Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

O VER THE NEXT few days the unsettling possibility that whatever feelings she'd had for Ares in her teenage years hadn't diminished but had possibly intensified drove Odessa on restless, long walks around Ismene.

She was quietly awed by the extent of Ares's wealth, and the fact that, unlike her, he'd striven to fulfil his dreams, attaining impressive power and influence to boot.

As for his island—she accepted that she'd totally fallen in love with Ismene.

Where Alghero had been all vicious waves crashing onto craggy, dangerous black rocks and sheer cliff faces, Ismene had a few perilous bluffs and hairpin roads on the northernmost point, but was mostly white sandy beaches and a sea so calm and blue she suspected this was what heaven looked like.

She was sitting on one such bluff, enjoying the peaceful breeze in her hair, when her senses tingled. A moment later her husband's shadow fell over her.

‘Odessa.'

Her head-to-toe shiver was so predictable, so damn Pavlovian, that she laughed quietly under her breath.

‘Something funny?'

His low, deep voice rumbled through her. She delayed looking up into his face, into those mesmerising eyes, for several seconds, although the compulsion soon grew unbearable.

‘Until a few seconds ago I was comparing this to heaven.'

Most likely tired of her not looking at him, Ares crouched down to her level and, like clockwork, her focus swung to him.

His eyes probed. As always.

‘And my arrival changed that view?' he asked.

She shrugged, watched his eyes flit to her bare legs before returning to her face. ‘Well, Lucifer was once an angel, if I recall correctly.'

His mouth twitched. ‘Which am I? Devil or angel?'

‘Both? I think if any man can achieve the impossible, it'd be you.'

His head tilted the smallest fraction. ‘Explain.'

Odessa couldn't quite account for the words that flew out of her mouth next. ‘I begged you to save me. You did. Then you turned the situation back on me.'

His eyes darkened, and then a moment later his nostrils flared. ‘You continue to give the impression that it will be a hardship for you, agapita .'

Her heart shrivelled. ‘At what point in our past did I give you the impression that I'd be okay with abandoning any child I gave birth to?'

A muscle throbbed at his temple. ‘So you still mean to prove me wrong?' he rasped, but the probing intensified, as if her answer mattered.

‘Absolutely,' she hissed fervently.

After an eternity with his eyes locked on hers, his gaze snapped to the horizon. She followed it, her heart thumping hard in her chest. Part of her wanted to push away this important but sensitive subject, but a larger part of her loathed the thought of letting it remain unconfronted, like a festering wound. And, considering the news she needed to divulge about her possible pregnancy, she needed a moment. Because it felt larger than life...soul-shaking in a way she couldn't wrap her mind around.

If she was pregnant, then her life was about to change.

And if she wasn't...

How could she be bracing herself to mourn something she hadn't even contemplated this time last month? How could her heart be aching over the possibility that their activities hadn't reaped the desired results?

‘What are you doing?'

She started, then refocused on where his gaze was locked on the sketchbook she'd brought on her walk. Heat flooded her face as his focus sharpened on her drawings.

‘Nothing much. Just some doodling.'

‘It looks like more than just doodling.' He held out his hand. ‘May I?'

She shook her head, echoes of her father's ridicule rising in her head. ‘I don't think so...'

‘You think I'll mock you because others did? I'm guessing your father?'

Her chest tightened at this insight, but she didn't answer.

Nor did Ares put his hand down.

After a minute of silent battling, she reluctantly handed it over. Then drowned in mortified silence as he took his time to leaf through the two dozen pages. Just when she thought she'd die of embarrassment he raised his gaze. His expression—surprised, mildly shocked, impressed —choked her breath.

‘You did all of this?' he asked.

‘Yes,' she whispered, still not sure she wanted to hear what he'd say next. ‘I know they're—'

‘Seriously impressive?' he interrupted. ‘Indeed.'

Her eyes widened. ‘What?'

‘I remember interior design was your passion.' His jaw gritted. ‘Did he let you attend the college you wanted?'

He? Her father. As if.

‘Of course he didn't,' she scoffed, and then felt a twinge for speaking ill of the dead. ‘But I took some online courses on my own a few years ago.'

He nodded, his eyes still gleaming with surprise and warming respect. ‘Good for you, going after what you want.'

Her heart lifted, prancing pathetically in her chest. Because she'd impressed Ares Zanelis, a multi-billionaire who owned some of the most impressive real estate in the world.

His gaze returned to the sketchbook. ‘Speaking of what we want...' He handed the sketchbook back, but his gaze sharpened, drifting over to linger on her belly.

Odessa's heart lurched for a different reason, then squeezed at the thought of what she needed to divulge.

She sucked in a long, sustaining breath, her fingers tightening around the sketchbook now pressed to her chest, as if it might save or steady her.

‘I don't know if I'm pregnant or not. My period didn't arrive yesterday...but I'm spotting a little today.'

The excruciatingly sluggish hours before she'd known she'd definitively missed her period had prompted a dizzying exhilaration—only to slide into horror when she'd spotted the blood. Even now, with the possibility that she might not be pregnant, Odessa clung to faint hope as she looked up at Ares.

To see hard, mercurial emotions flitting out of his face.

Bewilderment. Pride? Shock. Fear?

She shook her head. Perhaps she was deluding herself and it was all in her imagination.

‘You're spotting, and you didn't think to mention it?'

His words emerged from a throat that was threatening to freeze up with the surfeit of emotions coursing through him. They moved too fast for any one of them to establish supremacy.

He'd delayed asking her despite his every sense clamouring to know. He knew enough about the path to conception to know the odds of it happening so soon were improbable. And yet...

The unsettled feeling he'd carried since the morning after their wedding had gone, making way for other, equally alarming sensations. Disappointment. Desolation. Panic.

She pulled her lips between her teeth, her silver eyes shadowing before she answered. ‘It happens sometimes with my period.'

‘I see.' The words emerged clipped. Controlled. A direct opposite to what was going on inside him. ‘What does that mean, exactly? That it didn't happen?'

The anguish darting across her face arrowed straight into him, making him realise the depths of his own expectations. And that she was equally affected. But then her chin rose in a way that would have amused him and made him proud had he not been stewing in peculiar sensations.

‘I hope I don't need to remind you that it takes two to tango. Maybe we got the timing of things wrong.'

‘Easy, agapita . As much as I wish to vaunt my virility, I know instant pregnancy isn't guaranteed, no matter how many times we have sex.'

Her shoulders relaxed a little, but her fight remained. ‘Well... I...'

‘Yes? You are expecting me to jump down your throat?'

She shot another fire-tinged gaze at him and his body responded. It was a call it apparently couldn't resist, no matter the circumstances. Ares was beginning to accept—resignedly—that it was a power he might have to concede to her. Secretly. It wouldn't do at all to make her aware of it...

‘It wouldn't be unexpected,' she said.

Her meaning was clear. Stung more than he cared for.

‘It seems you need reminding once more that I'm not one of those Neanderthals who blame their shortcomings on their women.' He shook his head, dragged his fingers through his hair, trying to gain some composure. ‘Or am I wasting my time with that?'

She didn't answer immediately, and something shrivelled inside him.

Did she really think him a monster? No. He wouldn't lower himself into comparing what he was doing with what her father had done to her. He'd given her an option for freedom, for heaven's sake! And he continued to live with the unnerving, chest-searing sensations that recollection brought. The oddly stomach-churning possibility that she might exercise that choice in a few short years, despite her insistence to the contrary.

Elio, on the other hand, had treated his own daughter like a second-class citizen. A chess-piece he could move around his power-hungry board in ways that benefited him.

He crouched down to her level once more, wrapped his hand over her nape and tipped her gaze up to meet his. ‘Tell me that's not what you think of me,' he demanded, and there was sensation that felt jarringly like desperation stirring in his gut as he searched her expression.

Her lips firmed and her eyes dug into his. Searching just as hard. ‘Do you care what I think of you?' she whispered.

Ne. More than he suspected was wise.

‘I can wait for that verdict.' He stood, held out his hand while digging out his phone. ‘Come.'

She frowned. ‘Where are we going?'

‘You're spotting. That doesn't mean you're not pregnant. Let's go and make sure one way or another, shall we?'

She glanced down at his hand. Then, in another impressive flare of mutiny, she shook her head. ‘Not until we discuss a few things.'

Harsh laughter seared his throat. ‘I'm impressed, agapita . You have timed it perfectly to pull a stunt like this.'

‘It's not a stunt,' she flashed back, her voice husky. ‘I'm fighting for what I want. Even you must respect that.'

A part of him did. If he was being truthful with himself, the fact that she'd been born into an organised crime family and yet had managed to remain morally untainted had been one of his initial draws to her. Which had made her actions back then all the harder to swallow. And in light of Elio's clear manipulation of the situation, Ares had been teetering towards absolving her.

Now, his chest tightening anew, he curled his rejected hand into a ball and dropped it to his side. With his other, he dialled the number to summon his helicopter pilot, told him to ready the chopper for a trip to Athens.

The moment he hung up, she blurted, ‘I'm not happy with granting you full custody of my child.'

An equally visceral need propelled a forceful answer from him. ‘The original terms of the agreement stay. I can't risk my children going through what I did.'

She rose to her feet and brushed the sand from her dress with a grace so ingrained it was mesmerising to watch. Then she faced him, bold and unflinching.

‘Ares, what your mother did to you and to Sergios was horrible. You have my word that I would never—'

‘No,' he interrupted, the reminder of his lost sister and the parent responsible for everything he'd lost filling him with fury and bitterness. That Odessa would choose to bring it up...

He swallowed a growl. ‘She swore too. I've seen videos of my parents together when they first married. They were ecstatic. She had stars in her eyes when she married my father and she vowed he was the love of her life.'

‘Surely she didn't just change overnight?' she queried, bewildered. ‘Something must have happened?'

He pursed his lips. ‘My father thought she deserved the world and he wanted to give it to her.'

Odessa's eyes softened in that way they always did over his father. He was mildly jealous of it, truth be told.

‘But she wasn't prepared for the long hours or his dedication to his job,' he went on. ‘Nor, eventually, was she satisfied with being a chauffeur's wife, living in the shadow of all that Santella wealth.'

Recollection of the betrayal and pain he and especially his father had suffered dredged through him like spiked anchors, threatening to uproot his very soul.

‘It took some time, yes, but their vows turned to ash. I watched my father bend over backwards and turn himself inside out to hang on to her. When he couldn't, he begged her to leave my sister behind. She refused. She took a helpless child she didn't really want because she knew how much it would hurt him. I can't... I will never permit that to happen to my own children.'

Mutiny etched deeper into her face and in the haunting eyes that threatened to condemn him. ‘They're...they will be my children too! Doesn't that count for something?'

Hot on the heels of that unwanted trip down memory lane, the answer was dragged from his shattered soul. ‘We've only just begun this journey, agapita . So the jury is still out.'

She reared back with a sharp exhalation, her eyes filled with anguish and fury. ‘We may have just begun this journey, but you're quickly running out of road for goodwill, Ares. Keep that in mind.'

On top of the knots twisting in his stomach, he didn't appreciate the lance of guilt that impaled him.

And yet there it was, drilling deeper as she sailed past him, pale, defiant.

Condemning.

‘The jury is still out.'

Odessa had no qualms about proving him wrong. And she would be damned if she'd wait five years to do so. Because as much as she'd endured in her life up till now, the reality of handing over custody of her child would completely annihilate her.

That urge to act sooner grew stronger the closer they got to Athens.

Beside her, Ares sat in brooding silence. With any other man she'd have attributed it to nerves, maybe even worry about what lay ahead of them. But he'd been steadily working on his tablet—although he'd rejected every call that had blared on his phone as the helicopter raced them towards the Greek capital.

Within an hour of landing they were in his doctor's office.

Odessa tried not to read anything into the inscrutable looks that passed between him and the doctor as she was thoroughly examined, blood samples taken. Nor did she let in hope when the doctor's seriousness lightened a fraction and Ares finally stopped pacing in the small but luxurious private room.

But by the time the doctor returned, after an excruciating half-hour, she was ready to jump out of her skin. So she didn't mind her manners when she heard the doctor address Ares in Greek.

‘Tell me what's going on!'

Although she addressed the doctor, she couldn't drag her gaze off Ares, and the fact that he'd gone stock-still.

When she managed to look, she found the doctor beaming at her.

‘As I suspected, the spotting is nothing to worry about. I wanted to double-check, of course, but everything is all right. Congratulations, Kyria Zanelis. You're healthily pregnant.'

She would've snapped that he could've told her that earlier, to save her going out of her mind, but the weight of his words snatched her breath and deadened her vocal cords.

She was pregnant. With Ares's child.

The child he intended to gain full control of the moment she stumbled.

Joy, panic and determination swirled like a vicious cyclone inside her as her gaze shifted to find Ares watching her with a ferocity that made every nerve in her body scream in confused, absurd exhilaration.

If she'd thought him possessive before, it was nothing compared to his expression now. It was almost as if he wanted to consume her.

She barely heard the doctor excuse himself. Her entire focus remained on Ares as he slowly prowled towards her, then stood examining her face for a moment before he slowly, inexorably, speared his fingers into her hair.

One hand cupped her jaw, angled her face up to his, while the other drifted down between her breasts, past her midriff to settle low on her belly, over the womb now cradling his seed.

‘Mine,' he breathed.

She wanted to tell him he'd said that before, but it sounded flippant in the face of the seismic, life-altering reality unfolding between them.

‘Ours,' she insisted, feeling that feral need to stake an equal claim on her child.

His nostrils flared and the possessive blaze in his eyes intensified. Odessa didn't back down. This was the most important battle of her life. And even as the warmth from his hand seeped into her belly, triggering a wild need to lean into his hold, their gazes continued to clash.

When he drew away she bit back a whimper, the loss of warmth so acute she shivered.

He saw the reaction, his eyes speculative.

Before he could probe that telling weakness, she turned away and snatched up the bag. ‘Are we going back to Ismene?'

‘Didn't you hear the doctor? He'd like us to stick around for a day or two, to make sure the spotting doesn't return. I also have some business to take care of in Athens.'

She shrugged. ‘I was too busy watching your Neanderthal instincts attempting to consume you.'

For whatever reason, that produced a glimmer of amusement. ‘And? Did they succeed?'

‘That remains to be seen.' She glanced outside, to the sun-dazzled vista of Athens in the autumn sunshine. ‘Are you going to growl at me if I say I want to take a walk out in the sunshine? Enjoy some of this hard-won freedom I've earned for myself?' she challenged.

Something stirred in his eyes. Want? A quiet clamour?

‘I was going to suggest lunch. With me.'

The need to say yes was shockingly visceral. As was the caution not to give in to the insane urge to inhabit his orbit.

‘I don't think I could eat anything just yet.'

Not until she'd digested the news that she was carrying a child.

Dio mio , she was going to be a mother.

She gasped when his hand's warmth returned to her belly, and he didn't try to hide the peculiar expression moving over his face.

‘I don't want you getting heatstroke, so just one hour outside. Then the driver will take you home, and you will eat something, then rest. Ne? ' he offered gruffly.

Odessa swallowed the emotions clogging her throat. ‘Ne.'

His eyes darkened dramatically, his gaze dropping to the mouth she'd used to answer in his own language. But perhaps she imagined the rough sound he made under his breath, because in the next moment he was grasping her hand, leading her out of the private clinic and into the back of the luxury SUV. Crisp instructions were issued to the driver, who nodded.

Fifteen minutes later they pulled to a stop outside a sleek six-storey building with a discreet Cyrillic ‘Z' sign in silver at the top.

Ares's headquarters.

His gaze rested on her for an age before he said, ‘Enjoy your walk. I'll see you at dinner.'

The moment he stepped out, Odessa wanted to call him back, to say she'd changed her mind about lunch with him. She pressed her lips together to stop exposing herself so completely, watching as his tall, imposing stride carried him away, several heads turning as his magnetism drew lesser beings to marvel at the god walking among them.

The vehicle pulled away and she found her own hand replacing Ares's on her stomach, awe tunnelling through a kaleidoscope of emotions. In less than nine short months she would be responsible for a baby. Would need to nurture it in a way she hadn't been nurtured. A way her mother hadn't been allowed to care for her because of her father's unreasonable archaic notion that a daughter was useless to him.

Odessa felt calmer knowing that, whatever its gender, Ares would do right by their child. His relationship with his father set her own heart at ease in that respect.

But not the fact that he prejudged her ability to be a good mother.

Was he right?

She pushed the idea away, desperately quashing the pain that pushed into her chest. She would move mountains to ensure her baby's happiness.

‘Where do you wish to go, Kyria Zanelis?'

The driver's question cut through the raucous jumble of her emotions. Taking a deep breath, she glanced out of the window. One god currently dominated her life. If she didn't stand to lose so damn much Odessa suspected she would give in a fraction. Okay, maybe more than a fraction. She was woman enough to admit to herself that she enjoyed Ares's earthy brand of domination.

But not with the stakes this high.

Noticing that the driver was still awaiting her response, she forced a smile. ‘I want to play tourist for a while. Then maybe find a park?'

He nodded. ‘Of course.'

Traffic slowed their journey, but it was worth it when they reached the Temple of Athena Nike. Even more jaw-dropping was finding Ares there, leaning against a powerful, gleaming black motorbike, his suit swapped for hip-hugging jeans, T-shirt and black leather jacket.

Every feminine nerve sprang to attention. ‘I only just left you...what are you doing here?' she asked as she stepped out.

He shrugged. ‘I've decided I'm a much better tour guide.'

She rolled her eyes at his sheer arrogance, while her insides strummed with unfettered delight. ‘I thought you had work to do?'

He waved it away. ‘My meetings can wait.'

He handed the driver the bike's keys in exchange for the SUV's and for the next hour proved his claim, offering titbits of history and salacious gossip she knew she'd never read in any history book. And because he was Ares Zanelis, he naturally had exclusive access at every monument, heightening an already unforgettable experience. And through it all he held her hand, drifted his fingers down her arm to direct her attention to where he wanted, pulled her close when other tourists invaded their space.

He called a halt exactly one hour later.

Stepping out of the SUV to admire the spectacular view from Lycabettus Hill, she ignored the tingling in her nape as she breathed in deep, smiling when her stomach started to growl at the tantalising scent of cooking.

‘What's that smell?'

Ares smiled. ‘ Souvlakis. Hungry?'

She nodded. ‘Can we get some, please?'

‘Of course.'

They'd stopped near a small park, with walkways interspersed with busts of gods set on pedestals.

Ares stepped out too. ‘The vendor's just across the street. I'll be right back.'

Odessa had wandered over to the first pedestal when that tingling from before returned. Before she could turn to verify the source of her uneasiness her arm was grasped in a crushing hold, her captor frogmarching her towards the car park.

‘Did you really think you could get away from me for ever?'

She shuddered at the cruel, too-familiar voice. And if the bruising grip hadn't been enough to tell her, she looked up into the livid eyes of Vincenzo Bartorelli.

‘No, you can't be here—'

‘Yes, I can. I have every right to retrieve my property.'

It was useless to ask how he'd found her. Men like him always found a way. What she needed to do was get away from him as quickly as possible—especially when the open back door of an SUV parked a dozen feet away revealed his intention.

Odessa didn't think twice about struggling, and then screaming as he yanked her towards the vehicle. She clawed at the hand imprisoning her, swallowing her mounting fear when he only dragged harder.

Dear God, she was being kidnapped in broad daylight.

If he succeeded...

If Vincenzo discovered she was pregnant with Ares's child...

The terrifying thought made her kick harder, her heart lurching as the open door loomed closer and the heavyset man standing guard advanced towards them.

Knowing that once he'd helped Vincenzo bundle her into the vehicle it would all be over, Odessa loosened her knees. She risked hurting herself, but he wasn't expecting a dead weight, and she momentarily slipped from his hold onto the baking pavement.

She'd bought herself mere seconds, but—

A vicious roar ripped through her thoughts. The scuffle, like everything else that had happened, took only seconds. Odessa didn't even have time to scream again before Vincenzo and his bodyguard were laid out cold.

She was struggling upright when strong arms closed around her, engulfing her with warmth and safety.

‘Odessa! Are you all right?' Ares demanded, concern hoarsening his voice.

She nodded, her throat closing as she burrowed into him. ‘Y-yes... I'm fine. I...'

‘Shh, it's okay...'

Murmuring words in Greek, he moved his hands over her, stroking and soothing as approaching sirens rippled through the air. Minutes later, the authorities were carting away an incandescent Vincenzo.

Ares, visibly shaken, barely holding back his fury towards her attacker and his concern for her, watched as paramedics examined her.

From her struggle-tossed hair to her grazed knees and the soles of her bare feet, he seemed to devour every inch of her in minute detail, his nostrils flaring as his gaze dwelled on the large rip in her dress.

With a single shake of his head, he gathered her in his arms. ‘ Thee mou , Odessa...'

Her name was a command, a question, a declaration.

A shaken plea.

She shamelessly clung to the lapels of his jacket, her breath emerging in sob-tinged gulps. ‘I'm f-fine...'

‘I will be the judge of that,' he rumbled, in a voice so rough, so dangerous, a few passers-by exchanged nervous looks.

He ignored them all, his stride unwavering as he marched towards the SUV.

‘But...the police—'

‘They can wait until I'm good and ready.'

He buckled her in, his gaze once again roving feverishly over her before he shut the door with quiet, suppressed movements.

Settling behind the wheel, he gunned the engine and accelerated away, his jaw set in rigid steel.

He was clearly operating on a razor-thin edge. She wasn't going to be the one to tip him over. Hell, she was still shocked by Vincenzo's appearance.

‘I can't believe Vincenzo is here...'

Realising she'd blurted her thoughts aloud, she cringed.

Ares's fingers tightened around the steering wheel and a growl rumbled from him. ‘It was foolish of me to underestimate how much he wanted you.'

The words were laced with regret and thick fury as he roared into the driveway of his Athens home.

Before she could think about exiting the car he was there, scooping her into his arms once again.

‘Ares, I can walk,' she protested.

‘I'm aware,' was all he said as he stormed through the front door, held open by his subdued, patently concerned housekeeper. A few other household staff lingered, but Ares ignored them, mounting the stairs two at a time and heading straight for his suite.

There he set her on the edge of his bed, then strode off towards his bathroom.

With a minute he was back, minus his jacket and shoes.

The sight of Ares crouched before her, his face set in rigidly bleak lines as he slowly pulled off his T-shirt, snatched at her already fractured breath.

He tossed it away, then without a word spoken grasped the hem of her dress and started to draw it up.

Her hands flew to cover his. ‘What are you doing?'

A flash of distress crossed his granite features. ‘I need to see for myself that you're unharmed. And I'd really like to wash that bastard's touch off you. Are you going to fight me on this, Odessa?'

The intensity in his gravel-rough tone juddered through her. And, since the second part was what she wanted too—what she would've done had she been alone—she shook her head.

Mere seconds later the dress was off, and he was tossing it away. Her bra and panties followed, and then she was caught in the sizzling net of his thorough scrutiny as his hands and eyes raked every inch of her body. When he reached the grazed skin on her knees, a garbled sound left his throat. His eyes were near-feral before he sucked in a calming breath. Still he muttered words under his breath she was sure weren't meant for polite company.

Rising, he scooped her up again, tucking her high against his chest, his eyes locked on hers.

‘This is the second time he's put his hands on you. There won't be a third,' he vowed, with a dark rumble forged in fire, brimstone and retribution.