At His Revenge: Sold to the Enemy / Bartering Her Innocence / Innocent of His Claim. Trish Morey
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And the first will be to stay away from men like you. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? You wanted me to be more cynical. Well, now I am. I’m officially cynical.’
His features taut, he stepped towards her. ‘Selene—’
‘Don’t touch me. You only invited me to the party because you knew it would upset him.’
‘That isn’t true. I invited you to the party because you’re sexy as hell and your innocence was—refreshing.’
‘Well, I’m not innocent any more.’
‘You are overreacting. This will be to your advantage. Once he realises you’re serious about being independent and making your business a success he’ll let you go.’ Those wide shoulders lifted in a dismissive shrug. ‘I’ve done you a favour. There’s no point in rebelling if no one knows you’re rebelling.’
‘I’ve told you this isn’t about rebellion. It was never about rebellion.’ Selene could hardly breathe as her mind ran swiftly through the possible consequences.
‘If you allow your father to bully you, he will always bully you.’
‘You have no idea. No idea what you’ve done. No idea of the consequences that this will have.’ Galvanised into action, she stumbled around the room, gathering her things and stuffing them frantically into her bag. ‘I have to leave, right now. Is there a ferry from here?’ How long did she have? How long? She was panicking too much to make the calculation and truthfully it was impossible to know because she didn’t know what time her father would have seen the photographs.
He swore under his breath. ‘You need to calm down—’
‘When would these photos have come out? What time?’ Someone, somewhere would have seen them. She was sure of that. Her father was so paranoid and self-absorbed that he had whole teams of people scouring the media for mentions of himself. The moment the images had appeared on the internet someone would have seen them and would have told him. She had no doubt that he already knew everything. Nothing escaped him—especially something as catastrophic as this.
‘I don’t understand why you’re so concerned. I’ve already told you I’m giving you the money. You’ll be able to have the lifestyle you want. Buy what you like without your father’s approval.’
All the money in the world would be useless if she couldn’t get her mother away from the island. ‘What time?’
Stefan flicked his gaze back to the screen of his phone. ‘This one was posted around midnight.’
‘Midnight?’ Hours ago. And she’d been lying in his bed, basking in the ability to make her own choices, unaware that she’d made nothing but bad ones. Fear gripped her like a nasty virus. She felt dizzy with it. Sick. ‘If my father saw these at midnight then that means—’ He might already be on his way back to the island and her mother was alone and unprotected. ‘I have to leave now.’
Stefan swore under his breath and reached out his hand but she flinched away from him, flattening herself against the wall.
‘Get away from me. Don’t pretend you care about me,’ she mumbled. ‘I know you don’t. I don’t ever want you to touch me again.’
‘Fine. I won’t touch you.’ He spoke through clenched teeth. ‘But at least stand still and look at me. The way to handle this is not to sprint home like a good, obedient girl.’
‘You have no idea. You have no idea what you’ve done.’
‘At worst I’ve annoyed your father and reinforced the message that you want to be independent.’
‘You might have taken that opportunity away from me—’ Her throat was thick with tears. If her father returned home before her, her mother would be too afraid to leave. She’d lose her nerve as she’d lost it so many times before. ‘I want to leave. Now.’
‘Fine, if that’s what you want. Run home. That’s clearly where you belong. You’re a child, not a woman.’ Stefan’s face was a frozen mask as he strode across the room and opened a safe concealed in the wall. ‘I promised you money. I always keep my promises.’
‘Because you’re such a good guy?’
‘No.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Not because of that. Call my office any time you need business help.’ He dropped the money into her bag and strode towards the door. ‘I’ll arrange for your transport home.’
‘STEFAN, are you even listening to me?’
Stefan turned his gaze from the window of his Athens office to his lawyer, Kostas. ‘Pardon?’
‘Have you heard a word I’ve been saying? I’ve been telling you that Baxter has agreed to all our terms. We’ve been working on this deal for over a year. We should celebrate.’
Stefan didn’t feel like celebrating. He listened to his friend offer profuse congratulations, his mind preoccupied with Selene.
What the hell had possessed him to sleep with someone as inexperienced as her?
Her overreaction to the news of the photographs had made him realise how young she was. She’d said she wanted independence, but then freaked out at the thought of her father finding out.
Clearly surprised by the lack of response, Kostas paused. ‘Don’t you want to hear the details?’
‘No. I pay you an exorbitant amount to handle details for me.’
Was it the sex that had made her panic? Remembering the bruises made him shift in his seat but nothing relieved the guilt. He’d never bruised a woman before. A love-bite maybe, but not bruises like those. They were finger-marks, caused by someone grabbing her too roughly, and the worst thing was he had no recollection of doing it.
Kostas closed the file. ‘Do you want to meet him in person?’
‘Meet who in person?’
Stefan went through their encounter in minute detail, trying to identify when exactly he’d hurt her. He’d been gentle with her. Careful. At no point had he been rough and yet somehow he’d caused those sick-looking yellow bruises.
Yellow bruises. He frowned. ‘How old is a bruise when it turns yellow?’
His lawyer stared at him. ‘What?’
‘Bruises,’ Stefan snapped. ‘Is a fresh bruise ever yellow?’
‘I’m no doctor, but doesn’t it take about a week for a bruise to turn yellow? Longer than a week?’
‘Theé mou.’ How could he have been so dense?
Driven by a sense of urgency that was new to him, Stefan pulled out his phone and called his pilot—only to be told that he’d already delivered Selene safely to Poulos, the closest island to Antaxos. From there she’d planned to catch a boat home.
Home, where presumably her father would now be waiting.
Stefan was in no doubt as to who was responsible for those bruises.
That was why she wanted to escape from the island. Not just because she wanted her independence, but because she was afraid for her life. Afraid of her father.
The memories came from nowhere, thudding into his gut like a vicious blow.
Why doesn’t she come home, Papa?
Because she can’t. He won’t let her. He doesn’t like to lose.
The emotion inside him was primal and dangerous.
How could he have been so blind? He was probably one of the few people who knew just what Stavros Antaxos was capable