CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER TWO
Lynna hated feeling any sympathy for Athan. After all, why should she? He was just getting a taste of his own medicine. If anyone else had done this to him, she would be popping marinated olives and laughing herself all the way home.
But it was Constantine Akakios who had delivered this blow, and she couldn’t celebrate that . She wished Constantine would get his comeuppance too. But she’d spent the past five years trying to make peace with the lack of fairness in the world. You couldn’t change the whims and arrows of ruthless, careless men. You could only learn how to build your own life, protect the people in it at all costs, and roll with all the consequences of other people’s actions.
She let out a slow breath. She’d been prepared to see Constantine, and still there’d been a visceral initial response of wanting to hurl the tray of food at him. Among other things.
The impulse was still there, so she moved forward and carefully set the tray down on the dining room table. She turned to Athan, who looked shell-shocked. That little wriggle of compassion was trying to gain a foothold, but she refused .
He deserved to be shell-shocked. No matter the instigator, he deserved to be destroyed. His karmic reward.
“A dinner for one, then?” she asked, innocently enough.
Athan straightened, as if her voice was the antidote to a spell. The shock slowly morphed into something sharper on his face. He was plotting, and that should be just alarming enough for Lynna to beat a hasty retreat.
But she found herself pinned to the spot when he aimed his dark gaze at her.
Because the problem was… He was handsome. Outrageously so, really. It was the sharp angles, the aristocratic nose, the dark eyes that were no doubt reflective of the depths of hell he’d crawled out of.
No doubt the devil was this attractive as well, when he wanted to be.
Get out! Her brain seemed to shout at her. But her feet were resolutely rooted to the spot, her heartbeat kicking up as Athan’s expression went from one of shock, to a slow, sly smile.
“I know exactly what we’ll do,” he said, his voice dark. Like the devil himself , she told herself. Resolutely. And it was worry that had her heartbeat picking up, not anything else.
Particularly when it sounded like he was bringing her into the we . That was ridiculous. Surely he meant some royal we that had nothing to do with her and she needed to leave . Now.
But his attention seemed solely on her. A kind of demonic tractor beam she was incapable of escaping.
“It seems you’ll have to marry me instead.”
* * *
The peal of laughter was bright and unexpected. She actually threw back her head and laughed and laughed. Enough that he was more irritated by the dramatics than distracted by the slim column of her throat or the shocking punch of seeing true amusement on her face.
“It isn’t a joke,” he said. Maybe later he could find the humor in it, but right now he only had rage. But it wasn’t molten, out of control. No, he’d learned how to control it.
Careful, sharp, deadly ice.
His father would not—could not—win.
“Then you’ve had a break with reality,” Lynna said. “And my answer is a hearty no .”
“I didn’t ask , Lynna.”
Any humor melted off her face. Temper snapped into her eyes. Color mounted in her cheeks. “Oh, were you under the impression I am one of your minions because you paid for my culinary expertise? Bad news for you.” She stepped toward him, finger raised in an aggressive point. “No. You cannot order me about. Particularly to marry you. Are you insane?”
He supposed it sounded a bit insane. To her . But she didn’t understand. He needed the shares. If he couldn’t get them out from under his father, if he couldn’t get them with an in with Giordano, then he would need to rely on the one name that was like a specter in the halls of AC International.
Carew.
“People in the company still respect your father, his name. They know it was my father’s shady dealings that hurt his reputation. People at AC respect me for my efforts to fix it.”
“Surely not the same people.”
But he ignored her barb. The idea was forming, taking shape in the moment. The way the best ones did. Evolving into something even better than the original.
It would be better. He would still destroy his father by pulling together disparate parts, instead of one big share. His father couldn’t stop an insidious campaign if Athan had an actual Carew on his side.
And he would have AC International come hell or high water. Giordano shares or no. He hadn’t given up at the first few roadblocks his father had put up, why would he give up now?
Here she stood, the answer to his problems. He needed Lynna. The nostalgia of the Carew name was his last chance at undercutting the fear and intimidation his father led with.
Two years of working toward marrying Regina up in smoke. It grated, but he wouldn’t take another two years. He wouldn’t waste the planned wedding on Saturday.
No, Lynna would marry him, and he would begin his coup that way.
Of course she didn’t want to marry him. He knew her, though. Her family. Her situation. Perhaps he did not have as much positive interaction with her as an adult, but that did not change the fact he knew what was important to her.
Her family. Stability. And even if she wanted revenge against him, surely his father ranked at least a little bit higher.
He could use it. Not against her. It wasn’t so sordid as that. He could use it to bargain a deal . A mutually beneficial deal. Where they both got something out of it.
Because he was not his father.
“You will take Regina’s place and marry me on Saturday. Prior to the I dos, we’ll draw up an agreement. You give me…” He considered the amount of time it would take. “Three years, and I will afford you a lump sum to pay for any and all of Rhys’s education. A position for him in my company once he’s done at university, with contractual guarantee he can’t be outed for a specific period of time. A house for your mother wherever she’d like.” Her brother’s education and a job, stability for her mother. She’d want nothing more.
But she remained stubborn. “And what would I get out of the deal?”
“Satisfaction.”
She laughed again. “Have you had a head injury lately? Helping you would not be satisfying in the least.”
“You hate my father.”
“I hate you both. I’d hardly help one to hurt the other when I’d rather see you both fail.”
He’d wanted her to outright say that for five years, and now the moment was here, and he felt no satisfaction. Because he needed her to avenge this. There was no other way. Not right now. Perhaps he could build another plan in a year or so, but by then his father would find a way to oust him.
He could build his own company. He could do a lot of things, but he wanted his father to suffer as much as he wanted to win.
So he needed to act fast. “Everything you do is for Rhys. And your mother.”
Her chin went up. Her shoulders back, but when she spoke it was with that same calm detachment that always made him want to roar, like a lion in a cage.
“Yes. And remarkably, I have handled everything for them. I don’t need your help.” She turned on a heel. No doubt not just to leave the dining room, but to leave his villa and Mykonos altogether.
But he knew everything about her. Had kept ruthless and detailed tabs. Not that he’d ever let on, even going so far as to pretend he’d just happened to hear about Your Girl Friday from some friends.
But that wasn’t true. Ever since her father’s funeral, he’d known her every move. He’d never been able to articulate to himself exactly why, but it didn’t matter. Now the information would come in useful.
“The interest on that loan is rather high,” he called after her.
She stopped on a dime. Then she whirled around to face him. That anger and temper he’d wanted from her for five years right there in her expression.
She really was beautiful. She kept it understated, perhaps she even hid it the same way she always hid her real reaction to him.
But it was there. With her eyes flashing and color in her cheeks. Her shoulders back and her fists curled like she might physically fight him. A roar of something like triumph rumbled through him.
He could almost forget about his own anger, his own fury, his own revenge.
Almost.
“Think of it, Lynna. The next three years could be easy. You wouldn’t have to work yourself to the bone.”
“I like my work.”
“All right, work away. But you could work how you wanted. No missing Christmases, or Rhys’s sporting events. You could take the jobs that suited you and leave the rest. You could pay that loan off in full. Immediately. You could spend time with your mother. All you have to do is—”
“Marry the devil?” she tossed at him.
“Come now, paidi mou . I think we can both agree my father is the devil. I am perhaps a lower-level demon. This could be my redemption right here.”
“Redemption my…” At his raised eyebrows, she trailed off. “I would never in a million years marry you or any Akakios.” And she turned on a heel as if that was it.
It was not it, could not be it. He followed her into the kitchen, recalculating. His staff had already cleaned up much of the dinner preparation mess, but there were unserved dishes sitting there. Lynna went for them, began to pack them away.
Still working. Sometimes, she made no sense to him. But that was the thing about business. People didn’t have to make sense if you knew their weak spots.
“Two years of wedded bliss, then you may divorce me. Another significant payoff there. Schooling for Rhys. A guaranteed job for him, and I will mentor him. A house for your mother—hell, make it two.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“Money is no object, Lynna. I need you. I need your name.” Which gave him the idea that might actually win her over. “And once I have ousted my father from AC completely, I will deliver a public apology. To your father and your family. Splashed across every news outlet in the world, clearing his name once and for all.”