Chapter Seventeen
Rafael
The sound of Zakynthos’s helicopter is getting closer and closer, and I can’t stop the intense satisfaction that curls through me.
My contact in Athens alerted me this morning that Ulysses had left and that he was bound for Palermo, which made me extremely pleased with the decision I made yesterday to call in my favour from Vincenzo Argenti.
It’s an old favour and he’s powerful. I wasn’t sure if he’d come through, but he’s always been a man of his word and, sure enough, he came, bringing along his family priest.
And not before time.
Anger flickers in Olympia’s golden eyes, making them glow.
I knew she’d be angry that I didn’t tell her this morning, but I couldn’t risk it.
She had to be mine before her brother got here in case he decided to take her back with him.
I wanted her to be legally bound to me so that there would be no escape.
She’s loyal to him, she loves him and all I have on my side is that I’m the father of her child and some physical chemistry. I needed more to hold her here.
He could still take her.
He might. Or she might go with him. But now we’re legally married and that’s a tie that cannot easily be undone.
You should have told her he was coming, though.
She’s angry, but for a second I thought I saw something like hurt flicker in her eyes. But no, it couldn’t be hurt. She doesn’t love me and I don’t love her, so why does it matter that I didn’t tell her? I did say I’d be honest with her, but I didn’t lie.
A lie by omission. Also, you promised her.
I did, it’s true. But I didn’t actively move against Zakynthos. I merely married his sister, something I was always going to do.
Besides, I didn’t want to break the fragile détente we reached last night beneath the Christmas tree.
Even so, what she’d said about it being okay to love someone who hurt you stuck in my brain and I couldn’t get it out.
I’d spent all night thinking about it, about my father, and what he did, and how it hurt me, and how badly it hurt still, no matter how I try to deny it.
I don’t want to keep thinking about it though, I want her, so I shove the thoughts aside, reaching for her instead, wanting to hold her, maybe turn her anger into desire the way I’m so good at.
But she takes a step back, drawing herself up, her back straight as a board, her eyes glowing.
‘You said you wouldn’t treat me the way Ulysses does,’ she says.
I want to close the distance between us, but I don’t move. ‘And I meant it. How am I treating you like he does?’
‘You didn’t listen to me. I told you I wanted you to drop your revenge plan.’
‘I did,’ I insist. ‘The wedding was always going to happen and—’
‘You didn’t tell me he was coming,’ she snaps. ‘You didn’t because you wanted me married to you so he couldn’t take me away.’
There’s nothing I can say to that. It’s the truth. ‘Why does that matter?’ I demand. ‘I want you with me, so yes, I hurried the marriage along.’
‘But don’t you understand?’ She stares at me as if I’ve changed before her eyes into someone she doesn’t recognise.
‘You didn’t listen, and Ulysses didn’t listen either.
It’s always about him, about his guilt, never about me or what I want.
I told you that. And now you’re doing the same thing.
You married me to get back at him, so you can have his company.
It’s all about what you want, Rafael. None of it is about me. ’
The force of her words slams into me like thrown stones. She’s so heartbreakingly beautiful standing there, with the dragonfly I had made for her glittering in her hair. My wife.
She’s right. You’re not thinking about her. You’re only thinking of yourself.
The sound of the helicopter is getting louder and louder. Zakynthos is nearly here. I wanted to meet him with her beside me, letting him know how completely she’s mine, but Olympia takes a couple of steps towards me. ‘I’ll meet him,’ she says forcefully, reading my mind. ‘You stay here.’
‘No,’ I shoot back. ‘I won’t allow—’
‘I don’t care what you’ll allow,’ she interrupts. ‘He’s my brother and he’s here for me. This has got nothing to do with you.’
And before I can say anything, she storms past me and out of the living area.
My instinct is to go after her immediately, but some lost part of me resists.
It knows she’s right, even though I protest the thought.
This is about me and what I want. It’s not about her, not about what she wants, and the very least I can do is let her meet her brother alone.
So I don’t follow her, even though every part of me is screaming to do so. Instead, I grit my teeth and stride to the windows that overlook the lawn so I can see Olympia in her red dress, a streak of brilliant scarlet against the green grass.
I fight the need to go to her as the helicopter touches down, shoving my hands into my pockets instead, watching as the rotors slow, the door opens and a man leaps out. He’s tall and powerfully built, and he moves with purpose.
Ulysses Zakynthos. The man who caused the death of my family, who stole my parents and the life we had from me.
He strides over to where she stands and my hands close into fists, the urge to go to her almost too strong for me to deny.
But then he stops and I see Olympia straighten even more, drawing herself up as her brother approaches.
I’m close enough to see his face and…he looks drawn, as if he hasn’t slept in years.
Is that the effect taking his sister away had?
Did I cause him sleepless nights? Did I cause him pain?
A savage satisfaction turns over inside me and in the glass, I see my reflection smiling viciously. Good. I hope I caused him pain because what he felt is only the faintest echo of the agony he caused me.
I can’t hear what they’re saying, but they’re clearly having some kind of discussion.
Then Olympia walks towards him and every muscle in my body tenses.
I almost break and stride from the room, the urge to go outside and pull her away from him so strong I can barely resist. She can’t go back with him. She can’t. I won’t let her.
Don’t make it worse, you stupid bastard.
I grit my teeth, my jaw aching. It’s true, going after her when she told me to stay here won’t make things any easier between us. She’s already furious with me for not listening to her and maybe she has a right to be. She promised to marry me and she did. Whereas I…
You promised to drop your revenge, but you lied.
I watch as Olympia puts her arms around her brother, hugging him, and a whisper of shame ghosts through me.
It’s not a feeling I’m used to, not considering how I embraced my dark side years ago, but I feel it now and I don’t like it.
Yet I can’t escape. I promised to drop my revenge against her brother, yet I didn’t, not truly.
I only pushed it aside, to think about later.
What will your father think of his son now?
I know the answer to that. He’d hate what I’ve become. Then again, I had no choice. He was the one who decided to run away, to take himself from my mother and me in the most brutal way imaginable. I only did what I had to in order to survive.
Olympia is looking up at her brother and she’s smiling, and I can see the warmth in her face and in her eyes.
She loves her brother, she loves him deeply and he loves her too.
And my chest hurts. It’s tight and sore, and it’s strange, because I don’t want any part of the love they share. I don’t want her love.
Love doesn’t save you. It doesn’t pay debts or keep you fed, with a roof over your head. Love is cowardice. Love is abandonment. All it does is devastate you, and I don’t want any part of it.
Yet, despite that, all I can think about is what it would be like if she looked at me that way, as if she loved me, and the pain worsens.
I can’t stand it, so I force myself to turn away, striding over to the drinks cabinet near the fire to pour myself a Scotch.
Then I knock it back and pour myself another.
The alcohol sits in my stomach, lighting a fire inside me, making me burn.
Making me think about what I promised her and what I promised myself, and yes, it’s true.
I’m as selfish as she thinks I am. What she wanted didn’t matter to me and I didn’t think about that, not fully.
But now I am, now I’m thinking about her strength and her determination.
What she went through as a child and what I’ve put her through since I found out that she’s carrying my child.
And I think about that child, my child. What kind of father am I who uses his child and the mother of that child for his own ends?
I know what kind of father that is. It’s the kind of father I had, who chose death, who chose his own escape, his own pain over his family.
I’m still standing there, a third Scotch in my hand, when I hear the helicopter lift off. Is she going with him? Is she choosing to leave me?
Can you blame her?
I can’t blame her, that’s the problem. If I was her, I’d leave me too.
My heart is wrapped in briars, thorns digging in, and I don’t know why.
What does it matter if she leaves? I’ve got what I wanted: she’s my wife.
She didn’t ask for any kind of prenup, so what’s hers is mine and what’s mine is hers.
Yes, she could take me for everything I have and that, out of anything, should matter to me.
And yet… Is that even important if I don’t have her?
I can feel someone watching me, so I turn and there she is, in the doorway, her gaze steady. A rush of the most intense relief courses through me and my hand almost shakes.
‘You didn’t go with him,’ I say before I can stop myself.
‘I thought I might,’ she says, sparing me nothing. ‘But I’ve done nothing but hide since I was ten years old, and I’m tired of it.’
Putting down my Scotch, I cross the room to where she’s standing, unable to help myself. And I reach for her, pulling her to me, looking down into her golden eyes. She doesn’t protest, gazing up at me steadily.
My wife. My wife.
‘Take off your dress,’ I order, the need inside me growing. The primitive need to make sure of her, to make sure she’s mine and mine alone.
She ignores me. ‘My brother is in love. He just told me.’
But I don’t care about Ulysses Zakynthos. For the first time since my parents died, I don’t care about him at all. The only thing that matters is the woman in front of me and the fact that she hasn’t gone after all. She’s here. She chose me in the end, not him.
‘Do as I say,’ I growl.
Again, she ignores me. ‘He let her go because of me. So I told him he was an idiot and that he needed to go and find her.’
‘I don’t care about your damn brother,’ I grit out, pulling her even closer, the press of her soft body making me even harder than I am already. ‘What I care about is you getting naked.’
She doesn’t resist, but she doesn’t obey either. ‘Don’t you see, Rafael? He’s in love and he’s going to get the woman he loves. He’s probably going to marry her if she’ll have him, and I think he’ll have children with her too.’
‘I don’t give a fuck about him,’ I snarl, my fingers tightening on her hips, pulling the heat between her thighs hard against my aching groin.
‘You should,’ she says in the same tone of voice she’s said everything. ‘Because it’ll mean I’m not his heir any more.’
In some dim recess of my brain, I know that should mean something to me, but I can’t think why it’s important right now, not when she’s here, right against me and she’s so warm, so delicious.
I want her. I want her so badly I can’t think. She almost left me, almost walked away, and all I can think about is claiming her, right here, right now. So she’ll never walk away again.
‘Take off your dress,’ I order viciously. ‘Now.’