The Billionaires' Brides Bundle

“Ivy! Sweetheart. Don’t be afraid. It’s me. It’s only me.”

He caught her in his arms, ignored the jab that caught him in the eye and held her against him, stroking her, whispering to her. An eternity seemed to pass until, finally, she shuddered and went still.

“Damian?”

Her voice was thready. He drew her even closer, willing his strength into her.

“Yes, agapimeni. It’s me.”

Another shudder went through her. “I thought—I thought—”

He could only imagine what she’d thought. Rage, deep and ugly as a flood tide, filled him, left him struggling to keep his composure.

“You thought it was old Hephaestus, playing games with lightning bolts on Mount Olympus,” he said with forced cheerfulness.

Was that tiny sound a laugh?

“Storms here can be pretty fierce during the summer. They scared the heck out of me when I was little, and it didn’t help that my nanny would glare at me and say, ‘You see, Your Highness? That’s what happens when little boys don’t listen to their nannies.’”

He’d dropped his voice to a husky growl that was less his long-ago nanny’s and more a really bad Count Dracula, but it worked. His Ivy laughed. A definite laugh, this time, one that made him offer a silent word of thanks just in case old Hephaestus happened to be within earshot.

“That wasn’t very nice of her.”

“No, but it was effective. For the next few days, I’d be the model of princely decorum.”

“And then?”

Lightning, followed by the crash of thunder, rolled across the sky again. Ivy trembled and Damian tightened his arms around her. “And then,” he said, “I’d revert to the catch-me-if-you-can little devil I actually was.” His smile faded. “You’ll be fine, glyka mou. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”

She leaned back in his embrace and looked up at him, her face a pale, lovely oval.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“For—” She hesitated. “For being so—so…For being so nice.”

Nice? He’d bullied her, berated her, accused her of being a cheat and a liar. He’d forced her to come with him to Greece, told her he owned her…

“I haven’t been nice,” he said brusquely. “I’ve been impatient and arrogant. It is I who should thank you for tolerating me.”

That rated a smile. “We’re even, then. I’ll forgive you and you’ll forgive me.”

He smiled back at her. A moment slipped by and his smile faded. “Ivy? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“Good.” God, how he wanted to kiss her. Just one kiss to tell her he would keep her safe from lightning and thunder and, most of all, safe from whatever terrible thing had once happened to her. “Good,” he said briskly, and cleared his throat. “So. Let me tuck you in and—”

“Where are you sleeping? If I’m taking up your bed—”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“But where…”

“Right in that chair. I, ah, I thought it would be a good idea to be here in case, you know, in case you needed me.”

“You? In that little chair? Where do you put your legs?”