The Fallen Greek Bride\At the Greek Boss's Bidding (3 page)

“The money you begged for.”

She flinched. “The pirates are only asking for six.”

“There will be other expenses. Travel and rescue logistics. You’ll want to hire an expert to help you. Someone with the right negotiation skills. There are several excellent firms out there, like Dunamas Maritime Intelligence—”

“I’m familiar with them.”

“They won’t be cheap.”

“I’m familiar with their fees.”

“Don’t try to do it on your own, thinking you can. Better to pay for their expertise and their relationships. They know what they’re doing, and they’ll help you avoid a trap. The Somali pirates sound like they’re a ragtag organization, but in truth, they’re being funded by some of the wealthiest, most powerful people in the world.”

She nodded, because she couldn’t speak, not with her throat swelling closed. For the first time in a long, long time, she was grateful for Drakon Xanthis, grateful he had not just the means to help her, but knowledge and power. There weren’t many people like Drakon in the world, and she was suddenly so very glad he had been part of her life.

“Use whatever is left after you pay your management fee to pay your father’s travel expenses home. There should be enough. If there isn’t, let me know immediately,” he added.

“Thank you,” she whispered huskily.

His jaw tightened. “Go to London before you return to New York, cash the check at the London branch of my bank. There won’t be any problems. They’ll give you the six million in cash you need for the ransom. You must have it in cash, and not new bills, remember that. But I’m sure your contact told you that?”

“Yes.”

His lashes dropped, concealing his expression. “They’re very particular,
agapi mou.
Follow the instructions exactly. If you don’t, things could turn unpleasant.”

“As if storming my father’s yacht off the Horn of Africa, and killing his captain, wasn’t unpleasant enough—” She broke off, hearing the distinctive hum of the helicopter. It was still a distance from them, but it would be here soon.

For a moment neither said anything, both listening to the whir of the helicopter blades.

“Why have you kept the news of your father’s kidnapping private?” he asked her. “I would have thought this was something you’d share with the world...using the kidnapping to garner sympathy.”

“Because it wouldn’t garner sympathy. The American public hates him. Loathes him. And if they discovered he was kidnapped by Somali pirates, they’d be glad. They’d be dancing in the streets, celebrating, posting all kinds of horrible comments all over the internet, hoping he’ll starve, or be killed, saying it’s karma—”

“Isn’t it?”

She acted as though Drakon hadn’t spoken. “But he’s my father, not theirs, and I’m not using their money. Not spending government funds, public funds or trust funds. We haven’t gone to the police or the FBI, haven’t asked for help from anyone. We’re keeping this in the family, handling it on our own, and since my brother and sisters don’t have the means, I’m using my money—”

“You mean my money.”

She flushed, and bit hard into her lower lip, embarrassed. His money. Right. They weren’t married, not really, and she had no right to spend his money, just because she had nothing left of her own.

“I stand corrected,” she whispered. “Your money. I’m using your money. But I will pay you back. Every penny. Even if it takes me the rest of my life.”

A small muscle popped in his jaw. “There is no need for that—” He paused, glancing up at the dark speck overhead. The helicopter.

One of the reasons Drakon had chosen this villa for their honeymoon five and a half years ago was that the outdoor pool had a special cover that converted it into a heli landing pad, making the remote villa far more appealing for a man who needed to come and go for meetings in Naples, Athens and London.

“No need to pay me back,” Drakon said, picking up his broken train of thought, “because I’m calling my attorney this afternoon and asking him to process the paperwork for the divorce. He will make sure the dissolution is expedited. By the end of the month, it will be over.”

It will be over.
For a moment Morgan couldn’t take this last bit in. What was he saying? He’d finally agreed to the divorce?

He was giving her the money
and
granting her the divorce?

She just looked up at him, eyes burning, too overwhelmed to speak.

He dipped his head and raised his voice in order to be heard over the hum of the helicopter, which had begun to descend. “You will receive your full settlement once the dissolution occurs. With the current state of affairs, I’d suggest you allow me to open a personal account for you in London or Geneva and I can deposit the funds directly into the account without fear of your government freezing it. I know they’ve frozen all your family accounts in the United States—”

“I don’t want your money.”

“Yes, you do. You came here for my money. So take what you came for—”

“I came to see you for my father, and that was the only reason I came here today.”

“A point you made abundantly clear.” He smiled at her but his amber gaze looked icy, the golden depths tinged with frost. “So I am giving you what you wanted, freedom and financial security, which fulfills my obligation to you.”

She shivered at the hardness in his voice. She had never heard him speak to her with so much coldness and disdain and it crushed her to think they were ending it like this—with contempt and anger.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her heart beating too fast and aching far too much.

He didn’t answer her, his gaze fixed on the helicopter slowly descending. Morgan watched him and not the helicopter, aware that this just might be the last time she would see Drakon and was drinking him in, trying to memorize every detail, trying to remember him. This.

“Thank you,” she added, wanting him to just look at her, acknowledge her, without this new terrible coldness.

But he didn’t. He wouldn’t. “I’ll walk you to the landing pad,” he said, putting his hand out to gesture the way without touching her or looking at her.

Perhaps it was better this way, she told herself, forcing herself to move. It was hard enough being near him without wanting to be closer to him. Perhaps if he’d been kind or gentle, she’d just want more of him, because she’d always wanted more of him, never less. The doctors had said she was addicted to him, and her addiction wasn’t healthy. He wasn’t the sun, they lectured her, and Drakon, despite his intense charisma and chemistry, couldn’t warm her, nor could he actually give her strength. She was the only one who could give herself strength, and the only way she could do that was by leaving him, putting him behind her.

And so here she was again, leaving him. Putting him behind her.

So be strong,
she told herself.
Prove that you’re strong on your own.

Morgan blinked to clear her vision, fighting panic as they rounded the villa and walked across the lawn for the open pool terrace where the helicopter waited, balancing like a peculiar moth on the high-tech titanium cover concealing the pool. The roar from the helicopter’s spinning blades made conversation impossible, not that Drakon wanted to talk to her.

One of the household staff met them at the helicopter with Morgan’s travel bag and Drakon set it inside the helicopter, then spoke briefly to the pilot before putting out his hand to assist Morgan inside.

She glanced down at his outstretched hand, and then up into his face, into those unique amber eyes that had captivated her from the start. “Thank you again, Drakon, and I hope you’ll be happy.”

His lips curved, but his eyes glittered with silent fury. “Is that a joke? Am I supposed to be amused?”

She drew back, stunned by his flash of temper. For a moment she could only stare at him, surprised, bewildered, by this fierce man. This was a different Drakon than the man she’d married. This was a Drakon of intense emotions and yet after they’d married she’d become convinced that Drakon felt no emotion. “I’m serious. I want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy—”

“As you said I’m not one for meaningless conversation, so I’m going to walk away now to save us from an embarrassing and uncomfortable goodbye,” he said brusquely, cutting her short, to propel her into the helicopter. Once he had her inside, he leaned in, his features harsh, and shouted to her, “Don’t try to cut corners, Morgan, and save money by handling the pirates yourself. Get help. Call Dunamas, or Blue Sea, or one of the other maritime intelligence companies. Understand me?”

His fierce gaze held hers, and she nodded jerkily, even as her stomach rose up, and her heart fell. If he only knew...

If he only knew what she had done....

And for a split second she nearly blurted the truth, how she had been negotiating with the pirates on her own, and how she’d thought she was in control, until it had all gone terribly wrong, which was why she was here...which was why she needed Drakon so much. But before she could say any of it, Drakon had turned around and was walking away from the helicopter.

Walking away from her.

Her eyes burned and her throat sealed closed as the pilot handed Morgan a set of headphones, but she couldn’t focus on the pilot’s instructions, not when she was watching Drakon stride toward the villa.

He was walking quickly, passing the rose-covered balustrade on the lower terrace then climbing the staircase to the upper terrace, and the entire time she prayed he’d turn around, pray he’d acknowledge her, pray he’d wave or smile, or just
look
at her.

He didn’t.

He crossed the terrace to the old ballroom and disappeared into the great stone house without a backward glance.

So that was it. Done. Over. She was finally free to move on, find happiness, find love elsewhere.

She should be happy. She should feel at peace. But as the helicopter lifted off the pad, straight into the air, Morgan didn’t feel any relief, just panic. Because she didn’t get the help she needed, and she’d lost him completely.

It wasn’t supposed to have gone like this. The meeting today...as well as their marriage. Because she had loved him. She’d loved him with everything she was, everything she had, and it hadn’t been enough. It should have been enough. Why wasn’t it enough? In the beginning she’d thought he was perfect. In the beginning she’d thought she’d found her soul mate. But she was wrong.

Seconds passed, becoming one minute and then another as the helicopter rose higher and higher, straight up so that the villa fell away and the world was all blue and green, with the sea on one side and the sharp, steep mountains on the other and the villa with its famous garden clinging to that bit of space on the rock.

Fighting tears, her gaze fell on the check she still clutched in her hand. Seven million dollars. Just like that.

And she’d known that he’d help her if she went to him. She’d known he’d come through for her, too, because he’d never refused her anything. Drakon might not have given her much of his time or patience, but he’d never withheld anything material from her.

Guilt pummeled her, guilt and fear and anxiety, because she hadn’t accomplished everything she’d come to Villa Angelica to accomplish. She needed more from Drakon than just a check. She needed not just financial assistance, but his help, too. There were few men in the world who had his knowledge of piracy and its impact on the shipping industry. Indeed, Drakon was considered one of the world’s leading experts in counter piracy, and he’d know the safest, quickest method for securing her father’s release, as well as the right people to help her.

Morgan exhaled in a rush, heart beating too hard.

She had to go back. Had to face Drakon again. Had to convince him to help her. Not that he’d want to help her now, not after everything that was said.

But this wasn’t about pride or her ego. This was life and death, her father’s life, specifically, and she couldn’t turn her back on him.

Swallowing her fear and misgivings, Morgan grabbed at her seat belt as if throwing on brakes. “Stop, wait,” she said to the pilot through the small microphone attached to her headphones. “We have to go back. I’ve forgotten something.”

The pilot was too well-trained, and too well-paid, to question her. For a moment nothing seemed to happen and then he shifted and the helicopter began to slowly descend.

* * *

Drakon didn’t wait for the helicopter to leave. There was no point. She was gone, and he was glad. While climbing the stairs to his bedroom suite, he heard the helicopter lift, the throbbing of the rotary blades vibrating all the way through the old stone walls.

In his bathroom, Drakon stripped his clothes off and showered, and then dried off, wrapping the towel around his hips and prepared to shave. It would take a while. There was a lot of beard.

He gathered his small scissors and his razor and shaving cream, and as he laid everything out, he tried not to think, particularly not of Morgan, but that was impossible. He was so upset. So angry.

What a piece of work she was. To think he’d wanted her back. To think he’d loved her. But how could he have loved her? She was shallow and superficial and so incredibly self-centered. It was always about her...what she wanted, what she needed, with no regard for anyone else’s needs.

As he changed the blade on his razor, he felt a heaviness inside, a dull ache in his chest, as if he’d cut his heart. And then Drakon took the razor to his beard.

He had loved her, and he had wanted her back. Wanted her home with him. But that was before he understood how disgusted she was with him, how disgusted she’d been by their marriage.

Disgust.

He knew that word, and knew disgust produced shame. His mother used to be disgusted by emotion, and as a young child, Drakon had felt constant shame in her presence, shame that he had such strong emotions, emotions she found appalling. He still remembered how wild he’d felt on the inside as a little boy, how desperate and confused he’d felt by her rejection, and how determined he’d been to win her affection, even if it meant destroying part of himself. And so that became the goal, his sole objective as a child. To master his hideous emotions. To master want and need, to stifle them, suppress them, thereby winning his mother’s approval and love.