HE’D been too gentle with her, Talos thought grimly.
As he sat next to Eve on the short drive west toward the nearby neighborhood of Monastiráki, he ignored her angry, shallow huffs of breath beside him. He’d been tempted to tell her everything in the penthouse, but he’d held back for the sake of his child in her belly. For fear the shock would cause miscarriage.
Ridiculous, he thought now, grinding his teeth. Eve was too strong for that. His ex-mistress—his wife, he corrected himself—was as hard as steel. A force of nature. Ridiculous to worry about an em
otional shock causing injury to their unborn child, when the Eve he’d known had no feelings whatsoever!
But in mere moments, she would finally remember everything—and be forced to admit everything—when she saw her lover.
Clenching his jaw, he stared out the window. The Bentley drove past the dark alley, not too far from Constitution Square where he’d committed his one and only criminal act. At fifteen, two months after his mother had died, he’d smashed the window of an expensive car. It had not gone as planned. The owner of the car had stumbled upon Talos on the sidewalk, holding the ripped-out car stereo in his hands.
Talos hadn’t tried to deny his crime. He’d openly confessed and, with as much charm as his self-taught English could muster, suggested he’d done the man a favor. “I think a different brand of stereo might suit you better.” Then, with a bowed head, he’d waited for him to call the police.
Instead, Dalton Hunter had hired him on the spot. “Our Athens office could use a kid like you,” he’d said with a laugh. And Talos had soon found himself the new messenger and office boy for the American CEO’s worldwide shipping corporation.
From that day, remembering his crime with shame, Talos had been obsessed with justice.
After climbing the corporate ladder and making some lucky investments, he’d made his first million by the age of twenty-four. The father who’d abandoned his mother when she was pregnant with Talos had read about him in the newspaper and had contacted him.
Not to ask for money, he’d said. Just for a visit.
Talos had refused even to speak with him.
A man earned the circumstances of his life. He got what he deserved.
And Yiorgos had caused Talos’s mother financial and emotional distress which had ultimately led to her early death. The man might share Talos’s DNA, but that was all. Dalton Hunter had been far more of a father to him than that man had ever been.
At least so Talos had thought until eleven years ago, when Dalton had turned out to be utterly corrupt.
But when it came to corruption, one woman had beaten them all.
He glanced at Eve. She looked coldly beautiful in the tiny silver cocktail dress and stiletto heels. Her lips were scarlet as blood, her eyelashes black as night against her white skin. Just like the ruthless mistress he remembered. As if nothing had changed.
Wasn’t that what he’d wanted?
The car stopped in front of an old white building, once part of a thirteenth-century monastery, now an art gallery nightclub started by a friend. Talos climbed out of the car, straightening the cuff links on the white shirt beneath his black blazer as he waited. The chauffeur opened Eve’s door, and she walked up to him on stiletto heels with a graceful swing of her hips.
“What is it?” she said acidly, tossing her head. Her lip curled. “Aren’t you happy with how I look?”
Was he happy? He looked down at her. Eve’s glossy dark hair had been pulled back into a severe ponytail that revealed the perfection of her bone structure and her creamy skin. Silver earrings dangled against her long neck. A tight silver cuff coiled up her bare arm in the shape of a snake.
She was a cold goddess.
Breathtaking.
Powerful.
“You’ll do,” he said evenly. He yanked her toward the door.
The asymmetrical straps of her silver dress hung askew on her shoulders, apparently threatening to fall at any moment to reveal her amazing breasts. He knew it was only a cunning artifice of design, but as they walked into the crumbling white building, and he heard the tap-tap-tap of her six-inch-high silver stiletto heels beside him, he watched men get whiplash from turning their heads to gawk at her.
Eve lifted her chin stonily, pretending not to notice. She was graceful, full of dignity. But he could feel her simmering fury rising from her beautiful body in waves.
Talos glared at them with a snarl curling his lip.
In the past, he’d been arrogantly proud to have the woman that every other man wanted. He’d taken it as his due—other, lesser men always envied what Talos possessed.
That had changed in Venice. And now, when he saw men craning their heads to look at her, pure rage washed over him.