Chapter Two
THE LITTLE BIRD has grown some claws.
The thought slid through Constantine’s mind with grim satisfaction, shaking off the dull fatigue that had hung over him the last few months like fog. Her taunt roused something slow and sharp in his chest that had lain dormant for too long.
Whatever few niggles he’d had that he might find the same fragile, slightly naive and mostly daydreaming girl who he had once adored, vanished like a puff of smoke.
His plan for her had its uses, yes, but he loved the idea of having a worthy opponent for his petty revenge. If nothing else, their…entanglement would be entertaining.
This version of Aliyah, sharp-tongued and steely resolved, filled him with fresh excitement. Especially when he thought of the destination he had in mind for them both.
“You make me sound like a pimp,” he said, pressing his palm to his chest in mock affront.
Some hungry thing in him wanted to provoke her, unravel her a little more, until all that sterile composure she wore like a mask fell away and she came to him, begging to surrender again. Begging to be undone until she forgot herself.
It was pretty much his agenda for the condition he was going to throw at her.
From an outsider’s perspective, the Andros family—the father, the mother and the daughter—had given him everything: a way out of poverty, and a route to wealth and power and success.
And yet, all three of them, in their own ways, had also turned him into this cold, ruthless man who wanted them at his mercy.
A creature of their own making…
Theo, by dangling approval and hope and affection over his head while tormenting him with nearly impossible tasks for more than two decades.
Noor, by spewing vicious hatred at him at every turn.
And Aliyah…was the worst. For she had sliced him into ribbons with the softest knife—by making him believe that he could have love and affection and family in his godforsaken life.
Now, all he wanted was to wipe any trace of the Andros family from the company, from the city itself, and replace it with his name.
“Hardly a pimp, Constantine. More like an enforcer,” Aliyah quipped, obviously unaware of the dark direction of his thoughts.
“That too is an insult no man would dare aim at me,” he replied. “But of course, I guess our earlier…association, especially our secret interludes in your father’s greenhouse, lets you assume a certain familiarity with me.”
Color flooded her cheeks and her lush, wide lips fluttered like trembling leaves at the mercy of a storm.
“I mean no insult. Please—” a rough breath huffed out as if she regretted uttering that word “—don’t tell me you’ve changed so much that a pragmatic proposal offends your sensibilities.
” She spread her arms in a wide circle, gesturing to the expansive surroundings of his office.
“I thought being the lord and master of all this would make you even more untouchable. It’s not like you lacked in confidence before. ”
“Even powerful men have permanent weak spots, poulaki mou.”
Again, rapid color filled her cheeks at the old nickname he had coined for her. Not that she looked anything like a little bird anymore.
Her amber eyes shone like rare jewels as they drifted to his mouth and held.
Constantine felt it like a punch to his solar plexus—the impact of that gaze lingering on his mouth, or anywhere on him. Lust coiled and tightened, filling him with a new kind of tension. One that demanded release.
The very idea of Aliyah holding the reins of his lust made him fight it with everything he had. He would satisfy his curiosity but on his own terms. Never again would he let himself trust her or let her close.
“I’m not sure I understand,” she said, her gaze finally meeting his again. “Are you insinuating that I’m a weak spot, Constantine? For you?”
If she had batted her eyelashes or looked even remotely satisfied at the possible answer, it would have been so much easier to resist her, to continue to hate her. And yet, her question carried just as much disbelief as the shock her tone conveyed.
She was not the Aliyah he once knew.
Definitely not the lost, lonely waif who used to shadow his footsteps around her father’s estate even before her brother had befriended him, long before her father had chosen him to be his protégé.
Not the sweet, softly spoken teenager who used her allowance to buy him a new pair of shoes for his first day at Andros International as an unpaid intern.
Not the arresting beauty she had blossomed into a few years later, a stunning young woman in the first flush of her youth, who’d looked at him with eyes that sparkled with naked lust and easy trust.
He hadn’t fallen for Aliyah as the world saw her—a billionaire’s beautiful, artsy, daydreaming daughter, considered a prize by any man. Especially by one from the wrong side of tracks like him.
No, instead he’d been lured by her soft smiles, her open affection, her willingness to see him as someone worthy of her attention. He had been captivated over years and years into believing that that sweet version of Aliyah was real.
Only to discover that her sweetness was of the passive variety, that it demanded to be prized and kept in perfect condition, that it simply was a surface shine to hide the emptiness beneath.
She was supposed to have faded. That’s what he’d believed all these years, that she’d traded fire for comfort, passion for protection.
That marrying another man had hollowed her out.
That whatever redeeming qualities she had possessed would have withered and died away without him.
But she hadn’t faded or smudged into softness by her pampered existence.
This woman standing in front of him now, with her chin high and voice sharp, had fire licking at the edges of her control. And it stoked his own long-dormant needs into a bright blaze.
From her light brown hair twisted into a tight knot at the base of her neck to her peach silk blouse and sleek navy skirt, she wore her elegance like armor.
There was none of the artsy, passionate pianist who spent hours poring over music sheets or humming to herself while she puttered about in the patch of wildness that not even Constantine’s grandfather could tame.
Her shoulders were rigid, spine straight, as if she didn’t allow herself any softness. And for just a second, his mind wandered to the man who’d clearly had a hand in molding her into this…poised, controlled version.
A surge of jealousy twisted his stomach, hard enough that he took a few steps away from her. As if distance could dilute the effect she was having on him since she stepped in.
If he had any sense, he would deny her any sort of help and dismiss her.
It would be the sensible thing to do, for his and her sake.
But then the poor groundskeeper’s grandson wouldn’t have risen up to control one of the most powerful companies in Greece if he didn’t take risks. If he didn’t meet challenges head-on.
All he needed was to keep the dangerous heat between them under his control. Fully.
He stepped away from his desk, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt.
“More of an irritation than a weak spot, Aliyah. Excuse me if I don’t want to deal with the can of worms your reappearance causes in my life.
Your mother, if you must know, has already made a fuss about how I must help you, no matter what.
” He let his distaste bleed into his words.
“Noor hasn’t lost the habit of reminding me how much I owe her and your father.
Of my own dirty roots, as if I would ever be ashamed of where I came from. ”
Aliyah’s shoulders stiffened and she rubbed a finger over her temple.
Her nails were unpainted and buffed—one thing it seemed that hadn’t changed about her.
“I’m sorry about that,” she said, shaking her head.
“All I did was to confide in Mama about the problems I’m facing with Rose’s uncle.
It was her suggestion that I ask you for help. ”
“It was?” Constantine said, betraying his own surprise.
What the hell was Noor now playing at, pushing her daughter to seek his help, when she’d spent a lifetime hating his very existence? Had she any idea of the volatile feelings he had for Aliyah after all these years?
Or was this another strategy to simply bring her estranged daughter home, with the added bonus of causing Constantine fresh problems with the company?
Not that Aliyah noticed his confusion as she said, “Yes. But I promise you, I have no plans of staying any more than you want me here. Just throw your name and weight behind me, help me gain full custody of Rose and you—”
“And there lies the catch, fterouga,” he said softly, savoring the way she watched him. With a wariness that fed him as if it was ambrosia plugged straight into his veins.
“What catch?” she said, her own breath caught on one.
A moment passed, then more tumbled. And yet, Constantine had this strange feeling that they were caught in a frozen tableau.
Shaking off the thought, he took his time crossing to the bar cart, poured two fingers of whiskey without offering her any. Christos, but he was a petty man and this bitterness toward her had calcified in his chest like a damned rock, taking up too much space in his head and in his life.
He hadn’t realized until now how much she had robbed him of—how everything he had achieved had been tarnished by her running away, by her lack of trust in him.
By her ruining the shape of the very future she had worked so hard toward.
How every step he’d climbed toward power and freedom was tainted by the taste of her lack of faith in him, in them.
The weight suddenly seemed unbearable and yet, instead of jettisoning it, he was signing up for more.
The tumbler shook in his fingers as he took a quick sip. But his resolve didn’t waver. The only way to carve the rock of bitterness out of his chest, to dig out of himself the last remnants of what they had been to each other, was to earn her unconditional surrender.