“Maybe you believe your life is not valuable enough to get out of there, but I will not feel guilty for thinking mine is. Nor will I feel guilty about enjoying the fruits of my hard labor. Giannis might have—”
“Pulled you out of the hellhole that was our life, but I know that it was you and your friend...”
“Stavros Sporades,” he added.
“That it was you two that put his textile company on the global map, especially when everything else is folding in this economy,” she added, as if she was offering him recompense for angering him. “I have followed your—” he had a feeling she wouldn’t say the actual word that she wanted to “—success the past few years.”
And suddenly, it was as though a hard fist jammed into his throat. She had known he was rich, then. She had known that he could have helped. Even as she refused to admit it, she had known, all along, that he would come if she asked.
And yet, she had waited so long... Which night would have made it too long?
Fury, reminding him of broken bones and painful fists, flew hot through him. “Have you? Gratifying to know that I held your interest for so many years, pethi mou. And a little shocking that you have somehow lost the good sense I thought you possessed.”
The lift opened just then and he walked out without checking to see if she followed.
* * *
By the time she walked past the dramatic reception hall into the sitting lounge of the suite, Jasmine felt numb to the extravagance of her surroundings.
It was a toss-up between the electricity that burned between Dmitri and her and the reach of his wealth and sphere.
A finely carved wood and marble fireplace dominated the lounge, which was decorated with black leather furniture.
Her running shoes sank into the thick carpet with a soft hiss.
Jasmine had barely caught her breath when a woman walked into the lounge. Her hair was mussed around her fragile, sleep-ruffled face, her long legs bared in shorts.
“Dmitri?” she whispered, her shocked glance taking in the both of them. “You took so long...”
“Leah? What are you doing here?” The concern in Dmitri’s voice was as unmistakable as the lacerating sarcasm when he addressed Jasmine.
Suddenly, being a spectator to a romantic reunion between Dmitri and his latest girlfriend was the last thing Jasmine wanted to be.
The woman crossed the last few steps, genuine worry etched on her brow. Dmitri enfolded her so gently that it sent a pang through Jasmine. “When you were taking so long, he dropped me off here. He’s been calling every fifteen minutes...” Her gasp pierced through Jasmine.
“Dmitri, you’re bleeding.” With that, Leah clicked her cell phone on and left the room.
The sharp hiss of his exhale, the way he had held himself so rigidly on the bike... Her gut heaving, Jasmine turned him around roughly and lifted his leather jacket.
A patch of red stained the tear on his pristine white shirt around his abdomen, a stark contrast against the rest of it.
Jasmine stared at the dried blood and the way the shirt clung to his skin. Bile filled her throat as the metallic scent washed over her. Shivers set forth from the base of her spine. As if her attacking Dmitri when he had come to save her was the last straw...
Pressing her hand to her forehead, she tried to breathe past the rawness in her throat. “I could have killed you... I thought John would sneak in in the middle of the night and I was just being cautious... I never...”
“I did not ask why you attacked me,” he said in that monotone voice again. He sounded angrier at her being upset than that she had wounded him. “Theos, I don’t care that you tried to protect yourself. I care that you have led a life that requires that you sleep with a knife under your pillow.”
She flinched at the disgust in his words.
For as long as she had known, men had only looked at her cheaply, with lust glimmering in their eyes. And once she had started working her current job four years ago, it had only gotten worse, shame and self-disgust her only companions.
So why the hell did she care what Dmitri thought of her?
His hand under her chin, he lifted it up. She clutched her eyes closed to lock away the tears. The depth of her reaction to him, his words scared her.
“Look at me, Jasmine.” Something rumbled in that soft command. She would have called it desperation if she thought she could hold together one sane thought at the moment.
His hands moved up and down her arms as if he was calming down a spooked animal. “You’re shaking again. Theos, stop being afraid of me.”