She stood there, her gaze skimming over him, then landing on the handcuffs. A look of distaste crossed her face as she took a step closer. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” she said after several seconds.
“Me?” Adrian replied. “All I’ve done is try to protect what is ours.”
“Your reckless and rash actions are putting everything we’ve built at risk. I will not stand by and watch you pull us into ruin.”
“I can fix it.”
“Can you? After everything that’s happened? I don’t see how.”
“I need more money.”
“How much?”
“Enough to pay Ilya—”
“At least he knows how to keep a low profile. You might consider asking him for pointers.” She eyed the chair opposite him, but didn’t sit. “I don’t suppose it even occurred to you as to why I chose to cut off your funds?”
“I can only assume you like to see me suffer.”
“I had hoped that you might discover that if you controlled your impulses, stopped to think about what you’re doing once in a while, you might actually succeed on your own. For that, I partly blame myself. I probably shouldn’t have stepped in and fixed your problems every time you found yourself in trouble. I foolishly convinced myself that you’d outgrow your rash ways.” She gave an exasperated sigh. “I really do think you’ll be better off.”
“In prison? You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, but I am.” She leaned down, kissed the top of his head, then said in a low voice, “I do hope you’ll own up to all your mistakes and not drag us into this nightmare that you’ve made for yourself. You know your father isn’t well. I don’t think he can handle the stress.”
“What do you expect me to do?”
“I’d suggest you listen to your attorney.” She knocked on the door. The officer opened it, standing aside for her. She looked back at him, then gave that smile that had infuriated him his entire adult life. “Goodbye, Adrian.”
“Mother!”
She walked out.
“You can’t leave me here!” He rose, trying to follow, but the handcuffs that were bolted to the table dug into his wrists, forcing him back. “Mother!”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Sam stood on the rooftop patio, cup of coffee in hand, looking out over the quiet bay. Although another storm was expected later tomorrow, for the moment, the sky was blue, and the warm sun beamed down upon the colorful fishing boats bobbing in the azure waters.
Not that he was at all interested in the view. The weather aside, it had been a rough couple of days. Remi, unable or unwilling to talk about what had happened on the Kyrils’ island, was having a difficult time navigating the onslaught of emotions. The few times Sam had tried to get her to open up, she immediately changed the subject. If anything, she seemed to be pulling back from him. He knew the emotional toll that a major traumatic event could take on a relationship. It was the rare couple who survived, and usually only because they’d been together long enough to have built a rock-solid foundation.
While he hated to think that their relationship might not survive, Remi’s well-being was far more important. And why he’d invited Zoe and Denéa to stop by this morning. Maybe the change of company would help Remi to open up about what had happened.
He sipped at his coffee, then checked his watch. A few minutes before nine. They should be here any time, and he scanned the shoreline, searching for them. A moment later, he noticed the two young women walking on the sand in front of the Kampi Beach Bar. Zoe stopped by the outdoor tables as Denéa continued on. Eventually, she looked up, saw Sam on the rooftop, and waved. “Good morning,” she called out as she unlatched the small blue gate.
“Remi’s inside. The door should be open.”
She nodded, crossed the patio, knocked on the door, then opened it. “Hey, Remi. It’s me.”
“What a nice surprise. I was just about to make some coffee.”
“Make enough for Zoe. She’ll be along in a moment.”
He heard the sound of water being turned on, then Remi asking, “How’s she doing?”
“Zoe? She’s coming along, thanks to Dimitris and Nikos. We were wondering about how you were doing.”
“Me? I’m fine.”