Was it the sex that had made her panic? Remembering the bruises made him shift in his seat but nothing relieved the guilt. He’d never bruised a woman before. A love-bite maybe, but not bruises like those. They were finger-marks, caused by someone grabbing her too roughly, and the worst thing was he had no recollection of doing it.
Kostas closed the file. ‘Do you want to meet him in person?’
‘Meet who in person?’
Stefan went through their encounter in minute detail, trying to identify when exactly he’d hurt her. He’d been gentle with her. Careful. At no point had he been rough and yet somehow he’d caused those sick-looking yellow bruises.
Yellow bruises. He frowned. ‘How old is a bruise when it turns yellow?’
His lawyer stared at him. ‘What?’
‘Bruises,’ Stefan snapped. ‘Is a fresh bruise ever yellow?’
‘I’m no doctor, but doesn’t it take about a week for a bruise to turn yellow? Longer than a week?’
‘Theé mou.’ How could he have been so dense?
Driven by a sense of urgency that was new to him, Stefan pulled out his phone and called his pilot—only to be told that he’d already delivered Selene safely to Poulos, the closest island to Antaxos. From there she’d planned to catch a boat home.
Home, where presumably her father would now be waiting.
Stefan was in no doubt as to who was responsible for those bruises.
That was why she wanted to escape from the island. Not just because she wanted her independence, but because she was afraid for her life. Afraid of her father.
The memories came from nowhere, thudding into his gut like a vicious blow.
Why doesn’t she come home, Papa?
Because she can’t. He won’t let her. He doesn’t like to lose.
The emotion inside him was primal and dangerous.
How could he have been so blind? He was probably one of the few people who knew just what Stavros Antaxos was capable of and yet he’d let his own emotions about the past blind him to the truth of the present.
‘He’s not going to let her go. He’s never going to let her go.’ He growled the words and his lawyer looked at him, startled.
‘Who—?’
‘I’m going to get her out of there.’ Driven by emotions he hadn’t allowed himself to feel for over two decades, Stefan was on his feet and at the door before his lawyer had even finished his question. ‘I’m going to Antaxos.’
‘There is no safe landing spot on the island of Antaxos. It’s renowned for its inhospitable coastline.’
‘I’ll fly to the yacht and take the speedboat.’ He delivered instructions to his pilot while Kostas caught up with him, following him as he took the stairs up to the helipad.
‘What’s going on? Is this to do with Selene Antaxos?’ When Stefan looked at him, he shrugged. ‘The pictures are all over the internet. Why all the questions about bruises?’
His lawyer tone was several shades cooler than usual and Stefan shot him a look. ‘I don’t pretend to be perfect, but I don’t hurt women.’ Except that he had. Not with his hands, but with his actions. And by his actions he’d made it possible for someone else to hurt her physically. A cold feeling spread down his spine.
You have no idea what you’ve done.
Her final words still rang in his brain and alongside was a picture of Selene stuffing her new possessions randomly into her battered bag. He’d caught a glimpse of the nun’s habit and samples of her soap and candles. But it wasn’t the contents of her bag that stuck in his mind as much as the look on her face.
She was a woman who wore her emotions openly and over the past two days he’d witnessed her entire repertoire. He’d seen hope, mischief, flirtation, shyness, wonder, excitement and laughter. This morning he’d seen something new. Something he hadn’t understood until now.
He’d seen terror.
Suddenly his collar felt too tight and he called Takis, his head of security, and instructed him to meet him at the helicopter pad.