Revelations of His Runaway Bride

Nothing worked.

She pressed her palms to her eyes. She’d failed. Failed Christo. The realisation sat like a leaden weight in her stomach. What to do now?

She looked up, feeling small and ill. Like the little girl her father and Demetri had tried to defeat. Well, they wouldn’t beat her. She cast her eyes around the room. Looked at all the treasures—those old, mouldering things Tito loved more than his living, breathing daughter. A new statue stood in the corner. Some bronzed sculpture of a Hindu god. She’d never seen it before. What if it hadn’t been honestly purchased?

Thea shut down the computer, grabbed her phone from her bag and took a picture. Artefacts. She left the study and ran from room to room, snapping photographs of antiquities. It was a long shot, but the house was huge and there were rooms she hadn’t explored since she was a child, many of them closed off. Now she opened every door, taking photos of what she could.

Finally she entered a small room she’d never seen before. It contained a desk and a bank of monitors, showing views from all areas of the house. A security room. She stared at the screens as if they might disclose some secrets. Show her a place she hadn’t searched. They all flicked scratchily between different views except for one. It was fixed on the front door and drive.

And then she saw it. The sleek black car. A man getting out. Sto

pping briefly at the entrance. Looking up at the security camera for a second.

Demetri.

Thea froze. Then she ran.

* * *

Christo bounded up the stairs two at a time. Even in his jet it had been a gruelling flight after his tour of South East Asia’s ports. Still, entering through the door of his home he felt seized with a burst of energy. He had news about Alexis.

Christo walked past his suite towards Thea’s room, tearing at his tie and jacket on the way. He knocked on the door and opened it before there was any answer. Her scent permeated the air. Spice and honey. His heartbeat accelerated a notch. She hadn’t made the space her own. It still looked like the guest suite she’d taken over. Clearly to her it was a temporary residence, one she’d leave soon enough.

He rubbed at the strange burning in his chest. He shouldn’t be here. Not after giving the silent promise that he’d never touch her again. Though, to his shame, the horror of hurting her had subsided and his dreams were now plagued with visions of her golden skin and liquid amber eyes.

The memory of her perfume had sustained him through every smog-soaked city he’d visited. And on those lonely nights when he’d lain naked between expensive hotel sheets he’d burned to have her with him, head thrown back, gasping for breath as pleasure overwhelmed her.

He wouldn’t act on any of it. But seeing her again—seeing her smile when he gave her the news about her brother—that was all the reward he needed.

Christo stalked downstairs, searching. Thea wasn’t by the pool, lazing in the sunshine, showing off the slick honey-bronze skin he’d fantasised about too many times to count. Nor was she in her favourite place, at the table under a gnarled olive tree overhanging one of the more secluded terrace areas.

He’d joked that she hid from him there, and yet more often than not they’d both migrate to the dappled shade and drink coffee, whilst Thea tried to embarrass him in front of the staff with increasingly fanciful untruths.

He laughed—then stopped. Lies. Their whole liaison was built on them.

He looked up at the hazy sky peeking through green-grey leaves. Nothing here was based on truth but her naked body. Their soft, luscious kisses. They spoke of a truth all their own. And the way she’d screamed his name... There had been no lies there.

Something about her absence chastened him. She obviously didn’t care when or if he returned. Nothing he wasn’t used to. His parents had taught him well to have no expectations of being remembered. And, of course, it wasn’t as if he’d left Thea a detailed itinerary. Part of his attempt to remind her that their relationship was a business arrangement.

Although his body didn’t feel as if it was all business. He ached for her with a bone-deep hunger. Still, she could have found out about his return if she’d asked the right people. No, he’d clearly been harbouring vain hopes that she might have missed him. A ridiculous notion, and one he needed to overcome immediately.

He walked inside and checked the time. After a quick shower he could be back in his office, since there was nothing to keep him here.

As he walked towards the central stairs and his suite, he saw Anna.

She smiled. ‘Mr Callas. Welcome home.’

He nodded as he passed her. ‘Thank you.’

She’d probably know where Thea had gone, but it was none of his business. Still, he stopped and turned.

‘Do you know where my wife is?’

A casual request. It would have been unusual if he hadn’t asked. That was all.

‘She’s gone to her father’s.’

Christo stilled. That wasn’t a place she’d have travelled to willingly. His gut tightened.