Chapter Two #2
“I am sorry to hear that,” she said, wishing she did not sound quite so soft.
He paused in lifting another bite from his plate to his mouth. He looked at her as if she’d surprised him, though she didn’t understand how or why. “Ever since that moment, I have vowed to find my revenge. I was close ten years ago, but he managed to escape my plans for him.”
Ten years ago. Ari’s breath caught. This man was responsible for her father being in hiding?
It seemed… Well, she could see why someone would hide from him.
He had a ruthless sharpness about him. It seemed he tried to mask it under wealth and prestige maybe, some easy charm, but there was no hiding a weapon.
Not from Ari.
Still, she didn’t seem to have the good sense to fear him.
“He will not escape this time. And since I have spent the past decade learning everything there is to know about Erjon, I learned of your existence. I have spent years planning my retribution.”
Join the club, she wanted to tell him. But even with a common enemy, she knew better than to trust a man such as Zervou Kritikos. Of course, that didn’t mean she couldn’t use a man such as he. If she was careful,
“I think you might just be the key, Ariadne Milas. Or should I say Ariadne Hyseni?”
“My name has never been Hyseni,” Ari replied, trying to keep the snap out of her tone. Failing.
“My apologies.”
He did not sound apologetic. Or trustworthy. Or safe. Still… She could at least get a decent meal and that envelope of cash out of this, couldn’t she? Hesitantly, she moved toward the table, lowered herself into the chair. Everything smelled like heaven. Her stomach rumbled loudly.
She pretended she didn’t hear it and filled her plate casually. Before she took the first bite though, she grabbed the envelope and shoved it deep into her pocket. She didn’t need to count it. If he’d lied about the amount, she’d discover it after she left and react accordingly.
For now, she was getting a dinner out of…whatever this was. “How did you discover my connection?”
“My men unearthed a police report. A sexual assault. Against your mother. The timing was…in line with you being born.”
Ari felt a roar in her ears, a heat in her face.
Any hunger pangs she’d felt turned to a heavy weight of dread in her stomach.
She tried not to freeze, but with her body a riot of negative reaction and her mind trying to make sense of his words, she no doubt looked like some kind of deer caught in headlights.
It had never occurred to her that her mother might have…actually reported it. It made it worse, somehow, that she had.
And no one had done anything.
But it changed nothing of what had happened, nothing of what she knew. So there was no reason for this…shame, this…whatever it was making her feel sick to her stomach.
“It seemed to me,” Zervou continued. “That you, too, might have a taste for revenge against the man. So, I learned about you. And what a fascinating character I stumbled across. You are lethal, Ariadne.”
She didn’t feel very lethal right now, but she knew she needed to maintain that outer shell. She lifted her chin, met his gaze. “So are you, Zervou Kritikos. At least, you have the money to be.”
His mouth curved, and she was not naive, so she read the sharp blade of threat in that smile. He no doubt thought he’d hidden it behind charm and wealth.
But Ari knew every sharp blade was dangerous.
“So, I have developed a plan, as the one thing I have not been able to do is ferret your father out of whatever cave he hides himself in.”
“Do not call him that,” she snapped.
“What? A ferret? I can assure you—”
“My father. Do not call him my father.”
“Ah. Noted.”
Noted. She felt…foolish. Like a petulant child.
But she wasn’t. She forced herself to take a bite of food.
Even though there was a glass of wine in front of her, she ignored it and took a sip of water to wash the food down through her too-tight throat.
No doubt it was delicious, but she couldn’t manage to taste it.
“My proposal is this. We will begin to be seen out together. Photographed. Let the whispers intimate that there is something going on between us. Then we will fake an engagement. Play it up in the papers. Draw your… Draw Erjon out. There is no way he will stand for his daughter being engaged to the man who sent him running in the first place. He will feel forced to act.”
Ari sipped her water, studying the confident, too-handsome man before her.
She wasn’t sure she agreed that Erjon would feel forced. It had potential, though. Erjon would certainly not want her marrying someone with the kind of wealth and power that could be stronger than his own threats and influence.
She also had long assumed his vague threats of return, of using her for what she was worth, involved selling her off to his cronies. Perhaps he’d already promised her to them—though they had not come to collect yet. Erjon had probably made it so they couldn’t until he was free to reap the rewards.
He wouldn’t want her making her own reward, that was for sure.
She eyed Zervou. Did the plan really make sense? Or was it a lie she was meant to fall for just because she wanted revenge? “Do you really think anyone will be all that interested in your choice of fiancée? Even if I am an unlikely choice.”
He smiled at her, all sharp edges and ill-intent. “I always garner interest, glikí mou.”
Well, that was probably true. Even if he didn’t, he could likely pay to garner interest. But engaging in some kind of fake relationship seemed rather…silly, when besting Erjon was not a silly matter.
She had no doubt her father had done exactly what Zervou claimed. He was not above murder. She had never seen even a shred of humanity from the man. If he’d ever had any, his involvement as an enforcer for a crime family had certainly killed it.
But Erjon was…savvy. He might sniff it out as a trick from the start. He’d sniffed out all her other attempts to track him down and end the noose around her neck. And put one on his.
“And if we play up this engagement, and he remains in hiding?” Ari asked.
“You will have enjoyed all the benefits of being connected to me for a time—wealth, influence, et cetera. No harm. No foul.”
Ari doubted it. There was always harm and foul when you gambled. She had learned that one the hard way thanks to her mother. Perhaps this was not traditional gambling, but it was still a gamble.
Or was it…simply a risk? She took a risk every time she stepped in the ring. Every fight she agreed to. Every blow she didn’t dodge was a risk. One she took on willingly. Because it made her feel alive.
Some of Zervou’s staff appeared with a new array of plates of food. One person cleared the first round, while the other served them the new course.
Ari practically drooled. Not only was it food, and she was hungry, but it was good food.
Fancy. No doubt Zervou engaged in only that which was fancy.
But it wasn’t…fussy. There was a heft to the food that left her feeling satisfied after she’d polished off her plate without saying anything else about his proposition.
And he did not force the conversation. He did not reiterate his plan. He let her eat in a companionable kind of silence.
“You do not like wine?” he asked casually, making it clear that even in silence, he was paying attention.
“I do not drink.”
“Ah.”
His ah spoke volumes. The kind of volumes that reminded her he’d done his research. If he’d discovered Erjon was her father, then he knew about her mother as well.
Dessert was served, something decadent and so chocolatey she could smell it over the fragrant jasmine that erupted out of pots on the perimeter of the patio.
Ari rose. As much as she desperately wanted to taste that chocolate confection, she knew when and how to make an exit mean something. “I’ll think about this…proposition,” she told Zervou. And she would. Carefully weigh both sides of this confusing situation and intriguing offer.
“You have not asked what your compensation would be,” Zervou replied.
Ari didn’t blink, though she wanted to. She’d assumed the revenge was the compensation, but she was enough of a businesswoman to not betray her ignorance.
“I like to make sure I’m aligned with an opportunity before I discuss terms.” She gave herself an internal pat on the back because, damn, that sounded good.
“Hmm. Well, interesting. Should you accept the proposal, come prepared with a list of demands.”
Demands. It was hard to imagine this man accepting anyone’s demands. “And you’ll just capitulate to all of them?”
He laughed, low and dark, the sound a strange caress against her skin. Like a warm breeze that made goose bumps rise across her arms even though they shouldn’t. “Of course not. We will negotiate.”
Negotiate. It was a good word, and a good thing to remind herself she had leverage here. This was not a handout. It was not charity. It might not even be a trap.
It was a business proposition.
“Are you staying in Corfu?” she asked him, her eyes roaming the beautiful patio with its sparkling view. Had he really just bought this to keep an eye on his stadium being built? It seemed excessive. She supposed rich people could be excessive.
“For the foreseeable future. You have my card. Call when you’ve reached your decision, and we will set up another meeting.”
She nodded, expecting something more. A well-placed threat.
Maybe even some kind of entreaty—not that she could imagine this man asking for anything.
Though he had, hadn’t he? Her cooperation.
Of course, he’d somehow made it sound like a business deal, not any kind of favor or task he was asking her to do.
No, if she agreed, they would work together to lure her father out of hiding.
And then Zervou would have his revenge—a revenge no doubt better than anything Ari could do outside of an actual fistfight.
All she risked was being in the orbit of a rich, powerful man who could squash her like a bug with both his influence and his wealth.
And you’ve been avoiding being squashed by the more powerful your whole life, haven’t you?
She moved away from the table, toward the exit. She would think about it. Weigh the pros and cons. Consider her demands. She would not let herself be swayed by a delicious meal and manners.
“Oh and, Ariadne?”
She stopped at the door, bracing herself for some kind of parting shot. Some rug-pulling statement that would undo everything she’d just reluctantly started to believe in. Hope for.
“The deal is not about sex,” he said, looking at her with dark, gleaming intent. “But it is hardly off the table if you should decide you’re interested.”
Ari didn’t allow herself to react outwardly. She just looked away and walked. Off the terrace, out of the sprawling house and then away from the luxurious estate.
But the little bolt of heat that seared through her midsection was a bit of a concerning problem.