Christo smiled back. Ah, the fall would be so sweet when it came...
He took a seat, without being invited.
‘Once again, I’m sorry about your father,’ Tito went on. ‘Of course it means Atlas Shipping is now yours. To succeed wit
h or fail. It would be a shame for my daughter if it were the latter.’
His daughter. Even now Tito hadn’t relinquished her. That would change soon.
‘Thea hasn’t anything to fear from me.’
He’d failed her once. He would never fail her again.
He turned to Demetri. ‘You took something of hers. A necklace her mother gave her. I want it back.’
‘That cheap trinket?’ His lips curled into a sneer. ‘I misplaced it.’
‘Then that carelessness will cost you,’ Christo said, his voice sharp and cold as a steel blade.
‘My son’s only careless with meaningless things,’ Tito said. ‘Luckily I have it.’
He opened the drawer next to him, pulled out a slim gold chain with a pendant and tossed it across the desk. Christo caught it in one hand.
‘But you didn’t come for a necklace. Why are you here?’
Now the game would be played—a game he planned to win.
Christo slipped the pendant into his suit pocket and lounged back in his chair. ‘You lied. Thea wasn’t a willing partner in this marriage. I’m granting her a divorce.’
Demetri pushed himself up from the corner of his father’s desk. ‘That’s not what was agreed. You owe my father.’
‘Atlas Shipping owes your father’s bank. Personally, I owe him nothing. Except contempt.’
‘How dared you? That loan—’
Thea’s father lifted two fingers and Demetri was silenced.
‘That loan was a noose, designed to throttle me at the appropriate moment,’ Christo said. ‘But now Atlas’s loan repayments are up to date. I rectified that oversight of my father’s. And by the end of the week the loan will be repaid in full.’
Tito regarded Christo over steepled fingers. ‘Paying back early means penalty interest—which you can’t afford. It’ll ruin you or take you close.’
Christo smiled blandly. ‘You underestimate my abilities.’
‘Perhaps... But you can’t rectify all your father’s mistakes. The antiquity smuggling, for one. If that’s disclosed your ruination will be complete.’
Christo grinned. Tito Lambros had no idea how deep a mire he was wading into.
‘I was hoping you’d come to that. My father left several letters before he died. One was to his solicitor, documenting what he knew about the stolen treasures he had unwittingly allowed Atlas to transport. Most interesting were his comments about your suspected involvement. And then there’s your link to a particular ship’s captain...’
A man who’d become suspiciously lax about documentation and the cargo that went onto each vessel. That was the information they’d sought from Thea, trying to weave her into their web of deceit. Getting more to blackmail her with when the need arose.
‘I’ve terminated his services, if you’re curious. Interpol want to talk to him.’
Tito sat back in his chair, his eyes darting to Demetri. ‘Your father’s letters won’t be believed. They’re the words of a dying man, bitterly regretting the errors he made, and trying to blame someone else for his folly.’
And this was where Thea’s help had saved him—yet even now she didn’t realise how much she’d done.
Christo took a long, slow breath, savouring the moment. ‘Perhaps. But the authorities will be interested to see the security footage from that secret room you have in your house. If I sent it to the lost antiquities register what would they find?’