Chapter Five
Three months later…
‘The motorbike has been unloaded, Mr Caras. Will you be residing the night in Galicos, or would you like us to arrange departure for this evening?’
Theo zipped up his leather jacket in the airport hangar at the private airfield a few miles outside the principality, aware of the scattering of snow outside. He swore under his breath, then turned back to the pilot.
‘Not sure, Nico. I don’t want to stay any longer than necessary,’ he said, tugging on his gloves.
The last thing he’d wanted to do was come traipsing back here, but Prince Andreas wasn’t playing ball.
After three months spent letting the man stew—and troubleshooting a crisis in the Suez Canal with one of Caras Shipping’s container ships while also having to take the helm at the company as his brother awaited the birth of his child on Parádeisos—he couldn’t ignore this problem any longer.
He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to set eyes again on the woman who still haunted his dreams. Because there was no getting around the fact she’d done something to him, that night in September.
Something that had complicated his usually straightforward libido, because every woman he’d dated since—or, rather, attempted to date—hadn’t come close to exciting him the way she had that night…
And they hadn’t even made love. Plus, she’d tried to trick him—with that refreshing honesty that was anything but.
But what he hated even more than the fact she kept entering his dreams uninvited, and had royally screwed up his sex life to the extent he hadn’t wanted to bed a single woman since that insane encounter, was that this obsession was now screwing up his business interests, too.
He should have come back here a month ago, to force Andreas’ hand, and finalise the land deal.
But he hadn’t, because he’d been avoiding her.
He’d convinced himself it made good business sense not to contact Andreas, to let the man come to him, that the longer he left Andreas to sweat, the better his negotiating position would be.
He’d planned to hold out so he could make the deal from his place in Greece when Andreas got desperate, then hand the reins to Xander on the cruise business as soon as the baby was born.
But Andreas had chosen to play hardball.
There were only a few weeks to go now before the prince had to settle his loan payment, and Theo had got intel that someone else might be in the frame to buy the land now the prince was so desperate for money.
The first thought that had sprung into his head, once he’d heard about this new investor, was even more lowering, because it hadn’t been about securing the land, but about whether or not this investor was offering to marry the woman Theo had made come in the moonlight.
Possessive heat had swept through him, and he’d demanded his assistant ensure he received an invitation to the Galicos Winter Ball.
When the embossed invitation had arrived—to the annual Christmas event in the principality’s calendar to mark the start of the festive season—he hadn’t been surprised.
So much for Andreas’ insistence he didn’t want to make a deal with Caras Shipping.
Theo doubted this new investor—whoever the hell he was—would have the same financial clout as Caras, because no one did.
But again, it wasn’t the deal he’d been fixated on when he’d had his bike loaded onto the jet in Kefalonia and flown back here.
The truth was, he’d been keeping tabs on Freya for three months—aware she had not been seen outside the palace since their meeting in September.
She hadn’t even attended a single event in Galicos.
The press had put out some story that she was so heartbroken at getting thrown over by Xander she had been in seclusion.
But he knew that wasn’t true… So he’d become convinced she had been busy lining up a new fiancé.
News of this new investor had confirmed his worst fears.
But why did he even care when he didn’t want her himself? All he wanted was the land. Right.
He grabbed his helmet from the bike’s saddle box, then climbed aboard the sleek black machine. After kick-starting the expensive racing bike, he lowered the helmet’s visor and headed out across the snowy airfield.
As he powered along the cliff road towards Port Gabriel, he gritted his teeth against the freezing wind. He hated the cold, and the snow even more.
Twenty minutes later, the palace came into view, its belle époque splendour perched on the hills above the port town.
Glittering lights festooned the ornate frontage, and an enormous Christmas tree decorated in red and white welcomed the guests as they were ushered into the building.
The whole scene had a romantic festive glow that made Theo tense.
He didn’t care if it was three days till Christmas, he’d never celebrated the damn season.
He showed his ID to the palace guards manning the gates and was ushered past the line of chauffeur-driven limos queuing to enter the grounds.
Damn Freya, and her father. He was here to finally settle this deal. Who cared if she had decided to seduce some other guy?
All it did was confirm what he’d always known. That the innocent act had been just that—an act. That even if their livewire chemistry had been real, she’d tried to use it against him. And he was not the kind of guy to get led around by his cock. Ever.
He parked the bike at the bottom of the wide sweeping marble staircase—already full of guests in tuxedos and ball gowns making their way inside, many of them wearing expensive faux fur and designer coats to ward off the chilly wind.
After hooking the helmet over the handlebars, he tugged off his gloves and stuffed them in the bike bag.
Then he stripped off the leather jacket to reveal the tailored tux he’d donned on the plane.
He threw the coat to one of the uniformed valets standing by the entrance.
‘Keys are in the pocket—I want to get it back fast when I leave.’
‘Yes, sir. I’ll put it in the garden car park. It’s by the East Wing exit and will be the least busy. Just ask for Stéphane,’ the valet said. Theo tipped the kid a hundred-euro note and bounded up the steps.
He slung his hands into the pockets of his tux, ignoring the people staring at him as he headed into the huge entrance hall—filled with another enormous Christmas tree and enough festive bling to make him wince.
He grabbed a flute of champagne from one of the wait staff and took a heavy draught of the vintage bubbles to calm the edgy feeling in his gut.
Unfortunately, it didn’t help much, because the tart taste of the champagne triggered a vision of wide cat-like eyes alight with shock when he’d informed Freya of the cost of a bottle of vintage Dom Perignon.
He shook off the memory. Just another clever trick to make him think she wasn’t entitled royalty who would always look down on a former street rat like him.
Once he’d cornered her father, and made him an offer he wouldn’t refuse, he was out of here. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t even have to see her again. Let alone smell her. That intoxicating mix of roses and female spice that still invaded his dreams, too.
Whoever the new investor was, Theo didn’t give a damn if the guy was about to marry Princess Freya. What mattered was that Theo got his hands on the port land.
He strolled into the stunning ballroom, where the gold plaster work was adorned in lush festive greenery, and the antique chandeliers sprinkled the guests with ambient light.
But instead of making his way towards the throne room—where that pompous bastard was probably holding court—he let his gaze roam over the crowd, searching for a woman in shimmering gold, her soft chestnut hair hanging in tendrils to accentuate a slender neck, her figure like a work of art, and her wide emerald eyes full of erotic secrets…
When he couldn’t find her, he cursed again.
‘What is the meaning of this, Freya? Why are you not dressed? We are announcing the engagement tonight. And Monsieur Faron was expecting to spend some time with you afterwards, in private, to celebrate your upcoming union.’
Freya steeled herself against her father’s frigid tone, and the fury in his eyes, even as her flesh crawled with revulsion.
The French financier was sixty if he was a day.
And she would rather shoot herself than end up married to the man, but she hadn’t made the mistake she’d made with the Caras brothers and let her father know she was not prepared to be bullied or blackmailed into an arranged marriage.
Because she had a plan now, which involved taking her future into her own hands.
Letting her father know, even for a second, she had no intention of becoming a bartered bride would risk making him even more irrational…
And controlling. He’d already spent the last three months punishing her for what had happened with Theo Caras that fateful night in September.
The night when she’d let the Greek tycoon seduce her into a puddle of need and compromise her freedom even more.
At least, that was not a problem with Faron.
But tonight was the night she would make a break for freedom.
The annual Winter Ball would act as cover, her father would be busy fawning over Faron—and she would have until midday tomorrow before anyone would come to check on her.
The palace staff were always super busy on the clean-up after one of these events.
And she’d already requested that she not be disturbed until midday.