Bought ForThe Greek's Bed Page 5

VICKY could feel her face whiten. She was back in the past again, and Theo Theakis was laying into her with his vicious talons, ripping her to shreds with his vituperation. She had tried to defend herself but it had been impossible. He had allowed her no chance—no quarter.

  Well, this time she would not even make the attempt. She would not stoop that low.

  But it was hard—much, much harder than she had allowed for—to stand here, face to face, with that overpowering presence in front of her, the full force of his self-righteous anger bearing down on her. It was like an intense, overwhelming pressure coming at her, trying to make her buckle and crack. Trying to destroy her.

  Her spine steeled. She didn’t destroy that easily! She’d survived that first hideous onslaught of his, which had ended their unspeakable farce of a marriage, even though she’d been shaking like a leaf before he’d done with her, desperate only to run, run from his presence as fast as her trembling limbs would carry her.

  It might have served its purpose, but that did not mean she could ever forgive or forget that brutal scene, his vicious, self-righteous judgement of her.

  So now, gathering a nerve she had to dig deep to find, she slid her hands into her back pockets, shifted the weight of her leg, and looked across at him, her face a mask. Her voice, as she spoke, was cool.

  ‘I’m not here to discuss ancient history, Theo. I’m here to get the money you’ve been keeping from me. I don’t give a toss how our marriage ended, only that it did—and that you owe me.’

  As she finished she had the strangest feeling she’d just lit the blue touch paper—but the rocket didn’t go up. Instead, something slid across his face, almost as if he were wiping it clear of any expression or emotion. She’d seen him look like that often, usually when he was talking to people but revealing nothing of what was going on inside his head. It had been a common expression when he’d been talking to her, as well.

  His tone was smooth suddenly, but with the smoothness of steel. ‘We’ve already established that you have no entitlement to it whatsoever. However…’ His eyes rested on her, and there was that same concealed characteristic about them as in his face. ‘I may, perhaps, be willing to change my mind. Tell me—’ the question came out of the blue ‘—what do you want the money for?’

  Vicky started. Automatically she veiled her expression. No way was she going to tell him that Jem was anything to do with why she wanted the money—the memory of Theo’s verbal gouging of her two years ago was too deep for that, and Jem’s name would be like a red rag to a bull.

  ‘What business is that of yours?’ she countered, still keeping that cool, deliberate voice going.

  She could see the anger lick through him at her reply. Theo Theakis was a man who liked getting his own way—she knew that, to her cost. Whatever he wanted, Theo liked to get it.

  Even when it was personal.

  Especially when it was personal.

  And he wasn’t fussy about what he was prepared to do to get his own way…

  Her mind sheered away. Memory was dangerous, very dangerous. Much safer was Theo being angry with her. His anger might be a vicious onslaught of savage fury, or it might be the cold, contained, implacable power of a very rich man, but both of those were easier to endure than—

  No. She cut her mind off again.

  Focus! Focus on what you want here—your money. That’s all you’re here for. Nothing else! Nothing else at all.

  But if that were true, why—dear God—did her eyes keep wanting to smooth over that tall, lean body standing so short a distance away from her? To rest on that planed, ludicrously compelling face and just gaze and gaze, like a hungry animal long deprived of food…?

  He was replying to her, and she forced herself to listen.

  ‘It’s a substantial amount of money. You are not used to being in possession of such sums. Therefore you may be the target of unscrupulous operators who wish to part you from it.’ His voice was smooth, the lick of anger gone completely now from the visible surface.

  But Vicky remained wary—she knew she had every reason to be.

  ‘I’m putting it in the bank, that’s all. I want to spend some of it on a house, the rest stays in the bank.’

  It was an evasive answer, and she knew it. True in some sense, but implying, falsely, that she wanted to buy a house, not do one up, and that there would be a lot left over—when there would probably be none at all. But she didn’t owe Theo Theakis the truth. She didn’t owe him anything.

  She held his gaze, resolutely keeping hers steady.

  ‘Very prudent,’ he murmured, and again Vicky got the feeling that there were currents running deep beneath that smooth surface.

  But what did she care about those, either? She just cared about getting her money. That was all.

  ‘Very well—I’ll release the money.’

  The words fell into the space between them—and that was much, much more than the few metres that separated them. For a second she stood still, not believing she could have heard right. Then her eyes lit—she could not stop them.

  ‘But there will, of course, need to be conditions.’

  His voice was smooth still. So smooth.

  The light in her eyes flashed into anger.

  ‘You have absolutely no right to—’

  His hand came up abruptly. ‘What I have,’ he enunciated, ‘is something you want, and if you want it then you accept my conditions.’

  She was the insubordinate minion again. Her chin came up in defiance.

  ‘And they are?’ she demanded, eyebrows rising with the same cool deliberation she’d used before.

  His eyes rested on her a moment. She could not read them—could not read the smooth surface of his expression. But suddenly, quite suddenly, out of nowhere, the barest fraction before he spoke, acid pooled in her stomach.

  ‘They’re very simple,’ he said. ‘You’ll return to Greece with me, and to my bed.’

  The acid leached from Vicky’s stomach and into her veins, draining down into every limb.

  ‘You cannot mean that,’ she breathed. It seemed to take all the breath she had left in her lungs to do so. Her eyes had widened like a rabbit’s, seeing a predator step in front of it.

  Something flickered in the back of his eyes, and she felt her lungs crush yet more.

  ‘It’s exactly what I mean. If you want the money, you’ll comply.’ His voice was unperturbed.

  ‘It’s outrageous!’

  ‘So is adultery.’ His voice was cold, as cold as steel.

  ‘I won’t do it.’ Her teeth were gritted, so tight it hurt.

  He shrugged, the material of his jacket moving over broad shoulders.

  ‘Then there’s nothing more to be said, is there? So you’d better go, hadn’t you? But if you do—’ his voice hardened ‘—don’t trouble to get in touch again. You decide now—right now—what you intend to do.’

  She stood transfixed, staring at him horror. And from behind the horror came memories, marching forward, one after another, like the frames of a movie, surging forward in vivid, punishing colour…memories she never, ever allowed herself…

  I can’t do it! Dear God, I can’t!

  ‘Well?’

  She could feel her stomach churning with acid.

  ‘No! God Almighty, of course I won’t do it! You must be insane to think I would!’

  ‘Very well. If that’s your decision.’ He started to move towards the door.

  She spun round. ‘I want my money!’ Her voice was all but a shriek of anger and frustration—and horror.

  ‘Then comply with my conditions.’ His voice was cool, impersonal. He didn’t even look round, simply walked out into the hall and made to open the door of his apartment.

  She strode after him, the acid still churning in her stomach.

  ‘Why? Why the hell do you even want to…to…?’

  She couldn’t say it—it was impossible. As impossible as believing he’d actually said that to her!

  He turned. For a moment he was still, very still. She stood, her insides churning. Then suddenly, before she had a chance to realise his intent, he reached out a hand to her.

  Long fingers slid around her jaw, grazing into her hair. His eyes looked down at her. Their expression jellied her stomach.

  With leisurely insolence his thumb grazed along her lower lip. The touch shot weakness through her body.

  ‘I like to finish what I start,’ he said.

  His thumb smoothed again. She couldn’t move. She was transfixed, her heart slugging in her chest. Then he smiled. The smile of a predator. He dropped his hand away.

  ‘I’m flying to Athens tomorrow at noon in my private place. You have till then to make up your mind what you’re going to do.’

  He pulled the door open and waited, expectantly, for her to go.

  On shaking legs she left.

  London flowed around her like an unseen river as she walked blindly along its darkened streets. At some point she must have walked down into the Underground system and taken a train, changed to a different line, kept going, emerged, and walked back to her tiny studio flat. When she got indoors she went into the kitchen, and with the same disconnected brain started to make herself a cup of tea. Then, on sudden desperate impulse, she poured herself a glass of white wine, took a large gulp as she headed to the living area, and collapsed on the sofa.

  She stared blankly ahead. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest.

  I’ve got to think about this. I can’t not think about it. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to do anything other than pretend that whole encounter tonight just didn’t happen. Deny it completely. Wash it from my brain, my memory, my consciousness.

  But I can’t. I can’t do that because I know, though I desperately don’t want to. I know I’ve got to make a decision.

  She took a second gulp of the alcohol. Another voice seemed to shoot through her brain.

  What the hell do you mean, you’ve got to make a decision? There isn’t any decision to be made! You can’t possibly, possibly think otherwise! What he said is unthinkable—it’s disgusting and outrageous, and he can damn well go to hell for even saying it to you!

  She stared ahead still. Her heart seemed to be thumping more heavily, and there was a sick feeling inside her, like nerve-ends pinching in her guts.

  But he said it was the only way I can get my money…

  The other voice slammed back. Well, you’ll just have to do without it, then!

  She swallowed heavily. Do without it. But they couldn’t. That was the problem. Without the money that she’d promised Jem there was no way the house could be ready for the summer—which meant they’d have to wait another season before being able to take in any kids, if ever. The whole scheme depended on her getting the money.

  We need that money! We’ve just got to have it!

  Anger spurted through her again. Theo had no right to that money! It didn’t matter what the damn law said, the money was for her, at the end of their stupid, insane marriage, and him keeping it was sheer bloody vindictiveness! Petty revenge, that was all!

  She took another vicious gulp of wine. It was coursing through her system, making her feel angry and aggressive.

  It was a marriage of convenience. That was the whole point! Something just to keep Aristides happy, to make him able to accept Theo Theakis’s help without losing face. That’s all I went along with it for! And that’s what Theo said, too! A temporary marriage of convenience, for my uncle’s sake.

  Indignation burned along her veins.

  It had been a deliberate, business-based marriage of convenience, and therefore obviously, obviously, the issue of fidelity was irrelevant! How could anyone think otherwise?

  Her face darkened. But Theo Theakis had. The all-time original dinosaur—with vicious talons and an even more vicious tongue, that had verbally ripped her to bloodied shreds before he’d done with her!

  Angrily she answered him in her head—the way she had that terrible day when he’d confronted her.

  It was a marriage of convenience, Theo! Not a real one! An empty façade, meaning nothing—nothing at all! And you damn well should have treated it as such, instead of…instead of—

  Her mind cut out. No. No, no and no. She wasn’t to think of that—never. Ever. Forbidden. Locked door. Never to be opened.

  Except that tonight, to her face, Theo had opened that door and made her look inside.

  Her face drained of expression. She knew what Theo wanted. His taunting, insolent words formed in her brain—‘I like to finish what I started.’ But that wasn’t why he’d made that outrageous condition tonight. It had nothing to do with it. He wanted something quite different.

  Revenge.

  And he knew exactly, exactly, how to get it.

  A shudder went through her.

  Adultery—that had been the crime that Theo had thrown so viciously in her face. So unjustly.

  She could have defended herself in terms that even he would have had to accept—but if she had…

  No, that had been impossible! It had been impossible then, and it was impossible now.

  And for the same reason.

  Her fingers clenched around the wineglass, threatening to break the stem. She must not, must not, let her mind go in that direction. It wasn’t just dangerous—it was suicidal…

  Desperately she pulled her mind away from the precipice it tottered on. Adultery was not the only crime she had committed in Theo’s eyes. There was another, far, far worse, and he wanted revenge for that, too.

  And he would get it, she knew, with a terrible chilling in her guts. The revenge that he would exact from her would be an exercise in humiliation.

  Her humiliation.

  And Theo would extract every last gram from her until he was satisfied—satisfied that her crime against him had been paid for.

  I can’t go through with it! I can’t! It’s impossible! Impossible!

  Anguish filled her, and she could feel herself start to shake.

  I can’t face the humiliation—I can’t face Theo taking that revenge on me! I can’t!

  Abruptly she got to her feet, and went and refilled her wineglass. She took another large slug from it, and stared blindly around her small studio flat. It was a world away, a universe away, from the life she’d led in Athens as Theo Theakis.

  I can’t possibly go back there!

  How could she ever go back there? She could never do it to her uncle, for a start. Since leaving Greece so precipitately she had not seen Aristides. She had written him a stiff, painful letter, simply saying that, regrettably, her marriage to Theo Theakis had ‘broken down irretrievably’ and left it at that. She had not received a reply or any communication from her uncle since. She knew why. Theo had told him why he had taken an axe to their marriage.

  Her face darkened. Why the hell had Theo gone and done that? There had been no need—no need whatsoever! What he had accused her of had never been made public, and however much speculation there might have been in the gossiping circles of Athenian society it had remained merely that—gossip.

  Theo could just have told her uncle that their marriage had broken down, without having to spell out why. After all, that was precisely what they had been going to do anyway, by prearrangement. She had merely precipitated their divorce, nothing more…

  Merely…

  The word mocked her. There had been nothing ‘merely’ about it.

  Not for her and not, she knew—dear God, she knew!—for Theo, either.

  And now he wanted his revenge for it.

  Why had he waited this long?

  The answer followed hard on the question. Because you’ve handed him the possibility on a plate by demanding your money! He’s got you over a barrel, and if you want the money you’ll have to do what he wants…

  But she couldn’t. It was as simple as that.

  She would never, ever subject herself to the humiliation he had planned for her. Because that was what it would be, she knew—oh, how she knew! A calculated, assiduous, deliberate humiliation of her…

  Her eyes narrowed suddenly. Her body stilled.

  Why? Why does it have to be? That was what Theo would want—but why did she have to comply?

  Why didn’t she simply…simply refuse to play along?

  Or rather…

  Her narrowed eyes hardened, and she took another belligerent slug of wine.

  Theo wanted revenge—and his revenge would be in her humiliation at his hands.

  A tight, grim smile twisted her lips. Revenge? Well, revenge was a two-way street. A double-edged sword. Theo intended to sweep one edge of the sword down on her—but she could use the other side of the blade for her own ends.

  Not revenge. Something far, far more important to her.

  She drained her wineglass. The alcohol was swimming in her veins, but she welcomed it. Dutch courage? Possibly—but it was steeling her, giving her the resolve she needed. Needed to get through what lay ahead of her. But if she did it, if she went through with the outrage that Theo was plotting to perpetrate on her, then when it was over she would emerge with something she had never possessed before.

  And it had nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with the money she wanted.

  Her chin lifted.

  I can do this. I can do it. And when I’ve done it I’m going to walk off with the money that’s mine, and Theo Theakis can go to hell!

  She set her empty glass down in the sink.

  I can do it, she said again to herself. I can.

  I must.

  Because if she did—if she succeeded…Emotion ran through her like a river of lightning in her veins. If she succeeded, then at last…at last…she could finally be free of the man she had married. Free in every sense of the word.

  I can do it…she repeated. I can…

  It was a mantra she had to keep repeating to herself over the following hours. Otherwise she knew she would never have been able to travel the distance to the aerodrome where Theo Theakis’s chartered jet would be waiting to whisk him home at luxurious speed and convenience. She’d deliberately under-dressed, wearing jeans and a cheap sweater, with a backpack hoisted on her shoulders. Her hair was in a loose plait and she wore no make-up. Despite the chilly, cloudy weather she wore a pair of sunglasses—but it wasn’t the sun they were protecting her from. She had no intention of risking eye contact with Theo.

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