Revelations Of His Runaway Bride (Mills & Boon Modern)

by Kali Anthony

  She stood like a cornered animal. Eyes wide, body stiff. He didn’t want that. He wanted her soft and pliant and pleading to be sated.

  ‘What were you doing?’

  ‘Putting out the candles.’

  Thea was the expert at never really answering a question. Why had she mastered that skill? He could ask, but chose not to. He didn’t think she’d tell him even if he did.

  ‘You’ll burn yourself.’

  ‘I never have before.’

  And there was the tiny truth he’d longed for—though he wasn’t sure what it meant. He searched her face for any hint. Her expression gave him nothing, but she looked pale. Like a Technicolor picture fading to sepia, all the vibrancy leached from her. Unlike when they’d kissed this morning. Then, she’d glowed.

  ‘I wanted to thank you for tonight,’ he said.

  She had an innate sense for the role of gracious hostess, charming men and women alike. For that he was indebted to her.

  ‘There’s no need. I had a job to do.’

  How selfish he’d been. He should have rescheduled the party, as he’d offered. A splinter of concern pricked at him. She’d only toyed with her dinner tonight, and he noticed her dress hung loosely on her curves.

  ‘You aren’t well. Don’t think I haven’t appreciated your efforts.’

  ‘I’m used to it. It’s little different from my father’s demands.’

  He hated the comparison to her father. Just as he hated the dull, dead tone to her voice and the lack of light in her eyes. Where had all her flash and fire gone?

  ‘I thought you might like to share a coffee with me before I leave.’

  Perhaps he could forgo his obligations for one night. Instead coax Thea to indulge in the pleasure of burning together once more.

  She cocked her head, narrowed her gaze. In that moment she made him feel like a schoolboy, asking out his first date. He had an insane desire to peer down at his shoes and scuff them on the carpet.

  ‘Where are you headed?’ she asked, her face bland and unreadable.

  Another request from him left unanswered.

  ‘We’re meeting at someone’s club.’

  Somewhere that was by invitation only. Discreet. Where morals could be compromised or forgotten. The sort of place he despised.

  The prospect of spending time there exhausted him. At least being newly married he could reject the menu he’d be offered there without anyone questioning it. Tonight would cost him only money, not his soul. All he had to do was keep his father’s associates happy and try to recover what Hector had wrecked—ensure the upcoming celebration of Atlas Shipping’s seventy-fifth year didn’t become a wake instead.

  ‘Ah. More business.’

  He didn’t miss the raised eyebrow, her loaded tone. He could show her again how they combusted together. Then she’d ask him to stay.

  Christo took a step forward. Thea stepped back, eyes wary. He hesitated. She didn’t desire this like he did. So he couldn’t ignore his gentlemen guests’ request to take tonight’s party elsewhere.

  ‘Sadly,’ he said, and meant it. But he knew too well when he wasn’t wanted.

  ‘I won’t keep you from your fun.’ She gave a wan smile. ‘I’m tired. I want to go to bed.’

  Thea blew out the last candle, plunging the room into darkness. He watched as she walked down the hall, slender fingers still clenched over her wax-encrusted palm.

  Thea sat up with a jolt, heart pounding, a slick ache between her thighs. She pushed her palms into her eyes and rubbed till bright flashes burst behind her lids.

  She was trying and failing, to scrub away a dream of she and Christo entwined. Touching. Tasting. Indulging in her sleep, what she wouldn’t take for herself when awake. The vestiges of desire clung, making her nipples hard knots, abrading even under the soft fabric of her top.

  She could ease the ache herself. It wouldn’t take much—not the way she felt...

  No. Christo would remain off-limits in both fantasy and reality. It was safer that way.

  She picked up her phone to check the time, noticed the message alert flashing bright. Two in the morning, meaning it was about eight in the morning at home in Athens. A message. Alexis. Could it be?

  Thea grappled with the handset. Fumbled her password twice before succeeding.

  Her heart leapt for a moment, then her shoulders dropped as she saw the name. Not Alexis. Demetri.

  You’re taking your time.

  He was referring to the information her father had demanded about Christo’s business. She wanted no part of this, or their shady schemes. Whatever information her father and Demetri requested, it wasn’t for honest reasons.

  Thea typed her reply. Damn her clumsy, trembling fingers.

  Go to hell.

  A response pinged back.

  Will see Alexis there first if you don’t get what we want.

  She swallowed the tight ball closing her throat. There it was. The threat. The reason they’d reported him to the police. Her fault—again.

  She tossed her phone onto the bed. Choked back a sob. She had no way of easing the emotional pain threatening to crack her. The crushing pressure that made her want to scratch at her skin, to flay it from her body till she bled.

  Not even the bright burn of that candle wax had diminished the relentless ache. Thea rubbed at her palm, still tingling after all these hours. What a foolish move that had been—especially with Christo witnessing her weakness. She recognised that moment earlier for what it had evidenced. Desperation. Where was all her caution, her control?

  She curled into a ball on the bed for a few moments and then rose, refusing to lie there and feel sorry for herself. She needed to do something—anything to keep moving, give herself time to think.

  Her stomach griped with the twin agony of nerves and hunger pangs, punishing her for not having eaten enough. That was as good a motivation as any.

  She traipsed down the unlit hall towards the kitchen. The astonishing New York skyline glittered through every window, lighting up the space in its silvery glow. She glanced over the view, unmoved.

  Once at the refrigerator, she grabbed some bread, cheese and milk—ate in the comforting darkness because she didn’t care what she put into her stomach so long as that crippling inertia didn’t steal over her again.

  The apartment lay silent. Sergei and Anna were sensibly asleep. Christo was still out. It was better that she didn’t see him. Her emotions regarding the man were a tangle she couldn’t sort through. Simpler to avoid it. Anyhow, they’d be returning to Greece soon. Back to the numbing routine of Christo working long hours and her futile efforts to find Alexis.

  She needed someone with different skills. Perhaps Sergei would help? Anna had told her he’d been in the Special Forces in his home country. But how to convince a man as immovable as a hunk of concrete to assist her?

  Thea was contemplating any number of ways to approach Sergei on the way back to her room. No option stood out. But as she padded down the hallway noises stopped her. A rustle, a smothered giggle...

  She moved towards the sound, beckoned by the soft, golden glow coming from the direction of Christo’s study. The door was slightly ajar. She heard whispers. Male and female. The clatter of pens falling. She walked faster. Heart pounding. Drawn towards the light with a sense of dread.

  She’s heard enough to recognise that murmured intimacies were being exchanged. They didn’t have a real marriage, but surely Christo wouldn’t bring someone back here? After he’d touched her? So clearly displayed his desire? Though she knew men lied about fidelity all the time. Men like her father. And where else would Christo go if he didn’t want to be caught and their marriage exposed as a fraud?

  She didn’t understand why the thought seized her with a sense of humiliation as she approached the door.

  She heard a breat
hy sigh, a male groan—‘Agapi mou...’—and her humiliation exploded in a screaming hot conflagration which roared through her. She couldn’t see anything through the crack of the door, but to hell with Christo bringing someone to the apartment after demanding that theirs must appear like a real marriage in all respects. How dared he? After kissing her? Making her feel?

  She flung the door back. Stormed in. Wild. Not caring what she’d find.

  Wide eyes. Gasps of shock. The scramble of two people caught out. Anna was on Christo’s desk, her hair a tumbled mess, her skirt hitched high on her thighs. And Sergei was standing there. Stripped to the waist.

  ‘Mrs Callas—I can explain,’ Sergei said as Anna clutched at her open blouse.

  Thea held up her hand to stop him. What she’d interrupted had only just started. Relief washed over her like a warm shower—to be quickly replaced by a calculated resolve.

  Sergei didn’t attempt more excuses, only glanced down at Anna, cupped her jaw in what seemed like a moment of reassurance. But that look... Tight with concern and brimming with something else. Softness, intent... She recognised it instantly. Love.

  In that moment Thea was assailed by two thoughts. The first was a terrifying craving for Christo to look at her with the same expression Sergei had given Anna. The second was the realisation that she now had the means to make her bodyguard do anything she desired.

  ‘No need for explanations,’ she said, her voice firm and hard. ‘We won’t mention this again. But I want you to find Alexis Anastos for me. And, Sergei...? You will not tell Mr Callas.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘IF HE’S STILL in Greece he remains well hidden, even though his bank accounts are frozen.’

  Thea stiffened at the sound of Sergei’s voice as he approached her where she sat on the private terrace under an ancient olive tree. She put down her coffee. The dappled morning light shifted over an uneaten breakfast. Despite Sergei’s efforts since they’d returned to Athens, Alexis hadn’t been found. Reason told her to remain calm. But the clawing fear that he was out there alone, without money or help, tore in her abdomen.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, as Sergei positioned himself at the end of the table. ‘Do you think he might have left the country?’

  ‘Anything’s possible.’

  She read between his words. Crossing borders illegally cost money. And right now Alexis had nothing. That meant he needed her help.

  ‘Keep looking.’

  Sergei cleared his throat. ‘I’m not comfortable about this.’

  She picked up her coffee and took a long sip, peering at him over the rim of the cup. They’d had this discussion many times before Sergei had finally agreed to help her.

  ‘I wasn’t comfortable about finding you half-naked in my husband’s office. Let’s both bear it as best we can—for Anna’s sake.’

  His expression didn’t change. He stood inhumanly still, legs apart, hands behind his back, staring blankly over her head. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Remember—I’ll keep your secrets if you keep mine.’

  Thea loathed this. Loathed the things she’d said to garner his cooperation. It was clear he’d do anything to protect the woman he loved, so that was whose job she’d threatened. He didn’t need to know she’d never tell Christo. In fact Anna was turning into more of a friend than an employee. But Thea was trying to protect someone she loved too. And she’d go to any lengths—just like Sergei would.

  ‘Excellent.’ She slid a piece of paper towards him. ‘Now that’s settled, today I want to go here.’

  That simple act, making her request, led to the slow unknotting of the muscles in her neck. Sergei couldn’t object, and here was a way to relieve some of the tension winding her so tight she felt her bones were bound to splinter.

  Sergei picked up the note, looked at it, at her and then back at the note. A muscle ticked in his cheek. ‘Mr Callas was specific in his instructions when he engaged me, and—’

  ‘Again, there’s no need for Christo to know.’ Anger bubbled inside her, hot and thick. Sergei’s job wasn’t to keep her safe. Christo had merely subcontracted the role of her nanny and jailer because he couldn’t be bothered doing it himself.

  ‘I can keep the fact I’m looking for someone behind Mr Callas’s back a secret. But...’ He held up the scrap of paper with a name and address on it between his fingers, hissing his words through gritted teeth. ‘A tattoo?’

  ‘Your job is to keep to our agreement. Mine’s to deal with Christo.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Every action has consequences. Take responsibility for yours and let me worry about my own.’

  Sergei looked heavenward and muttered something. It might have been a curse, or even a prayer. She waited for him to finish.

  ‘Do you know where this place is?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes.’ He screwed up the piece of paper and stuffed it into his trouser pocket. ‘It’s where I get mine. Shall I call for the car now?’

  She raised her cup to him in a toast. ‘Perfect.’

  They drove to the tattoo parlour without speaking. Sergei was taciturn at the best of times. Today his silence seemed ominous. As they parked, she tried not to think about how Christo would feel, or why his good opinion mattered.

  Sergei scanned the narrow back street. After a short while he opened her door and ushered her out. ‘Would you like me to come in and hold your hand?’ His words were dry as alum.

  She patted his rock-solid forearm. ‘I bet I have more tattoos than you.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘I doubt it. Perhaps when you’re done we could compare?’

  Thea laughed. His sense of humour was unexpected. She saw why Anna liked him. ‘Now, how would we explain that scene to Mr Callas?’

  Sergei grunted in reply as they walked into the bright white waiting room. He took his place, standing to attention near the door.

  Thea was invited through by a large man with more ink than bare skin. Not her usual artist, but it didn’t matter. She riffled through a portfolio of his work. He appeared skilled. Anyway, she knew what she wanted. She couldn’t turn back now. The need for it slid through her veins like a drug.

  She took off her shirt, felt her heartbeat slowing to a sleepy rhythm.

  The man moved behind her. ‘Nice. And you want another where?’

  ‘At the end. Follow what I designed with Marco last time. Make sure it stays below the bra line.’

  She lay forward, relaxing as the man prepared. Calm spread over her at the familiar routine, soft and cocooning as a goose down quilt. This was her reward. For the forced marriage. For every hurt. No matter how hard people tried to shape her into their own image, no one could steal the essence of her. Here was her proof—in the secrets scribed on her body.

  ‘Ready?’ the man asked.

  ‘Yes.’ It was almost a sigh of relief. She smiled and closed her eyes as the needle bit into her skin.

  Something had changed. Thea seemed happier. There was a sense of peace about her now, as they sat down to breakfast. She glowed with a mysterious, ethereal kind of beauty that tugged at him.

  Christo had seen that look in women who were pregnant, the secret joy. Strange imagining that with her when it was impossible. Yet still the thought trickled through him with a slide of warmth.

  Rather than picking at the food, as she’d done since New York, today she ate a large meal. It pleased him in an inexplicable way to see her looking more settled. He wasn’t sure why he cared. Yet he felt a deep satisfaction in her new-found happiness.

  A partnership. That was how their relationship had begun to feel. Something he’d never expected when he’d checked off the list of things he must do to ensure Atlas’s safety.

  What would it be like to have a true partnership? A woman in his mind, his bed, his heart?

  He looked over the table at his wife. Strange how he’d never thought he’d
ever be married. Especially now there was an odd companionship in their forced togetherness. Some comfort in having another person in his home who might learn to care, as he was learning.

  Thea. A luminous mystery...so much of her hidden. The desire to unlock her secrets, stuck under his skin. To inflame the passion which kindled between them. No games. No reining anything in. Both of them allowed free flight to every fantasy.

  He’d felt in New York how it would be, with the force of a blow. All his desires exploding into life in the bright burst that was Thea.

  She looked at him and smiled, a soft tilt to her lips. The allure of her rushed through him, and a clutch of need gripped him in a way he’d never felt.

  ‘There are some more people you’ll meet at the party,’ he said, trying to ignore the pull that drew him to her.

  Thea sipped a coffee, her lipstick leaving a pale pink stain on the cup. ‘Who are they and what should I know?’

  ‘More business contacts.’

  ‘What about friends?’

  ‘No.’

  A faint frown marred her brow. ‘Do you have any?’ she said, like it was a surprise to her that he could be close to anyone.

  Christo hesitated. Thea was nearer to the truth than she realised. But why did he feel the need to explain? They had a business deal. He would simply dictate the terms and she’d do what he wanted, without the need to bare his soul. Yet that look of hers judged him, as lethal as a stab to the heart.

  ‘Of course.’

  Except he spent all his time bolstering Atlas. Nothing else had mattered for longer than he remembered. Including other people. He scrubbed his hands over his face, every part of him weary.

  She shrugged. ‘Tell me what I need to know and I’ll be ready.’

  Thea always assimilated the information he gave her and used it in the most gracious of ways. Making every person she met feel special, as if they were old friends. There was strength in her. She didn’t want this, yet she carried on with persistence and dedication. And that part of her glowed more brightly than mere beauty ever could, lighting the darkest places of him.