Chapter Three
Ares barely slept, tormented by memories of the day they’d met.
Her ridiculous, endearing assumption that he was the ferryman; the na?veté with which she’d readily stepped aboard his outboard.
She’d been an absolute innocent abroad with a guileless belief in the goodness of others meaning she seemingly had no consideration for her own personal safety.
He’d said yes to protect her from the less honourable assholes who would flock given half the chance.
He scoffed at his self-indulgent pretence.
He’d been the predator. He’d taken one look and wanted her and by the time he’d gotten her across the water—aware not only of her gaze on him, but of her unfettered appreciation of the sun and sea—he’d been ruthlessly determined.
Then he’d discovered she really had been an innocent.
A virgin of all things and on her first overseas trip.
He’d enjoyed educating her in the beauty of Greece and the heat of the bedroom.
Her enthusiasm had been intoxicating, the pleasure of her so heady he’d actually thought her a stunningly novel solution to the relentless pressure of the family he loathed.
She’d been sweet, so easy to please, he’d thought their arrangement would be perfect.
Massive mistake. Because she’d met that family, listened to their poison and the fantasy had ended within hours.
He hated thinking of that moment. Their betrayal, he’d expected.
Hers, he’d not. Now they sat side by side in the car again, physically close yet more distant than ever.
She was dressed in black trousers and a black blazer, he could see a black tee beneath.
Covering up with the most businesslike attire he’d ever seen her in.
If her intention was to maintain professional distance and keep them on a cool footing, it wasn’t working. She looked more desirable than ever.
Fifty minutes later he led her across the tarmac. She stared at the plane with a bitter expression.
‘Figures,’ she muttered scathingly.
Yeah, she’d only been in the boat and the helicopter.
Not his jet. For reasons he still didn’t understand, Bethan genuinely wasn’t interested in his wealth.
Something that had made her amusingly unique in his world.
He watched her board ahead of him. Her loose hair gleamed in the morning sun—such a rich brunette—as luxuriant and abundant as the rest of her.
But her face was pale, shadows clung beneath her brown eyes as if she’d not had a deeply restful night.
She sat in one of the large chairs and immediately pulled something from the side pocket of her overnight bag.
Knitting needles. Of course. Now he remembered how her pretty, dexterous fingers were rarely still.
In those days together she’d always been working on something—when he hadn’t been distracting her and helping her discover how phenomenally good she was with her hands in other ways.
.. She would poke him in the eye with the needle if he tried to ‘distract’ her now.
She’d told him she’d learned knitting and other crafts from her grandmother. She’d lived with her while her father was at sea. A navy man who’d taught her every knot as well as how to navigate, how to handle a wheel... Her love of the water was in her blood, as it was his.
‘Were the needles your grandmother’s?’ He couldn’t resist asking.
‘Yes.’ She didn’t take her eyes off the wool as she replied. ‘They’re more precious to me than anything.’
Certainly more precious than the rings he’d given her and was no longer wearing.
He fidgeted uncomfortably. Love of the sea wasn’t the only thing they’d had in common.
Like him she had no siblings—well, not quite like him.
He’d had a half-brother—Alex—who’d died before they’d had a chance to meet.
Though of course, had Alex lived, Ares likely never would have met him and his life would have been drastically different.
But as it was both Alex and their father, Loukas, had died.
Ares had been brought in—forcibly installed as usurper.
He’d wanted escape from all that for just a little while.
So for a few days he’d explored the local bays with Bethan on his small outboard until he’d finally confessed that he owned a fleet of ships.
She’d not believed him initially. That was when he’d taken her to the villa.
She’d declared it paradise, the one place she never, ever wanted to leave.
Tensely, he shoved that unhelpful recollection away and watched her nimble fingers.
She didn’t snatch glances the way she had the day they’d met.
Today she was fully in control and focused on her task—whereas he’d been too distracted to hold a razor steady this morning and couldn’t stop staring now.
Rubbing the stubble on his jaw, he sank deeper into his seat and surrendered to the overpowering need to just watch her.
The pattern was intricate. She was multi-talented, any kind of craft she could master immediately.
It was more than skill and practice, it was a gift.
And he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt her even though they had business to attend to.
She had the fullest of mouths, the lushest of curves—her breasts were so much more than a handful and, yeah, he was appalling because his palms itched now.
Rock hard, he shifted awkwardly and lifted his gaze—trying to block memory and temptation—and was instantly fascinated by the fierce concentration in her deep brown eyes.
It wasn’t until they landed that he even remembered he’d intended to discuss the settlement details with her—he was rendered that useless.
She was dressed for business. Maybe that was how he had to treat this.
He would take her to the office and finalise everything there.
Then he’d install her in a hotel room, stick a guard on her door and ensure she didn’t leave without seeing the notary tomorrow.
* * *
Bethan carefully packed away her precious needles and knitting she’d spent the entire flight working on, but the truth was she’d screwed up the pattern so badly she was going to have to start over entirely.
The little blanket she was making for Phoebe’s baby was so full of holes it looked as if a swarm of moths had been at it.
Her grandmother would tease her mercilessly if she were alive to see it.
But Bethan had been far too aware of Ares.
She didn’t know why he’d spent the entire flight wordlessly watching her but she wasn’t about to ask.
She stepped out of the plane, felt the heat—and hit—of memory.
Athens had been the scene of her total devastation.
Blinking away that rising emotion, she walked to the sleek car.
The waiting driver didn’t meet her gaze, doubtless drilled in discretion.
Unwilling to betray her nerves, she didn’t ask Ares where they were going but it didn’t take long to figure out.
The Vasiliadis company headquarters were in the heart of Athens’ business district.
The stunning architecturally designed building echoed the body of a ship, reflecting the nature of the family interests.
Multi-storeyed, with a water feature and an emerald lawn on one of the upper balconies, it exemplified luxury, infinite resources and glamour.
Just like Ares himself and of course those magnificent boats in his luxury yacht division.
As for the merchant marine side, that was pure economic efficiency and excellence.
Stiffly she accompanied him into the vast building.
The receptionist tried to speak as they swept past but Ares snapped something short, immediately silencing the poor man.
Bethan gritted her teeth more tightly. The gleaming elevator had no buttons.
Apparently it simply recognised the supremely important occupant and immediately swept them up to the right floor.
‘Are the lawyers meeting us here?’ she asked as soon as they were alone in the spacious statement office—white and blue with unimpeded views in every direction. She’d only been in it once before.
‘Tomorrow,’ he said brusquely. ‘I’ve engaged an independent one for you.’
‘I don’t need—’
‘The court documents are in Greek,’ he interrupted tersely. ‘So you will have an independent translator as well.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘You can trust I have your best interests at heart.’
‘I don’t need you to have my best interests at heart.’
He lifted an envelope marked private from the large desk and passed it to her. ‘Here. Read it.’
Taking it, she moved away to scan the first few pages that were, thankfully, in English, mentally appreciating her superstar admin-queen friend, Phoebe, for showing her how to read legal jargon in the sale and purchase contracts for the props supplies she’d ordered.
This contract had some appalling parallels.
She shuffled through the sheets of paper, aghast at their utterly offensive contents, before lifting her head to glare at him.
‘This is a divorce settlement. I don’t need a settlement. ’
‘No?’ He met her accusing stare coolly. ‘You don’t want to milk me for my money?’
She wasn’t in the mood for joking. She’d been stuck on that plane in too close proximity to him for hours and she needed this to be over. Now.
She tossed the pages on the table and paced further away from him. ‘I don’t need your money or anything else.’
‘It’s been drawn up for months,’ he retorted. ‘I’m not a complete jerk, Bethan. I was never going to leave you destitute.’
‘I’m not destitute. I’m doing just fine.’ She turned back, daring him to tell her that what she earned wasn’t enough.