CHAPTER EIGHT

      MIKOLAS WAS KICKING himself as the elevator came to a halt.

      Viveka had been so beautiful when she had walked into the lounge, his heart had lurched. An unfamiliar lightheartedness had overcome him. It hadn’t been the money spent on her appearance. It was the authentic beauty that shone through all the labels and products, the kind that waterfalls and sunsets possessed. You couldn’t buy that kind of awe-inspiring magnificence. You couldn’t ignore it, either, when it was right in front of you. And when you let yourself appreciate it, it felt almost healing...

      He never engaged in rose smelling and sunset gazing. He lived in an armored tank of wealth, emotional distance and superficial relationships. His dates were formalities, a type of foreplay. It wasn’t sexism. He invested even less in his dealings with men.

      His circle never included people as unguarded as Viveka, with her defensive shyness and yearning for acceptance. Somehow that guilelessness of hers got through his barriers as aggression never would. She’d asked him why he’d saved her life and before he knew it, he was reliving the memory of pleading with everything in him for his grandfather—a stranger at the time—to save him.

      Erebus hadn’t.

      Not right away. Not without proof.

      Words such as despair and anguish were not strong enough to describe what came over him when he thought back to it.

      She had had an idea what it was, though, without his having to say a word. He had seen more in her eyes than an offer of sex. Empathy, maybe. Whatever it was, it had been something so real, it had scared the hell out of him. He couldn’t lie with a woman when his inner psyche was torn open that far. Who knew what else would spill out?

      He needed escape and she needed to stay the hell back.

      He was so focused on achieving that, he walked out of the elevator not nearly as aware of his surroundings as he should be.

      As they came alongside the security desk, he heard, “There she is,” and turned to see Grigor lunging at Viveka, nearly pulling her off her feet, filthy vitriol spewing over her scream of alarm.

      “—think you can investigate me? I’ll show you what murder looks like—”

      Reflex took over and Mikolas had broken Grigor’s nose before he knew what he was doing.

      Grigor fell to the floor, blood leaking between his clutching fingers. Mikolas bent to grab him by the collar, but his security team rushed in from all directions, pressing Mikolas’s Neanderthal brain back into its cave.

      “Call the police,” he bit out, straightening and putting his arm around Viveka. “Make sure you mention his threats against her life.”

      He escorted Viveka outside to his waiting limo, afraid, genuinely afraid, of what he would do to the man if he stayed.

      * * *

      As her adrenaline rush faded in the safety of the limo, Viveka went from what felt like a screaming pitch of tension to being a spent match, brittle and thin, charred and cold.

      It wasn’t just Grigor surprising her like that. It was how crazed he’d seemed. If Mikolas hadn’t stepped in... But he had and seeing Grigor on the receiving end of the sickening thud of a fist connecting to flesh wasn’t as satisfying as she had always imagined it would be.

      She hated violence.

      She figured Mikolas must feel the same, given his past. Those last minutes as they’d come downstairs kept replaying in her mind. She’d been filled with resentment as they’d left the elevator, hotly thinking that if saving a person’s life didn’t require repayment, why was he forcing her to go to this stupid party? He said she was under his protection, but it was more like she was under his thumb.

      But the minute she was threatened, the very second it had happened, he had leaped in to save her. Again.

      It was as ground-shaking as the first time.

      Especially when the aftermath had him feeling the bones in his repaired hand like he was checking for fractures. His thick silence made her feel sick.

      “Mikolas, I’m sorry,” Viveka said in a voice that flaked like dry paint.

      She was aware of his head swinging around but couldn’t look at him.

      “You know I only had Trina’s interest at heart when I came to Greece, but it was inconsiderate to you. I didn’t appreciate the situation I was putting you in with Grigor—”

      “That’s enough, Viveka.”

      She jolted, stung by the graveled tone. It made the blood congeal in her veins and she hunched deeper into her seat, turning her gaze to the window.

      “That was my fault.” Self-recrimination gave his voice a bitter edge. “We signed papers for the merger today. I made sure he knew why I was squeezing him out. He tried to cheat me.”

      It was her turn to swing a surprised look at him. He looked like he was barely holding himself in check.

      “I wouldn’t have discovered it until after I was married to Trina, but your interference gave me a chance to review everything. I wound up getting a lot of concessions beyond our original deal. Things were quite ugly by the end. He was already blaming you so I told him I’d started an investigation. I should have expected something like this. I owe you the apology.”

      She didn’t know what to say.

      “You helped me by stopping the wedding. Thank you. I hope to hell the investigation puts him in jail,” he added tightly.

      He was staring at her intently, nostrils flared.

      Her mouth trembled. She felt awkward and shy and tried to cover it with a lame attempt at levity. “Between Grigor and Hildy, I’ve spent most of my life being told I was an albatross of one kind or another. It’s refreshing to hear I’ve had a positive effect for once. I thought for sure you were going to yell at me...” Her voice broke.

      She sniffed and tried to catch a tear with a trembling hand before it ruined her makeup.

      He swore and before she realized what he was doing, he had her in his lap.

      “Did he hurt you? Let me see your arm where he grabbed you,” he demanded, his touch incredibly gentle as he lightly explored.

      “Don’t be sweet to me right now, Mikolas. I’ll fall apart.”

      “You prefer the goon from the lobby?” he growled, making a semihysterical laugh bubble up.

      “You’re not a goon,” she protested, but obeyed the hard arms that closed around her and cuddled into him, numb fingers stealing under the edge of his jacket to warm against his steady heartbeat.

      He ran soothing hands over