves. Nothing here was based on truth but her naked body. Their soft, luscious kisses. They spoke of a truth all their own. And the way she’d screamed his name... There had been no lies there.
Something about her absence chastened him. She obviously didn’t care when or if he returned. Nothing he wasn’t used to. His parents had taught him well to have no expectations of being remembered. And, of course, it wasn’t as if he’d left Thea a detailed itinerary. Part of his attempt to remind her that their relationship was a business arrangement.
Although his body didn’t feel as if it was all business. He ached for her with a bone-deep hunger. Still, she could have found out about his return if she’d asked the right people. No, he’d clearly been harbouring vain hopes that she might have missed him. A ridiculous notion, and one he needed to overcome immediately.
He walked inside and checked the time. After a quick shower he could be back in his office, since there was nothing to keep him here.
As he walked towards the central stairs and his suite, he saw Anna.
She smiled. ‘Mr Callas. Welcome home.’
He nodded as he passed her. ‘Thank you.’
She’d probably know where Thea had gone, but it was none of his business. Still, he stopped and turned.
‘Do you know where my wife is?’
A casual request. It would have been unusual if he hadn’t asked. That was all.
‘She’s gone to her father’s.’
Christo stilled. That wasn’t a place she’d have travelled to willingly. His gut tightened.
‘When?’ The word came out sharper than he would have liked.
Anna frowned. ‘An hour ago...maybe more?’
Hours? There was no prospect that she’d spend more than minutes there. Had she been called over? She could be alone with that pig Demetri. Without anyone to protect her.
‘Why did she go?’
‘She said she had to find—’
‘Has anyone heard from her? Or from Sergei?’
Christo tore the phone from his pocket and dialled the bodyguard’s number. The phone rang. Nothing. He tried Thea. The same.
He looked back towards Anna. She blushed.
‘Have I heard from Sergei? No...’
‘From Thea? Please, it’s important.’
‘No. Nothing...’
Christo raked his hands through his hair, sucked in a steadying breath. He’d go to the Lambros home. Confront them. Get Thea back. If they’d touched her...
He swore.
‘I’m leaving.’
Anna nodded. ‘I’ll call your driver.’
‘No.’
He needed speed. As fast as his driver was, he’d take too much interest in Christo’s safety. Christo didn’t care about himself. All he wanted was to find Thea and bring her home. Protect her, as he’d promised.
‘My keys. For the fastest car.’
‘I don’t know which—’
‘Sports car. Black.’
‘But all your cars are bl—’
There was no time for this. ‘I’ll find them.’
If they’d hurt Thea he’d tear them apart, no matter the consequences. Christo clenched his fists. And if Sergei had allowed it to happen the man would never work again.
He calculated the time. It would take him twenty minutes to reach the house. And ten minutes to raze their world to the ground if they didn’t tell him where she was.
His footsteps echoed against the walls. The door to the garage lay ahead.
Voices. He stopped. The door opened. Thea.
She walked through, sheathed in an inky black dress with her hair slicked back. Sergei followed her into the hall. His usually impassive face was cracked and worried.
Christo rushed forward, anger breaking like a wave on a reef. ‘Did they hurt you?’
She looked up, her face pale and grey as moonlight. He caught her as she slumped into him.
‘I need to go upstairs. Shower.’
Her voice was soft and fragile as a moth’s wing. Christo swung her into his arms, where she clung. So light...so brittle. Like if he squeezed too hard she’d shatter.
He stalked past the staff, all their faces tinged with concern. The realisation hit him. They cared for her. Deeply. In the time she’d been with him she’d made her mark.
His jaw clenched as a strange thought came over him. This was how it should have been on their wedding night. Sweeping her into his arms. Carrying her upstairs to their room. Making love to her. Loving her. It should have been the happiest day of her life rather than what she’d actually had.
The guilt flooded over him, tainting him like a slick of oil. He needed to wash them both clean of it.
Christo carried her into his suite, set her down in the bathroom. A thready pulse flickered at the base of her throat. She stepped out of her shoes as he turned on the shower, scalding hot. Steam fogged the room.
‘Why, Thea?’
She looked down at her feet and shook her head. He moved behind her and undid her zip, let the dress fall from her body. He unhooked her bra, slid her underwear down her legs till she stood there naked. He removed the pins from her tight bun and ran his fingers through her hair as it tumbled around her shoulders. He took off his watch, kicked off his shoes. Not caring that he was clothed, Christo walked her under the coursing water and held her close.
She trembled in his arms. Her skin was
