A Diamond Deal With the Greek

He frowned. ‘How old were you?’

‘I was seventeen.’

‘And he left you alone?’ The bite was back, the charming façade he’d worn all night slipping to reveal the ruthless man beneath. Absurdly, Rebel felt a tiny bit of relief at seeing the real man, even though this version of Draco remained a formidable force that battered at the foundations of her existence.

Rebel shrugged. ‘He had my aunt look in on me every once in a while, but I was pretty much independent by then.’

‘And that excuses his actions?’ Anger laced his every syllable.

Unable to risk him seeing her guilt, she stared down at her plate. ‘He’d just lost the love of his life. He...he was grieving.’

‘While he had a responsibility to you? Were you not grieving too?’

Her gaze snapped up. ‘Of course I was!’ Swallowing, she shook her head and continued. ‘But...there’s more to the story, Draco.’

His mouth twisted in a cynical grimace. ‘Isn’t there always? Sadly, more often than not, more is just an excuse for shirking responsibility or seeking blanket absolution.’

‘We all deal with our issues in different ways.’

‘Yes. And your father’s way seems to be doing a runner and leaving you with the smoking gun,’ he drawled pithily.

‘Don’t—!’

‘More wine, madamoiselle? Monsieur?’

They both started. Draco recovered first, reaching out to take the bottle from the waiter and dismissing him. When she shook her head, he set the bottle down without refilling his own. Silence cloaked them for several minutes, with Rebel trying hard to stem the tremors charging through her body.

She couldn’t believe she’d spilled her guts to Draco, given him further ammunition against her and her father.

‘You gave me your word. You will not back out of this,’ he stated with unmistakable gravity.

For myriad reasons, she wanted to take back her promise. But each and every reason that tumbled through her head was a selfish one. And they all centred around how Draco Angelis made her feel. Unbalanced. Apprehensive. An all-encompassing excitement each time he touched her. A craving for more of that touch.

But her feelings didn’t matter here. Winning the championship in order to keep her mother’s memory alive and ensuring she found a way back to her father were the two most important reasons to stick with this. She couldn’t do either from a prison cell.

After a brave sip of wine, she set her glass down. ‘I won’t back out. From this moment, I’m all in.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

DRACO EXHALED THE BREATH locked in his chest and nodded. He refused to acknowledge the anxiety that slowly seeped out of him as he stared at Arabella. ‘And I have your assurance that this is the last time I’ll have to deal with a change of heart?’

A shrug lifted her smooth, bare shoulder. ‘I’ll try not to make a habit of it, but I reserve the right to throw a mini wobbly if this charade gets a little too much. I’m human after all, not a robot.’

Had she been a robot, she would’ve earned the title of sexiest robot created. Her gold accessories highlighted her perfect, vibrant skin, drawing his gaze to her slim neck, delicate collarbones and the delectable shadows between her breasts. The spark that had started in his groin when he’d pulled her close at the door surged into a flame. He shifted in his seat, his trousers growing uncomfortably tight as she lifted her water glass and drank from it.

Setting it down, she sent him a furtive glance.

‘This is really important to you, isn’t it?’ she probed.

Draco guessed that this was her attempt to steer the conversation away from her father. And while residual fury burned in his blood at the realisation that the man whose integrity and hard work he’d relied on for the past five years had turned out to be untrustworthy to the extent of abandoning his own family when he’d been needed most, Draco was content to let the matter rest. For now.

He took his time to answer, relaying their coffee orders to the waiter before he responded, ‘Yes, it’s important.’

She continued to toy with the crystal goblet. ‘Why? And before you say so, I think I can accurately guess it’s not about the money.’

He tensed, debated for a moment how much to divulge. Maria’s privacy was of the utmost importance to him. As long as he had breath in his body, his sister wouldn’t know the slightest pang of further suffering. He hadn’t been able to protect her when it counted. But he intended to do everything he could to ease her tiniest worry.

‘No, it’s not about the money, although, as a businessman, it’s in my interest to protect my and my clients’ assets.’