CHAPTER ELEVEN
We wound up at a white marble gazebo nestled between ancient cypress trees, their shadows dappling the stone floor with shifting patterns of light. A circular wooden bench, polished to a honeyed gleam, wrapped around the interior, and a fan spun above, circulating the air and keeping us cool.
Our conversation had ebbed and flowed like a nearby fountain I could hear but not see. I couldn't remember the last time I'd ever spoken so much, my usual careful silence abandoned somewhere along the winding cobblestone path that had led us here.
Alaric was settled beside me on the bench, his posture relaxed yet somehow still commanding the space. For a moment, we lulled in silence, the only sounds being the distant fountain and birds calling to each other from above. Then he turned toward me, his knee brushing against mine.
"Tell me about the men you've been with," he implored, his tone casual but his eyes intent. "Before me."
The question caught me off guard. "I thought you did your research," I replied, trying to keep my voice light. "Isn't that what you called it? Due diligence?"
Something flickered in his eyes—amusement or appreciation for my deflection. "I want to hear it from you. Not from reports or surveillance notes. From your lips."
I looked down at my hands, suddenly feeling exposed in a way that had nothing to do with the thin silk of my dress. The truth was simple enough but admitting it made me feel oddly vulnerable.
"There's nothing to tell. I haven't been with anyone."
Alaric's expression remained unchanged, but I felt the sudden intensity of his focus like a physical weight. "Define 'been with,'" he prompted.
. "I mean I haven't been with anyone. At all." I forced myself to meet his gaze. "No relationships. No... nothing."
"Nothing?" he echoed, his voice softening dangerously. "Not even a kiss?"
I shook my head once, the motion small. "You should know my father made sure of that. I was too valuable as untouched merchandise."
The words came out more bitter than I intended, but Alaric didn't seem to mind. Instead, his lips curved into a slow smile that made my heart stutter in my chest. He shifted closer, the bench creaking softly beneath our combined weight.
“You are much more than what he wanted you to believe. And untouched?” he reached up to cup my face. "That we can remedy."
My heart hammered against my ribs. His touch was gentle but firm, his eyes never leaving mine as he leaned in slowly. The scent of his cologne enveloped me, making me dizzy with anticipation.
"May I?" he asked, his breath warm against my lips.
I nodded, unable to form words.
Alaric closed the remaining distance between us. His lips touched mine, soft at first, a whisper of contact. One hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair as he deepened the kiss, coaxing my lips to part.
I had imagined this moment countless times while reading my novels, but reality obliterated fantasy. His mouth moved against mine with practiced precision, coaxing rather than demanding.
The taste of him flooded my senses. My hands hesitantly moved to his shoulders, feeling the solid muscle beneath fine fabric.
He made a sound low in his throat, something between approval and hunger, as his other hand found my waist and pulled me closer. The kiss transformed from exploratory to consuming. Alaric took control completely, teaching me without words how to move with him, against him.
When he finally pulled back, I almost felt dazed, my lips tingling. His thumb traced my now-swollen bottom lip, satisfaction evident in his expression.
"Beautiful," he murmured, his accent thicker than before as he pressed a lighter kiss to the corner of my mouth, and then pulling away. "I'm either the luckiest man alive, or completely fucked, depending on your final verdict."
He leaned in again, this time bypassing her lips to press his mouth against my neck. The sensation of his warm breath against my skin made me gasp. When his teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below my ear, my fingers clutched at his shoulders involuntarily.
His hand at my waist tightened, drawing me closer until I was nearly in his lap. The solid heat of him against me was intoxicating with unfamiliar desire.
"Alaric," I breathed, unsure if I was asking him to stop or continue.
He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, his expression pleased. "Say it again."
"Alaric," I repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Good girl," he praised, the same words from earlier that had made heat bloom across my skin. "I like the way my name sounds on your lips. I wonder what other sounds I can draw from this pretty mouth."
I stared at him, suddenly feeling like I was drowning in waters too deep to navigate.
His confidence, his intensity—it was overwhelming in a way I hadn't expected.
He was overwhelming. My hand drifted up to the side of my neck where his mouth had been moments before, fingers pressing against the skin to check if he'd left any evidence of his attention.
Alaric's eyes tracked the movement, his brow furrowing slightly. "What are you doing?"
"Just... checking," I admitted, dropping my hand quickly to my lap. "My father notices everything."
“You’re a grown woman and soon to be my wife. What would he do if I made that known? Would he hurt you?” He seemed to rethink something. “Does he hurt you?”
I exhaled slowly, forcing composure, weighing how much truth to offer. “He has a way of letting me know when I when I fail to meet his expectations.”
“That’s why you hardly reacted earlier.”
I had almost forgotten about that already. That was nothing compared to all the other things he’d done throughout the years.
Alaric reached for my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. "That ends now. No one touches you without consequences. Not even him."
"You can't protect me from everything," I replied.
"Watch me."
He leaned forward again, but this time placed a soft kiss on my forehead, the gesture almost reverent. When he pulled back, his eyes were serious.
"I need you to understand something, Selene. This marriage isn't just about business or bloodlines for me. I have specific reasons for choosing you that go beyond what you might think I won't pretend I'm a good man—I'm not—I will never physically harm you."
I searched his face for any sign of deception but found none. "I don’t understand why you want to marry me. There are dozens of eligible women in the Dominion. Why choose the daughter of someone you clearly despise?"
"Because you're exactly what I need and who I want.”
That still wasn’t an answer, but I didn’t press. The moment between us was passing by.
"I won't allow you to return to that house,” he suddenly stated casually.
Something fluttered beneath my ribs. "Excuse me?"
"You'll collect your belongings first thing tomorrow with protection. Santos will accompany you."
“Who is Santos?”
“He’s your personal Warden,” he answered.
Right, the security detail. I shook my head. "My father would never permit me to leave."
“Selene, I’m going to show you how powerless that man is when it comes to this.” His expression gentled, but the steel remained in his eyes. "This isn't negotiable. I won't send you back to him. Our house has dozens of rooms sitting empty. Pick any one you like until we're married.”
He retrieved his phone from his pocket and dialed without looking. When he spoke in Greek. The native syllables rolled off his tongue with natural ease. I caught every word. The moment he ended the call; he tucked his phone away. "He's coming."
Minutes later, footsteps approached, unhurried, the walk of someone who knew exactly where he stood in the world.
He materialized from the garden shadows like a sentinel.
Broad-shouldered and imposing, his dark slacks and crisp shirt strained slightly against the muscle they contained.
Bronze skin weathered by years of vigilance.
Silver hair cropped military-short at the sides.
Eyes deep brown and unreadable, holding stories they would never tell.
I recognized him instantly from a Dominion gathering years ago where he'd stood beside Alaric’s father—a human fortress, expression carved from stone. Even then, he'd carried himself with the quiet authority of a man who had survived enough to fear very little.
He halted at a respectful distance, hands behind his back. "Sir," he acknowledged Alaric, his voice like tires on gravel, before his gaze shifted to me with a slight nod. "Miss."
Alaric stood, the motion smooth but absolute. “There’s been a slight change of plans. You’ll be accompanying Selene back to her family’s residence tomorrow morning. She’ll collect her personal belongings and return here under your supervision. No one touches her. No one interferes.”
Santos nodded once. “Understood.”
“Her father—.”
“I’ll handle her father,” Santos interrupted gently, his gaze resting on me for only a second before returning to Alaric. “He won’t be a problem.”
Something unspoken passed between them. Respect, trust, something older than obedience. Alaric’s tone softened a fraction. “She’s under my protection now. She doesn’t set foot in that house again without you present.”
Santos nodded again, a soldier’s reply. “Yes, sir.”
He looked at me again, and for the first time there was a hint of warmth beneath the formality. “I’ll see to it you’re settled safely.”
Alaric stroked my hand again. “You’ll be fine with him. He’s been with my family since I was a boy. You’ll find no one more loyal. He will remain with you until I get back.”
"Get back from where?" I asked carefully, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it confirmed.
His eyes met mine. "I'm going to pay your father a visit."
"You don't need to do that," I objected, rising from the bench. "Whatever you're thinking—."
"I'm thinking," he interrupted, stepping closer until I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact, "that your father needs to understand exactly who he's dealing with now because words aren’t doing the trick."
I felt a cold flutter of something close to panic, a rarity for me because I was so used to only having to worry about myself.
Though I'd dreamed of escaping my father's control for years, the reality of it happening so fast left me almost bereft.
And Alaric confronting him directly? That could go badly in ways I couldn't even imagine.
Alaric caught my hand, bringing it to his lips. The gentle press of his mouth against my knuckles contrasted with the steel in his eyes.
"I've dealt with men like your father my entire life. This conversation is long overdue." His thumb traced circles on my palm. "I'll be perfectly fine. Men like Darius only have power when others fear them."
I swallowed hard, unable to quell the anxiety rising in my chest. "You don't know him like I do."
"I know him better. I've seen his financials, his debts, his dealings. I know exactly who your father is. I only wish I’d known how that would affect you long before today." He gently clasped my chin. "But I think you’re forgetting who I am.”
I blinked up at him, suddenly aware I'd lost myself for a moment. He was right—I'd forgotten who he was. Alaric Kostas wasn't just any man; he was power incarnate.
"You're right," I admitted. “But I've lived with his consequences my entire life."
Alaric's fingers tightened on my chin, not painfully but with enough pressure to ensure I couldn't look away. "And now you'll live with mine."
The words should have terrified me. This was dangerous—the way my body responded to him, the way something inside me recognized his darkness and reached for it like a flower turning toward the sun.
"What exactly are you going to do?" I asked.
"I'm going to remind him who he’s made a deal with." His hand fell away from my face, but his eyes remained locked with mine for a moment longer, promising things that made my breath catch. "Penelope will join you in ten minutes.”
He pressed one more kiss to my forehead before stepping back. "I won’t be long.”
With that, he turned and walked away, his steps unhurried yet purposeful.
I watched him disappear up the winding path.
The silence that followed felt oppressive.
I sank back onto the bench, suddenly aware of Santos's presence at the edge of the gazebo.
He stood like a sentinel, his gaze sweeping the garden perimeter.
"Alaric won't hurt him," he commented after a moment, his voice startling me. "Not physically, at least."
I looked up, surprised by the unsolicited reassurance. "You can't know that."
And I wouldn’t care if Alaric removed my father from this earth entirely,” I added silently.
"I've been with the Kostas family for twenty-seven years," he replied, his eyes still scanning the grounds. "I know how Mr. Kostas operates. Your father will be intact when he's done. His pride is another matter."
There was something almost comforting in his certainty. I decided to take his words at face value.