by Kali Anthony
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 sheets he’d burned to have her with him, head thrown back, gasping for breath as pleasure overwhelmed her.
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 still cold even with the heat pounding it.
Christo took some soap, slicking it over her back and down her arms. He turned her around, checking for any sign she’d been hurt. She leaned forward, splaying her hands on the wall for support as he kept up his slow exploration.
It could almost have been worship as he knelt at her feet, looking up as the water sluiced down her spine through ribbons of dark hair. The light above shone like a halo over her head. He worked slowly. Massaged the taut, bunched muscles of her calves till they relaxed. Stroked the smooth skin of her thighs until she moaned, soft and long.
The sound punched his gut. Whatever haunted her, he’d wash her clean of it. Then he stood. His trousers were tight, the fine wool shrunken. Moving to her hair, he washed it, his nails scraping her scalp. Her head tipped back, her eyes closed, and mascara running down her cheeks in black streaks. He wiped away the last traces with a flannel.
When he was sure he’d washed off as much of the taint of the day as he could, he cast his ruined clothes aside. Turned off the scalding water and lashed a thick towel around his waist.
Then he grabbed a bathrobe from the back of the door and dressed her in it with care. In the oversized garment she looked tiny, vulnerable. He towelled her hair, swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed. The bed he’d sworn never to take her to again. But she needed him now.
He settled with her on the covers, cradling her as she nestled into him, female perfection in his arms. Her damp hair lay cool against his chest. He held her tight. She had to know she was safe. Here, with him.
And he asked the question again. ‘Why did you go to your father’s?’
There was nothing for a heartbeat, and then her slender shoulders rose and fell in a heavy sigh.
‘I went there for you.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NO. NO. SHE shouldn’t have placed herself at risk. Not for him. He’d never have asked, knowing what he did now about her father and brother. To think she’d thrust herself in harm’s way—and for what? There was nothing worth the price she might have paid.
‘Thea. I’d never have asked you.’
‘I know. But my father... Demetri. They won’t let you go. They said they’d destroy you. I had to do something.’
He tightened his arms around her. In that moment he would have given her anything. Anything she wanted. ‘I told you—Raul and I have enough.’
‘I knew I could access the house. I thought maybe on the computers... I wanted to give you more.’
Christo tensed. He had strong circumstantial evidence. Enough for the authorities. But irrefutable proof... Surely it wasn’t that easy?
‘I tried, but couldn’t figure out the password. He’d changed it.’
Christo relaxed. Of course. Nothing was ever easy for him. It didn’t matter anyway—all he cared about was what had caused the fear he’d had to cleanse from her skin. Because if anyone had hurt her he’d chase them to the gates of Hades and cast them into its pits for eternity.
‘What happened?’
‘No one was supposed to be there. Then Demetri arrived. I couldn’t avoid him.’ Her voice cracked. ‘I pretended I was looking for my mother’s necklace. I’d taken it there. It was in my handbag. I showed it to him.’
He cradled her close. ‘Did he believe you?’
‘He said that my mother never changed her will. That my father inherited everything so the necklace was his. Demetri snatched it away and kept it.’ She shuddered.
That she’d risked herself for him, tore Christo’s heart in two.
‘I’ll get it back. I promise you.’
She didn’t seem to hear him, her voice broken and strained. ‘It was worth nothing. A St Christopher medal. My mother gave it to me...said we would be travelling...it would keep us safe. She arranged to take me away one day. I waited in the kitchens by the door. Waited and waited and she didn’t come. She was run down by a car in the street near the house. She was coming for me and she died.’
A tight curl of rage twisted in his chest. Demetri would not keep that heirloom from Thea. He had no right to it other than out of a belief driven by his own bitterness and hatred.
Christo began to move, but she held him tight.
‘Don’t leave me.’
He settled back into the covers. ‘I won’t.’
Right now, he’d give her whatever she asked. He kissed the top of her head. Her hair was now drying in a tangled mass. He ran his fingers through it to straighten it, easing out the knots. He still had information for her—some measure of happiness he could offer as part of his penance. The news from Raul.
‘We’ve found Alexis.’
Thea stiffened in his arms. Then the sobbing began—heaving gulps with no control. Crying till his chest was soaked with her tears.
‘He’s been living rough, but Raul has him safe. It’s better that you don’t know where he is for now.’
‘Thank you.’
The sobs subsided to a quiet weeping. He continued combing his fingers through the silken strands of her hair, smoothing them into a coffee-coloured river on his chest. Trying to soothe the pain their marriage had caused her yet again.
‘Raul can take a message to him. No other communication’s wise until we deal with these false charges.’
Thea nodded, then spoke, her breath warm against his chest. ‘I took pictures.’ Her words scraped out, barely a whisper.
‘Of what?’
Thea grew heavy against him, her limbs soft and supple. He ached to ease her onto her back. To caress her body till she wept from pleasure, not heartache. But he wouldn’t take any more from her. He’d taken enough.
‘The old things he loves better than me. The antiquities...’
And as Christo wrapped his arms around her he realised that she might have saved him after all.
A dull ache throbbed at Thea’s temples. She’d handed her phone to Christo and told him to go. To download the photographs and send them to Raul. Not that she’d wanted him to leave. What she wanted was to kiss him until his lips and tongue erased the day from her body and soul. But all he’d do was hold her.
She must have slept. The shadows were now long. A golden glow filled the room. She rolled over in bed and saw him. A tall, dark shape in the doorway. She held out her hand. He walked in and took it, kissing her fingertips, the bed dipping as he sat on its edge.
‘Did Raul find anything?’
‘He’ll search the lost antiquities registers. It’ll take time.’
Christo brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. She closed her eyes and relished the stroke of his fingertips, her body liquefying at his touch. He was so solid. She felt no fear when he was close. Only a calm, dreamlike stillness. Like a drug to balm her anxious soul.
His finger ran along the edge of the collar of her robe, following it to where it plunged between her breasts. ‘Promise me something, Thea.’
His face was dark and serious. So beautiful. As she’d always imagined the embodiment of a god. Tall. Pure. Perfectly etched lines.
Her breath hitched as the gentle stroke of his fingers started through her hair. ‘What?’
‘Never take a risk for me again. It’s not worth it.’
She touched her hand to the side of his face. It was what he hadn’t said that spoke volumes. Christo had never been shown love as a child. He couldn’t understand. He was worth it.
‘Then don’t leave me again,’ she said.
He smiled, but only with his mouth. His eyes looked soft and sad. Her heart cracked. He continued stroking her. Gentle caresses that drove her to the edge of insanity. Her skin heated and prickled under the robe. An ache throbbed between her thighs. If only his hand would drift lower...trail burning fingertips down her abdomen to stoke the heat between her legs till they both caught fire and burned.
‘I’ve taken enough. I won’t have you trading your safety as well.’
She had a kernel of a thought—bright and bold. ‘Are you saying you’re indebted to me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I want—’
‘Anything.’
‘Make love to me.’
He stopped, and that was the cruellest torture of all. She’d combust right here if he didn’t keep touching her. How could he have such control? Every nerve sang for him. Tight, shimmering and alive with his closeness.
‘You said anything, Christo.’
The ghost of a smile played on his lips. ‘I did.’
He leaned forward, placing his forearms on either side of her head. His nose touched hers, his breath caressing her cheek. He brushed his lips along the shell of her ear. Trailed kisses down her neck. She arched her back, a shiver of anticipation running through her. Her breath was coming in soft pants. Her hands worked at the tie of her robe.
‘Patience,’ he whispered. ‘Lie still.’
She did as he asked. Waited.
The slow slide of his lips on her skin trac
ed her jaw in languid kisses till he reached her mouth. His lips hovered above hers. She moaned. His mouth captured the sound, his tongue plundering as it joined hers in an erotic dance.
She wrapped her arms around his muscular torso, his back flexing and tense. His left hand moved to the tie of her robe and undid the knot in one swift pull, easing the fabric open so cool air washed over her. He cupped the underside of her left breast. Traced his fingers to the nipple which he rolled with exquisite care between his fingers.
An arrow of heat tore through her body, shocking between her legs. He skimmed a hand down her side and her thighs relaxed, moved apart. Inviting him.
‘My beautiful wife...’ he murmured.
She lay almost naked. He was fully clothed. The brush of his cotton shirt against her sensitive skin. The crisp smell of starch, the soft, smooth wool of his trousers. Her every nerve stood on end in anticipation. She squirmed and gasped and moaned at the suck and swipe of his tongue as he teased each nipple in turn.
‘You want something? Hmm?’
The only sound she could utter was one of frustration. It had been over a week since his hands had been on her body. She was plump, ripe, desperate to be devoured.
Christo’s tongue traced down her abdomen. He blew on the moist trail. Goose bumps bloomed on her overheated skin. He circled her navel and moved lower, then lower.
Thea held her breath. Waiting. He dipped between her legs, teasing softly. She gasped, almost leaping from the bed. He held her hips still.
‘It’s all for you.’
He slid his hands under her backside, cupping it, bringing her body to his mouth. His tongue explored with maddening precision. She raked her hands through his hair before gripping tight. Tried to hold him in place whilst the rest of her fought to escape the blinding sensation hitting her like lightning.
It was too much. The insistent stroke of his tongue. The crisp cotton where her legs touched his shirt. The stubble of his chin scratching the soft skin of her inner thigh as he feasted. Her world became the swirl of his tongue. The sparks of bright light flickering and shimmering behind her closed eyes. The noises she made. Breathy sounds, pleading for release as he taunted her with pleasure, taking her higher and higher till she was ready to soar, afraid to leap because it would ruin her.