Bought ForThe Greek's Bed

I can’t possibly go back there!

How could she ever go back there? She could never do it to her uncle, for a start. Since leaving Greece so precipitately she had not seen Aristides. She had written him a stiff, painful letter, simply saying that, regrettably, her marriage to Theo Theakis had ‘broken down irretrievably’ and left it at that. She had not received a reply or any communication from her uncle since. She knew why. Theo had told him why he had taken an axe to their marriage.

Her face darkened. Why the hell had Theo gone and done that? There had been no need—no need whatsoever! What he had accused her of had never been made public, and however much speculation there might have been in the gossiping circles of Athenian society it had remained merely that—gossip.

Theo could just have told her uncle that their marriage had broken down, without having to spell out why. After all, that was precisely what they had been going to do anyway, by prearrangement. She had merely precipitated their divorce, nothing more…

Merely…

The word mocked her. There had been nothing ‘merely’ about it.

Not for her and not, she knew—dear God, she knew!—for Theo, either.

And now he wanted his revenge for it.

Why had he waited this long?

The answer followed hard on the question. Because you’ve handed him the possibility on a plate by demanding your money! He’s got you over a barrel, and if you want the money you’ll have to do what he wants…

But she couldn’t. It was as simple as that.

She would never, ever subject herself to the humiliation he had planned for her. Because that was what it would be, she knew—oh, how she knew! A calculated, assiduous, deliberate humiliation of her…

Her eyes narrowed suddenly. Her body stilled.

Why? Why does it have to be? That was what Theo would want—but why did she have to comply?

Why didn’t she simply…simply refuse to play along?

Or rather…

Her narrowed eyes hardened, and she took another belligerent slug of wine.

Theo wanted revenge—and his revenge would be in her humiliation at his hands.

A tight, grim smile twisted her lips. Revenge? Well, revenge was a two-way street. A double-edged sword. Theo intended to sweep one edge of the sword down on her—but she could use the other side of the blade for her own ends.

Not revenge. Something far, far more important to her.

She drained her wineglass. The alcohol was swimming in her veins, but she welcomed it. Dutch courage? Possibly—but it was steeling her, giving her the resolve she needed. Needed to get through what lay ahead of her. But if she did it, if she went through with the outrage that Theo was plotting to perpetrate on her, then when it was over she would emerge with something she had never possessed before.

And it had nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with the money she wanted.

Her chin lifted.

I can do this. I can do it. And when I’ve done it I’m going to walk off with the money that’s mine, and Theo Theakis can go to hell!

She set her empty glass down in the sink.

I can do it, she said again to herself. I can.

I must.

Because if she did—if she succeeded…Emotion ran through her like a river of lightning in her veins. If she succeeded, then at last…at last…she could finally be free of the man she had married. Free in every sense of the word.

I can do it…she repeated. I can…

It was a mantra she had to keep repeating to herself over the following hours. Otherwise she knew she would never have been able to travel the distance to the aerodrome where Theo Theakis’s chartered jet would be waiting to whisk him home at luxurious speed and convenience. She’d deliberately under-dressed, wearing jeans and a cheap sweater, with a backpack hoisted on her shoulders. Her hair was in a loose plait and she wore no make-up. Despite the chilly, cloudy weather she wore a pair of sunglasses—but it wasn’t the sun they were protecting her from. She had no intention of risking eye contact with Theo.