by Maya Blake
His vision blurred for a moment, that wild hope dying a swift, merciless death. ‘How?’ Even as the hoarse demand erupted from his throat, he knew.
She’d overheard him.
Heard and had rightly condemned him for his actions. Dread spiralled through him. ‘Did you explain things to her?’
‘No... I couldn’t, could I? I signed the NDA—’
Zak bit back a snarl, the thought that she would leave her daughter to suffer just so she wouldn’t lose out financially making him want to lash out.
But he couldn’t. The blame was his alone. He’d acted without consulting her, taken steps to mitigate circumstances that might never have arisen. For all he knew, Margot Barringhall could’ve surprised him the way her daughter had already stunned him.
But hard lessons that’d shaped his life had urged him to react in the only way he knew how. He refocused as Margot’s undisguised panic drilled into his skull.
‘She’s threatening to disown me, Zak. She wants nothing to do with me. I might never meet my grandchild. I... You need to do something. Please. I can’t lose her.’
Zak hung up, his skin ashen, his mouth a thin white line. Margot Barringhall may have discovered her humanity too late to salvage her relationship with her daughter. And if Violet was threatening to disown her own mother, what chance did he have with her?
He’d faced down tyrants and dictators in his time in the military, thwarted threats against his family. Why did the thought of dealing with one woman terrify him?
Because she wasn’t just any woman.
She was the woman he loved.
* * *
Violet focused the fragments of attention she could summon on the wide screen that tracked the plane’s flight path to London. As if keeping it in sight would dull the pain rippling through her veins. She’d prayed she’d got it wrong, that she’d misinterpreted Zak’s conversation. But her mother’s caginess and eventual confession that her NDA forbade her from discussing her agreement with Zak had killed any last dregs of hope.
Seven short hours.
Then she could find a quiet hotel to hide away in. Having given up the flat she’d shared with Sage after her twin’s departure and her own temporary relocation to New York, Violet had nowhere to go save the house she’d grown up in, and she had no intention of returning to Barringhall. It hadn’t felt like home in a long time anyway. Knowing the very roof over her head was paid for with greed and shameless money-grabbing antics had soured it for her a long time ago.
She would give herself a few days, then start flat-and job-hunting. She had a baby coming. As much as she wanted to wallow in misery she—
She sucked in a breath as the plane banked sharply to the left. That in itself wasn’t unusual, but the onscreen map flickering off for a moment before returning with a different destination was what stopped her breath completely.
He wouldn’t dare!
Please, God, let him not do this. Violet didn’t think she could stand it. The moment the plane righted itself, she grabbed the phone that handily announced its connection with the pilot.
He answered on the first ring. ‘My apologies, Lady Barringhall, I was about to step out and apprise you of the flight plan change.’
‘Tell me we’re not returning to the island?’
‘Ah... I’m afraid I can’t.’ It didn’t help that he sounded genuinely regretful.
It didn’t help that her heart leapt for a wild, shameful moment before crashing harder than before. It didn’t help that when they landed back on the island an hour later, Zak stood on the tarmac, uncaring that his hair was wildly tousled by the turbulent air or that the all-white linen shirt and trousers only highlighted his perfection.
But she could help staying in her seat long after the pilot disembarked with his crew.
And she remained seated, her heart in her throat, as Zak watched her through the window until his staff drove away. Only then did he mount the stairs into the plane.
It’d only been a few hours since she’d seen him, but it felt like a lifetime had passed. He still looked devilishly breathtaking.
Formidable. Imperious. Calculating as he paused at the front of the plane, stormcloud eyes devouring her. After an age he turned to the door and pressed a series of buttons. In under a minute they were sealed in.
Panic flared through her but she fought to keep it from showing. ‘I’m starting to think you have a bondage fetish, Your Highness. Shall I add that to the list of your sins?’
He sauntered down the aisle, his watchful gaze unwavering. Expecting him to take the seat opposite, Violet let out a soft gasp when he sank to his knees in front of her. ‘Tell me what you intended to say at breakfast this morning, Violet.’
‘I told you, I don’t remember—’
He leaned forward, his throat moving convulsively. ‘Please, carissima. Tell me,’ he implored.
‘Why?’ she whispered.
His hands suddenly gripped hers, their fine tremor triggering an earthquake inside her. ‘Because I suspect I made a very terrible mistake in not delaying taking my brother’s call.’
The air left her lungs but she fought against the tendrils of hope teasing her shattered emotions. ‘Did Remi really call?’
He frowned, then nodded. ‘Of course. He called to tell me I’m to become an uncle. Why would you think otherwise?’
She held his gaze without answering, her eyes widening when sharp regret darkened his eyes. ‘You think I deceived you,’ he declared.
‘I spoke to my mother, Zak. And I heard you this morning.’
‘I know you did. She called to inform me.’
She gasped, pain stabbing her heart. ‘So what is this? Why bring me back here?’
‘Because I’m learning that my way of doing things won’t always reap the results I want.’
‘You think?’
His eyes glinted, his gaze dropping to her mouth before his expression tightened. ‘The moment you informed me you were carrying our child, very little else ceased to matter except ensuring your safety and welfare.’
She shook her head. ‘Don’t wrap it up in concern for me. You wanted me out of the way, hidden away like some dirty little secret—’
‘Hidden away, yes, but not like a secret.’ His jaw gritted for a moment before he continued. ‘My other reasons still apply but...my father’s generals, men he trusted, tried to target the throne within hours of his death. Montegova was birthed through war and bloodshed. My people can be a little...bloodthirsty. Luckily, I had a network of trusted men who don’t believe in senseless violence and tyranny.’
‘Is that why you’ve kept an eye on the current general?’
He nodded. ‘I vowed that we wouldn’t get caught with our guard down ever again. That included removing you from any possible line of attack.’
She gasped. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I was going to, eventually. But...this last week was special and I selfishly wanted to hang onto it.’ She was busy catching her breath when he added, ‘And then I was made aware of your mother’s activities.’
Her heart dropped. ‘My mother?’
His lips firmed. ‘She was pitting tabloids against each other, hoping to start a bidding war on a story about you. And me.’
A hot wave of shame engulfed her. But even through it, bitterness at his actions remained. ‘And so you bought her off.’
‘I offered her a different...better alternative.’
‘An alternative?’
‘A chance to celebrate her coming grandchild, rather than capitalise financially on the occasion. An interview with a journalist of my choice, to be aired with your strict approval once the baby was born and once you’d vetted every word. In return, I offered to settle her debts.’
‘What else did you do? Tell her to pressure me to marry you? To keep all of this fro
m her own daughter under threat of persecution from your non-disclosure agreement?’
His lips firmed, but he didn’t deny any of it. ‘Perhaps I was delusional but I didn’t want to entertain the thought that this week would end with you refusing to marry me. Dio mio, the possibility of you leaving me, despite everything I’d done...’ He shook his head. ‘I’m used to winning, Violet. To being in control.’
‘Because everyone around you expects it? Don’t you know that’s unrealistic?’
‘If I can’t hold myself accountable, how can I expect others to be?’
She frowned, her heart lurching at the pain in his voice. ‘Are you talking about your father again?’
Cold bleakness filled his eyes before they dropped to the hands clutching hers. ‘I wasted years believing he could walk on water. I even excused him when he didn’t display much affection, when he seemed especially harsh.’ He shrugged. ‘Trying to live with that lie has been...hard.’
She didn’t realise she’d twisted her fingers to entwine with his until he lifted hers to kiss her knuckles. ‘He shattered your trust, but not everyone is like that.’
‘Perhaps it was my misfortune to encounter those who reinforced that belief.’
‘Am I lumped with that lot?’
Her heart leapt when he immediately shook his head. ‘Not you, Violet. You turned my suspicions inside out. Dio, you turned me inside out,’ he rasped fervently. ‘Your passion. Your beauty. Your spirit, challenging me at every turn. I was addicted to you long before I had you in Tanzania.’
Her heart banged against her ribs. ‘What...what are you saying, Zak?’
‘That telling me about the baby was the perfect strategy I used to attempt to bind you to me. I could’ve picked anywhere in the world to bring you but I picked this island because I wanted to show you what we had in common. What we could achieve together.’
‘I saw,’ she murmured, almost too afraid to hope. ‘I saw and I yearned for it. So much it frightened me.’
He froze. ‘Violet?’ Her name was a thick, husky imploration.
She swayed towards him. ‘Yes, Zak.’
‘Tell me what you meant to say this morning,’ he repeated.
‘Why?’
Piercing eyes probed hers, his intentions blazing ferociously. ‘Because I love you. I will give my life to protect you and our child. I regret taking your choices away. Because I’m obsessed with you, with your passion. With your body. With your grace. With the humbling thought that you’re the one carrying my child, giving me the opportunity to be the kind of father I wanted mine to be.’
The depth of feeling in his voice shook her to the core. ‘Zak...’
‘Most of all, I want to do everything in my power to make you the happiest woman alive if it’s your intention to stay or move mountains to earn your love at some point in the future.’
‘So you’re not going to sic your lawyers on me?’ she teased.
‘They’re at the ready to agree to your every stipulation.’
‘Carte blanche? Really?’
A humbled look crossed his face, but since Zak was who he was, it didn’t linger for long. ‘I trust you, Violet. I’ve seen into your heart. I know you won’t keep my child from me simply to make us both suffer.’
Perhaps it was that final endorsement. Perhaps it was the pregnancy hormones. With a tearful gasp, she leaned into him until their noses brushed, until she was breathing his essence into herself, filling every cracked corner of her heart with him, letting him make her whole again.
‘Zak?’
‘Si, cara?’ he replied thickly, his gaze shifting from her eyes to her mouth.
‘I was going to say yes. Because I love and adore you too. Because I want to wear that ring you kept threatening me with. Because I want to be not just the Principessa on paper but the queen of your heart. Because I want half a dozen babies, and you seem enthusiastic enough to fulfil that particular fantasy.’
He caught her in his arms and laid her on the plush carpet in the aisle. ‘I don’t know, amore, it’s been a whole twelve hours since I last had you. I could be rusty, you know.’
She slid her arms around his neck. ‘Then we’d better find out, yes?’
‘Indeed, mi amore,’ he breathed as he divested her of her clothes. ‘With my love, my soul, and my everlasting pleasure.’
* * *
Swept away by Kidnapped for His Royal Heir? Lose yourself in these other stories by Maya Blake!
Crown Prince’s Bought Bride
An Heir for the World’s Richest Man
Claiming My Hidden Son
Bound by My Scandalous Pregnancy
Available now!
Keep reading for an excerpt from His Greek Wedding Night Debt by Michelle Smart.
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His Greek Wedding Night Debt
by Michelle Smart
CHAPTER ONE
HELENA ARMSTRONG GAVE her appearance one final look-over.
Mascara and eyeliner intact and unsmudged? Check.
Nude lipstick on the lips and not the teeth? Check.
Thick chestnut hair secured in a professional bun at the base of the neck without any stray distracting strands? Check.
Silver and blue swirl tailored A-line skirt clean and uncreased? Check.
Black blouse clean and uncreased and no gapping around the bust? Check.
Black tights ladder free? Check.
Black heels clean if not easy to walk in? Check.
Thick-framed spectacles fingerprint free? Check.
Drawing tube ready to grab hold of? Check.
Heartbeat under vague semblance of control...? Oh, well, a girl couldn’t have everything.
Helena was as ready and prepared as she could be. It was time to make her first major pitch to a client. The blueprints she’d spent a month toiling over were ready to be unveiled to the mystery client who’d driven them all to distraction.
The mystery client, who’d used lawyers up to this point to remain under the cloak of anonymity—which in itself had led to fevered speculation within the firm as to who he or she could be—had invited their firm and four others to pitch for the opportunity to design a house for him. Or her. This would be no ordinary house, nor even an ordinary mansion. The successful lead architect would be flown to a Greek island, name still to be revealed, and tasked with designing a thousand-square-metre villa in traditional Cycladic style from scratch. Each firm was to put forward an architect with an understanding of the Greek language and a leaning towards classical European architecture to pitch. Helena, who had a Greek mother and an adoration of classical architecture, fitted the bill perfectly for her firm. Her father’s cruel manner in forcing the Greek language on her had finally paid off.
She’d swallowed her unease at the thought of having to work on an island that was part of the country she’d spent three years actively avoiding, and thrown herself into the pitch. She hadn’t fooled herself into thinking she had a chance of winning as no doubt she would be the youngest and least experienced but it was good practice and the successful pitch would be rewarded with a prize unlike any other. Not only would the successful firm make a good sum from it, but also the lead architect would receive a hefty signing-on bonus and a completion bonus, which together would enable Helena to write off her mountain of debt and have a little spare. All she’d been tasked to do for the pitch was show how she would turn an old Greek school into a trio of luxury holiday-let apartments.
Helena headed through the open-plan layout to the boardroom with murmurs
of ‘good luck’ ringing in her ears. The majority of the staff had watched her develop and mature from a naïve twenty-one-year-old graduate to a twenty-six-year-old architect.
When she walked through the boardroom door, she was fortified to meet Stanley’s eye and be on the receiving end of an encouraging wink. She wanted desperately to make the architect who’d taken her under his wing five years ago proud. She’d worked under him for a year when she’d first graduated and he’d then made himself available whenever she needed him during her masters and ensured there was a place within his firm for her last year of work experience before she took her final exam. Stanley had been the one to create a permanent role for her when, after seven years of toil, she became a bona fide architect in her own right.
Along with Stanley were the two other senior partners, a PA and the mystery client, whose back was to the door and who made no effort to turn and greet her.
Her first thought was that the mystery client was a man.
Her second thought was that the staff backing the mystery client’s being a celebrity were on the money because, even with his back turned, recognition flashed through her.
Helena hurried to her designated seat opposite him, a warm, welcoming smile on her lips, and finally saw his face.
And that was the moment all her thoughts turned to dust as her brain froze.
The man sitting opposite her in the mystery client’s chair was Theo Nikolaidis. The same Theo Nikolaidis she’d jilted three years ago, twenty-four hours before they’d been due to marry.
* * *
Theo didn’t bother hiding the wide grin that formed on his lips.
This moment, when he wiped the smile off Helena Armstrong’s face, was a moment to savour, a moment deserving of a glass of fine wine and, if he were a man for exquisite canapés, a plateful of them. As it was, Theo was a man who preferred hearty food but a huge bowl of his grandmother’s kokkinisto didn’t quite fit this picture-perfect moment.
He rose to his feet and stretched out a hand, tilting his head expectantly. ‘Good morning, Helena,’ he said with an even wider smile and was rewarded by Helena’s beautiful face turning the colour of a sun-ripened tomato. ‘It is a pleasure to see you again.’