A Deal with Demakis

“I don’t care why he did it. Even before he died, we never had anything. He struggled in that garage, he barely provided for us and he stood by like a useless fool while my mother’s health degraded and she eventually died. All he had needed was to call Savas, ask for help.”

That garage, those cars, didn’t he realize why it comforted him so much? “Do you believe Savas would have helped him? Without conditions? Would he have welcomed your father with open arms without a price?”

Not even a little of his anger waned. “Any price would have been worth it. It was his duty to look after her, to take care of Venetia. He not only failed in that, he then went and killed himself, breaking Venetia forever.”

“And you.”

Nikos shook his head, despising the glimpse of pity in her eyes. “He taught me a very valuable lesson early on. Love is a luxury only fools want and can afford.”

His pointed look wasn’t lost on her. “I’m not saying he was right, Nikos. But Savas never even gave you a proper chance to grieve.”

“There was nothing to grieve. My father was a weak man all his life. He couldn’t stand up to Savas—he couldn’t live without my mother. He couldn’t even keep himself alive for Venetia and I. I refuse to be like him. Becoming the CEO of Demakis International is the last step in that journey. And Savas can’t stop me. I will find a way to that chair.”

Lexi had no chance to answer, because the sound of a chopper slicing through the wind around them reached them.

Pushing the hair away from her face, she hung back as a man of about seventy stepped out of the chopper, followed by a young woman.

Nikos shook hands with the man, and offered a polite smile to the woman.

Lexi turned away and walked toward the hotel. Judging by the jealous rage that took hold of her insides, it was better that she stay away. Leaving her backpack in one of the smaller bedrooms, she climbed the stairs to the next floor. The corridor was whitewashed with dark gleaming wood floors, with simple handmade crafts here and there. Among all the places she had visited with Nikos, she loved this hotel the most. And under the ambition and jet-setting lifestyle, she had a feeling he did, too.

She walked out into the huge veranda of one of the suites. Her breath hitched at the beauty of the Cycladic heaven. Orange bloodied the dusky sky, casting an ethereal glow over the strip of beach and the whitewashed hotel walls.

Intensely glad that Nikos had asked her to join him, she climbed into the hammock, her mind running over what he had said to her. One way or another, she needed to bring a resolution to this thing between Tyler and Venetia. And she had to do it without hurting anyone in the process, least of all, Nikos.

It was an impossible task, but she had to do it. Even with the childhood she’d had, she had known kindness, even if it had been in snatches.

Nikos had known none. She was damned if she had to see those shadows of despair in his eyes ever again.

She would do anything to keep them at bay. Anything.

* * *

Darkness fell by the time Nikos bade goodbye to Theo Katrakis. Savage satisfaction fueled through him. Finally, things were falling into their right place. The older man had, however, surprised Nikos by bringing his daughter to the meeting.

And one look at Eleni Katrakis had sent the blood rushing from Lexi’s face. Did she really think he would be interested in Eleni after last night?

He found Lexi in the hammock, the quiet rasp of her pencil against the paper in her hand the only sound for miles. The feeble light from the adjoining bedroom was nowhere near enough for her.

Shaking his head, he plucked the sheet from her hands and walked back inside. With a huff, she rolled out of the hammock and followed him in.

He stuck out a hand to ward her off and studied the sketch. Surprise flooded him, and he laughed, the sound tearing out of him. A lightness, an amazement he had never known before filled him inside and out.

The sketch was extraordinarily detailed for something created with a pencil and paper. It shimmered with life, with the unique essence of the woman who drew it.

The drawing was of a woman, almost Amazonian in her build, big-breasted with a tiny waist, her long legs muscular and lithe, her dark long hair flying around her face a striking anchor of femininity. She wore a leather sheath kind of dress, a pistol hanging from the belt. The same sketch he had seen on Lexi’s T-shirt the first time she had met him, a direct contrast to the beautiful, delicate woman who had drawn her, but just as dangerous.

Her legs planted apart, the woman was staring at something, a mischievous little smile curving her lips.

Here he had assumed that he had Lexi Nelson all figured out. But he couldn’t learn everything about her if he spent ten lifetimes with her. A tightness emerged in his gut and he fought to dispel it.