Chapter Five #2
Once she was out of the palace, she had planned a route to Switzerland—where she could start to build a new life with the money she’d made selling her grandmother’s jewellery online.
Once she was away from Galicos, her father would find it much harder to control her—and if he sent her brothers to military school, she would find a way to get them out, as soon as she could.
Everything was finally ready. Her plan had required courage and ingenuity and would still require a lot of luck, but it had to be tonight, before she was forced to spend time alone with Faron.
Up to now, all her meetings with the man had been chaperoned by her ladies-in-waiting, as was the protocol for the royal household.
She didn’t know what her father planned to happen tonight, while she was supposedly ‘celebrating the union’ with her fiancé in private, but she did not intend to find out.
Faron might be old, but he was bigger than her and not decrepit, and he’d watched her with a gleam in his eye that had made her nauseous.
She tugged the bedsheet up to her chest, and coughed, aware of the red glow on her cheeks caused by the hot-water bottle she had tucked under her pillow: ‘I’m so sorry, Papa.
But I have a temperature, and I ache all over.
’ Not entirely untrue as she had been on edge for days putting the final elements of her escape in place.
‘I really do not think Monsieur Faron would want to catch the flu. Could we postpone the announcement for a few days?’
‘No, we cannot…’ Her father’s brow lowered, making her wonder again why he was so desperate to get this marriage arranged so quickly. He marched across her room and placed his hand on her brow.
The shock of feeling his touch, for the first time in years, made her tense. But he lifted his hand almost instantly and swore.
‘Fine. You need not attend. But the announcement will go ahead, and I expect you to be well tomorrow night—when I will arrange for Faron to see you alone at last. He is tired of waiting.’
She nodded, the nausea threatening to gag her. ‘Of course, Papa.’
His lips twisted in a cruel smile. ‘It is a shame you will not be there tonight. Did you know the younger Caras requested an invitation?’
The mention of Theo Caras had her heart thundering.
The furious mix of emotions shocked her—almost as much as the heat blasting through her bloodstream again.
How could she still have such a volatile reaction to that man, when he had tried to use her as surely as her father, and indeed Faron, intended to.
‘Why would he return to Galicos?’ she asked, hating that she even cared about the answer to that question.
‘He still wants the coastal land, of course.’ Her father’s gaze swept over her with a contempt that made the nausea return. ‘And I dare say the low life still wants you.’
The memory of Theo Caras’ gaze—the dark intensity making her pulse points pound—and the feel of his touch, his lips, his kisses—so sure, so insistent, so devastating—had her thundering pulse dropping into her abdomen.
‘I was looking forward to telling him he will never possess you now,’ her father added. ‘I wanted you there to emphasise the point when I gave your hand in marriage to Faron. But I dare say he will get the message, regardless.’
Her father chuckled, the heartless sound chilling Freya to the bone.
‘Rest well tonight, my dear. Faron will expect you to be attentive tomorrow, and so will I.’
He stalked out of the room and slammed the door.
It took Freya several moments to stop shivering.
She swallowed down the nausea, and scrambled out of bed, then rushed over to lock the bedroom door.
Dropping to her knees, she located the old suitcase she had hidden beneath the bed containing the clothing she had ‘liberated’ from her brother’s wardrobe weeks ago, a burner phone and two lengths of nylon rope she had purchased online, plus the passport she had spent months and a small fortune acquiring on the black market with the help of one of the stable lads.
As she threw on the boy’s clothing, she forced the betraying thoughts of Theo Caras to one side.
The way he had looked at her, touched her, as if he owned her.
She didn’t want his attention or need it.
She didn’t need any man. Especially a man such as Caras, who was as cynical and heartless as Faron and her father but just came in much more attractive packaging.
And she was about to prove it.
‘Monsieur Caras, I would like you to meet Monsieur Faron—the man who is keen to take your brother’s place, as you were not…’
Theo turned his head to find Prince Andreas standing behind him in his dress-up uniform with a balding man he recognised by his side.
He gave the French investment banker a curt nod. ‘Faron.’
He’d met the nondescript bureaucrat before, but then the prince’s statement about Faron registered.
The man who is keen to take your brother’s place…
‘What did you say?’ he managed, feeling shell-shocked.
The prince’s smile became even smugger, but it was Faron who spoke.
‘Bonsoir, Monsieur Caras,’ he said as his chest puffed up and he offered Theo his hand. Theo ignored it.
‘I should inform you…’ Faron continued, withdrawing his hand awkwardly ‘…out of professional courtesy, that my consortium has had our generous offer for the Galicos Port tract accepted by the prince. The deal will be finalised in the new year with my marriage to the princess.’
Alarm bells clanged discordantly in Theo’s ears, and his whole body went rigid.
‘I see…’ Theo gave Faron a dismissive nod while noting the sparkle of triumph in the prince’s eyes.
He recognised that look because he’d seen it before, in the eyes of a gang boss in Piraeus when the guy had been in the process of kicking him half to death as a kid. He’d never made the mistake of trying to best someone three times his size again after that.
He was bigger now, a lot more ruthless, and much better able to defend himself, but something about the prince’s expression made him feel as if he’d just been sucker-punched in the gut again.
‘Where is Freya tonight?’ he demanded, suddenly desperate to see her.
The prince’s gaze narrowed. ‘Her Royal Highness is unwell, but she is happy for us to announce her engagement tonight…’ His lips twisted in a mockery of a smile. ‘To Monsieur Faron.’
Theo tensed, determined to prevent the emotions exploding inside him—anger, revulsion and that brutal feeling of inadequacy that had dogged so much of his childhood—from being visible on his face.
Freya had agreed to marry this old man? When she’d made it clear she would never marry him?
‘I see…’ he ground out again, the strain of keeping his expression neutral making it impossible for him to deliver a suitably couldn’t-give-a-shit response.
Because he did give a shit. He gave a lot of a shit. How could that vibrant, beautiful, intoxicating girl contemplate marrying a boring bureaucrat like Faron, who was her father’s age?
‘You seem surprised, Mr Caras?’ the prince sneered. ‘Did you really believe she would ever marry the likes of you? Or that I would deign to sell a portion of my kingdom to Caras Shipping after your disrespectful behaviour towards my daughter?’
Disrespectful, my ass.
One thing Theo did know was that their chemistry had been real.
He could still feel the rigid throb of her nipple against his tongue, still hear her shocked sob of surrender when she’d come.
Still see the startled expression on her face before her father had discovered them.
He hadn’t imagined any of that. He knew when a woman wanted him.
His gaze swept over Faron. No way was he letting this man have her. No matter what deal he’d made with her father, or her.
She belongs to me.
And the land… That land belonged to Caras, too.
He clenched his teeth, aware that something was going on here he didn’t understand.
And also aware that those damn alarm bells in his head, the shocking rush of heat swelling in his groin and the emotion tightening his ribs were making it impossible for him to respond coherently.
He needed to regroup, get his emotions under control and figure out a solution.
It would be easy to stop Faron’s consortium from closing the deal though… Because Caras had investments in their stock that Theo could leverage.
But first, he wanted to confront Freya. And demand an explanation. Why had she agreed to bed an old man? How much of an operator was she?
‘You don’t have to like me to do business with me, Andreas,’ he said, dropping the honorific title deliberately. ‘And I’d think twice, if I were you, about doing business with Faron here, when Caras Shipping own a large piece of that pie, too.’
It was a threat, pure and simple. He’d intended to use the carrot, but he had no qualms now about using the stick.
Andreas frowned, because the entitled old fool hadn’t done his due diligence. But it was Faron who looked crestfallen.
‘But, Monsieur Caras, the prince assured me you had relinquished your interest in the land and a marriage with his daughter…’
The mention of the marriage in conjunction with the land deal again had Theo’s alarm bells getting louder, but he had no desire to be here now, when Freya wasn’t going to make an appearance tonight.
‘Think again, Faron. Prince Andreas…’ he added, giving Freya’s father a perfunctory nod before stalking away from both men.
Staff rushed backwards and forwards in the palace’s brightly lit service corridors as Theo made his way to the East Wing exit to collect his bike.
Once he arrived at the garden car park and asked for Stéphane an older man appeared, and headed off to fetch his bike and jacket…
But as he stood under the portico, hunched against the cold, his fury with the whole damn situation fired through his bloodstream.
The land deal could wait. But he intended to come back tomorrow now, and demand to see the princess. He didn’t care how sick she was, he wanted to know why she had chosen Faron over him.
He was still fuming when he noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye. It took him several seconds to clear his furious thoughts long enough to register what he was seeing…
Was someone climbing up the ornate facade of the building?
He tugged his hand out of his pocket to hail one of the other parking attendants and tell them to alert security… But he couldn’t take his eyes off the figure.
Something had him lowering his hand and shoving it back into his pocket.
Whoever the person was, they were slight, no more than a boy. They weren’t climbing up the building, they were climbing down, the backpack they wore a sign they’d already completed their night’s work.
From the all-black attire blending into the darkness, he realised it had to be a cat burglar.
A wave of nostalgia and admiration made his ribs feel tight as he watched the thief clamber down the rope, then drop nimbly onto his feet.
How many times had he climbed into the best hotels in Athens as a boy, to steal trinkets from tourists?
He’d easily justified those ‘missions’. He and his brother had needed to eat, and those tourists had been so rich, they would never have missed a few baubles.
Of course, when Xander had discovered Theo’s night-time activities, he’d gone ballistic and forced him to stop taking such dangerous risks.
But Theo could still recall the thrill of those late-night forays.
The fear of being caught had been almost as exhilarating as the feeling of achievement when he’d pocketed the cash from the gangland fence.
Even knowing he’d been paid only a fraction of what those jewels were worth hadn’t deterred him, because he’d loved owning such beauty, if only for a few precious hours before he was forced to sell them.
He observed the thief’s progress, darting across the gardens disguised by the shadows.
To hell with it, why should he turn the kid in? The boy had somehow managed to get past the palace security and Theo owed no loyalty to the royal family—especially not the princess who had thrown him over for a fat Frenchman twice his age.
But then the slender thief ran past the fountain—the ornate centrepiece shrouded in snow—and a strip of light illuminated his face.
Shocked recognition blasted into Theo’s brain—as the eddying heat in his groin blazed into an inferno.
The valet chose that moment to arrive with his bike. Theo tugged on his jacket, his mind racing again—the fond journey down memory lane obliterated.
‘Just follow the road out towards the port entrance, Monsieur Caras,’ the man said, pocketing the generous tip Theo handed him.
‘Is there a back entrance to the palace grounds on the far side?’ he asked, surreptitiously tracking the darting figure over the parking valet’s shoulder as it disappeared into the trees that edged the gardens.
The man seemed puzzled but gave him directions.
Kick-starting the bike, he drove along the road that wound away from the palace, through the trees and hugged the high back wall of the estate, determined to track down the sneak thief… And find out what the hell Freya was playing at now.
The swift spike of adrenaline was a throwback to that feral kid, risking everything to steal precious gems that didn’t belong to him, just so he could own them for a few hours and eat for another month.
But it was the hot spike of lust racing through his system that made his heartbeat accelerate into his throat.
And was even more intoxicating than a Class-A drug…