Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

I T WAS ONLY because he kept such a rigid control over his emotions that Ares didn't burst out laughing. Even then, an abstract part of him barked raucous laughter in his head, while another part grew intensely furious. Not with her. Or perhaps a little with her... Because, Thee mou , hadn't she dragged confounding emotions out of him from the very first time he'd laid eyes on her?

‘I'd rather dive naked into Mount Etna...'

That snatched glimpse of melodrama was one of many reminders he'd tried to forget about her. That it had triggered a different sort of amusement made him stiffen.

He wasn't here to traipse down memory lane. Or be reminded of everything he'd hoped for during those foolish years of his youth.

He'd once dreamed he'd be the one offering a life-changing proposal. All these years later, and with the benefit of hindsight, he knew he'd had a lucky escape. Yet his chest continued to tighten as he looked at her now, this insanely beautiful woman who had only grown maddeningly more alluring in the years since he'd last seen her.

He should dismiss this nonsense, march back into that room he hadn't been permitted to enter as the son of the boss's chauffeur, insist to his father that they were leaving. That this was indeed the absurd idea he'd suspected it was when Sergios had suggested it.

The look in her eyes—appeal battling with the pride she so very staunchly hung on to—stayed him. Was that all that was stopping him leaving? Or was it that taunting, delectable little addendum she'd thrown in?

‘In return, I will give you whatever you want.'

He hated himself further for the memory those words evoked...for the time when he'd craved just that from her.

To have her. To walk away. Never look back.

Wouldn't that make him as bad as the very people he despised with every fibre of his being? Men like her father? Her uncle? That cretin Bartorelli, with his too-harsh thuggish hands and slimy lust in his eyes?

‘I know you heard me,' she muttered, then pursed her lips, drawing his attention to her mouth.

The full mouth that he'd only had the opportunity to taste once before it had been wrenched away from him. The mouth she'd used to betray him, casting him aside as if he was nothing.

‘Say something,' she pushed at his prolonged silence.

‘Are you sure?'

Her beautiful eyes blinked. ‘What do you mean, am I sure?'

‘Do you really want me to say something? Because there's a high probability that you won't get the answer you wish if I do.'

She swallowed, and again his gaze was compelled to that part of her body, noticing how smooth her neck was, how creamy and so very inviting.

He clenched his gut, unwilling to be led by desire down another disastrous road littered with betrayal.

Her chin lifted another notch, and perhaps that was the catalyst that stopped him from walking away. Because the urge to master that pride and defiance, watch her crumble completely, slowly shattered his resolve. The need to win, just for once, in this insane situation with Odessa Santella trumped any other need.

That she would dare to flaunt her pride in the face of apparent abject hopelessness was a challenge he couldn't resist.

‘Yes, I want to know your answer,' she replied, her voice firm, her eyes boldly locked on his. Daring him to tell her no.

Again, he felt that urge to laugh—an absurdity in this situation that should never even have occurred. But then didn't his father continue to stump him with his own unique outlook on life? And hadn't he vowed a long time ago never to be like his father?

As much as he loved him—and he did, with an unfettered well of affection that had surmounted their many challenges—he still couldn't accept or forgive how his father had allowed himself to be treated by the Santellas. What his misguided devotion had cost his own family before he'd been chewed up, then spat out, disposed of with barely the clothes on his back when he'd outlived his usefulness. Yes, the ultimate betrayal lay with his mother, but Ares couldn't help the sliver of bitterness for what his father's own actions had prompted.

‘Very well then,' he said, taking perverse pleasure in the statement. ‘My answer is...no.'

Pride and defiance deflated like a pricked balloon, her shoulders sagging. She went pale, her bottom lip trembling for a second before she firmed it. Her most unique trademark, the Santella silver eyes that had haunted his dreams for far longer than he wanted to admit, darted around the room, then returned to his face, searching, as if unsure whether to believe him or not. He held her gaze, infused his own with ruthless purpose until her eyes dimmed in acceptance.

‘I see.'

Silence reigned, and he found himself holding his breath, gut clenched tight. In anticipation of what? He realised that he was waiting for something more from her. For her to fight harder for him?

Yes.

When he registered that she wasn't going to speak, a disarming confusion bubbled inside him, which triggered more volatile emotions.

She wasn't going to fight now, just as she hadn't fought back then. Was it because, despite seeing him as a last resort, she still deemed him inferior? Or, he amended cynically, was it because she'd chosen to make herself clear back then in a very different way by betraying him with another?

‘If you don't wish to marry that idiot with his too-eager hands, why don't you simply tell him that?'

Sparks lit her silver eyes, her mouth twisting. ‘Surely you haven't forgotten how things work around here?' she threw at him.

His mouth soured. No, he hadn't forgotten. But wasn't she the princess of the castle? Or, better yet, the queen now? ‘Your father's gone. Surely you're free to do as you wish now?'

Bitterness pinched her mouth, drawing his eyes back again to the sensual curve of it, the soft, velvety plumpness that made heat flow with eager abandon through his pelvis. It was an unwelcome indication that in some ways things hadn't changed. This woman still drew effortless sensations from him.

‘You would think so, but apparently he's made sure he rules my life even from the grave.'

His jaw clenched. The recollection of the ruthless, power-hungry brute Elio had been—a man who put his interests ahead of everything and everyone, including his own daughter—was a bile-inducing one. Ares had batted off the threats and taunts from the crime boss, but the betrayal from Odessa still dredged up fury and bitterness that lingered.

It especially chafed that he hadn't managed to make the old man pay for the way he'd treated his father. He'd thought he had time—had been stunned when his father had informed him that Elio had succumbed to cancer mere months before his sixtieth birthday.

Coming here today, it had crossed his mind briefly to make the daughter pay for her father's transgressions, but he'd discarded the idea.

Odessa had enough of her own sins to account for.

‘Anything you want...'

The idea tantalised him far too much. Made his shaft thicken as he fantasised ways to enact his own sweet brand of retribution.

Footsteps echoed outside the door.

Odessa's gaze darted to it and he watched her face grow haunted.

Rage mounted—both at the thought of Bartorelli being responsible for that look, and at the fact that he utterly loathed the thought of that man touching her.

Hell, the idea of any man touching her drew an uncustomary red glaze across his eyes. He told himself that it was because he despised bullies, and every male member of her family deserved that label. But when it came down to it Ares suspected it was that tempting little addendum that made him reach out to stop her jerky step towards the door, one arm wrapping around her waist and the other cupping her chin to redirect her focus to him.

And just like when he'd led her out of the salone , that sensation of her skin beneath his fingers made his breath catch. He accepted in that moment that he'd forgotten a few things about Odessa. Dear God, she was as soft and yet firm as he remembered. And that little sound she made in her throat as she faced him was equally intoxicating, twice as dangerous.

‘"I see"?' he echoed sardonically. ‘That's all you're going to say?'

The sparks flared in her eyes, turning them molten and mercurial, in shades he'd found far too fascinating back when he'd known no better.

‘You want me to beg?' she goaded. ‘Is that what you're waiting for?'

Oh, yes.

‘That would be a good start.'

Her nostrils quivered—a delicate sight that sent yet another shock of heat through him.

‘I didn't imagine you'd become a sadist.'

‘Looks like we're learning new things about each other.'

And obsessing far too much about old things. Like what would've happened if you hadn't betrayed me.

She opened her mouth, perhaps to berate him. He never found out, because in that moment, knuckles rapped hard on the door.

She flinched. His teeth gritted. Ne , he hated that reaction in her. Just as he hated everything about this day.

Then his mood darkened even further, as the door started to open without his express permission.

Acting solely on instinct, he dropped his hand from her chin. Then, wrapping his fingers over her nape, he tilted her face up to his.

‘We will discuss this further in a while. But for now...'

Sealing his mouth on hers, Ares gave in to the deep, dark temptation that had stalked him ever since he had spotted her at her father's graveside.

He swallowed her soft grunt of surprise and swept his tongue through her parted lips, tasting her with a hunger he partly despised and partly welcomed, because perhaps he might need this further down the line, when he exacted due retribution.

He hadn't altogether decided which way he was going to go, but this was a good start.

Dragging her closer to his ravenous body, he gloried in the soft curves that seemed sculpted to his, that flashed reminders he didn't want, but couldn't resist.

She gave a throaty moan and opened her lips, her hands coming up to wrap around his waist. He couldn't help the rumble of satisfaction that erupted from his chest. So many things he'd been denied with this woman were finally achieving reparation.

He didn't need to assure himself that he could have had her any other way, but it helped that she was as helpless to this strain of insanity as he was.

In the years he'd been gone from this place he'd had a glut of liaisons—enough to satisfy him that he didn't need any one person...especially a forbidden princess named Odessa Santella.

Yet here he was, devouring her as if she was the sole reason he drew breath.

Ares ignored the pointed throat-clearing from across the room and tangled her tongue with his, unable to resist one last taste.

It came again—louder, insistent.

Odessa pulled back sharply, her hands pushing at him as she tried to put distance between them.

Deliberately or reluctantly—he couldn't be sure—he took his time in releasing her, lifting his head to lock his eyes on their unwanted intruder.

‘Flávio.'

If Ares had despised Elio, his younger brother came a close second simply because he'd been more than happy to ride his brother's thuggish coattails and carry out his orders without compunction. Flávio had been the messenger who had gleefully delivered Elio's poisoned edict, which had triggered the events that had sent Ares away from this place.

He watched the other man take in their embrace, watched his calculating eyes working out how to turn it to his advantage. Ares's mouth soured, but still he didn't release her.

‘I don't remember giving you permission to enter.'

Flávio's eyes blazed momentarily with malice. Ares knew that ten years ago Flávio would've reacted differently. And, yes, he knew there was definite satisfaction in watching the other man mind his tongue. Just as he knew that by challenging him he'd made Odessa's situation ten times worse.

So did she, by the way she stiffened and then tried to push away from him.

‘Stay.' He rasped the warning in her ear.

For a microsecond she heeded him, and then the innate rebel smothered by years of oppression fought back, tossing another log onto the fire blazing within him. Her body brushed his, bringing an unwanted reminder that he was fully aroused at being this close to her, and he felt her soft breath against his jaw, smelled her spicy scent in his nostrils.

He hissed as her movement brought her wrist over his engorged flesh. Ignoring Flávio, Ares slid his finger beneath her chin, bypassing her swollen lips to snag her gaze.

‘If you want my help you'll do as I say.'

She stilled after another second, her eyes narrowing on his. He wanted to remind her that he never said anything he didn't mean. But what use was that reassurance when he knew the same didn't apply to her? She'd heeded his command when it mattered. That was a good start. Her rebellion would be enjoyable in the right setting.

Registering that he was making plans as if this was a forgone conclusion disconcerted him, but he hadn't achieved success beyond his wildest dreams by not being able to think on his feet.

‘You're still here, Flávio. Can we help you?'

Odessa made a tiny, protesting noise, her eyes flashing wildly at him. He slid a soothing hand down her back before he could help himself.

‘My niece's presence has been missed. It's her father's funeral, after all. We don't want to raise questions.'

Ares laughed. ‘You don't? Because you care about impropriety?'

Flávio's gaze dropped to his hand on her waist and his face tightened. ‘Odessa is a good woman. It won't do to have her honour questioned.'

‘We both know her honour isn't why you're here. Run along. We'll be out shortly.'

‘You shouldn't have done that,' she murmured once Flávio had departed, the hard click of the door signalling his displeasure.

His gaze dropped to her mouth, savage hunger tearing through him. ‘Which part? The part where I reacquainted myself with how surprisingly sublime you taste? Or getting rid of your uncle?'

Colour surged into her face and he itched to trace it with his fingers. Then his mouth.

‘Both! You may enjoy baiting a viper, but I don't.'

He drifted his fingers down her arms, delighted in the shivers that raced after his touch. ‘Hmm...let's go and find out how effective we've been, shall we?'

Catching her fingers in his, he tugged her after him.

‘Ares, what are you doing?' she hissed.

Something hard and hot and decadent punched through him at hearing his name on her lips after all this time. The sexy Italian huskiness of her voice had first turned him on as a callow youth—the chauffeur's son enchanted by the princess in the dark castle. It partially grated that its erotic effect hadn't entirely waned.

Perhaps it was a good thing, he mused. A heightened libido wasn't altogether bad.

He continued until he'd reached the door of the soggiorno and then, pausing in full view of the guests, he cupped her delicate jaw. ‘Anything I want. Those are still your terms, correct?'

Her silver eyes grew saucer-wide, her pupils dilating as her tongue emerged to dart nervously over her bottom lip. ‘Ares—'

‘Yes or no?' he pressed. A rabid need was pounding through him, filling his ears with an unstoppable roar.

She sucked in a breath, the awareness that she was caught between a rock and one immovable Greek visible in her mercury eyes. The longest three seconds of his life dragged past. Then...

‘Yes,' she answered, and that punch of bold almost-dare kicked like a narcotic in his blood. As if inviting him to do his worst.

Just wait, s'agapo . You'll see.

Triumph equal to or perhaps even surpassing what he'd felt after his last multi-billion-dollar real estate deal surged through him. But he wouldn't celebrate just yet. He knew better where this woman was concerned.

‘You'd better hope that your oaths mean more to you now than they did all those years ago, agapita . Because trust me when I say you'll regret it otherwise.'

Warning delivered, he dropped one hand but left the other in the small of her back, using it to draw her close as they faced the now hushed room.

Slowly he took in people's expressions, cataloguing which men would pose a problem and need handling, noting the ones eager to get into his good graces. His gaze lingered longest on Bartorelli, saw the moment the other man recognised he'd been bested.

Then Ares's gaze shifted to his father.

Up until that moment he hadn't been entirely sure he'd go through with this madness...whether he would only go far enough to ensure Odessa was removed from the threats that dogged her—for a yet to be determined price but no more. Because she was and should remain where she belonged.

In his past.

But the flash of hope that arrived and then lingered on his father's face as it darted between him and Odessa sealed his decision.

Ares kept his gaze on Sergios for another second, then glanced down at the woman who'd held a compulsive fascination for him once upon a time. Who, he admitted, continued to have an absurd grip on him that he needed to rid himself of once and for all.

Ne , perhaps she'd handed him the very tools to do so...

‘Our apologies for our absence,' he started, without taking his eyes off her. ‘Odessa and I were getting...reacquainted.'

His tone dripped with deliberate innuendo and he didn't regret it one bit. Tugging her even closer, he captured her hand in his and raised it to his lips. Catching her shocked inhalation, he allowed his lips to curve, his eyes to grow hooded as they raked her flushed face.

Then he levelled his gaze once more on the mourners. ‘While this isn't the venue I would've chosen, we're too impatient and eager to keep the news to ourselves.'

‘What news?' Flávio demanded, his eyes flaming with a mix of speculation, anger and greed.

Ares let the suspense linger for a few seconds, then he gripped her hands tighter. ‘That your lovely niece has just accepted my proposal. Odessa and I are to be married. As soon as possible.'

Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

Light-headedness assaulted Odessa as Ares's announcement dropped like flaming hailstones on her.

He'd just...just announced—

She'd done it!

She tucked her free hand behind her back and dug her fingers into her palm to test if she was still awake. The sting registered firmly enough to reassure her that, yes, she was indeed conscious.

Somehow, by some miracle, her bold and wild gamble had paid off.

But at what cost?

Because his firm grip on her waist and that silkily drawled warning about keeping her word, that hard look in his eyes and the tension in his body despite the charming smile he was displaying...

Everything indicated strongly that Ares Zanelis wasn't coming to her aid out of the goodness of his heart. Hell, his initial cold no still resonated like distant thunder in her ears.

A formidable reckoning was headed her way—one she didn't fool herself into thinking wouldn't exact a crushing toll.

She knew it in her bones.

And as hushed whispers swelled into rushed speculation she was left in no doubt at all that she'd truly set the cat among the pigeons.

But at least she'd evaded Vincenzo and her uncle's clutches.

As frying pans and fires compared, she'd take that outcome. For now.

She pushed the harrowing thoughts away as Ares leaned in close, his lips almost brushing her earlobe, and another cascade of shivers crashed through her body, reminding her in vivid colour of how she'd reacted to that kiss.

Dear God, she'd allowed him to kiss her—heck, she'd all but fallen into his decadent kiss— at her father's funeral .

‘I know you're in mourning, but try for a small smile at least, agapita . This was your idea, after all, and you've just been granted your heart's desire. Act like it.'

She couldn't refute that. So Odessa forced lips that still tingled and stung from his voracious kiss to curve. Forced herself to focus as the crowd surged towards her, morbid curiosity driving them forward.

She was almost thankful when Ares raised his hand, halting the advancing guests.

‘Please respect that my fiancée is mourning her father. If you wish us well, we accept gratefully, but I'm sure you'll understand that she'd like to conclude this occasion as originally scheduled before discussing any new matters.'

Her heart thudded wildly when he lifted her hand and brushed his lips across it once more.

Then he was urging her across the room—not towards her uncle, but to where his father stood, a pleased smile on his face.

Sergios grasped her free hand the moment she was within touching distance, a joyful light glinting in his eyes. ‘My dear, let me be the first to welcome you to our family. You have no idea how happy you've made an old man.'

Her startled gaze flew to Ares. The clear caution in his eyes stilled her tongue, but inside a shrill voice screamed. She blinked in surprise and alarm when she saw the film of tears in the old man's laughing eyes. And as he turned to address his son in rapid-fire Greek cold waves of consternation washed over her.

What had she done?

She hadn't considered the old man's feelings when she'd hatched her desperate plot. The thought of upsetting him settled over her like a suffocating cloak making it hard to breathe. Was it too late to—

‘No room for regret now, eros mou ,' Ares rasped in her ear, eerily and accurately dissecting her thoughts.

His ominous words reverberated through her head in the hour it took for the funeral to conclude. They grew even louder when they were finally alone with Flávio, Vincenzo and a handful of distant relatives.

Sergios had gone to see the butler's much talked about newborn grandson—a move she suspected had been orchestrated by Ares. And now her heart stuttered for a different reason as Vincenzo strode towards him, fury blazing in his eyes as they shifted from her and settled on Ares.

‘I don't know who you think you are—'

‘Were we not introduced properly?' Ares interrupted coolly, pivoting to face Vincenzo, who was at least a foot shorter and was made to feel every millimetre of it when Ares peered down from his great height. ‘Let me correct the oversight. I'm Ares Zanelis, Odessa's betrothed. And you are...?' he drawled, his tone sounding bored in the extreme.

The older man spluttered in outrage before spinning towards her uncle. ‘Flávio, inform this little upstart who I am, will you?'

‘This is Vincenzo Bartorelli. A...a business acquaintance,' her uncle stated.

Odessa, breath held, waited to hear her what else her uncle would add. To her shock, Flávio's gaze caught Ares's. A pointed look passed between the men, clearly fully deciphered by Vincenzo. His beady eyes narrowed and his fingers tightened around his glass until she feared it would shatter.

‘You will all regret this,' Vincenzo snarled, encompassing Flávio, Ares and her in his look.

A cold shiver danced down her spine, but Ares shrugged off the threat. ‘I doubt it sincerely.'

Vincenzo's livid stare switched to Flávio, who pretended interest in the contents of his glass. With a thick curse loaded with venom, Vincenzo turned on his heel and stormed out.

The ensuing silence was broken by Flávio's throat-clearing. ‘Now that's settled, it would be remiss of me not to express my own concerns. At the very least I would've hoped to be asked for my niece's hand before you made the announcement.'

Ares's jaw clenched. ‘Pretending to be old-fashioned when it suits your purposes isn't a great look on you. You have a price. We'll discuss it while my fiancée packs her bags.'

Alarm and rebellion ignited in her belly. ‘What? I'm not leaving—'

‘You wish to stay here?' Ares breathed, his eyes glinting cynicism.

No, she admitted reluctantly. She didn't. But she hadn't anticipated a cataclysmic move so soon. And while a part of her swelled with relief, a disconcerted part couldn't help but wonder what came next for her.

Because they hadn't even discussed what he expected in return for helping her. Considering the circumstances of their parting ten years ago, would it be as intolerable as her current situation?

Her stomach churned with something that skated past terror and into charged excitement. And then apprehension. What if she couldn't fulfil her part?

‘Odessa?'

‘I...I do need a little time to pack.'

Ares raised a cold eyebrow at her uncle.

Flávio shrugged. ‘Certain wheels are already set in motion and will take considerable effort to halt,' he said. But with a quick glance at Ares's set face he hurriedly added, ‘But I anticipate it all going smoothly since we both only have your best interests at heart.'

She barely stopped herself from snorting. Just this morning he'd intended to follow her father's wishes and barter her to a man over twice her age without so much as a by-your-leave. A man he knew to be cruel and violent.

Her sore wrist tingled. She rubbed at it absently, then tensed when Ares's gaze dropped to follow the action, his face tightening.

‘Let's get this over with,' he grated at Flávio.

To his credit, her uncle obviously sensed the capriciousness of Ares's mood and nodded immediately. She watched them stride to the door, her breath shortening as she took in Ares's imposing form.

Every ounce of the playfulness of the man she'd known a decade ago had disappeared, leaving behind a breathtakingly formidable man whose presence made her breath catch.

He turned without warning at the door, catching her staring. A layer of tightness evaporated, and whatever he saw on her face drew a ghost of a smile.

‘You have one hour. No more.'

One hour to leave her old life behind.

Odessa walked through her bedroom, wasting time she didn't have in trailing her fingers over possessions she'd never grown attached to. As a crime boss, her father had insisted on his daughter keeping up appearances, which had meant wearing the right in-season clothes and jewellery, and hanging out with the daughters of other influential and powerful men on the rare occasions he'd allowed her out.

But the very idea of being on display all the time—an undertaking she remembered her mother hating—had long ago become a chore she'd taken no pleasure in.

So she picked up and set down objects she wouldn't miss, her open suitcase on the bed still mostly empty a long while later.

‘You're not packed?'

She whirled around at the drawl from her open doorway. Had the hour passed already? She glanced down at her watch, a diamond and platinum Cartier gifted to her by her father in a lavish display of ostentation at her birthday party two years ago. As usual it had come with a price—this one a dinner date with the son of a burgeoning rival her father had wanted mollified.

She'd failed, her fierce rebellion against being used as a pawn fuelling her defiance. He hadn't been happy.

She saw Ares catch her shudder at the memory, and pre-empted an interrogation by replying, ‘Not quite yet.'

He glanced around the room, disdain staining his face. ‘That's good. Because you will bring nothing with you. Including that.' He nodded at the watch.

Surprise stiffened her spine, despite her having had the same thought a minute ago. ‘What?'

‘Tell me there's anything here that you're remotely attached to?' he challenged coolly.

She wanted to protest, but secretly she was relieved to leave it all behind. Everything here signified oppression under her father's ruthless thumb.

But aren't you exchanging one version of hell for another? This man shattered your dreams...left you behind.

No, this path was of her own choosing. And while Ares had gained a ruthless reputation, he hadn't turned cruel, had he?

‘What is it?'

She started, and realised she'd been examining him with rabid intent. Was it to see if he wore his cruelty as proudly as her father had worn his?

‘Odessa?'

‘I'm wondering if you'll be as cruel to me as my father was,' she confessed brazenly.

She was done with walking innocently into situations, trusting as blindly as she'd trusted him years ago. It was the only way she could guard her emotions. After all, if she wasn't pinning any foolish hopes on him she couldn't be disappointed, could she?

He stiffened, his expression growing remote. Within a heartbeat he was sliding his fingers into her hair, tilting her face up so he could spear her with outraged eyes. ‘You dare compare me to that monster?' he seethed.

Her heart squeezed. ‘I thought I knew you...back then. But it turned out I was wrong, so who knows?'

‘ You do. You just choose to misremember. To make yourself feel better by pretending what's happening to you right now is entirely everyone else's fault when you must bear some responsibility.'

‘That's not true. I've just learned that nothing stays the same. People change. The evidence is standing right before me.'

His eyes gleamed, as if he found her amusing and infuriating all at once. Then, just as quickly, his expression hardened. ‘No, people don't change. Sometimes they just hide who they are until it suits them to reveal themselves. Other times the people in their lives just choose not to notice.'

He meant her, of course.

Odessa bit her lip, felt the urge to explain herself, to explain Paolo and that kiss stalking through her. But before she could fabricate the words he swung away, impatience bristling in his towering frame. Just as he'd turned away that night. Only he hadn't just turned away. He'd seized the role of judge, jury and executioner, and then abandoned her without a backward glance.

Remember that!

‘It's time to go, Odessa.'

Not without some assurances.

‘My uncle—'

‘Is not going to be a problem,' he said, jaw tight.

A spike of anguish lanced her. ‘Should I ask how many silver shekels I was sold for?'

‘No. It's not important,' he rasped.

She wanted to scream that it was to her. But she knew she'd just be furthering her heartache. She'd been a pawn for every power-hungry member of her family her entire life.

But no more.

She raised her chin and caught a flash of something in his eyes almost like surprise...admiration. But then he was slanting an impatient glance at his watch.

She went to her bedside drawer. Opening it, she took out her most treasured item. Her mother's locket. It held the only picture she had of Renata Santella. Her father had disposed of everything else in a fit of drunken pique soon after her mother had died. Odessa had been conveniently out of the house. It was one of the many things she'd never forgiven him for.

She sensed Ares wandering close. ‘You still have that?' he enquired gruffly.

She cradled the delicate locket in her hand. ‘Some things are worth hanging on to. No matter what.'

Unsure why she'd said that, she caught her breath as she glanced up, saw the ghost of a prickling gentleness—because this man would never be completely soft—before his expression hardened once more.

They stayed like that for charged seconds before he pivoted away, leaving her to breathe freely again, to pick up the credit card holding the five thousand euros her mother had been able to secrete away and pass to Odessa to keep for a desperate rainy day.

It was definitely torrential today. And petrifying. Because she was still in the dark about the price to be paid for Ares freeing her.

‘Are you done?'

The query was gruff, but not impatient. Why, she couldn't tell, because his face was back to being coolly distant.

A pair of jeans, a few tops, shoes and two changes of underwear packed, she snapped the case shut.

She wasn't surprised when Ares took hold of it with one hand, his other circling her elbow as he guided her out.

Her heart lurched, then thumped, when she saw Flávio waiting in the grand hall, a false smile playing at his lips even as his eyes continued to assess her keenly, searching to see if she'd done anything to ruin whatever he'd extracted from Ares.

She knew the moment he realised he'd succeeded in whatever deal he'd struck.

He came towards her, arms wide open.

Under the pretext of kissing his niece goodbye, he whispered in Italian. ‘You've surprised me, niece. I didn't think you'd manage to pull a stunt like this. Brava. You're a true Santella after all. But don't forget where you came from. And remember... I'll be watching.'

‘What did he say to you?' Ares asked after they'd stepped out into the late-autumn sunshine.

She shook her head, eager to forget Flávio's threat. ‘It doesn't matter.'

Now it was happening, she wanted to get away from here immediately. More importantly, she wanted to ask Ares where he was taking her, what he wanted from her.

But he was ushering her down the steps to where a gleaming limousine waited, with a sharply dressed driver holding the back door open. Ares grasped her hand lightly and helped her in, then he followed.

Odessa looked around in surprise as the driver shut the door and hurried to settle behind the wheel. ‘Isn't your father coming with us?'

A hard smile twitched his lips as the engine started. ‘He is.'

When he didn't expand, she glanced out of the window, then realised they were driving away from the main house, heading towards the servants' quarters. Where he and his father used to live. Where the other staff members including the butler still lived.

The vehicle rounded a curve and stopped in front of the garages.

Odessa had avoided this part of the estate in recent years, mostly due to the man who now sat next to her.

It was in the orange grove beyond the servants' quarters that Ares had kissed her for the first time. Where he'd touched her, whispered sultry Greek words in her ear she hadn't understood, and made her dream the impossible.

After his departure she'd been unable to return here, the memories too painful. Plus, her father had threatened all the servants against entertaining her near their quarters, mistakenly believing that they'd colluded in her secret liaison with the chauffeur's son. It had been better for everyone that she stayed away.

Now the memories rushed at her, so fast and furious she clenched her fingers in her lap.

‘Haunted by your demons, agapita ?' he rasped.

She tightened her grip on her composure. ‘My demons? What about yours? Or does the great Ares Zanelis not have any?'

‘Hmm, you've got better at deflecting...but it still doesn't answer me.'

About to snap back with a sharp retort, she stopped as Sergios emerged, the butler following behind with his grandson cradled lovingly in his arms. Beside her, Ares tensed, his focus fixed on his father.

Inscrutable expressions twitched across his face. Odessa didn't know why they sent trepidation dancing down her spine.

She pushed it away as a clutch of staff approached the limo. Ares watched with narrow-eyed intent when she stepped out and was immediately engulfed in hugs and whispers of farewell, well wishes that made her chest squeeze in shame. But looking into their faces she saw understanding, and—surprisingly—encouragement.

Odessa sucked in a breath when she sensed Ares behind her. He muttered in Greek to his father. The older man nodded impatiently then, turning to the newborn, brushed stiff fingers over the child's cheek, a wistful yearning crossing his face before his trademark smile returned.

As they returned to the car she caught the look of deep introspection on Ares's face as his gaze lingered on his father.

And once again a heavy tingling took hold of her nape.