The Greek's Pleasurable Revenge. Andie Brock
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the black lace of her veil.
Oh, please, no.
Not Lukasânot here, not now. But there was no mistaking the figure of the man who was glowering at her from the other side of the grave, or the power of his intensely dark stare as it bored into her. He was broader than she remembered him, and his muscled torso harder, stronger, more imposing, filling the well-cut dark suit like steel poured into a mould of the finest fabric. His sleeves tugged tight against the bulge of his biceps as he stood there with his arms folded across his chest, his feet firmly planted, clearly indicating that he was going nowhere.
All this Calista registered in a flash of panic before lowering her eyes to the grave.
This couldnât be happening.
Lukas Kalanos was in prisonâeverybody knew that. Serving a long sentence for his part in the disgraceful arms smuggling business that had been masterminded by his father, Stavrosâher own fatherâs business partner.
The sheer immorality of the venture had sickened Calista to the coreâit still did. The fact that her fatherâs shipping business had gone bust because of it, and her family had been financially ruined, was only of secondary concern. At the age of twenty-three she had already experienced great wealth and great hardship. And she knew which one she preferred.
Which was why five years ago she had walked away, determined to turn her back on her tainted Greek heritage. Away from the collapse of the multi-billion-dollar family business, from her brothersâ bickering and back-stabbing. From her fatherâs towering rages and black, alcohol-fuelled depressions.
But most of all she had walked away from Lukas Kalanosâthe man whose dark eyes were tearing into her soul right now. The man who had taken her virginity and broken her heart. And who had left her with a very permanent reminder.
At the thought of her little daughter Calista felt her lip start to quiver. Effie was fineâshe was safe at home in London, probably running rings around poor Magda, Calistaâs trusted friend and fellow student nurse, who was in charge until Calista could hurry back. She didnât want to spend any more time here than she had toâshe was intending to stay a couple of days at most, to sort through her fatherâs things with her brothers, sign whatever paperwork needed to be signed and then escape from this island for ever.
But suddenly getting away from Thalassa had taken on a new urgency. And getting away from the menacingly dark form of Lukas Kalanos more imperative still.
The burial ceremony was almost over. The priest was inviting them to join him in the last prayer before the mourners tossed flowers and soil onto the top of the coffin, the distinctive sound as they met the polished wood sending a shiver through Calistaâs slender frame.
âNot cold, surely?â A firm, possessive grip clasped her elbow. âOr is this a touching display of grief?â
He spoke in faultless English, although Calistaâs Greek would have been more than good enough to understand his meaning. Using his grasp, he turned her so that now she couldnât escape the full force of him as he loomed over her, glowered down at her. âIf so, Iâm sure I donât need to point out that it is seriously misplaced.â
âLukas, please...â Calista braced herself to meet his searing gaze, her knees almost giving way at the sight of him.
The tangled dark curls had gone, in favour of a close-cropped style that hardened his handsome features, accentuating the uncompromising sweep of his jawline shadowed with designer stubble, the sharp-angled planes of his cheeks. But the eyes were the sameâso dark a brown as to be almost black, breathtaking in their intensity.
âI am here to bury my fatherânot listen to your insults.â
âOh, believe me, agapi mou, in terms of insults I wouldnât know where to start. It would take a lifetime and more to even scratch the surface of the depths of my revulsion for that man.â
Calista swallowed hard. Her father had had his faultsâshe had no doubt about that. A larger-than-life character, both in temperament and girth, he had treated her mother very badly, and had had a series of affairs that had broken her motherâs spirit, albeit already fragile. In turn that had eventually led to her accidental overdose. Calista would never wholly forgive him for that.
But heâd still been her fatherâthe only one she would ever haveâand she had always known she would have to return to Thalassa one last time to lay him to rest. And maybe lay some of her demons to rest too.
Little had she known that the biggest demon of all would be present at the graveside, sliding his arm around her waist right now in a blatant show of possessiveness and control.
âIâll thank you not to speak of my father in that way.â
She was grateful to feel her hot-headed temper kicking in to rescue her, colouring her cheeks beneath the veil. Pointedly taking a step to the side to dislodge his hand from her elbow, she pushed back her shoulders and had to stifle a gasp as his arm slid around her waist, the ring of muscled steel burning through the thin fabric of her black dress.
âIt is both disrespectful and deeply insulting.â Her voice shook alarmingly. âQuite aside from which, you are hardly in a position to judge anyone.â
âMe, Calista?â Dark brows were raised fractionally in feigned surprise. âWhy would that be?â
âYou know perfectly well why.â
âAh, yes. The heinous crime I committed. Thatâs something I want to talk to you about.â
âWell, I donât want to talk to youâabout that or anything else.â
Particularly not anything else.
Cold fingers of dread tiptoed down her spine at the thought of what they might end up discussing. If Lukas were to find out that he had a daughter, heaven only knew how he would react. It was too terrifying an idea to contemplate.
Calista had never intended to keep Effie a secret from her fatherâat least not at first. She had been over five months pregnant before she had even realised it herself, convinced that stress was responsible for the nausea, her lack of periods, her fatigue. Because no one got pregnant the very first time they had sex, did they?
Certainly the stress she had been suffering would have felled the strongest spirit, even before sheâd found out she was expecting Lukasâs child. What with Stavrosâher fatherâs friend and business partnerâdying so suddenly, and then the whole arms smuggling scandal coming out and the shipping business collapsing. And finally making the sickening discovery that Lukas was involved.
By the time she had seen a doctor Lukas had already been awaiting trial for his crime. And on the day sheâd gone into labour, a full month earlier than expected, alone and frightened as she pushed her way through the agonising birth with only the midwifeâs hand to grip for support, Lukas had been in court, with the judge declaring him guilty and sentencing him to eight years in jail.
Effieâs first screaming lungful of air had come at the exact moment when the judge had uttered the fateful words, âTake him down.â
On that dayâthe day of her daughterâs birthâCalista had resolved to wait to tell Lukas of Effieâs existence until he was released from jail. Eight years had seemed a lifetime away. Time enough for her and Effie to build their own lives in the UK, to become a strong, independent unit. So the secret had been kept well hidden.
Calista had told no oneânot even her fatherâfor fear that if he knew the truth word would spread amongst her Greek family and find its way to Lukas. But if she was honest there was another reason she didnât want her father to know. She didnât want her precious Effie tainted by any association with him.
He would have tried to take control, Calista knew thatâboth