“Even when your father was alive?” He didn’t raise his voice, but the simmering fury that imbued his tone thickened the air in the car. “Did he know Midas was violent?”
She turned her face to the window. “He put a stop to the worst of it.”
A profound silence, then a grim, “But not all of it.”
No. There had still been the pinches and shoves and her father hadn’t had the patience for tattling so she had learned to keep her distance and her guard up.
“I know you think you can use this against him.” Her voice cracked and she wanted to bury her face in her hands at the thought. “But I don’t want to be your hammer, Leander. I just want to get away from him.”
“You are away. I’m taking you away,” he said firmly. “But this isn’t about my desire for revenge, Ilona. He hurt you. That can’t happen again. Together we’ll make sure it doesn’t.”
She looked across at him, mouth trembling at how badly she wanted to believe him, but why would he help her? He didn’t care about her, not really. Only as much as he cared about gaining access to an easy door to get to Midas.
“Can we not talk about it right now?” She was trying not to cry. “I don’t want to think of it.”
Leander couldn’t stop thinking of it. He was incensed and gripped by the urgency to annihilate Midas, but he needed to know Ilona was safe, that she felt safe.
“You have the whole floor?” she asked when they stepped off his private elevator into his penthouse.
“One of the perks of building the building. I set this aside for myself.” It had three bedrooms, but one was his office. The other was his personal gym. He hadn’t thought of that when he’d brought her here, only that it was a suitable fortress. He had wanted to bring her into the place where he could protect her best.
He showed her the alarm panel and gave her a code to come and go, then explained the emergency system and how an alarm would sound and security would descend if anyone tried to override it. She seemed to relax a fraction as she took it all in.
While he plated their food, Ilona drifted through the living area like a ghost, pale and lifeless, pausing to admire his view of the Acropolis, his pool and the dining area that opened to a terrace that offered sunset views. His decor was an ultramodern style of clean lines and practicality. He wasn’t one for pillows with froufrou tassels or colorful throw rugs like he’d seen at her place and he regretted that choice now. He would have liked to offer her those softer touches so she would feel more at ease.
Neither of them ate much and her physician arrived while they were still picking at their meals. She took Ilona into his bedroom to examine her. The doctor didn’t say much as she left, only that Ilona had gone into the shower and would take a sedative and go to bed when she came out.
Leander made some calls, learning the cameras in Ilona’s building had been disabled, the doorman who had let Midas up couldn’t be located and Midas had been with his stepmother all evening—exactly as Ilona had predicted.
Leander swore under his breath, but he wasn’t the least bit surprised. These sorts of dirty tactics were familiar to him from his own attempts to seek justice against the man. That’s why he’d had to attack Midas through the unprotected flank of Ilona’s company.
His desire to obliterate the man had increased a thousandfold, but he could no longer use Ilona to do it. His gut churned with guilt at having set her up for this attack. She might not have come right out and told him she was afraid Midas would assault her, but all the signs had been there. Leander had been too blinded by his thirst for vengeance to see it.
He had seen Ilona as Midas’s weakness, but now she was his own Achilles’ heel. Any further strikes Midas aimed at her would impact Leander. His conscience couldn’t abide it and there was also something deeper. He’d tasted her fear and felt her shaken anguish inside his own chest. He hurt because she hurt.
It had been a long time since Leander had felt this vulnerable. He cared about people, but only collectively and superficially. He ensured appropriate policies were put in place for workplace conduct and safety. He paid livable wages and “gave back” and his company was founded on green principles.
But after the devastation of losing his father, he’d been careful not to become too emotionally attached to anyone. The worst he’d felt since then was when his PA had abruptly left with pregnancy complications. He’d hired Androu to replace her in a very sexist attempt not to experience such acute concern for an employee again.
In fact, one of the attractions of proposing to Ilona had been his initial antipathy toward her. He had been convinced he wouldn’t come to care for her. Not in a way that would leave him open to being hurt. Yet here he was, knocking softly then slipping into his bedroom to stand over her sleeping form, ensuring she hadn’t fallen in the shower and was resting comfortably.
She had aligned herself on the edge of the mattress, blankets pulled over her ear, hair woven into a shiny black tail he wanted to touch.
How arrogant of him to assume he could bring a woman into his life and not bear any responsibility for what happened to her. The scope of that responsibility, one that encompassed the bruises on her throat, was deep enough to make his torso ache.
He didn’t want this responsibility, this weight, but he definitely wanted Midas to pay. It was a dilemma that had him circling the bed and sitting down on the far side to consider his next moves.
There was no going backward on his plan to marry her. If anything, he had to double down and make it clear they were a team that Midas couldn’t break. That meant they would have to begin to really trust one another.
It was still eating at him that she hadn’t thought to call him and had been so shocked that he had turned up. His ego was more than dented over that. He felt genuine shame because why would she think of him as an ally when he was the reason Midas had come after her?
They needed to build a bridge between them, one that spanned a deep, jagged distance of familial betrayal and painful history. Bridges were his specialty in real life, but earning her trust and proffering his own was a much trickier project. It wouldn’t be accomplished through a few exercises in eye contact and backward falls. They would have to genuinely open up and be honest with each other. It would take time and commitment.
It would mean completely letting his guard down with a Pagonis.
All his instincts knotted into a tangled shield at the very idea, but it was the only way to best Midas. He knew that.
He dropped onto his back beside her, considering how to go about it.