CHAPTER THREE

      ‘IT IS TIME to discuss your future.’

      Talos Petrakis stared at his daughter from behind his desk, his expression terrifyingly blank, while Iolanthe flushed and looked away. ‘Iolanthe? You cannot go on like this.’

      ‘I know,’ she whispered. It had been nearly a month since her father had found her with Alekos Demetriou, and what a horrible month it had been. She’d been virtually imprisoned in her room at their town house in Athens, and the few times she’d seen her father he’d been cold and contemptuous, disgust at her behaviour evident in every stern line of his face. And could she really blame him?

      Even now, four weeks later, Iolanthe couldn’t believe how rashly, how stupidly she’d acted. It had been as if Alekos Demetriou had cast some awful spell over her. To have sex with a stranger she’d only met hours before, thinking it would actually lead to something...!

      It had been utter madness. Pleasurable madness, she remembered that all too well, but then she really had thought they’d been building some sort of future. In her naïvety she’d thought a sexual connection indicated an emotional one. The memory of how ruthlessly Alekos had dismantled that dream made Iolanthe inwardly cringe even now. Of course it had only been sex. She’d seen him as her chance of escape but he hadn’t wanted it. Hadn’t wanted her.

      ‘Iolanthe?’ Talos prompted coldly. ‘You realise the desperate situation you are in, I hope.’

      Iolanthe’s startled gaze moved back to her father. ‘Desperate?’ she repeated warily. She’d spent the last month essentially quarantined, with only books and a sketchpad for company, while her father had gone about his business and barely spoken to her. His physical and emotional withdrawal had hurt her more than she’d thought possible, especially on the heels of Alekos’s rejection. Her father had never been close to her but she realised now how she had always stood on the bedrock of his approval and love. Which made her actions on the night of the ball even more reprehensible and foolish.

      ‘You are spoiled goods,’ Talos stated. ‘Damaged beyond repair. What man will have you now?’

      Iolanthe flinched at her father’s flat statement. His words belonged in another century, and yet she knew in his world—and hers—they held truth. ‘Someone who loves me...’ she managed in a hesitant whisper.

      ‘And what man would love a woman who gave herself to a stranger so wantonly?’ Talos shook his head, hurt flashing in his eyes. ‘Truly, Iolanthe, I am still shocked. I did not think you capable of such an act of wanton disobedience.’

      She clenched her hands together, knuckles aching. ‘I made a mistake, Papa, I know that.’

      ‘A mistake with terrible consequences,’ Talos returned. He sighed, sitting back in his chair as he massaged his temples. ‘Where did I go wrong, Iolanthe? That you would treat me this way?’ Talos regarded her for a moment, his expression stony. ‘You must marry,’ he stated. ‘Fortunately Lukas is willing to have you.’

      ‘Even now?’ Iolanthe said bitterly, and ire flashed across her father’s face.

      ‘You are fortunate he is willing to overlook your indiscretion.’

      ‘Yes, of course.’ So now she was lucky to have Lukas Callos. The realisation was bitter. She felt like a lame mare that had to be offloaded onto some charitable soul or else made into glue.

      ‘Your other option,’ Talos continued implacably, ‘is to remain shut up at my country villa, and remain a shame to my name. It is not what I would prefer.’

      Iolanthe closed her eyes briefly. The prison doors were inexorably swinging shut.

      ‘I will give you a day to think about it,’ Talos said, with the air of someone who was granting a great favour. ‘But no longer. I don’t want Lukas to change his mind.’

      But Lukas would most likely change his mind, Iolanthe thought, her heart like a stone inside her, when he learned just how mired in shame she was. It had been four weeks since her night with Alekos, and she hadn’t had a period. The newfound queasiness in the mornings, the tenderness in her breasts, the overwhelming fatigue...all of it pointed to a truth she’d been doing her desperate best to ignore. She was pregnant. Lukas might be willing to marry her as spoiled goods, but would he take Alekos’s bastard child as his own? And didn’t Alekos deserve to know about his child?

      ‘I will think about it, Papa,’ Iolanthe promised woodenly, even though the prospect of pledging her life to Lukas Callos made everything in her sink in resignation and despair. But before she thought of Lukas, she needed to see Alekos. They’d parted terribly, yes, but he’d said he wanted to know about their child. And maybe, maybe he would soften towards her if he knew she carried his baby. Maybe he would be reminded of how much they had shared.

      It was the stuff of romantic fantasy, she realised that, and yet Iolanthe clung to it all the same. What other hope did she have?

      ‘Papa,’ she said hesitantly. ‘What about...what about Alekos Demetriou?’

      Talos stilled, his eyebrows snapping together in displeasure. ‘What about him?’ he growled.

      ‘Couldn’t he...couldn’t he be a suitable husband?’

      Her father’s face darkened, fury flashing in his eyes, making Iolanthe take an instinctive step backwards. She’d never seen her father look so angry before. ‘You have no idea about Demetriou,’ Talos spat.

      She swallowed hard, one hand pressed to her throat. ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘You think he cared for you, Iolanthe?’ Talos demanded. ‘He was using you, to get at me. He’s always had it in for me, ever