Returningtothemarriagebed

Waitingoutsideherestrangedhusband’slavishoffice,readytodemandadivorce,HollyTsoukatoscan’tremembereverbeingsoscared.NotevenwhenshetoldTheothewordsthatdestroyedtheirunion.

SeeingHollyagain,Theohateshowmuchhestilldesiresher.Ifshewantstotalk,he’llchoosethevenue:TheChatsfield,Barcelona,wheretheyspenttheirhoneymoon!

Beingsocloseagainisdelicioustorture.Hollymighthavefledtheirall-consumingchemistryoncebefore,butthistime,Theowon’tlether

runawaysoeasily...

WelcometoTheChatsfield,Barcelona!

“Iimaginethatisthepointofthischarade,isitnot?”Theowasstrokingthatwineglassthewayhe’doncestrokedherbody,andHollywascertainitwasdeliberate.Thatheknewexactlywhat

thatslowsweepofhistapered,too-strongfingersagainsttheglassdidinsideher.“Whatdoyouwantfromme?”

“ItoldyouwhatIwanted.”

Itwashardtokeephervoiceevenwhenhewasonthe

othersideofsuchatinylittletable,hisintensephysicality,hisrampantmaleness,likeanindustrial-forcemagnet.Hollyhadforgottenthat,somehow.She’dforgottenthatsomuchofbeingnearTheowasbeingutterlyhelplessandunderhisspell.Inhisthrall.She’dhadtoleavehimordisappearintohim,nevertobeseenagain,andsherememberedwhy,

now.Shecouldfeelit,likeablackhole,suckingherinalloveragain—thesamewaythissamekindofdestructivelovehadsuckedinherfatherallthoseyearsago.She’dwatchedhowthisendedbefore.Whydidshethinkitcouldbedifferentnow?

ShekepthergazelevelonTheo’s,andtriednottothinkaboutherparents.“A

divorce.”

Theworld’smostelitehotelislookingforajewelinits

crownandSpencerChatsfieldhasfoundit.ButIsabella

Harrington,thegirlfromhispast,refusestosell!

Nowtheworld’smostdecadentdestinationshavebecomeachessboardinthisgameofpower,passionand

pleasure...

Welcometo

TheChatsfield

Synonymouswithstyle,sensation...andscandal!

WiththeeightChatsfieldsiblingshappilymarriedandsettlingdown,it’stimeforanewgenerationofChatsfields

toshine!

SpencerChatsfieldstepsinasCEO,determinedtoprovehis

worth.ButwhenheapproachesIsabella

Harrington,ofHarringtonsBoutiquehotels,withthe

offerofamergerthatwouldbenefitthemboth,he’sleftwithastingingredpalm-shapedmarkonhischeek!

Andsobeginsagameofcatandmousethatwillshapethe

futureoftheChatsfieldsandtheHarringtonsforever.

Butneitherknowsthatthere’sonestakeholderwiththepowertodecidetheir

fate...andtheidentitywillshockboththeHarringtons

andtheChatsfields.

Justwhowillcomeoutontop?

Findoutin:

MaiseyYates—Sheikh’sDesertDuty

AbbyGreen—Delucca’sMarriageContract

CarolMarinelli—Princess’sSecretBaby

KateHewitt—Virgin’sSweetRebellion

CaitlinCrews—Greek’sLastRedemption

MichelleConder—Russian’s

RuthlessDemandSusannaCarr—Tycoon’s

DeliciousDebtMelanieMilburne—Chatsfield’sUltimate

Acquisition

Eightvolumestocollect—youwon’twanttomissout!

CAITLINCREWS

Greek’sLastRedemption

USATODAYbestsellingauthorandRITA®Award-nominatedauthorCaitlinCrewsloveswritingromance.SheteachesherfavoriteromancenovelsincreativewritingclassesatplaceslikeUCLAExtension’sprestigiousWriters’Program,whereshefinallygetstoutilizetheMAandPhDinEnglishliteratureshereceivedfromthe

UniversityofYorkinEngland.ShecurrentlylivesinCaliforniawithherveryownheroandtoomanypets.Visitheratcaitlincrews.com.

BooksbyCaitlinCrews

HarlequinPresents

AttheCount’sBiddingUndonebytheSultan’s

Touch

NotJusttheBoss’sPlaythingADevilinDisguiseInDefianceofDutyTheReplacementWifePrincessfromthePast

VowsofConvenience

HisforRevengeHisforaPrice

Royal&Ruthless

ARoyalwithoutRules

ScandalintheSpotlight

NoMoreSweetSurrenderHeiressBehindtheHeadlines

Self-MadeMillionaires

Katrakis’sLastMistress

BrideonApproval

PurePrincess,BarteredBride

VisittheAuthorProfilepageatHarlequin.comformore

titles.

ToPippaRoscoe,forbeingherfabulousself,especially

inTexas.

AndtoKellyConroy,forsharingherBarcelonawithme.IhopeIbroughtittolife,

atleastalittlebit!

Contents

CHAPTERONE

CHAPTERTWO

CHAPTERTHREE

CHAPTERFOUR

CHAPTERFIVE

CHAPTERSIX

CHAPTERSEVEN

CHAPTEREIGHT

CHAPTERNINE

CHAPTERTEN

CHAPTERELEVEN

BPA

EXCERPT

WELCOMEMSCREWS

WELCOMEMRTSOUKATOS

CHAPTERONE

THEOTSOUKATOSSCOWLEDwhenhisofficedoorswungopendespitethefacthe’dgivenstrictordersthathewasn’ttobedisturbed.Heexpectedhisorderstobefollowed—andtheyusuallywere,becausenoonewhoworkedforhimenjoyedtheconsequenceswhentheywere

not.Hewasbecomingmore

likehiswidelyfearedfatherbytheday,hethoughtgrimly.Whichhecouldtolerateaslongasthatwasonlytruehere,inthebusinesssphere.Godhelphimifheeveractedlikehisfatherinhispersonallife.Never,hevowed,ashehad

sincehewasachild.Iwillneverletthathappen.

“Itrustthebuildingisonfire?”heaskedhissecretaryicilyasshemarchedinside,becauseitcouldonlybeacrisisthatbroughtherinhereagainsthisinstructions,surely.Hegloweredather.“Orisabouttobe?”“NotasfarasI’maware,”

sheretorted,appearingutterlyunperturbedbyhisaggressivetone.Mrs.Papadopoulos,whoremindedhimofhis

hatchet-faced,steely-hairedandpursed-mouthedauntandactedaboutasenamoredofTheoasAuntDespinaalwayshadbeen,wasmeanttokeephimfromdistractionsratherthancausethem.“Butit’searlyyet.”Theosighedhis

impatience.Hewasinthemiddleofcompilingtherestofhisnotesonfuelefficiencyandtrimoptimization

strategiesforthemeetingthathe’dberunninginhisfather’ssteadtoday,nowthatwilyoldDemetriousTsoukatoswasfocusingmoreonhismountingmedicalissuesthanonthefamilybusiness.HeglancedoutthewallofwindowssurroundinghimandsawallofAthensarrayedathisfeet,thesprawlingcommotionandhecticmadnessofthegreatestcity

inGreeceservingasareminder,thewayitalwaysdid.Thatallthatrosemustfall

—beforerisingagain,strongerthanbefore.Thatwastheunspoken

Tsoukatosfamilycreed.ItwasthestoryofTheo’sownlife,certainly.ItwasbuiltintoeveryinchoftheproudTsoukatostower,whereTheonowsat.Justlikethesteel

girdersthemselvesthatmadethebuildinganimposingphysicaltestamenttohisshippingmagnatefather’ssearingvisionandruthlesssuccessinthefaceofallobstacles,fromswornenemiestothefalteringeconomy.Thesedays,thetower

stoodasamarkerofTheo’sowngrowingreputationasafearlessrisktakerandout-of-

the-boxthinkerinabusinessclutteredbythosewhoplayeditsafestraightintobankruptcy.Thatwasn’tgoingtohappentotheTsoukatosfleet.Theomighthaveactedthespoiledheirapparentformostofhistwenties,butinthepastfouryearshe’ddedicatedhimselftoprovinghewaseverybitasformidableandintimidatingastheoldmanhimself.

Itturnedouthewasgoodatthis.Asifruthlesspowerreallydidruninhisveinsthewayhisfatherhadalwaysassuredhimitdid.Orshould.Andhe’ddecidedhecould

emulatehisfatherhere,intheboardroom,wherethatkindofruthlessnesswasapositivething.Theo’sownpersonallifemighthavebeenamess,suchasitwas,butnotforthesamereasonsDemetrious’s

hadbeen.Imaynotbehappy,heoftentoldhimselffiercely,butatleastI’mnotaliar,acheaterorahypocrite.Hewassurroundedbytoo

manywhocouldn’tsaythesame.Theoaimedhismost

ferociousglareatMrs.Papadopoulosasshecametoasharpstopontheothersideofhiswidedesk.Sheeyedhimrightbackwithher

specialbrandofmildjudgmentandautomaticcondemnation,which,perversely,hequiteenjoyed.Thewomanwashisown,personalversionoftheproverbialhairshirtandTheowasnothingifnotthekindofmanwholikedtokeephissinsascloseaspossibletohisskin.“It’syourwife,”Mrs.

Papadopoulossaidcrisply,

speakingofhissins,andTheostoppedenjoyinghimself.Withagreatthudthathewasmomentarilyworriedwasactuallyaudible.Hiswife.Holly.Theowassousedtothat

flareofdarkrage,thatthunderboltofpurefury,thathetoldhimselfhehardlynoticeditanylongerasitcareenedthroughhim,setting

offastringofsecondaryexplosions.Ithadbeenalmostfourwholeyearssincehe’dlaideyesonhiserrantwife.Almostfouryearssincethey’dbeeninthesameroom,oreveninthesamecountry.Fouryearssincehe’dlasttouchedher,tastedher,losthimselfinher—whichheneverwouldagain,heremindedhimselfcoldly,asitwas,notcoincidentally,

alsofouryearssincehe’ddiscoveredthetruthabouther.Andthemockeryshe’dmadeoftheirmarriage.Youdidnotdiscoverthe

truthabouther,heremindedhimselfdarkly.Pointedly.Shepresentedherconfessiontoyou,asifonasilverplatter...ButGodhelphim,he

couldn’tlethimselfgodownthatdarkpath.Nottoday.Nothere,inhisplaceofbusiness,

wherehehadbecomerenownedforhisicycalmunderanyandallformsofpressure.Notanymore.Noteveragain.Heshouldhavebeenover

thisbynow,Theothoughtthen,thewayhealwaysdid.Butinsteadhehadtoorderhimselftobreathe,tounclenchhisfists,torelaxtheinstant,furioustautnessofhisbodyagainsthischairand

pretendhewasasunmovedasheshouldhavebeenafterallthistime.“Ifitismywife,thenIam

notonlybusy,Iamuninterested,”hesaid,makingnoattempttohidethecrackoftemperinhisvoice.“Youknowbetterthantobothermewithsuchdrivel,Mrs.Papadopoulos.Mywifeistobedivertedtovoicemailoremail,whichIcheckas

littleaspossibleandcertainlynomorethanonceevery—”“Sir.”AndTheodidn’t

knowwhatsurprisedhimmore.Thatthewomandaredinterrupthimorthat,whenhestaredatherinastonishment,therigidyetnormallyobedientMrs.Papadopoulosstoodherground.“Sheinsiststhatit’sanemergency.”Thelastthingintheworld

Theowantedtothinkabout,

todayorever,wasHolly.Hisdownfall—themoreuncharitablemightcallherhiscomeuppance,andinhisdarkermomentshefoundheagreed,becausehe’dmarriedaliarjustliketheonehe’dswornhe’dneverbecome—inonesmoothanddeceitfulandmuchtooprettyfemaleform.Becausethesadtruthwas

thathealreadyspentasignificantportionofevery

daynotthinkingabouther.Hispredawnhoursinhisprivategym,beatinghisendlessfuryintothehangingbagortheoccasionalsparringpartner.Thebrutalmilesheloggedonhistreadmill.Notthinkingaboutherbetrayalofhimwith,she’dtoldhimsodistinctly,sometouristwhosenameshehadn’tbotheredtocatch.Notimaginingthosesamesickeningscenesover

andoveragain,alletchedintohisbrainasifhe’dactuallywitnessedherbetrayalhimself.Notwonderinghowhecouldhavefallensocompletelyfortheliesshe’dtoldhimwhenheshouldhaveknownbetter,whenheshouldhavebeenfartoojadedtobetakeninbyherartlesslittleact...Forfouryearshe’dthrown

himselfintothefamily

businesswiththeexpresspurposeofthinkingofsomethingotherthanthelying,cheatingcreaturehe’dmarriedsofoolishlyandthemanywaysshe’druinedhim.She’dmadehimalaughingstock.Thatsmarted,butshe’dalsorippedoutthehearthe’dneverbeenawarehe’dpossessedbeforeher.Thatwasinfinitelyworse.Andmorethanthat,she’d

trickedhimintoreenactinghisownparents’doomedmarriage,whichhecouldn’tfinditinhimtoforgive.Forfouryearshe’dfocusedallofthefeelingsherefusedtocallbynameintosomethingtangible:thecomprehensivedecimationofallTsoukatosbusinessrivalsandtheunquestionablesuccessofthecompanyagainstwhatshouldhavebeeninsurmountable

oddsinthesetroubledtimes.NoonehadcalledTheo

Tsoukatos,onceaproudmemberofEurope’sentitleddilettantecontingentwiththenotchesonhisbedposttoproveit,aspoiledandpamperedplayboyinaverylongwhile.Noonewoulddare.ButHollywashisliving,

breathing,walkingandtalkingfailure.Thecrowning

achievementofhiswastedyouth.Theembodimentofthepointlesscreaturehe’dbeenbackthen,agravedisappointmenttohisfatherandanepic,permanentstainuponhisfamilyname.Hedidnotwanttothink

abouthowhardhe’dfallenforthedizzylittleblondethingfromtheUnitedStateswho’dpretendedtoadorehimatfirstsight,howdesperately

he’dpursuedheraftertheirinitialweektogetherontheislandorhowdeeplyandcallouslyshe’dbetrayedhimameresixmonthsaftertheweddingthathe’dbeenblindenoughtoconsiderromanticnotdespiteitsspeedbutbecauseofit.Heespeciallydidnotwant

torecollecttheunpleasanttruth:thathehadnoonetoblameforanyofthesethings

buthimself.Everyonehadwarnedhim,

afterall.Atlength.EveryonesaveTheohadseensupposedlygaucheandcharminglynaiveHollyHolt,touringEuropeallonherownfollowingherfather’sdeath,forexactlywhoandwhatshewas.OnemoreAmericangolddiggerwithTexasdirtonherfeetandhercalculatingblueeyesseton

thebiggestandbestcatchshecouldfind.OnSantorinithatsummer,

thatcatchhadbeenTheo.“Youaremysuccessorand

theheirtotheTsoukatosfortune,”hisfatherhadtoldhimsternly,overandoveragainandtonoavail.“Thisgirlisnobody.Thiscanneverbeanythingmorethanaholidayromance,Theo.Youmustunderstandthis.”

Hisfatherandhisbrother,Brax,hadlineduptotellhimnottobeafool,butTheohadhardlybeeninclinedtotakeadvicefromthemanwho’ddestroyedTheo’sownmotherwithhisinfidelities,muchlessayoungerbrotherhe’dthoughtofthenaslittlemorethanachild.Andthen,whenitwasclearthathewasdeterminedtoprovehimselfacolossalfool,anyway,they’d

beggedhimtoattheveryleasttakethenecessarystepstoprotecthisfortune,hisfuture,thecompany,ontheoffchancethathewasthinkingwithhisgroininsteadofhishead...AndTheohadignoredthemall,thewayhealwayshaddonethroughouthishedonistictwenties,becausehe’dcaredaboutnothingandnoonebuthimself.

NothingbuthimselfandonecurvylittleblondegirlwithdeepblueeyestorivaltheAegeanSeaitself.She’dhadthewidest,sweetest,mostopensmilehe’deverseen,andhe’dlosthimselfinit.Inher.Andtherehadbeennothing,itturnedout,butadeceitfulheartbeneathallthatsweetshine.This,then,washisreward

forhisimpetuousness.His

penance.Thishumiliationofamarriagethatheheldontoonlybecauseherefusedtogiveherthesatisfactionofaskingforadivorce,despitewhatshe’ddonetohimandthenthrowninhisfacesounapologetically.Herefusedtoletherseehowshe’ddestroyedhimoverthecourseofthatlong,rainyseasononSantoriniyearsago.Ithadbeennearlyfourand

ahalfyearssincethey’dmarriedinfartoomuchhasteintheheightofthedryGreeksummer,almostfourwholeyearssincethey’dbeenwithinthesamewalls,andTheothoughthewasstillcoldlyfuriousenoughtostretchitouttoten,ifnecessary.Hemightnotwantheranylonger,hemighthavevowedtohimselfthathewouldflinghimselffromthe

Santorinicliffsbeforehe’dletherworkherevilmagiconhimagain,buthe’dbedamnedifhe’dletherhaveherfreedomfromhimunlessshebeggedforit.Preferablyatlengthandon

herknees.Hewasasimpleman.Aneyeforaneye,andahumiliationforahumiliation.“Mywifehasneverhada

minorupsetshecouldn’tfluffupintoafull-scale

catastrophe,”Theobitoutnow,ventinghisspleenonhisrigidsecretaryandnotmuchmindingifitmadeherbristlevisibly.Hepaidheranot-inconsiderablefortunetotoleratehimandhismanyblackmoods,afterall.Itwasagreatpityhehadn’ttakenthesameamountofprecautionswhenchoosinghisfirstwife.“Herversionofanemergencygenerally

involveshercreditlimit.”“Ithinkthisisdifferent,

Mr.Tsoukatos.”Theowaslosingwhatlittle

patiencehehadleft—avirtueforwhichhewasnotwidelyrenownedtobeginwith.ThiswasalreadyfarmorefocusedandspecificattentionpaidtoHollyandthushismarriagethanhelikedtopermithimselfoutsidethestarktruthsheotherwisefacedonly

inhisgym.Hecouldseeemailspilingupinhisinboxoutofthecornerofhiseye,hestillhadtosketchouttherestofhispresentationandthelastthingintheworldhehadtimeforwashisown,personalalbatrossandwhateverherlatestschemewas.“Why?”heasked,aware

thathisvoicewasundulyhostilewhenMrs.

Papadopoulosstiffenedfurther,afeatwhichshouldhavebeenanatomicallyimpossible.Heshrugged.“Becauseshesaidso?Shealwaysdoes.”“Becauseshe’svideoed

in.”Mrs.PapadopoulosplacedthetabletTheohadn’tnoticedshewascarryingdowninthecenterofhisdesk.“Hereyouare.”Shesteppedback,andhervoice

wasascrispasthelookinhereyeswassteely.“Sir.”Theoblinked,theneyed

thetablet—andthefrozenimagethere—asifHollyherselfmightleapforthfromthescreenandstickanotherknifedeepintohisback.Deeperthistime,nodoubt.Perhapsakillingblowatlast.IttookhimamomenttorememberthatMrs.Papadopoulosstillstood

there,exudinghertypicalbrusquedisapproval,andwhenhedidhewavedheroffbeforehebetrayedhimselfanyfurther.Avideocallwascertainly

different.Thatwasthetruth.Andwhenitcameto

Holly,“different”wasnevergood.“Different”alwayscamewithaheavypriceandTheoalwaysendeduppayingit.

Shewashiscostliestmistake,byfar.Ofallthemanyfolliesofhisoverindulgedanddeeplyentitledyouth,HollyHoltfromsomewhereasimprobabletohimasTexasranchcountry,withthewidesmileandthebiglaughthathadbrokenhimwide-openandlefthimnothingbutagoddamnedfoolinathousanddiscardedpieces,

wastheoneheregrettedmost.Anddaily,whetherhe

permittedhimselftothinkaboutherdirectlyornot.“Controlyourself,”he

snappedoutloud,glaringdownatthetabletonthepolishedexpanseofhisdeskbeforehim.Hemovedtoendthecall

withouttakingit,thewayheknewheshould,buther

imagetauntedhim.Evenfrozenintoplaceandslightlypixelated,shewaslikeahammertothesideofhishead.Hecouldfeelhereverywhere,herclawsstillinhim,deep.Hatinghimselfforhis

weaknessdidn’tdoadamnedthingtochangeit.Andshewasn’ttheraw,

unformedcreatureshe’dbeenwhenhe’dmether,allsun-

kissedlimbsandthatunsophisticatedbeautythathe’dfoundsointoxicating.Somesmerizing.Hestudiedthefrozenimagebeforehimasifitmightofferhimacluetoher—tothetruthofherhe’dspentyearstellinghimselfshe’dalreadyshownhim.Gonewastheexuberanthair,thecowboybootsshe’doncetoldhimshelovedmorethanmostpeople,theopenand

carefreeexpressionthathadmadehershinebrighterthantheSantorinisun.She’dgrownsleekerover

thepastfewyears.He’dseenitinthephotographshecouldn’talwaysavoid,scatteredinthisorthatpaper,butitwasmoreobviousnowthathewaslookingatherdirectly.Thatcurvyfigureofhersthathadoncemadeasimplebikiniintoalushlittle

scandalandhadmadehimherslaveborderedonskinnynow.Herhairwasstillthatsunnyblondbutitwasstraightandruthlesslyslickedbackintoatastefulchignontoday,hercosmeticsminimalandwhollylackinginthesparkleortoo-brightcolorsheremembered.Herdresswasamasterfullittleexplorationofclassic,understatedeleganceand

suitedthisnewversionofherperfectly.HollyHoltwasgone.Theo

doubtedshe’devertrulyexisted.Inherplacewasthis

woman.Thisshrewdlymanufactured,ruthlesslyaccessorizedcreature.HollyTsoukatos,whowassuchacommittedphilanthropistindeedwithherabsenthusband’smoneyforeverat

herdisposal,hethoughtderisively.HollyTsoukatos,who’dmadeherselfknownasthegracefullyestrangedwifeofoneofEurope’sfavoriteformerplayboys,andwho’dbecomemoreandmorefashionableandsoughtafternowthatTheowasregardedasaforceasdangerousandsuccessfulashisfamousfather.Hehatedher,hetold

himselfthen,andhehatedthis.Andmostofallhehatedthefactthathestillwantedthatgloriouslyover-the-top,unrestrainedandunculturedlittleAmericangirlwho’dcaptivatedaseasonedsophisticatelikehiminasinglesearingweek.But,ofcourse,thatHolly

hadbeenalie.Whycouldn’therememberthat?Shehadneverexistedoutsidethe

virtuosoperformanceshe’dputonforhimfourandahalfyearsago.Thisversionofhiswaywardwife,thisstudiouslywell-manneredicequeenwho’dbuiltherselfanentirelittleempireofliesthankstohismoneyandhercommitmenttospendingit,wastherealHolly.Staringatherfrozenimage,Theoacknowledgedthefactthathedidn’tlikerememberingthat

harshtruth—itwasoneofthereasonshe’donlyspokentoheronthetelephoneandveryrarelyatthatthesepastfouryears.Thatandhisunwieldy

temper,whichshealoneseemedabletokick-startandsendintooverdrivewithverylittleeffort.Buthehauledthatdark,simmering,betrayedthinginhimundercontrolagain,andhedidn’t

careifitleftmarksashedidit.He’dratherdiethanshowheranythingbuthisdislike—thecolderandmoredistant,thebetter.Itwasn’ttheonlythingshe’dearnedfromhim,notbyalongshot,butitwastheonlythinghe’dallowhertosee.Hehitthebuttonto

unfreezeheranddidn’tbothermaskinghisirritation.“Whatdoyouwant?”he

saidbywayofgreetingafteralltheseyearsofnothingbutinfrequenttelephonecalls.Hisvoicewasbluntandunfriendlyandeventhatwasn’tenoughtoassuagethelickofhisfury,thatdeepanddarkcurrentofaprimalneedtostrikebackatherhoweverhecould.“Haveyoumanagedtobankruptmeyet?”

***

Thisvideocallwasaserioustacticalerror.Hollyrealizeditthe

momentthescreenbeforeherburstintolifeandcolorandsoundagain.Hercourageandherdetermination—andmuchworse,hervoice—desertedherinasuddenrush.Thiswasaterriblemistake,thelatestinalonglineofterriblemistakeswherethismanwasconcerned...

Becauseshewasn’tpreparedforhiminallhisalmostviolentperfection.Sheneverhadbeen.BecausehewasTheoand

hewasrightthereonherenormousdesktopcomputermonitorafteralltheseyears,bigandbroodingandbeautiful,burstingstraightintoherlonelylittlelifewithallthatforceandfire...Andhewasstillsovery

angrywithher.Sodeeply,

encompassingly,seethinglyangry,itfeltlikebeingplungedintoadarkcloudwithouthishavingtosayasingleword.Thoughthewordshurt,too—harshandfurious,eachlikeaseparateslap.Lookingathimwaslikea

contactsport.Italwayshadbeen.Itwasworsenow,with

allthatfurymakinghimseemtoburnrighttherebeforehereyes.Hollyhadhearditonthe

phoneduringtheirshortandhostilecallsregardingherdeliberatelyoutrageouscreditcardbillsthesepastyears—alwaysspacedoutaccordingtohisevermorebusyschedule,oneperquarteratmostandneverlongenoughforanykindofreal

discussion.Butnowshecouldseeit,burninglikeafierceheatinhiseyesasdarkastheGreekcoffeehe’dmadeforherbackintheearlydaysoftheirbriefmarriage,beforeshe’druinedeverything.Shecouldseeitstampedin

thefascinatingironsetofhisharshlymasculinejaw,couldevenfeelitdeepinsideherownbody,likeashiver.Like

aseismicwarning.Asifsheshouldcountherselfluckyindeedthattheywereseparatedbycomputerscreens,theinternetandsomesixthousandmiles.Asifhewouldn’tbe

responsibleforwhathappenediftheywereeverinthesameroomagain,andHollyfeltsuspendedinthethick,darkpromisesshecouldseeinthefuriousheat

hetrainedonherthen,theglareofallthatthreatandpowerandfury,evenafterallthistime.Whatdidyouexpect?that

littlevoiceinsideofherthatsoundedalotlikeherbelovedfather’s,Godresthissoul,whisperedthen.Hehatesyou.Youmadesureofthat.That’swhathappenswhenyouleave.Sheshouldknowthat

betterthanmost,afterlivingthroughallthoselong,lonelyyearswithherfatherafterhermother’sdefectionwhenHollyhadbeenalittlegirl.Herfatherwouldn’thavecalledhowhe’dmournedhiswife’sbetrayalhatred,ofcourse.He’dhavecalleditgrief.Orholdingatorch.ButHollyhadalwaysfeltitlikeaburningthing,changingtheirwholeworld.Charringwhat

wasleft.Andnowhereshewas,all

theseyearslater,staringatthatsamefiredirectedstraightather.Inhigh-definition.Theoloungedbeforeherin

aleatherchairinasleeklyfurnishedoffice,histhick,darkhairlookingdisheveledandtoolong,thewayitalwayshad.Hewasmorebeautifulthanshe

rememberedhim,andsherememberedhimasverynearlyagodwithallthatlean,leashedpowerpackedintohissolidboxer’sform,asifhecouldhavebeenafighterhadhebeenthesonofamanwithloweraspirations.Heworeacrispwhiteshirtthatstrainedtocontainhiscorded,solidshoulders,thatwonderofachestandthetautlyridgedabdomenshe

knewlaybeneath.Helookedpowerfulandfuriousandhisown,specialbrandoflethal,andHollyhatedherselfalloveragain.Forwhatshe’ddone.For

whatshe’dclaimedshe’ddone.Forthegreatbigmessthatwasherwhirlwind,ill-conceived,overwhelmingmarriagetothismanandthatbigolddarkholeinthecenterofeverythingthatshe’dcome

torealizewaspureandnauseatingregret.Greasyandenveloping,andsothickshetrulybelieveditmightchokeheroneofthesedays.Thoughitneverdid.Not

quite.Instead,worse,shehadto

livewithit.Shewantedtoreach

forward,throughthescreen,andtesttheheatofhissmootholiveskinagainsther

palmsagain.Shewantedtorunherfingersthroughhisthick,darkhairandplaywiththathintofcurlthathadalwaysmadehersillywithdesire.Shewantedtotastethatfullandtalentedmouthofhisagain,saltandfire,longingandneed.Buttherewasnoeasyroad

here.Hollyknewthat.TherewasnowaybacktoTheothatwouldn’tripopenoldscars

andmakeancientwoundsbleedfresh.Thatwouldn’thurt,andbadly.She’dbeensoterrifiedofbecominglikeherfatherthatshe’dbecomehermotherinstead,andshecouldn’tlivewiththatanylonger.Shecouldn’t.Shehadtotrytodosomethingaboutit,nomatterwhat.Hollyhadthoughtshe’d

acceptedhowhardthiswasgoingtobealready—butthat

hadbeenbeforeshe’dseenhimagain.Somehow,theyearshaddulledhiminhermemory.Dimmedhim.Seeinghimagain,even

throughascreen,wasasblindingasthefirsttimeshe’dlaideyesonhim.InthattinyrestaurantinSantoriniwhereshe’dbeensippinganafternooncoffee,unawarethatherentirelifehadbeensettocollidewithhiswhen

he’dshoulderedhiswayinsideandclaimedthetablenexttohers.Likeacomet,she’dthought

then,evenonasun-drenchedGreekislandwithnothingbutdizzyingblueandwhitewashedwallsonallsidesandthenthismaninthemiddleofitall,likeadreamcometostartlingandpowerfullysexylife...“Holly.”

Hisvoicetoreintoher,darkandimpatientandyetstill,thatlittlelilttohernamethatmadeherwholebodyshimmerintoinstant,almostpainfulawareness.Shewasgladhecouldn’tseethewayshetensedinherseatinautomaticreaction,herlegsgoingtightasshedughertoesintothefloorbeneathherdesk.Orthatbrightlittlelightinsidesheknewwasthemost

dangerous,mostdoomed,thingofall.Hope.“Idon’thavetimeforthis

today.AndevenifIdid,Ihavenothingtosaytoyou.”Hishardmouthmovedintosomelethalapproximationofasmile,andhercursewas,itmadehimnolessattractivetoher.Quitetheopposite.“Nothingpolite,thatis.”Itwassotemptingto

simplyloseherselfinhim,or

toletherselfbreakdownandstarttellingthetruthsshealreadyknewhewouldn’tbelieve,notwhenshe’dspenttheselongyearstryingsohardtoforcehimtolethergobyanymeanspossible.She’dmadehimdetesther,ifnotreleaseher.Shehadtorememberthegamesheneededtoplayhereorshe’dlosebeforeshestarted.SoHollysmiledathim.

Notthewaysheoncehad,whenshehadn’thadthefaintestshredofself-preservationinherbody,whenshehadn’tbeenabletohelpherselffromfallingintohimandforhimliketheproverbialtonofbricks,herinnocenceindistinguishablefromherstupidity,toherrecollection.Butthewayshe’dperfectedinthesepastfewlonelyyears,thesmile

thatmadeitpossibletoplaytheroleshe’dcreatedforherselfoutoftheashesofthemarriageshe’dburnedtothegroundwithherlies.Theroleshe’dthoughtwouldmakeitsosimpleforhimtowashhishandsofher,todiscardher,todivorceherandfreethemboth.She’dbeenwrongabout

that,too.She’dfinally,painfully,facedthefactthat

she’dbeenwrongabouteverything,andthatshe’ddonenothingherebutreenactherownpainfulhistory.Buthewouldn’tbelieveherifshetoldhimthat.Hewouldthinkitwasnothingmorethananothergame,andhe’dmadeitclearhewouldn’tplaythemwithher,hadn’the?Perfectly,coldlyclear.Whichmeantshehadno

choicebuttoplayonelast

gamewithhim,thisonewiththehigheststakesofall.“Busy?”sheasked,letting

herdrawltakeonalifeofitsown,aTexanspecialty.“Doingwhat,exactly?Stillplayingthecrownprinceinyourdaddy’sgreatbigkingdom?”Theo’sexpressionwent

fromfurioustosomethinglikethunderstruck,thenbacktoahardnessthatshouldhave

leftherintatters.Maybeitdid.Maybethetruthwasthatshecouldn’ttellthedifferenceanylonger.“Ibegyourpardon?”His

voicewasicy,buttherewasnomistakingthethreatbeneathit.“Ididn’trealizeitwastimeforourlong-overdueconversationregardingeachother’scharacterflaws.Areyoucertainyou’rereadyforthat?”

“Blahblahblah,”shesaid,rollinghereyesandwavingahanddismissively,wishingshefeltevenatinybitthatrelaxedorcasual.“Justcallmeawhorealready,Theo.You’vebeendancingarounditforalmostfouryearsnow.”

CHAPTERTWO

THEO’SDARKEYESblazedtoamoltenfuryanditamazedHollythathecouldstillmakeherloseherbreath,thateasily.Evenwhenhethoughtsolittleofher.Andshewassuchafool—

becauseasanewoman,Hollyknew,havingdonewhatshe’ddone,havingliedso

extravagantlyinordertoescapethismantheonlywayshe’dthoughtshecould,wouldnothavelookedatthatflareoffuryinhisdarkeyesandreaditassomesliverofhopeforthefutureshe’dtorpedoedherself.Becausefurywasn’tthe

samethingasindifference.Furymeanthestillfeltsomethingforher,nomatterhowtwistedandpainful.

Butthen,Hollywasawarethatasanewomanwouldn’thavegoneaheadandmarriedthedarkGreekloverwho’dsweptherupinakindofsensualtornadothatsummer,either,stealingherinnocenceandherheartandhergoodsensealongwithit.Somaybesanewasn’tintheballparkhere.Maybesheshouldstop

pretendingithadeverbeena

possibilitywhereproximitytoTheowasconcerned.“Letmeguess,”hesaid,

hisvoicecontrolledinawaythatmadeherwonderexactlyhowhe’dgrowninalltheseyears.Exactlyhowhe’dchanged,whentheTheoshe’dknownhadbeenasimpetuousandwildashe’dbeenrichandpampered.She’dbeencompletelyoutofherleaguewiththismanfrom

thestart.“Youdecidedtopurchaseajet.Anisland.AcouturehouseandhalfofParistogowithit.Idon’tcare,Holly.Yourallowanceisyours.Dowhatyouwantwithitandleavemethehellalone.”Hemovedinhischair,his

handreachingtowardher,andsheknewhewasabouttoendthecall.Thattherewasnothingtenderthereinthat

gesture,despitewhatitlookedlikeforabriefsecond—whatshewantedittolooklike,foolthatshestillwas.“Iwanttoseeyou,”she

said,beforehecouldcutheroff.Beforeshelostherselfinthesetinylittlemomentsandthedaydreamsthatwentwiththemandcompletelyforgotwhyshewasdoingthis.Becauseshedidn’tneedhimtotellherthathewouldn’t

answeracalllikethisagain.Sheknewit.Theoshiftedinhischair

then,inawaythatsuggestedhewaspreparingforafight,thosedarkeyesseemingtolaserintoher.Heseemedbigger,suddenly.Darker.“You’reseeingmerightnow.Witnessthegloryoftechnology.Andmysurpassingjoy.”“Inperson.”

Helaughed,aharshscrapeofsoundthatlodgedinplacesitshouldn’t.“No.”“Oh,I’msorry.”She

smiledagain,evenmoreicily,becausethiswashowshehadtoplaythis.Nomatterhowtiredshewasofitorhowsickitmadeher.“Thatwasn’tarequest.Diditsoundlikeone?”“Itwouldn’tmatterifit

wasaformalsummonsfrom

Godhimself,”Theoremarked,almostidly,butshecouldseehisexpressionandknewtherewasn’tanythingidleaboutthismananylonger.Hadshedonethat,too?“Theanswerisstillno.”“Theo.”Sheshookher

headasifhedisappointedher,hidingherclenchedhandsinherlap,outofsight.“There’snoreasonwecan’t

pretendtobecivilized.Somethingsrequireaface-to-facemeetingwhetheryouwanttoadmititornot.Youdon’twanttomakemedothisonavideocall,doyou?”“Ithasbeenperfectlyclear

tomeandtomostoftheworld,I’dimagine,thatIcan’tmakeyoudoanything,”herepliedinthatlethallysofttonethatsentspearsoficedownthelengthofherspine

andahotcurlofshamedeepintoherbelly.“Certainlynotbehaveasawifeshould.Youcouldn’tevenmanagetoremainfaithfultomeforsixshortmonths.What,pray,couldIpossiblymakeyoudonow?”Hollydidn’tflinch.How

couldshe,whenshe’dtoldthatlietohisface?Deliberatelyandwithafullunderstandingofwhatwould

happenonceshedid?Shewasalltooawareshe’dbroughtthisonherself.“Iwantadivorce,”shesaid

now.Simplyanddistinctly.Asifitweretrue.“Myansweristhesameas

ithaseverbeen,”herepliedinthesamecooltonewithallthatrampagingfirebeneathit.“Youcan’thaveone.Isthatthereasonforallthistheatertoday?Youcouldhave

sparedusboth.Infuture,Isuggestyoudo.”“Wedon’thavemuchofa

futureleft,isthething,”shetoldhimthen,ashishandmovedtowardhisscreenagain.Again,hestopped.Whenheonlyglaredather,shesummonedthathard-edgedsmileagainandaimeditathimasifthiswasallsomehowamusingtoher.Asifshereallywasthewoman

she’dpretendedtobethesepastfouryears.Thewoman,sheknew,hefullybelievedshewas.“Iknowthatwe’vehadfunthesepastfewyears—”“Isthatwhattheycallitin

Texas?”heasked,hisvoiceevensofterbutnolessvicious.“ThatisnotthewordIwouldchooseforanyofthis.”“—playingallthesegames,

scoringpoints,allthistug-of-warnonsense.”Sheshrugged.“Butallgoodthingscometoanend,I’mafraid.”“I’mnotgivingyoua

divorce,Holly.Idon’tcarewhatargumentyoutrotout.And,asIbelieveI’vemadeperfectlyclearwithyourgenerousmonthlyallowanceandthelifeyoulivewithoutanyinterferencefromme,Ireallydon’tcarewhatyoudo.

Orwho.”“Soyousay,”she

murmured.Butshedidn’tbelievehim.

Shecouldn’tbelievehim.Aharsh,predatorylightflaredinhiseyesthen,turningthemvolcanicwiththatedgyfuryofhis,makingHolly’sheartjoltandthencatchinsideherchest.Onceagain,shechosetocallthathope.“TheonlythingIwillnot

giveyouisyourfreedom.”“Andwhyisthat?”“Becauseitistheonly

thingIknowyouwant,agapimou,”hesaid,hisvoiceharshandcold,especiallywhenhecalledhermylove.Hollycouldn’tletherselfdwellonthewaytheendearmentsoundednow,whenhedidn’tmeanitatall.Notwhenshewassuretheycouldbothremembertoowellhowhe’d

soundedwhenhe’dmeantitwitheverylastshredofhisheart,hissoul.Notnow,whilehecouldwatchherreactions.“Asidefrommymoney,ofcourse.”“Goodness,”shedrawled,

andputatheatrichandtoherchest,becausethatwasthebestwaytocoverthesensationofitbeingrippedstraightoutfrombehindherribsandthenstampedon.She

oughttobeusedtothatbynow,havingdoneitherselfthefirsttime.“Sopossessive,Theo.Bestillmyheart.I’mtemptedtobelieveyoustillhavefeelingsforme.”“Idon’t.”Hisvoicewasa

growl.“Itoldyouthisfouryearsago,andImeantit.Spendmymoney.Embarrassme.Idon’tcare.Youcanhaveanythingyouwantexceptadivorce.That’snot

negotiable.IfIhavetolivewiththismarriage,withtheunfortunatechoicesofourtatteredpast,sodoyou.”“Exceptyou’verunoutof

time.”Sheshruggedwhenhisglareintensified.“That’sGreeklaw,Theo.”Shemadeashowofpickingupapieceofpaperonherdeskandreadingfromit,thoughshedidn’thavetoreadthewordsthere.Sheknewthemby

heart.“Divorceisgrantedincasesofmaritalbreakdown.Andifthespouseshavebeenseparatedforatleastfouryearsthereisthepresumptionofthatbreakdown,regardlessofwhetherornotyou’dprefertocontinuetorturingmeacrosswholedecades.”“Wearenotseparated.You

left.”Hisdarkgazelickedoverher,fireandfury,andwhatwaswrongwithherthat

shefeltitechowithinher—asifitwassomekindofcaress?“Youcanalwaysreturntome,ifyouarefeelingunaccountablybrave.Orfoolish.I’vetoldyouthisforyears.”Daredher,morelike.

Comebackandfaceyoursins,he’dtoldheryearsago,adarkandterriblepromiseofretributioninhislowvoice.Whoknows?PerhapsIam

moremercifulthanIappear.Buttheybothknewbetter

thanthat.“Thefouryearsisthe

stickingpoint,I’mafraid.”Hollyforcedherselftoholdthatpenetratinggazeofhis,remindingherselfthatthiswastheeasypart.Thatthiswouldallbemuch,muchharderifshegotwhatshewantedandtheydidthisface-to-face.Ifshe’dbeenany

goodatdealingwiththismaninperson,afterall,ifshe’dbeenabletosaywhatshefeltinsteadofrunningaway,noneofthiswouldhavehappened.“AllIhavetodoisprovethatwe’vebeencontinuouslyapartforallthattime,whichwehaveandwhichhasbeenexhaustivelydocumentedinatleastthreedifferenttabloids,andthenitwon’tmatterwhatelsehappened

betweenus...”“Ifyouspendyourdays

tellingyourselffairytalesabouthowyouwerethevictiminthis,Icertainlycan’tstopyou.”Hisvoicewasmadeofgranitethen,anditlandedonher,hard.“Butontheoccasionsthatyouspeaktomeofourmarriage,andIpraytheyremainrare,let’snothideinallthevagueasidesabout‘whatelse

happened.’”Heleanedclosertothescreen,hisbeautifulfaceharderthanbefore,asifitwascarvedfromthesamestoneasthatharshvoiceheused.“Youhappened.Youarealiar.Youdeceivedmefromthestartandthen,whenthatwasnotenoughforyou,yousleptwithanothermanandthrewitinmyface.Thenyouleftmeundercoverofnightratherthandealwith

whatyoudid,andyou’vetrottedabouttheworldhappilyspendingmymoneyeversince.Iwon’tcallyouawhore,asIhavesomerespectfortheoldestprofessionintheworld.Atleastitisanhonesttransaction.Youarenothinglikehonest.Youarefarlowerthananywhore,Holly.Andyouoffendmeineverypossibleway.”Andshemerelysmiled

backathim,pretendingthatwasn’tonemortalblowafteranother.Pretendingshecouldblockoutthedisgustinhisvoice,thecontemptonhisface.Tellingherselfthiswouldallbeworthitintheend,thattherewasnopointdefendingherselfuntiltheywereinthesameroomagain.Untilshecouldseeifitwasstillthesame—thatbrilliant,soaringcomet.Thatwildjoy

thathadnearlytakenheroutatthekneeseverytimehe’dlookedather,everytimethey’dtouched.Thatbeautifulthingthathadterrifiedhersodeeplyandsoprofoundlyshe’dgonetosuchextraordinarylengthstoescapeit,fearing—knowing—itwouldswallowherwhole.“Noted,”shesaidcalmly,

amazedthatshecouldsound

sounmovedbywhathe’dsaid,andlookit,too,inthattinylittleboxinthecornerofherownscreenthatshowedhercoolexpression.Shewasamazedshewasn’tshakinginreaction,morelike,orfallingtopieces—butshecoulddothatlater.Whenshewasaloneagain,inthisgraylittleprisonshe’dmadeforherselfwithouthim.Whentherewasnoonearoundtodisbelieve

everythingshesaid,becausetherewasneveranyonearoundatall.“Butyou’renotunderstandingme.”“IdoubtI’veever

understoodyou,”hegrowledather.“WhyshouldthatchangeinthecourseofonecallIknewbetterthantotake?”“I’mfilingfordivorce,

Theo,”shetoldhimevenly.“Iwillciteourestrangement

ascauseandIwillfurtherclaimthatyouweretheonewhobrokeourvows.”SheshruggedwhenhemutteredsomethingfilthyinGreek.“Iwillbebelieved,ofcourse.Youwereafamousplayboywho’dsleptwithmostofEurope.Iwasaninexperiencedcountrygirlonherfirstholidayabroad,completelyoutofmydepthwithyou.”

Heranahandoverhisface.“Clearly.”Sheignoredhiscaustic

tone.“Thechoiceisyours.IfyoumeetwithmethewayI’veaskedyoutodo,I’llconsidernottakingamajorityshareofTsoukatosShippinginthedivorce.”Hollyhadthoughthewas

angrybefore.Butthelookheturnedonherthenwaslikelightning,electricandhair-

raising,andshewassuddenlyverygladshewassafeinDallas,thousandsofmilesawayfromhimandallthethingsthatlookofhiscoulddo.Notthatdistancemadeher

safe.Nothingcould.NotwhenTheolookedatherlikethat.Notwhenhethoughtsuchthingsofher.Butatleastdistancecouldminimizethedamage.

Orsoshehoped.Thewayshefeltatthemoment,itcouldgoeitherway.“Fine,”hebitoutaftera

long,simmeringpause.IttookeverythingHollyhadtositstill,tokeepherexpressionimpassive,tokeepupthesickeningpretense.“Youwanttomeetwithmeinperson?I’llsubjectmyselftoit,thoughIshouldwarnyou,youmayfindthis

reunionsignificantlylesspleasantthanyouimagine.”“Lesspleasantthanfour

yearsofinsultingcallsaboutcreditcardbillstoremindmewhoseleashI’monortoday’scharmingphilosophicalexplorationofthemeaningofthewordwhore?”sheaskeddrily,herimpassivedemeanorcrackingmorethanshe’dintended.Shecouldfeelthewayherowneyesfilled

withafuriousheat.Nothingsosimpleastears,buttellingallthesame.“Ifindthathardtobelieve.”Somethinglithisgaze

then,andshefeltitlikefingersdownthelengthofherback,asifshe’dunwittinglymadeherselfhisprey.Whateverworks,shetoldherselfresolutely.Eitheryou’llfindawaybacktohimoryou’llfinallybefreeto

moveonwithyourlife,suchasitis.Itdoesn’tmatterhowthathappens,aslongasoneofthemdoes.Butofcourseitmattered.

Nothingelsematteredatall.“I’llchoosethevenue,”he

continued,thatoddtensioninhimmakinghimseembiggeragain,andfarmoredangerous.“Ifyoufeellikethatmakes

youinchargeofthis,thenby

allmeans,”shebegan,deliberatelypatronizinghim,purelybecausesheknewitwouldgetunderhisskin.“Barcelona,”hesaidsoftly,

cuttingheroff.Andsomethingofwhatshefeltmusthaveshowedonherfacethen,assurelyasifhe’dkickedherinthestomach.Becausehehad.Andshecouldseebytheglintinhisdarkeyesandtheharshcurve

ofhismouththatheknewit.Thatshewasn’ttheonlyonewhocouldplaythesenastylittlegames.“TheChatsfieldHotelinthreedays’time.Ibelieveyouknowitwell.”Heknewshedid.He’d

takenhertherefourandahalfyearsagoforthebestmonthoftheirmarriage.Ofherentirelife,beforeorsince.“Youwanttodiscussour

divorceinthesameplacewe

hadourhoneymoon?”sheasked,stunnedoutofherusualcarefuliciness,tootakenabacktoguardhertoneorherexpression.Andforahecticmoment,shedidn’tcarewhathesaw.TheirweeksinBarcelonawerethelast,bestmemoriesshehadofthoselong-agodayswithhim.Oftheonlyrealhappinessthey’deverhad,she’doftenthought,andshe’dheldonto

thesillyideahe’dfeltthesame.“Theo...”“Barcelonainthreedays’

time,Holly,ornotatall,”hesaidwithevidentsatisfaction,andthenhefinallyendedthecallwithasingleharshsweepofhishand.LeavingHollytositand

stewinthemessshe’dmade.Again.

***

TheostrodeintohissuiteatTheChatsfield,Barcelona,behindtheefficientporter,frowningdownathismobileashesweptthroughhisendlessstreamofmessagesandemail,onlytocometoaswiftstopwhenherecognizedwherehewas.Heknewthissuite.He’d

spentanentiremonthhere,andmorethanhecaredtorememberofthattime

withoutsteppingoutside.Hekneweverygoddamnedinchofit.Thesamesoaringceilings.

ThesameviewoverthefashionablePasseigdeGràcia,theSpanishanswertotheChamps-Élysées,withthegleamingMediterraneanSeainthedistance.Thesamedelicatelyluxuriousfurnishingsthatmadethewholespacesparklewiththe

restrainedeleganceTheChatsfieldwasknownforallovertheworld.Thesmallhallwayadornedwithboldlocalartleadingtowhatheknewwouldbeamastersuitedominatedbyawide,suggestivebedandaprivatebalconyhe’dusedeverylastmillimeterofbackwhen.Everysinglemillimeter.Thesameopenloungeareascatteredhereandtherewith

thesamedelicaterosepetalsthatherememberedquitedistinctlyfromfourandahalfyearsago.Itwaslikesteppingbackin

time.Andhecouldhardlycategorizethewildthingthatsurgedinhimthen,chaoticandmaddening.Heonlyknewitnearlytookhimdowntohisknees.Thisisunforgivable,he

thought—butthen,thiswas

clearlyHollyandherhandiwork.Therewasn’tasinglepartofwhatshe’ddonetohiminalltheseyearsthatwasn’tunforgivable.Unforgivableiswhatshedoes.Atmomentslikethishe

thoughtitwaswhoshewas.Justlikeyourfather,saida

smallvoiceinsideofhim.Shedoesn’tcarehowmuchshehurtsyou.Shedoesn’tcareat

all.“Isthisthehoneymoon

suite?”heaskedtheporter.Morebrusquelythanhe’dintended,herealizedwhenthepoormanjerkedtoastopasifTheohadslappedhimacrosstheface.Theo’shandtensedasifhereallyhad.“Yes,sir,”theportersaid.

Themanlaunchedintoarecitationoftheroom’smanyamenitiesandromantic

flourishes,onlytotaperoffintoastrainedsilencewhenTheomerelystaredbackathim.Theoeyedhimfora

moment,thenturnedhisattentionbacktotheroom—andthelowtablebeforethearchingwindowsthatletthegleamingBarcelonalightsinside,whereabottleofchampagnechilledinasilverbucket.Hedidn’thavetogo

overandlookatittoknowatoncethatitwouldbetheverysamevintageastheonehe’dhadwaitingforthemyearsago.Theonehe’dpouredalloverHollyandthendrankfromhersoftskin.Frombetweenherbreasts,fromthetender,shallowpoetryofhernavel.Fromthesweetcreamheatbetweenherlegshe’dstillbelieved,then,wasonlyhis.

Everylastdamneddrop.Hethoughtforamoment

thathistempermightblackoutthewholeofthecity,ifnottheentiretyoftheIberianPeninsula,theshockofitwassointense.“Thankyou,”hegrowled

attheporterwhenhewassurehecouldspeakwithoutpunchingsomething,dismissingthemanwithahandfulofeuros.

Onlythen,onlywhenhewasalone,didTheoprowlovertothetableandswipeupthecardthatsattherenexttothesilverbucket.Whataperfectplaceto

beginourdivorceatlast,itreadinHolly’sdistinctivelyloopyhandwriting,asifshereallywasthemadcap,innocentthingshe’dfooledhimintothinkingshewaswhenthey’dmet.Howclever

ofyoutosuggestit!Andbeneathit,she’djotted

downthemobilenumberthathe’dcommittedtomemoryalongtimeago,thoughhehadn’tdialeditofhisownvolitioninyears.Hewashardlyawareofdoingitnow,butthenitwasringingandthen,worse,herhuskyvoicewasthereontheline.Andhewasstillstandingbyhimselfinaroomwhere,thelasttime

he’dbeenhere,he’dthrustdeepinsideofheroneverysingleavailablesurface,againandagainandagain,becausehehadn’tknownwherehe’dendedandshe’dbegunandithadn’tmattered.Ithadbeenpurejoy.Here,inthisroom,he’d

trulybelievedhewouldspendtherestofhislifeenjoyingthatparticularpleasure.Itwasasifshe’d

catapultedhimstraightbackintoaprisonbuiltentirelyoutofhispastillusionsandhewascertainshewaswellawareofit.“Howdoyoulikeyour

suite?”sheaskedasconfirmation.Notthatheneededany.AndhesupposedthiswashisfaultforpickingBarcelonainthefirstplace.“Comeseeforyourself,”

hesuggested,andtherewas

nohidingthefuryinhisvoice.Ortheother,darkerthingsbeneath.“You’llhavetotellmeifthefurnishingsareasyourememberthem.Youweretheonebentovermostofthem,asIrecall,soyou’dbethebetterjudge.”Hollyonlylaughed,andit

wasn’tthatgreatbiglaughofhersthathe’dusedtofeelinsidehimasifhe’dstuckhisfingersdeepinanelectric

socket.ThiswasherHollyTsoukatoslaugh,morerestrainedandsignificantlylessjoyful,suitableforcharityeventsandpoliteblack-tiedinners.Onlyashort,dullblade,

then,asitcutintohim.“Whatalovelyinvitation,”

shemurmured.“I’llpass.ButI’mdownintherestaurant,ifyou’dliketocomesayalittlehello.Afterallthistime.Asa

casualintroductiontoourdivorceproceedings.Whosayswecan’ttreatthislikeadults?”“Inpublic,”henoted,and

ittookeverybitofself-controlhe’dtaughthimselfoverthesepastyearstotampdownontheroaringthinginsideofhimthatalreadyhadhimmoving,asifthemagneticpullofherwastoostrongtoresist.Asifithad

onlyeverbeenkilometersthatseparatedthem,nothingmore.Nothingworse.“Doyouthinkthat’swise?”Herlaughthenwasa

throatything,andhishandclenchedhardaroundhismobileevenaseverypartofhimtensed,becauseherememberedthatsoundtooclearly.Itdraggedoverhimlikeaphysicaltouch.Likeherwickedfingersonhisbare

skin.Herememberedherlegsdrapedoverhisshouldersandherhandsbracedagainstthesesamewindowsashe’driddenthembothintowildoblivion.Herememberedherlaughingjustlikethis.Herememberedtoomuch.

Thereweretoomanyghostshere,asifthewallsthemselvesweresoakedthroughwiththehappymemorieshe’dspentfour

yearspretendinghadneverhappened.“Nothingaboutushasever

beenwise,Theo,”Hollysaidthen,andheblinked,becausethatsoundedfartoomuchlikesadnessinhervoice—butthatwasimpossible.ThatwastheproductoftoomanymemoriesmergingwiththesoftSpanisheveningoutsidehiswindows,wrappingaroundandcontortingitself

intowishfulthinking.Ittookhimlongmoments

torealizeshe’dendedthecall.AndTheostoppedthinking.Hesimplymoved.Hehardlysawthepolished

goldelevatorthatwhiskedhimbackdowntothegrandlobby.Hebarelynoticedthehushedelegance,thewell-dressedclientele,thetouristssnappingphotosofthemarblefloorsandthe

inviting-lookingbar,ashemadehiswaytowardtheattachedrestaurant.Nordidhepausenearthemaîtred’—hesimplystrodepastthestationintheentryway,hiseyesscanningtheroom.Anobviouslyawkwarddate,aboisterousfamilydinner.Acollectionoflaughingolderwomen,asetofweary-lookingbusinessmen.Untilfinally—finally—he

sawher.Andthatwaswhenit

occurredtohimtostop.Tothinkforamomentwithhishead,notthemuchlouderpartofhimthatwasthreateningtotakehimoverthewayithadthefirsttimehe’dlookedupinacrowdedplacetoseehersittingthere,somehowradiant,asiflightfoundherandclungtoherofitsownvolition.

Beforeitwastoolatealloveragain.Becauseshewassopretty.

Still.Theocouldn’tdenythatandtherewasnoparticularreasonthatshouldhaveenragedhim.Andyetitdid.Shelookedsmoothand

edibleinanotheroneofthoseperfectlittledressesthatflatteredherfigureevenasitmadeherlooklikeaqueen.Regalandcooland

somethinglikearistocratic,withhersweetlypointedchinproppedinherdelicatehand,hergazefocusedoutonthestreetbeyond,andherotherhand—thehandthatstillfeaturedthetworingshe’dputtherehimself,henoted,histemperbeatinginhimlikeaverydarkdrum—toyedidlywiththestemofherwineglass.Itremindedhim—

powerfully,almostpainfully—ofthattoo-brightafternoononSantorinisomanysummersago.He’dcareenedoutofastrangewoman’sbedatnoonandstaggeredoutintothesunlight,aswastypicalforhim.Hehadn’theadedtohisfamily’svillaforanotherlectureonhisresponsibilitiesfromtheexasperatedfatherhe’dstoppedlisteningtoyearsbefore,whentheissue

oftheoldman’scharacterhadbeenmadeabundantlyclear.He’dwalkedupthehilltohisfavoriterestauranttocharmtheowner,oneofhisoldestfriends,intoplyinghimwithgoodfoodtochaseawaytheremainsofanothertoo-long,too-excessivenight.Instead,he’dfoundHolly,

withherstartledlaughterandherbright,beckoninginnocence,andhisentirelife

hadchanged.Andshe’dbeensitting

exactlylikethis.Theofinallystopped

movingthen,rightthereinthebusyaisleoftheintimatelylitrestaurant,andforcedhimselftobreathe.Tothink.Tonotethatallofthiswaspartofthelittleperformanceshewasstagingforhisbenefit—toachieveherownends,athis

continuingexpense.She’dchosentositatoneofthetablesintheopenwindowsoverthebusy,popularstreet,andTheounderstoodthiswasallpartofherplan.Notsimplytomeethiminpublic,inarestaurantliketheirveryfirstmeetingalifetimeago,buttodosowhilevisibletotheentirecityofBarcelona,asifthatmightkeephersafe.Shethoughtshewas

controllingthisgame.Shethoughtshewascontrollinghim.Itwasinthatmomentthat

Theodecidedtoplay.Andtowin.Hewalkedtherestofthe

waytohertableandthenslidintotheseatacrossfromher.Hehelpedhimselftoherwineoncehethrewhimselfdown,sincetheyweredealinginechoesofthepast.Whynot

dohispart?Hetookalongpullfromherglass,thewayhewouldhavebackthen,hismouthpressingagainstthesmallmarkherglossylipshadleftbehindandtheneyeingherovertherim.Hecouldn’treadherdark

blueeyestonight.Hecouldn’tseehereverylastthoughtonherfacethewayhecouldhavebackthen.Thenagain,giventhewayshe’dplayed

him,perhapshe’dneverseenwhathethoughthehad.Itdidn’tmatter,hetoldhimselfthen.Thiswasanewgame,andthistime,heknewfromthestartthathewasplayingit.Therewouldbeno

surpriseshere.Notthistime.“Kalispera,Holly,”he

said,andwhensheblinkedathim,hegotthedistinctimpressionshe’dknownhe

wastherethewholetime,despitethefactshe’dbeenlookingintheotherdirection.Fromthemomenthe’denteredtherestaurant,even.Hestretchedouthislegsandwasinstantlyawareofhowsheshifted,tokeepherownoutofhisreach,asifeventhatmildatouchmightsetthembothonfire.Shewasn’twrongandthat,too,addedfueltotheangerinsideof

him.Andtohisdeterminationtowinthisthing,nomatterthecost.“Youlookwellenough.Spendingmymoneyclearlysuitsyou.Isthatpoliteenoughtostart?”

CHAPTERTHREE

SHE’DDREAMEDTHISathousandtimes.More.Thisisreallyhappening,

Hollytoldherself,tryingtokeepherexpressionblank.Orfailingthat,calm,whichwasn’teasywiththewildanderraticdanceherheartwas

doinginsideherchest.Thisisn’toneofthosedreams.“Hello,Theo,”shesaid

calmly,asifthiswasn’tthefirsttimethey’dspokenface-to-face,intheactualflesh,intouchingdistance,innearlyfouryears.AsifbeingbackinBarcelona,atTheChatsfieldofallplaces,meantnothingtoher.Asifshefeltnothingatall—asifshereallywastheperson

she’dgonetosuchlengthstoconvincehimshewas.Justalittlebitlonger,shepromisedherself.“Didyouhaveapleasantflight?”“Ofcourse.”Hewasso

muchmoreinperson.Sherememberedthewayhissheerpresencehadalwaysseemedtoscrapetheairthinallaroundhim,anditwasworsenow.Asifheclaimedmorethanhisfairshareof

oxygen,simplybecausehecould.BecausehewasTheo.“Idonotmaintainaprivateplanewithmyownstaffforanunpleasantflight,doI?”“Ifeelthatwayabout

closingdownshopsonFifthAvenueandRodeoDrivetomakeuseofyourblackAmexcard.”“Sothedizzyingbills

remindmeeachtimeIseethem.”

Hisfacewasstillsofascinating.HarshandmaleandundeniablyGreek,yetsointenselybeautifulshewasn’tsurprisedtoseethewaywomenandmenalikereactedtohim.Thedoubletakes.Thesecond,longerglances.Andnoneofthem,shewassure,couldseethatferocityinhisdarkeyes.Thehintofviolencesheknewhe’dneverdirectather.Notphysically,

anyway,notinawaythatwouldtrulyhurther.Sex,ofcourse,wasa

differentstory—butshecouldn’tletherselfthinkaboutthat.Aboutthatlasttime,rightafterher“confession,”sorawandpossessiveandfurious...“Isthissmalltalk?”he

askedsoftly.Shewasn’tfooledbythattone.Shecouldfeelitslethalpowerdeepin

herbones,tighteningaroundherlikeanoose.“Ihaven’tgrownanymoreinterestedinsuchthings,Holly.Itoldyoufouryearsagowhatwewoulddiscussifyoudaredfacemeagain.Isthisreallywhereyou’dliketohavethatconversation?”“Farbeitfrommetodirect

youinanything,”shereplied,anglingherbodybacksoshelookedfarmoreateasethan

shewas,anditwasharderthanitshouldhavebeentorememberwhatshewasdoinghere,whenhewasrightthereandherinstinctwastoprotectherself.Tokeephimhatingher,whichhurtmoreinthemomentbutwassaferinthelongrun.Saferandcolderandemptier.Somuchemptier.Hadn’tshespentalltheseyearsprovingthattoherself—incaseher

childhoodhadn’ttaughtherthatlessonfirst?“Iknowit’ssoimportanttoyouthatyouremainincontrol.”“Iimaginethatisthepoint

ofthischarade,isitnot?”Hewasstrokingthatwineglassthewayhe’doncestrokedherbody,andshewascertainitwasdeliberate.Thatheknewexactlywhatthatslowsweepofhistapered,too-strongfingersagainsttheglassdid

insideofher.Thestreaksoffire.Thatdeep,hardclenchwithin.“Thehoneymoonsuite,thecleverlittlerosepetals,likeaforceddeathmarchdownmemorylanestraightbackintothefiresofhell.Andyouhavealwaysdonehellwithsuchflair,haveyounot?”Hisgazeslammedintohersthen.“Whatdoyouwantfromme?”

“ItoldyouwhatIwanted.”Itwashardtokeepher

voiceevenwhenhewasontheothersideofsuchatinylittletable,hisintensephysicality,hisrampantmaleness,likeanindustrial-forcemagnet.Hollyhadforgottenthat,somehow.She’dforgottenthatsomuchofbeingnearTheowasbeingutterlyhelplessandunderhisspell.Inhisthrall.She’dhad

toleavehimordisappearintohim,nevertobeseenagain,andsherememberedwhy,now.Shecouldfeelit,likeablackhole,suckingherinalloveragain—thesamewaythissamekindofdestructivelovehadsuckedinherfatherallthoseyearsago.She’dwatchedhowthisendedbefore.Whydidshethinkitcouldbedifferentnow?Shekepthergazelevelon

Theo’sandtriednottothinkaboutherparents.“Adivorce.”“ItoldyouIwouldn’tgive

youone.Andithasnotyetbeenthosemagicalfouryearsthatwouldreleaseyou,anyway.Youshouldn’thavecometoBarcelonaifthatwasreallywhatyouwanted.Thisresetstheclock,doesitnot?”“Whatdoesitmatterif

we’reinthesamecity?”she

asked,morebravadothananythingelse,andshethrewinalittlescoffingsound,justtomaintainthebrittlefacadeafewminutesmore.“We’renotstayingtogether.We’renotevenstayinginthesamehotel.”Thatsurprisedhim.Holly

couldseeitinabriefflashofsomethingbeforeheshutteredthatdarkgazeofhis,andthatmadeherdecisiontostayin

TheHarrington,aluxuriousboutiquehotelinBarcelona’sfamousGothicQuarter,seemthatmuchsmarter.Asifshewasgettinggoodathandlinghim,afterall.Aftersomanyyearsapart,

perhapsshe’dfinallylearnedsomething.“I’llrepeat—whatdoyou

want?”Theo’svoicewasclipped,hisgazewhenitmethersagainuncompromisingly

direct.“Itwasobviouslyimportanttoyouthatwedothis.Hereweare.Youhavethreesecondstotellmewhatyouragendais.”“Orwhat?”Hollymadehervoicea

taunt,thoughthetruthwas,shedidn’trecognizethisversionofTheo,andthatwasmakingherfeelfarmoreuneasythanshe’dimaginedshewould.Hewasn’tthe

lazy,sun-drunkloversheremembered,andeventhoughshe’dreadenoughabouthimoverthecourseofthesepastfewyearstohaveexpectedthatonsomelevel,therealitywasmuchdifferent.Hehadanedgenow.Hewasn’tremotelytame.Backthen,he’dremindedherofnothingsomuchasagreat,lazycat—tonight,hewasallclawsand

fangs.Maybethatwaswhyshewasdrawingthisoutinsteadofcomingcleanimmediately.Ormaybeshewasstilltoo

afraid.Thathewouldn’tbelieveher.Thathewould.“Whatcanyoupossiblydo

tomethatyouhaven’talreadydone?”sheaskedinstead.“Excellent,”hesaidsilkily.

“We’vemovedontotheblameportionofthisconversation.Andsoquickly.AreyoutrulypreparedtopretendthatIcarryanyofit?”Helaughed.Itwasn’tanicesound.Itrushedoverher,makingherskinprickleandfeeltootight.Itwasasdangerousashewas.“I’lladmit,I’mlookingforwardtotheperformance.Please,Holly.TellmehowI

betrayedyou.”Shecouldn’tbreathe.His

gazewastoohotandtoocondemning,hismouthtoogrim.Itwasasifhe’dchainedhertoherseatwiththeforceofhisfuryalone,andshefeltadangerousweaknessstealoverher.Asifshecouldsimplysurrender,righthere...Butsheknewbetter.“I’mpreparedtotalkabout

ourmarriage,”shesaidthen,whenshe’dbattledherselfbackfromthatcliff,downtosomethingresemblingcalm.Or,atleast,agoodfacsimileofitthatmightpropelherthroughtheselast,crucialmoments.“Areyou?BecausethewayIrememberit,thelasttimewebroachedthesubjecttherewasnothingbutyellingandpunchingwalls.”Andthenthatwild,insane

thingthathadexplodedbetweenthem,nothingassimpleasmeresex—butshedidn’tsaythat.NeitherdidTheo.Butitwasbetweenthemallthesame,theterribleheatandtheviolentblastofitasintenseasifithadonlyjusthappened.Thatindelibleclaiming.Hollycouldhearthesoundofhisshirttearingbeneathherhands,couldfeelhisskinbeneathherteeth,the

rageandthefire,thebetrayalandthethick,twistedemotionlikeahundredsobspentupinsidethemboth,andthenthatslick,perfectthrustofhimdeepintoher,roughandcomplicated,theirownpainfullittlepoetry.Theirowngoodbye.“Byallmeans,let’sdiscuss

ourmarriage.”Theoshiftedthen,leaningforward,makingthesmalltablefeellikeabox,

acage—asiftherestaurantallaroundthemandthecityjustoutsidesimplydisappeared,foldedintotheirpastthatneatly.Whennothingbetweenthemhadeverbeenneat.“Allowmetosummarizethewholeofit.Iworshippedyou.Youbetrayedme.Theend.”“That’sabitsimplistic,

don’tyouthink?”“Ifindthetruthalwaysis.”

Hedidn’tlookentirelycivilizedthen.Somethingrawandedgystaredoutatherfromhistoo-darkeyes,somekindofwarning.Orinvitation,aperversepartofherwhispered.“Andthat’sthestoryofourmarriage,Holly.Ifyourememberitdifferently,perhapsyouhavemeconfusedwithoneofyourotherlovers.”“HaveIgraduatedto

lovers,then?”She’dmeanttosoundamused.Jaded.Shemissedbothbymiles,andheshookhishead,asifherefusedtoletthatsadtoneofvoiceconfusehim.“Iknowyouclaimedthere

wasonlytheone,butyou’llunderstand,Ithink,ifIfindthatdifficulttobelieve.Giventhecircumstances.Whocheatsonlyonce?”Hesaidthatasifhehad

darkpersonalexperiencewithit—butHollydidn’twanttothinkaboutthat.Notnow.Notwhenshewasthisclosetotellingthetruthatlast.“Goon,”shesaidquietly,

straighteninghershouldersandliftingherchin,asifhewaspoundingthosehardfistsintoher.Somepartofheralmostwishedhewould.Itwouldbemorehonestthantherestofthis.Morereal.It

mightevenhurtless.“Getitallout,Theo.Allthatpoison.Iknowyou’vewantedthisopportunityforyearsnow.”“Ihave,infact.”AndTheo’ssmilewasa

bladethatcutintoher,deep.Notmerelyscarringher—itmadeherworryshewouldneverbewholeagain.Butthen,you’renothing

resemblingwholenow,areyou?askedthatlowvoiceshe

imaginedwasherfather’s,andshecouldonlybegratefulhehadn’tlivedtoseewhatshe’dmadeofherlifewithouthim—thoughshethoughthe’dhaveunderstood.Perhapstoowell.Shewassomuchlikehim,afterall.“Youdroppedyourbomb

onmeandweregonebymorning,”Theosaid.“Intime,Icametounderstandthatthiswasallpartofyour

grandplan.Moreover,thatyoualwayshadaplan,rightfromthestart.ThatIwasnothingbutamark.Thewordthatbestfits,Ithinkyou’llfind,ismercenary.”“Isoundevilindeed.”Theoinclinedhishead.

“Whydiscussthedetailsofyourbetrayal?Ithardlymatteredthen,muchlessnow.Itwasameanstoanend,nothingmore.Irealized

thatwhatmatteredtoyouwaswhatyoualreadyhad—myringonyourfingerandaccesstomybankaccount.”“Youcouldhavecome

afterme,ifyouweresodesperatetotalk,”Hollypointedout.Onsomelevel,she’d

realizedmuchlater,she’dthoughthewouldoncethedizzymadnessoftheirlastencounterhadfaded.She’d

hadcontingencyplansinplacetodealwithhimifhehad.Afterall,he’dalwayspursuedhersorelentlesslybefore—wasn’tthatwhyshe’dgonetotheselengthstoescapehim?Buthehadn’t.He’dsimplylethergo.Ithadtakenheralongtimetoacceptthat.Longerstilltounderstandthatasmuchasshe’dwantedhimtobelieveherwhenshe’dliedtohim,as

muchasshe’dwantedtoescapetheirall-consumingrelationship,therewasapartofherthathadbelievedhe’dseerightthroughher.Thathewouldn’tletherdosuchathing.Thathe’dknownherbetterthansheknewherself.She’dtwistedherselfinso

manyknotsthattheonlythingshe’dknownhowtodowascomebacktohim.“ItoldyouIwasgoingbackto

Texas.YoualwaysknewwhereIwas.”Hereachedoverandtook

herhand,andeventhoughitwasacoldlittleparodyofthewayhemighthavedoneityearsbefore,thatsimpletouchslammedthroughher.Itwreckedherfromtheinsideout,sparkscascadingthroughher,herstomachtwisting,herbreathcatching.Ifshehadn’tbeensittingdown,she

thought,shewouldhavefallenover,andsheknewtherewasnowayhe’dmissthewayshetrembledathistouch.Shehopedhe’dthinkit

wasfear.Nerves.Notalloftherestofthethingssheknewitwas.Theotookthesapphire-

and-diamondringshewore—thathe’dslidtherehimself,highonaSantorinicliffside

asthewindtoyedwithherhairandthebrightGreekskykissedthemwithlight—betweenhisfingersandmoveditgentlythiswayandthat,catchingthecandlelightandsendingitdancingoverthetable,thewayhe’dalwaysdoneinthosefirstmonths,asifhewasenchantedwithitasshe’dbeen.Hollyfoundshewas

holdingherbreaththen.Waiting.“Thatwouldhavesentthe

wrongmessage,”hesaidsoftly.Sosoftly,itcouldn’tpossiblybereal.Hollybracedherself,andhisgazemoveduptomeetherswithallthatbrightferocitygleamingthere,harshandunmistakable.Pitiless.“Idon’twantyou.Iwantthesweet,innocentgirlImarried,

butsheneverexisted.WhywouldIchaseafterthedeceitfullittleliarwhopretendedtobethatgirl?WhywouldIwantyou,whoeverthehellyouare?”Hollypulledherhandfrom

his,awarethatheletherdoit.Hisstrength,hispower,waslikeabrightlightfloodingthroughher.Therewasnomistakingit.Therewasnopretendinghewasanything

butthatruthless,thatdamaging.Maybehealwayshadbeen.Maybehe’dhiddenhimselfasmuchasshehad.“Isthiswhereyoudoubt

eventhethingsyouknowweretrue?”sheaskedhim,forgettingthemaskshe’dwornalltheseyears,thegameshewasstillmeanttobeplaying.Forgettingherself.“Itakeityoumeanyour

convenientvirginity,thegreat

emblemofyourtremblinginnocence.”Heliftedashoulderandletitdrop,anditwasmeanttohurt,sheknew.Itwasmeanttobedismissiveandcruel.Hewasbetteratthisthanshewas.“Yes,Holly.Ihavemydoubts.”Shecouldn’tpretendthat

wasasurprise.Notreally.Andstill,itmadeherfeelempty.Brokenanddirty.“Congratulations,”she

said,awareshewasgivinghimtoomuchammunition.Toomuchevidencetouseagainsther.Butshecouldn’tseemtostopherself.“Youreallyhavebecomeyourfather.Ishouldhavetakenthepayoffheofferedme.”Heshifted,andshesaw

somedarkthingmoveoverhisface,asifshe’dscoredadirecthit.Butbeforeshecouldtellhimsheregretted

that,too,itwasgone.“Ithinkwebothknowthat

asinglelumpsumcouldneverhavesatisfiedyou.”Hesmirkedather,asifshe’dimaginedthatdarkness,andshewasanidiot,wasn’tshe,tobeatallsurprisedthathelookedlikeastrangerthen.Notthatmanshe’dloved—andwho’dlovedher—atall.“WhatIcan’tunderstandiswhyyouburnedoutso

quickly.Youhadmecompletelyfooled.Whynottakeitalltheway?WhynotmakesureIwastiedtoyouforeverinthetime-honoredfashion?YoumustknowIwouldneverhaveabandonedmyownchild.ThathadyoufallenpregnantIwouldhavebeenforcedtoplaythesegameswithyouforever.”Itwasamarkofhowill-

suitedshewastothisgame

despitealltheseyearsofplayingit,Hollythoughtthen,thatithadneveroccurredtoherthathewouldhonestlythinkshecoulddosomethinglikethat.Foramomentherheadfelthollowandherearsrang,asifhereallyhadhither,afterall.Asifshewasclosetocollapsingwhensheknewthat,really,thishadonlyjustbegun.Sheswallowedandithurt.

Andworse,hewaswatching.“Yourfatheraskedme

somethingsimilar,”sheremindedhim,andhisexpressionicedover.“RightbeforeItoreuphischeckandthrewitinhisface.IknowyourememberthataswellasIdo.Backthen,youwereoutraged.”Shereachedforherwine,

moretohavesomethingtodothantodrinkit,butshe

welcomedthetartslideofliquidwhenshetookadeeppull.Itwasbetterthanrememberingthatblindinglysunnyterracewiththeseaatherfeet,Theo’sgruffandsuspiciousfather,thethingshe’dsaidtoherthroughTheo’syoungerbrother’spointedandunfriendlytranslations,orthewayshe’dhadtothrowherselfinfrontofTheotokeephimfrom

takingaswingathisownfamilymembers.Allofwhichshe’dthoughtwasworthit—then.Anythingwouldhavebeenworthitthen,ifithadmeantshe’dendupwithTheo.Bettertoprayforwisdom,

babygirl,herfatherwouldhavetoldherinhisgruff,remoteway.Betterforyoursoulthanawishgranted.Shewishedhewasstill

alive.Shealwayswould.Justasshewishedshestilldidn’tknowwhathe’dmeantbythat.Butthen,lifewasn’taboutwhatshewished,orwhatherlonelyfatherhadwished,either.They’dbothlearnedthatthehardway.“Outragefades,”Theowas

saying,hisvoicelikecutglass,tomatchthewintershecouldseeonhisface.“Especiallyinthewakeof

fouryearsofproofthatmyfatherwasabsolutelyrightaboutyou.”“Backthen,youthoughthe

wasmorethanhalfathug,”shepointedout.Shenoddedathim,atthecrispshirthewore,theperfectlyfittedjacket.“Nowlookatyou.Youmightaswellbeanotheroneofhisgoons.”Shesawhistemperdance

alongtheedgesofhisbody,

allofthosestark,malelinesdrawingtautandhard,andahintofsomethingmuchdarkerbesides.Butheonlylaughedagain,andsheknewitwasn’toptimisticadvertisingorhopefulPRonthepartofhisfamily’scompany,whichshecouldadmitshe’dmonitoredmuchtoocloselyovertheyears.Theoreallyhadbecomeasformidableashisterrifying

tycoonofafather.He’dbecometheTsoukatoshe’dalwaysclaimedwasn’tinhim.“Isthatmeanttoinsult

me?”Theolaughedagain,thoughtherewasnothinglikelevityinthesound,oranywherenearthosetoo-darkeyesofhis.“Iforget,youthinkyouknowme.”“Ididknowyou,fora

time.”Hollyhadnoideawhy

shesaidthat.Itcouldn’thelpanythingand,infact,waslikelytodonothingatallbutinfuriatehim.Whichitdid.Shewatched

thestormbreakinhisdarkeyes,acrosshistautface,andfeltitdeepinsideofher.Thatelectricawareness—asifhe’dchangedtheweatherallaroundthem.“Youknewapathetic,

weakcreaturewhoalloweda

gold-diggingtramptowalkalloverhim,”Theogrittedoutather,everywordlikealash.Likeanotherblade,deepintohergut,andshe’dbroughtthisonherself,sheknew.Maybethatwashowshecouldsurviveit.“Thatmanisdead.IfinmyresurrectionI’vebecomelikethetoughestmanIknow—themanwhowarnedmeawayfromagrasping

Americanwithdollarsignsinhereyes,littlethoughIlistenedtohimwhenIshouldhavedone—I’lltakethatasacompliment.”“Youcantakeitanyway

youlike,”shesaid,forgettingherselfforanothermomentandlettingtoomuchemotioncreepintohervoice.Shestruggledtobringherselfbackundercontrol.“Itwasanobservation.”

“Here’sanotherone.”Hesatback,anditwasaconfidentvictor’spose.Itwasthebodylanguageofamanwhothoughthe’dlongsincewonthebattle,andHollydidn’tlikethatatall.Itmadehershiver—then,asquickly,fighttorestrainit.“Younolongerhavethatpoweroverme.Ilookatyouandseenothingbutaninterchangeableblonde

creaturewithtoomuchmoneyandtoolittlesoul.Therearehundredsofwomenexactlylikeyou.Theonlydifferencebetweenyouandthegreatseaoftherestofthemisthatthemoneyyouspendismine.”“Youareapoet,Theo.

Truly.”“Youshouldhavekept

yourdistance.”HeshruggedinthatprofoundlyGreekway,

thoughhisdarkeyesglittered.“Here,now,Iambored.Ifyouwantadivorce,you’rewelcometoit.Ihaveonlyonecaveat.”“Ofcourseyoudo.”“Youmusttellthetruth.”

Hesmiledthen,thoughitcamenowherenearhiseyes.“Iknowthatmightproveanobstacleforyou,afteralltheseyearsofgamesandlies,butthereitis.Simplyadmit

yourinfidelityinopencourtandwe’redone.Itisassimpleasthat.”Andthiswasit.Thiswas

thepointofallofthis,becausehewaswrong.Shedidknowhim.Perhapsnotaswellassheoncehad.Butwellenoughtoknowhedidn’twalkawayfromachallenge.She’dsuspectedhewoulddoexactlythis,hadn’tshe?Itwaswhatshe’d

workedtoward.Itwaswhyshe’dwantedtomeethiminpersontodothis—thoughshewouldneverhavepickedBarcelona,ofallthecitiesintheworld.Nottheoneplaceshe’dheldsacredbetweenthem.Butthen,shesupposedsheshouldhaveanticipatedthat,too.Becausehewouldpushthe

point.She’dknownhewould.Whichmeantshecould

finallytellhimthetruth.Therewasnoreasonher

throatshouldfeelsodry.Therewasnoreasonsheshouldfeelthatshakingthingdeepinsideofher,likeanewkindoffear.“Andwhatifthetruthisn’t

whatyouthinkitis,Theo?”Hesighed.“Idon’tcare,so

longasyoutellitforachange.ThatiswhatIwant.WhatIinsistupon.OrIwill

keepyouchainedtomysidelikethefamilydoguntilyouaresooldyouresemblethattwisted,benightedsoulinsideofyou.”Hisdarkgazemethers,fierceandtriumphant.“ThisIpromiseyou.”Shecouldstillfeelhishand

againsthers,hisfingersonthatringhe’dplacedtherehimselffourandahalfyearsago,asifhe’dburnedhistouchdeepintoherflesh.

“Itoldalie,yes,”shesaidquietly.Whywasthissohard?She’dpracticedthis.She’dimagineditathousandtimes.Whydidshefeelasifhishandwaswrappedaroundherthroat,constrictingherveryair?“Butnottheoneyouthink.”“Wonderful,”hesaid

caustically,hismouthflattening.“Didyousleepwiththewholeisland,then?

NotmerelytheoneBritishtourist?Itoldyou,Ialreadysuspectedasmuch.Icertainlydon’tneedallthedetailsnow.Merelytheadmissioninlegaldocuments.”“Ididn’tsleepwith

anyone.”Shefeltsick,somehow,asifshe’dsaidtoomuch,madeherselftoovulnerableinfivelittlewords.Ormaybeitwasthathe’dknow,now.Theenormityof

whatshe’ddone.Ofhowfarshe’dbeenwillingtogo—andhadgone—toescapehim,andalltheimplicationsofthat.“Thatwasthelie.”Hollydidn’tknowwhat

she’dexpected.Ithadtakenfouryearsto

saythosewords.Fouryearsandalotoftimespentshiftingthroughhermotherlesschildhoodandherfather’stakeonthatkindof

loss,andthinkingabouthowthathadallledinexorablytotheawfulmessshe’dmadeofbothherandTheo’slives.She’dalwaysimaginedsomethingwouldhappenwhenshefinallyfacedhimagain—becauseshe’dknown,hadn’tshe,thatshe’dneverbeabletolookhimintheeyeswithouttellinghimthetruth.She’dbarelysurvivedtellinghimthathugeliewhen

she’ddoneitinitiallyfouryearsago.Theowasn’ttheonlyone

who’dgonetogreatlengthstoavoidthisreunion.She’dexpectedtheworld

tostopspinningforabeatortwo,perhaps.Amomentofsilence,ofacknowledgment.Something—anything—tomarkthisliteralmomentoftruthbetweenthemafterallthedarknessandmiseryof

thesepastfewyears.Buttherestaurantwas

cheerfulandloudallaroundthem,andTheoonlyrolledhisdarkeyes.“Ithinkwe’regoingto

needmorewine,”hemuttered,andthenhesignaledthewaiter,asifshehadn’tsaidanythingofimportance.Because,Hollyrealized

thenwithanunpleasant

shock,hedidn’tbelieveher.Ithadneveroccurredtoher

thathewouldn’t.He’dbelievedherinstantlyandcompletelywhenshe’dtoldhimthatinitiallie.He’dneverdoubteditforamomentsince.Shedidn’tknowifitwasa

laughorasobthatescapedherlipsthen.“Youdon’tbelieveme.”Hisownlaughwaslaced

withpurederision.“WhywouldI?”Herubbed

onehandoverhisface,lingeringonthedarkshadowalonghisjawthatalwaysturnedupbytheendoftheday,andshecouldremember,inanunwelcomeflash,thesweetscrapeofitagainstthetenderskinofherinnerthighs.Theperfectionofthatsting.“I’mnotinterestedinallofthesetheatrics,Holly.

Justtellmewhatyouwantandwecanbothgoaboutourbusiness.I’vesaidyoucanhavethedivorce.Iamnothingifnotreasonable.”Shecouldn’tbreathe.She

feltcaughtinhim,trapped,assurelyasifheheldherinhisownhands.“AndIsuggestyoutake

advantageofit,”hemurmured,thatlashinhisvoiceagain.“Iverymuch

doubtitwilllast.”“Ican’tstandupincourt

andconfessthatIwasunfaithfultoyou,”shetoldhim,andsheknewhecouldheartheconvictioninhervoice.Shesawthewayhisdarkeyesnarrowed,thewayhissculptedshouldersshiftedbeneathhisjacket.“BecauseIwasn’t.”Hesighedagain,butthere

wasspeculationinhisgaze,

andsomethingmuchhotterandmuchmoredangerous.“Thenwhywouldyou

claimyouwere?Youweresocertain,asIrecall.”“Iwasinsistent,”shesaid,

withmoreemotioninhervoice—moretemper,ifshewashonest—thanshe’dmeanttoshowhim.“Youwerecertain.There’sadifference.”“Suchatangledweb,isit

not?”hemurmured,andhetookthewinebottlefromthewaiterwhobroughtitandwavedhimaway,pouringhisowndrink.Hisvoicewasharshwhenhecontinued,andmockingbesides.“Tellme,agapimou,whywouldyoudosuchaterriblething?Whywouldyoutellyourbesottedhusbandsuchahideousstory,calculatedtomakeyourselflooksobad?”

“Because,Theo,”Hollysaid,andtherewasnoreasonherpulseshouldbethatloud,andsohardthatshethoughtitmightchokeher.Therewasnoreasonthatsheshouldbethisterrifiedofalittlebitofhonestyhereandnow,whenshe’dthrownherselfheadfirstintosuchadamagingliefouryearsago.Butitwasonlyhervoicethatshook.Hergaze,atleast,stayedsteadyonhis.

Shetoldherselfthathadtomeansomething,tocountforsomething.Surely.“Iknewtherewasnootherwayyou’deverletmego.”

CHAPTERFOUR

THEOLAUGHEDTHEN,andhecouldseethewayshejerkedinherseat,asifshecouldfeelthedarknessinthatsound,thewayitwelledupwithinhimandfelttoomuchlikepoison.Likeadeeplytwistedneed.Itwasasifhe’dtouched

her,thoughnotparticularly

gently,andthatfangedthinginhimlikedthatalittletoomuch.Asifhereallywas—whathadshecalledhim?—agoon,afterall.Asdarkandastwistedas

hisownfather.“Youwerecorrect.”He

stoodthen,staringdownather,hisusualfurymixingwithsomethinglikepity,andhedidn’tknowifitwasforherorforhim.Hedidn’t

knowwhyhe’dcomehere.Whyhealwaysactedfirstandthoughtsecondwherethiswomanwasconcerned.Onlythatfinally—finally—hewasreadytoendit.Onceandforall.“Butneverfear,Holly.Ihaveresignedmyselftoyourabsence.Infact,Ipreferit.Allowmetodemonstrate.”Heexpectedhertofollow

himashestrodebackoutoftherestaurantandshedid,of

course,catchinguptohiminthegrandChatsfieldlobby.Heheardtheclickofherheelsagainstthemarblefloorsandturnedbackwhenshewasnearlyuponhim,lettinghismouthcurveintosomethingevenhecouldfeelwasvicious.“Howtimeschange,”hebit

outassherockedtoastopalittletooclosetohim,astartled,warysortoflookon

herface.“Nowit’syouchasingmeacrosstheworld.Lifeistrulyamazing,isitnot?Itsgiftsnevercease.”Hewatchedherswallow,

hard,buthecouldn’treadasinglethingonherface.Hetoldhimselfthatwasallthebetter.Thathe’donlyeverimaginedhecouldreadanythinginherinthefirstplace.Thatithadallbeenapartofthegamesshe’d

playedwithhim,gameshe’dlostspectacularlyandnolongercaredtoindulge.Notafterthislatestbitofattempteddeceit,towhatend,hecouldn’timagine.“Ihadnoideayou’d

becomesophilosophicalovertheyears,”shesaidafteramoment,inthattoo-calmvoiceofhershe’dalreadydecidedhehated,thoughhedidn’tcaretoexplorehis

reasonsforthat.“I’mnotsureitsuitsyou.”Heinclinedhishead.“I’ll

becertaintogiveyourinputtheconsiderationitdeserves.”Theystaredateachother,

andthequietlyexultantlobbyseemedtofadearoundthem.ButthedrivingfurythathadbroughthimherefromGreece,thefocusedragethathadcatapultedhimfromhissuitedownintotherestaurant,

hadsettledintosomethingelse.Somethingslickandhotthatwoundinsidehimandyetmadehimfeelcalmerthanbefore.Different.“Isthisit?”heaskedaftera

momentdraggedbyandsheonlystaredbackathim.“Thisiswhyyouinsistedwemeet?Youwantedtotellmefairytalesaboutwhatyoudidfouryearsago?”“It’strue.”Hervoicewas

quiet,buthecouldhearthescrapeinit.Thehintoffardarker,evenpainful,thingsbeneath.“Ispentalongtimetryingtounravelmyselffromyou,Theo.IusedeveryweaponIcouldthinkof,andthen,atlast,theonlyoneIknewwouldwork.”Hewantedtoshakeher,

andloathedhimselffortheurge.Hewasnotthatkindofman.Hewasnocave-

dwellinganimal.Hehatedthatinherpresenceheneededtokeepremindinghimselfofthat.“Forfuturereference,may

Isuggestasimplestatementofintent?‘Iwanttoleaveyou,Theo,’youcouldhavesaid.It’sremarkablehowahandfulofwordscouldhaveaccomplishedthesamethingandwithmuchlesscarrying-on.”

“Youweren’texactlyeasytotalkto,”shegratedathim,asifherthroatwasconstricted.“Thenornow.”“Ah,yes.Iknewitmustall

bemyfault,somehow.”Theoallbutbaredhisteethather.“Icausedyourinfidelity,obviously.Iforcedyouontoanotherman’spenis.”Heheardthebreathshe

suckedinthen,asifshewaswinded.

“Iliedaboutthat.”“Let’ssay,forthesakeof

argument,thatIbelieveyou,”hesaid,leaninginclosertoher,whichwasnotsmart.Oratallstrategic.Hecouldsmellthescentofherskin,thathintofvanillaandspice,anditmadehimsohardithurt.Heignoredit.“Whatdoesitmatternow?”Shejerkedwhereshe

stood,tiltingherheadbackto

lookupathim,andforamoment,shelookedlost.ShelookedliketheHollyheremembered—theHollyhe’dcreatedinhisownheadandknewbetterthantobelieve.“What?”Thisishergame,heroared

athimself.Thisiswhatshedoes.Sheisnomorelostthanyouare.“Ithasbeenfouryears,

Holly.Whatdidyouthink

thisannouncementofyourswouldaccomplish?”Again,thatartlesslookof

confusionthatwastrulymasterful,hehadtoadmit.Itnotonlymadehimhungerforherasifhedidn’tknowanybetter,itmadehimwanttogatherhercloseandprotecther.Shewasfrighteninglygoodatthis.Sheswallowed.“Ijust...I

thoughtyoushouldknow.”

“Isee.Howdidyouimaginethiswouldplayout?Iwonder.”Hecrowdedher,movinguntilshehadnochoicebuttobackup,untilhereachedoutandtookhershouldersinhishands.Heignoredtheshockofit,thesearingkickofsensation.Theirchemistrywasn’tthepointhere,andthatstartledglintofawarenessinhergazewaslikelyfeigned—because

heknewbetter.Hedid.Helearnedfromhismistakes,damnit.“AmImeanttofalltomyknees?Singhosannas?Jumpupanddownwithjoy?”“Or,possibly,beslightly

lessaggressiveandmocking,”sheretorted,herblueeyesflashing—thoughheimaginedthatwasasmuchbecausehewastouchingherasbecauseshe’dfoundhertongueagain.“Tostart.”

Betternottothinkabouthertongue.“Idon’tbelieveawordyou

say,”hetoldherthen,crooningittoher,asifhewasmurmuringanendearment.“Youshowedmewhoyouwerewhenyouleftme,Holly.You’vespentfouryearsprovingyourselftome,billbybill.Thereisnothingonearththatcanconvincemethissudden

about-faceisanythingbutanotheract.”“Thatdoesn’tmakewhatI

toldyouanylesstrue.”Theolaughedagainandlet

goofher,watchingherwithoutanykindofpitywhenshestumbledbackastep,thencaughtherselfwithahandagainstoneofthegreatpillars.Ashakyhand,henoticed,andthenpromptlyshovedaside.

Hisjawfeltlikestone.“Ihope,foryoursake,thatitisnot.”Sheshookherhead,asif

shewasdizzy.“Idon’tunderstand,”she

said,buthervoicewasthick.Shecoughedtoclearit.Ifthiswasreal,ifshewasreal,he’dhavethoughtthatwasdistress.Butthatwasn’tpossible.“Wouldn’tyoupreferthatImadeitup?”

Hedidn’tmeantomovebutsuddenlyhewassoclosetoherthathecouldseethepanicandneedonherface,theflushofcolorthattoldhimtoomanythingshehadnointentionofactingupon.Theoshovedhishandsdeepinhispocketstokeepthemoffher,buthedidn’tbackup.Helikedthatlookofuncertaintyonherface.Helikedknowingthatshehadno

ideawhathe’ddonext.Whateverelseshemightbe

faking,shecouldn’tfakethisthingthatstillspikedtheairbetweenthem.Andhecouldusethataswellasshecould.Hollyhadmadehimfeelpowerlessfouryearsago.Sheneverwouldagain.Noonewould.“Thereisnodoubtthatyou

areacreaturemadeentirelyofdeceit,”hesaidsoftly.

Lethally.“Theonlyquestionis,whatkind?Eitheryouliedaboutwhoyouwerefourandahalfyearsagowhenyouvowedyoucouldbefaithful,oryou’veliedeversince.Onemakesyouaconartist.Theothermakesyouinsane.”Heleanedincloser,puttinghismouthtoherearanddrinkinginthefainttremorshecouldfeelmovethroughherbody,tellinghimselfhewastheone

manipulatingherhere,thathewasn’tsimplydrawntoheragainthewayhealwayshadbeen.“AndIdoubtverymuchalunaticwillmanagetowrestamajorityshareofmyfamily’scompanyfromanunsympatheticGreekcourt.IfIwereyou,Holly,I’dsticktothetartingaboutandleavethesupposedflashesofhonestytothosewhocanpullitoff.”Butbeingclosetoherhad

itsownperils,andhe’dunderestimatedthem,Theodiscoveredwhenhewenttopullhimselfaway.Itwasharderthanitshouldhavebeen.Hewasweakerthanheliked.Heindulgedhimself

instead.Heproppedonehandagainstthepillarbesideherandangledhisheadcloser,inhalingherscent.Lettingitmovethroughhim,delectable

memoryandfreshneed.Pastandpresent.Andthenherhandscameup—topushhimaway?—butshedidn’t.Sheonlykeptthemthere,hoveringbetweenthem,asifshewasmoreafraidtotouchhimthanofwhathemightdo.Good,hethought.She

shouldbe.“Efharisto,”hemuttered

againstthetendershellofherear,keepinghimselffrom

tastingherthewayhewantedtodobysheerforceofwillalone.“Truly,Ithankyou,Holly.”Thenhepushedhimself

awayfromherandtookadeepsatisfactioninthewayherchestroseandfell,asifshe’dbeenrunningarace.Tellinghimeverythingheneededtoknowaboutthatheatthatstillswirledbetweenthem.Tellinghimthat

keepinghimselfincheckwasworththenear-painfuldesirethatragedinhimnow.“Forwhat?”Hervoicewas

thickandflatandbreathyatonceandthat,too,wasavictory.“Forallofthis.”Hethrust

hishandsbackinhispockets.“Foryourlies,thenandnow.Forplayingyourlittlegameswithhoneymoonsuitesandyourboutsofsupposed

conscience.Youmakethiseasy.”Heturnedandstartednot

fortheelevatorsbutthefrontdoor.“Whereareyougoing?”Theohadneverpretended

tobeagoodman,sohedidn’twastetimebeatinghimselfupforthedarkthrillthatmovedinhimthen,attheconfusioninhervoicethatevenshecouldn’tfeignso

convincingly.Hestoppedandlookedatheroverhisshoulder,framedbythemarblepillarandthegleamingChatsfieldlobbyallaroundher.Shelookedlost.Trulylost,thistime.Helikedit.Hell,hereveledinit.“Out.”“Out?”Asifshedidn’t

understandtheword.“Idon’twanttohavea

mealwithyou,Holly,”hetoldher,andhemadenoattempttotemperthesteelinhisvoice,ortheharshnesshecouldfeelinhisgaze,andhedidn’tcareifeverylastpersoninthelobbyoverheardhim.“Ididn’twanttohavehalfadrink.You’reonlygoodforonething,andthetruthis,Ihavenoideawhereyou’vebeen,doI?IthinkI’lltakemychancesintheclubs

instead.”Shelookeddazed.“But...”“Ifyoudothesame,I’d

suggestyoudresslessManhattancocktailpartyandmoreIbizapartygirl,”headvisedhersilkily.“OrIdoubtyou’llattractthekindoftouristtradewebothknowyouprefer.”“IwanttomakesureI’m

understandingyou.”Shewaspale,andhelikedthat.He

wantedthistohurt.Helikedthatitdid.Itfeltlikebalance,afterfartoolong.“I’mstandingrighthere,ItoldyouthatourseparationwasbasedonanawfullieItoldfouryearsagoandyou’releavingtogopickupotherwomenatsomenightclub.”AndTheosmiled,enjoying

himselfforthefirsttimesincehissecretaryhadmarchedintohisofficeafewdaysago

withHollyonvideo,wrenchinghimbackintotheircomplicatedandunwelcomepast.Thispart,hecoulddo.This

part,hewassmallandpettyenoughtorevelin.Anditstillwasn’ttheleast

ofwhatshedeservedfromhim.Buthesupposedhe’dfindawaytoacceptthat,too,becausehewasfinishedwiththis.Withher.

“Iam,”hesaid,makingnoattempttokeepthatdarkamusementfromhisvoice,hisface.“Butnoneedtobesoglum,Holly.Ikeeptellingyou.Idon’tgiveatosswhatyoudo.You’rewelcometocomealongandwatch.”

***

Shestoodthereforalongtimeafterheleft,utterly

frozen.Herbackwaspressedhardagainstthemarblecolumnandherheartseemedtoslambackintoherchestwitheverybeat,andshecouldn’tcatchherbreath.Buthedidn’tcomeback.

Justlikefouryearsago,hehadn’tcomeafterher.Hollysupposeditshouldn’t

surpriseher,butitdid.Theohadwaitedforherto

respondandwhenshehadn’t,

whenshe’donlystaredbackathiminthatsameconfuseddazethathadfeltagreatdealasifshe’dturnedtostoneherself,hissmilehaddeepened.Andithadhurtmuch,muchworse.“Suityourself,”he’dsaid

inthatlowvoiceofhis,andthenhe’dlaughedather,mockingandhorrible.Again.Andthenhe’dturnedand

walkedawayfromher.Out

intothestreetandthesoftSpanishnight.IttookHollymuchlonger

thanitshouldhavetoacceptthathereally,truly,hadleftherthere.Whenshedid,shetoldherselfthatwhatshefeltthen—thatgreatheavinessplummetingthroughherandleavingdeep,deepgashesasitcareenedoffherinsides—wasanger.Righteousindignation.She’dspentallof

thistimefeelingterribleforhowshe’dtreatedhimwhen,inreality,hetrulywastheawfulmansomanyofhisbusinessrivalslikedtoclaimhewaswhenhebeatthem.Butbythetimeshemadeit

backtoherhotel,thelovelyHarringtoninBarcelona’shistoricGothicQuarter,she’drunoutofwaystoconvinceherselfthatshewasangryatTheo.Shewasmoreangry

withherself.“Whatdidyouexpect?”

sheaskedherselfasshewalkedtowardthehotel’sfrontdoor,notrealizingshewasspeakingoutlouduntilthedoormanraisedaquizzicalbrowather.Shesmiledtightlyandwalkedinside.TheHarringtonwas

smallerthanTheChatsfield,lesslikeanopulentcathedral

andmorelikeanintimateandelegantlittlechurch,andyetshefeltasgracelesshereasshehadstandingdumblyinTheChatsfield’slobby.ShemighthavefeltinstantlycomfortableinTheHarringtonwhenshe’dcheckedinyesterdayeveninginawaysheneverhadattheglamorousChatsfield,notevenyearsagowithTheo,butevensoshe’dbeenunableto

getthatdamnedhoneymoonsuiteoutofherhead.She’dthoughtthatwassuchacleverthingtodo.AwaytopretendshewaskeepingTheoonedgewhen,really,she’dhopedtheleftoverechoesoftheirtimetheremightsoftenhim.Butofcourse,like

everythingelse,ithadonlymadeallofthisworse.Andnotonlybecauseeven

thethoughtofTheointhatsuiteagainmadeallthememoriesoftheirmonththeretogethersweepoverher,likeastormfrontcomingin,fastandlethalandinfinitelydestructive.Makingherache,moltenandneedyandstillsoalone.Afteralltheseyears,afterplottingherwayintothesameroomwithhim,afterfinallytellinghimthetruth,shewasstillalone.

Shedidn’tknowwhatthatgreatpressurewasthatthreatenedtoexplodeinsideofherthen,rightthereinthehushedlobbyofTheHarrington,butsheknewbetterthantoletittakeheroverinapublicplace.BarcelonamighthavefeltlikeaverylongwayawayfromDallasorevenAthens,butHollyknewthattherewasnowhereonearthtrulysafe

fromthepaparazzi.NotwhenTheowasinvolved—andshestillborehisname,didn’tshe?She’dinsistedonit,tellingherselfitwasanotherwaytopokeathim—butthetruthseemedsoobviousnow.Obviousandpointless.She’dkepthisname

becauseshehadn’twantedtoletgoofhim.Hisnamedoesn’tmakeyou

his,thatlowvoiceinside

remindedher,soundingsomuchlikeherfatheragainthatthegreatsobsinsidealmostfloodedherwhereshestoodinthebrightlobby.Neverdid.Onlyyoucandothat,babygirl,andyouchosetoplaytheserunninggamesinstead.Itonlyoccurredtoher

now,standinginthewreckageofhermarriage,thatherfathermighthave

beenaddressingthedetritusofhisownwhenhe’dsaidthingslikethat.Thathe’dspentallthoseyearswhenitwasjustthetwoofthemtalkingtoHolly’sabsentmother,notreallytoher.She’dspentsomuchtime

aloneandmissingsomeonethatreally,shethoughtnow,alittlewildly,sheshouldhavebeenusedtoit.Sheshouldhavebeengoodatit.

Hollymadeherwayuptoherwell-appointedandcozysuiteandstrippedoffherclothesinthebedroom,throwingherdressacrossthefour-posterbedandthenyankingallthepinsoutofherhair,shakingherheaduntiltheheavyweightofitswirledallaroundher.Andonlythendidshefeelasifshe’dcaughtherbreath—andbeatenbackthatterrible,jaggedthing

insideofherthatstillpressedtoohardandthreatenedtoswampherentirely.Atleastforthemoment.Shecheckedtheslimgold

watchonherwristandsawthatitwasalittlebeforeten-thirty.Sheremindedherselfthatshewasalmostcertainlyjet-lagged,likeeveryothertimeshe’devertakenthelongflighttoEuropefromTexas,andshecalleddowntothe

hotelkitchenforalatedinner.AndblamedtheeventsoftheeveningandherownoutsizereactiontoTheotothetimechangeandthewineshe’ddrunkwhilewaitingforhimtoappear.Tomorrowwillfeelbetter,

shetoldherselffiercely,thewayshehadwhenshewasakidandshe’dworkedsohardtohelpherfathersavetheirbatteredoldranch,aslittleas

ithadbeenworthsaving.Thewayshehadwhenshe’dbeenateenagerandhadfinallyrealizedthathermother,who’dtakenoffwithaminorrodeostarwhenHollywassix,hadnointentionofevercomingbackormakingthingsright.Thewayshehadwhenshewasolderstillandherfatherhadbeeninthehospital,sofrailandyetstillsostubborn,andhe’drefused

totakethemoneyshe’dmade.Thewayshehadinthose

earlydaysaftershe’dleftGreeceandhermarriageandTheobehindandhadthoughtitmightactuallykillher,howmuchithurt.Andifthenextdayhadn’t

actuallybeenanybetter,well,eventuallyadaydawnedthathadbeenslightlymorebearable.AsfarasHolly

couldtellsofar,lifewasallaboutholdingonuntilthatnext,nonterribleday,andsometimesthattookawhile.Whyshouldthisbeany

different?Sheatetheexquisitefood

theywhiskeduptoher,seatedoutonhersmallbalcony,inthemidstofallthemagicofaBarcelonanight.Thelights,theenergy,whichshecouldalmosttaste

intheairaroundher.Sheclosedhereyesandtippedherheadbackandletitallflowintoher.Then,whenshe’dfinishedgorgingherselfonthelocalcuisine,shedrewherselfabathintheluxurious,claw-footedtubandsoakedherselfuntilshewascalmandshriveledinequalmeasure.Itwasaftermidnightwhen

Hollybrushedoutherhair,

rubbedcreamintoherskinandthencrawledintoherbed,confidentshe’ddriftoffatonceandsleeplikealoguntilmorning.Butinsteadshelaythere,

wideawakeandscowlingatherceiling.Theowashere.Inthis

samecity,rightnow.Rightnow.Outinoneoftheclubs,

drippingwithallofthose

beautifulSpanishwomen,andstillasfuriouswithherashe’dbeenfouryearsago.Shecouldn’tstandit.Hollywasupandoutof

thebedbeforesheknewshemeanttomove.Sheransackedthewardrobeshe’dbroughtwithher,pullingonashortskirtandpairingitwithapairofdramaticwedgesthatlaceduparoundhercalvesandmadeherlegslookedibly

long,andthentossingonafilmy,slitherytopsheusuallyonlyworetothebeach.Sherakedherhandsthroughherhairandletitturnintothickwaves,addedsomedramaandmysterytohereyes,andwhenshewasdone,shelookedagreatdealmorelikethehalf-gypsytravelershe’dbeenfourandahalfyearsagothantheelegantmemberofelitesocietyshe’dbeen

pretendingshewassince.Shetoldherselfthatwas

merelyacoincidence.Butdeepinside,downlow

inherbellyandlowerstill,whereshewasstillnothingbutawildheatandallofitforTheothewayitalwayshadbeenandalwayswouldbe,sheknewbetter.Shealwaysknewbetter.

***

Hollyfoundhiminthethirdclubshevisitedand,bythen,itwaswellaftertwointhemorningandBarcelonawasonlyjustgettingstarted.Thisparticularclubwasonalittlestretchwithseveralothersdownnearthewater.She’dpeeredintoseveralofitsscatteredVIProomsbeforesheheardtheunmistakablesoundofhislaughterfrombehindagroupofscantily

cladyounggirls,alldancingsuggestively.Ormaybeshe’dimagined

it,shethoughtafteramoment,lookingaroundthemoodilylitroomandnotseeinganything.NotseeingTheo.TherewereonlybeautifulpeopledancinganotherendlessSpanishnightaway,carefreeandheedless,andtherewasapartofherthatdidn’twanttofindTheo

atall.Apartofherthatwantednothingmorethantomeltintothedriving,soaringmusicandletitcarryherofftowhateverplaceallthesepeopleinhabitedwithsuchapparentease.Somewherethathurtless.Somewherethatpermittednothingtomatteratallsavethemusicthatebbedandcoaxedandslidallaroundthem.Somewhereaseffortlesslybeautifulasthey

allwere...Andthenthesmallcrowd

intheVIProomshifted,andtherehewas.Theo.Hewasstillwearinghis

darksuitandlookedevenbetterallthesehourslater,hishairdisheveledandthatlazy,indulgentlookonhisfacethatsherememberedsowellfromSantorini.Hestoodwithoneperfectshoulderpropped

upagainstthewall,asmallsmileonhislushmouthashewatchedasmoothlygorgeousbrunettedancebeckoninglybeforehim.Theairbetweenthemwas

filledwithsexualtension.Itwashot,intimate.ItwasHolly’snightmare,

andshe’dwalkedstraightintoit.Andthenheglancedup

andsawher,thatdarkgazeof

hisslammingintoher,hardenoughitnearlyknockedheroffherwedges.Hewentstill.Hisface

changedfromsexilyamusedtoharshandstarklyfuriousinaninstant,andHollywantedtoturnonherheelandrunbackacrossthecitytothebedshenevershouldhaveleftinthefirstplace.Soshehadnoideawhereshegatheredupthecouragetowalkstraight

uptohiminstead.Whatdemonitwasthatspurredheron.Easytobeboldwhen

there’snothingtolose,cameherfather’svoiceinherhead,thoughifshewashonest,he’dneverquitetakenhisownadvice.“Lookingforfreshmeat?”

Theoasked,hideously,whenshedrewnearenoughtohearhim.

ButHollyfeltlikedrawingalittlebloodherself,andsosheonlylaughed.She’dcollectallthewoundshecausedandcountthemlater,shetoldherself,whensheknewhowthisended.“Youmighthavetoupdate

yourdefinitionofthewordwhore,”shesaid,andsmiledsweetlyatthebrunettewhenthegirllaunchedherselfatTheoandclungtohisarm

likesomekindofbarnacle.“BecauseIthinkyou’retheonewhofitsthebill,miqueridoesposo.”Thatlast,inwhatlittle

Spanishsheknew,forthebenefitofthegirl.Mydearhusband.

CHAPTERFIVE

THEGIRL,PREDICTABLY,blanchedandletgoofTheo.TheoonlyheldHolly’s

gaze,hisowndarkandfuriousandlitwithakindofwarningshehadnointentionofheeding.Barcelonahadwovenitswayintoherskin,shetoldherself,andshefeltlikethenightitself,alittlebit

recklessandalittlebitseductive,capableofanything.Anditdidn’thelpthat

she’dseenthatlookonhisfaceashegazedatthatotherwoman—thatlookhe’doncetoldherwasonlyhers.Shewasn’ttheonlyonewhohadlied,sheknewnow,withthebenefitofhindsightandalittlemorelifeexperience.ItwasjustthatTheo’slieshad

beenthetypicalkindnessesbetweenlovers,littlesignsofrespectthreadedintopromisesofforever,whileherliehadbeenthenuclearoption.Theescapehatch.“IfIamsuddenlyyour

husband,”Theosaid,thatdarkfurymakinghiseyesgleamandhismouthahardandbeautifullineshelongedtotasteevennow,Godhelpher,“amItoassumethatthis

wild-childoutfitofyoursisformybenefit?Iamfilledwithnostalgia.”Hereachedoverandtookathickwaveofherhairbetweentwofingersandtuggedonitgently,sogently.Itechoedinher,hard,asifitwasatouchagainstherskin.Orthethrustofhisentry.“But,ofcourse,yourabilitytodressincharacterratherprovesmypoint,doesitnot?”

“I’msorry,”shesaidwhenhedroppedthethickstrandsofherhairasifhe’donlythenrealizedhewastouchingher,andshedidn’ttryveryhardtoinjectanythingactuallyapologeticintohervoice.“DidIruinyourbignightoutwithmyinconvenientappearance?”“Mynight?No.”Hisvoice

wasdarkanditmovedoverherliketheairaroundthem,

likethemusic.Aninsistentseductionthatcalledtothingsinhershe’dlongsinceforgottenwerethere.“Mylife,ontheotherhand?Verylikely.”“Everyoneneedsatalent,”

shereplied,asiftheywereflirtingwitheachother.Asiftherereallywasnothingintheworldbutthesneakytiltandrollofthebeatandthatlookonhisface,sonarrow

andintent.“What’syours,Theo?AsidefromtalkingeverysinglewomaninEuropeintoyourbed,thatis—whichIthoughtyou’dclaimedyou’doutgrown?”“Youmustbekidding.Or

youreallyareinsane.Isthatit?”“It’sokay.”Shetiltedher

chinupandonlythenrealizedshewastooclosetohimandthatthethingsthatswirled

insideofherweren’tthemusicorthecrowdorevenadrenaline.Itwasalltheirhistory.Itwasthesameold,incapacitatingneed,andtonightitmadeherasfuriousashelookedtobeatthemoment.Shefeltblindwithit,ripeandneartobursting.“I’msurethatwasoneoftheliesyoutold,thatyou’vequitenaturallyoverlookedinallyourdeepandabiding

nastyjudgmentsofme.”Heletoutasoundthatwas

fartooharshtobealaugh,andthenhishandwasonherarm,andsomethinginherthrilledtothatnomatterhowdangerousitwas.Howoutofcontrolallofthiswas.Shedidn’tcarethatit

wasn’taparticularlykindtouch,thathetookherandthenpropelledheracrossthecrowdedspaceasifhemight

verywellthrowheroutthedoor—andshelethimbecauseshecouldn’tseemtodoanythingbutacquiescewhenhetouchedher,asalways.Shedidn’tcarethatnothinggoodcouldcomeofthisandthatshereally,truly,shouldhavestayedlockedawayinherroomatTheHarrington,catchinguponhersleep,thebettertodealwithhimagaincome

morning.Theosteeredherintoanalcoveshewouldn’thaveknownwasthereanddidn’twanttoquestionwhyorhowhedid,pushingherinsideandkickingthedoorshutbehindhimwithaloudthunk.Theywereupinasmall

glassed-inboothabovethemaindancefloor,anditwasheavingdownthere.Crowdedandwildandsomehow

gloriousinallitshedonisticexcess.Hollycouldfeelthebassthumpingagainsttheglassinfrontofher,takingoverthekickofherheartandthatpulsingthingbetweenherlegs,andthenTheowasthere,righttherebehindher,pressingagainstherbackinasilentthreat.Ormaybethiswasmerely

adarkandheadysortofpromise,notathreatatall.

Eitherway,shefoundshecouldn’tbreathe.Shedidn’twanttobreathe.“Isthatwhyyoucame

here?”hegrowledather,intoher,soitshookherthesamewaythedeeprollofthebassmovedtheglass.Ormaybethatwasthehardexpanseofhischest,hisabdomen,pressedagainsttheflimsybarrierofherlightshirt,makingherskinfeelpinkand

hotbeneathit.“Jealousyafteralltheseyears?Ordidyouwanttotakeherplace,perhaps?”“Idoubtyouknowher

name.”“Iknewyours.Igaveyou

mine.”Anothergrowl,andhewas

nothingbutheatandstrength,plasteredhotagainstthelengthofherspine.Hishandswereathersides,tracingher

shapeasifhestillhadthatright,andHollyfoundherpalmsflatagainsttheglassbeforeher,asifshecouldholdontothatwild,seductivebeat.Ortohim.Itallfeltinevitableandrecklessatonce,andshecouldn’tseemtodowhatsheknewsheshould,whatself-preservationdemandedsheshould.Thetruthwas,shedidn’t

wanttostophim.“Whatgooddidthatever

do?”Theomuttered.Andthenhishotmouth

wasagainstthesideofherneck,asinsistentasthemusic,asdeliriousandasseductive,andHollysimplycatapultedoffthesideoftheearththewayshealwayshad,everysingletimehe’dtouchedher.Herbodywasstillhis,alwaysandonlyhis.

Itfellapartforhim.Shedid,aseasilyasifithadbeenmomentssincehe’dlasthadhistalented,inventivehandsonherinsteadoflong,lonelyyears.Herbreastsswelledandachedashishandsmovedunerringlybeneathherairyshirt,sleekagainsttheskinofherbelly,thenmovinguptoholdthem,hernippleshardpointsagainsthispalms.Heleftonehandthere,

teasingthatjuttingpeakwithcasualmastery,torturinghersweetly,whilehisotherhandtraveledsouth.Andallthewhilehetastedher,fromthattreacheroussweetspotbehindhereartohershoulderandback,andshedidnothingbutlethim.Andexultinhim.Longfor

him,asiftherehadneverbeenanythingbetweenthembutthis.Simpleand

undeniable.Overwhelmingandperfect.Thetruthoftheminthat

wild,impossiblefire,scaldingher,makingherburnbrightandhotandlong.“Youarestillsohotfor

me,”hesaidatherearashishandslippedbeneathherskirtandthenheldherheatinhishand,justheldherthere,completelyhis.Herbackarchedofitsownaccord,

pressingherbreastaboveandhercorebelowdeeperintohiscleverhands,herheadfallingbackagainsthishardshoulder.“WillyoubeaswetasIremember,Holly?Alltheseyearslater?Aswildandreadyformenomatterwhereorwhenorhow?”Hedidn’twaitforherto

answer.Didheknowshecouldn’tspeak?Thathervoicewaslostsomewherein

themusic,thedark,thefieryspellhe’dsuspendedthemin?Thatallshecoulddowasshakeasheheldheronthatdeliciousedge?Sheimaginedhedid.Of

coursehedid.Theomerelyshiftedandlet

hisfingersstrokeupundertheedgeofherpanties,ateasinghintofwildfire,andthenhethrustthemdeep—sodeep,soperfectlydeep—into

hermoltenheat.Itwaslikeburstinginto

flame.Likecombusting.Andhethrustagainwithhistwofingersdeepintoher,thatotherhandhardagainsthernippleandhishotmouthonherneck,anditwasasifthatsamecometsherememberedsowellstreakedfromtheheavensstraightintoher.Andshecameapart.Thateasilyandthat

disastrously,thewayshealwayshad.Shebuckedagainsthim.Shecalledouthisname.Sheforgotherselfcompletely.Andwhenshewentlimpinhisarms,heheldherthere,hisbighandstillcuppingherheatandhisfingersstilldeepwithinher,andwaitedforhertobreatheagain.“Youcertainlyseemedto

enjoythat,Holly,”hesaid,

coolandharshanddirectlyintoherearsotherecouldbenomistakinghisbittertone,thehardsliceofitdeepintoher.“Isitthesameforallyourmarks?Isitagameyouplayorareyoutrulythateasy?”Shefeltcoldthen,

instantly,assheimaginedwashisintention.Sheshovedagainsthimtogetaway,theshockingintensityofher

climaxshiftingintoakindofsuffocatinghorrorthatbeatather.Anditwasaimedmostlyatherself,sheknew.Hollyfeltherselftipovertowardtearsasshepulledherclothingbackintoplaceandturnedtofacehim,thatthrobbingglassatherback.Theodarkandvengefulbeforeher.Somehow,sheblinkedthetearsaway.Butshecouldn’tmake

Theodisappearthateasily.Muchlesstheirpast.Itwasaverysmallalcove

andhedidn’tmove.Hewastoobiganddevastatinglylethalbesides,andhemerelywatchedherforathunderingsortofmoment,thenanother,nothingtheleastbitsoftorapologeticonhisbeautiful,sternface.Instead,heheldhergazeasheraisedhishandandlickedherfromhisown

fingers.Sheshouldn’tfeelthatlike

ashudderingheat.Sheshouldbeappalled.Shetoldherselfshewas,butnothingwithTheowasthateasy.Nothingeverhadbeen,especiallynotherreactiontohim.Herbodydidn’tcarewhathesaid.Itsimplyhungeredforhimthewayitalwayshad.Evenmorenow.“Stopit.”

Heignoredher.“Youstilldon’ttastelike

theliarwebothknowyouare,”hetoldher,deliberateandeven,hisdarkgazeneverwaveringandthatgleaming,furiousthingkeepingherfrozenwhereshestood,asifhe’dnailedherfeettothefloor.“It’slikemagic.”“Itoldyou,”shemanaged

tosay,overthatpounding,joltingthinginsideherchest

sheunderstoodwasherheart,“Inevercheatedonyou.Never.Iliedabouttakingalover.Whatwillittaketoprovethattoyou?”Herolledhiseyesandthat

wastoomuch.Thatandthefireshecouldstillfeelinsideofher,charringher,changingher.Shefeltthetearsspilloverandhatedherselfforthat.Shefeltrawandbroken,andtheworstpartwas,she

couldstillfeelhistouch,couldstillfeeltheleftoversensationasifhe’dbrandedhersomehowwithhishandsandhismouth.Asifasingleclimaxcouldneverbeenoughtosoothethishungerforhim.Nothinghadeverbeen

enough.Thathadbeentheproblem.“I’mtellingyouthetruth!”

shehurledathim.Shecouldfeeltheblastof

histemper,athick,blackthing,thoughhedidn’tmoveamuscle.Thenhedid,andsheheardherselfmakeasmalllittlenoiseofpanicorlongingorbothwhenhemovedtowardher,takingherchininhishandandpullingherfacetowardhis,closeenoughtokiss.Thoughsheknew,

somehow,thatkissingherwasthelastthinghewas

abouttodo.“Ibelievedyou,Holly,”he

gratedather,andhisfurywasdifferent,suddenly.Itlookedalittletoomuchlikegrief.Itscaredher.“Backthen.Andwhy,Iaskedmyself,shouldIholdmyweddingvowssacredwhenyouhadprofanedthemasmanytimesasyoucould?Nodoubtfarmorethanyou’ddaredadmit?”

“I’mtryingtotellyou,Ididn’t...”“Ihopethisisnothing

morethananotheroneofthosesickgamesofyoursthatnooneeverwins.”Hisvoicewasathingofstone,amonolith,anditcrushedher.“Becauseknowthis.Onceyourevealedyourselftobefaithless,Isawnoreasontoadheretotheveryvowsyou’dthrowninmyface.”

Shedidn’twanttounderstandhim.Sherefusedtoletherself,nomatterthatharshcasttohismouth,thetoo-stillwayhestood.Shetoldherselfhewastheonewhowasn’tcomprehendingher,evenassomethingdevastatinglyicybegantoemanatefrominsideofher.Fromeveryplacehe’dtouchedher.Fromthatsuddenlyhollow

placeinsideherchest.“Theo.”Shewas

whispering.“Ineverbrokeourvows.Notlikethat.”Hisdarkgazewentbleak,

thenuncompromising.Itwassoblackithurt.Buthedidn’tlookaway.If

anything,hestoodtaller.“Butunfortunately,Holly,Ididn’tknowthat.SoIdid.”

***

Whensheshovedpasthim,hurtlingherselfbackthroughthedoorandoutintothecrowdagain,Theolethergo.Hetoldhimselfhewanted

hertogo,andhedid.Ofcoursehedid.Hehadn’twantedtoseeheragaininthefirstplace—thishadallbeenheridea,herthreat,herexecution.Letherrunaway.Letherdowhateverthehellshewanted.Letherdisappear

backintotheclub,backintohernew,separatelifethatherefusedtobelievehadreallybeensomeexerciseinborn-againchastitythesamewayhewouldnotacceptthatshe’dliedbackontheislandfouryearsago.Lethergorightbackwhereverthehellshe’dcomefromthistimewithhernewsetofpainful,damagingfalsehoodsandherbig,soft,hurteyeshe

couldn’tseemtogetoutofhishead.Thoseeyes.Likebroken

blue.Andthistime,he’ddonethebreaking.Therewasnoearthly

reasonheshouldbelieveher,heremindedhimselfashescowleddownatthemaindancefloorbutsawonlyHolly’stwistedfaceandhertearsmakingtracksdownhercheeks.Thisentirenightwas

ashowshe’ddecidedtostageforherownreasons,nothingmore,completewiththeflowerpetalsonthefloorofhissuiteandthatridiculoussee-throughthingshe’dwornheretonightthathadmadehimnothingshortofmurderousthemomenthe’dseenit.Itwasanothertasteofherbrandofmaritaltheaterandhedidn’tbelieveawordofit,anyway.Notone

damnedwordthatpassedthosedeceitfullipsofhers.Buthertastewasinhis

mouth,sweetandasintoxicatingasever.Itfeltasiftherewassomekindofgreatstonepressingdownintohimwherehestood,andhetoldhimselfhedidn’twanttoknowwhatitwasorwhy.Theounderstoodthathe’d

miscalculated.Itwasn’tapleasantfeeling.Heshould

neverhavetouchedher.Heshouldneverhaveallowedhimselftorelearnthefactthatthememoryofherwasbutapaleandboringsubstitutefortherealthing.Hersweet,hot,yieldingflesh.Thescentofher,softandfemale,spiceandsweetatonce.Thecriesshemadeasshecameapartinhishand.Theomutteredsomething

viciousandcrudeinGreek,

thenheslammedhisfistagainstthewallofthealcove.Once.Hethoughtofherbright

eyes,floodedwiththosetearsthathadtobefakebutcertainlyhadn’tlookedit.Thatstricken,horrifiedlookonherfacehe’dhavethoughtcouldn’tbefeigned,notevenbyanactressasaccomplishedasshewas.Twice.“Vlakas,”hegrowledat

himselfbecausehewasastupidbastard,alwaysandeverwherethiswomanwasconcerned,andthenhewentafterher.Hetoldhimselfitwasself-

preservation,nothingelse.Heconvincedhimselfofthatashepushedhiswaythroughtheobliviouscrowdandoutintothestreet,thesoftSpanishairfeelingthickaroundhim,anunwelcome

echoofherbodyslumpedagainsthis.Itwouldn’tdotolethiserrantwifecareenoffintodangerafteranemotionalscenewithhim—howwouldthatlookinthetabloids?Aslongassheborehisname,helecturedhimself,sheremainedhisresponsibility.He’dpracticallygoneover

allpious—notthebestfitforamanofhisnature,hecouldadmit—whenhecaughta

movementdownthestreetoutofthecornerofhiseye.Asuggestionofthecurveofherhip,amerehintofherusualsweetgaitthathewouldknowanywhere,movingfrombeneaththestreetlampsintothebeckoningshadows.Theocaughtuptoheras

shestartedtowardthesand,asifheadedforthedarkwatersofthebaybeyond.“Holly,stop,”heordered

herashecameupbehindher,andsomethingseemedtorippleoverheratthesoundofhisvoice.Inhim,too,butheignoredthatpart.Hehadnochoicebutto

ignoreit.Itwasthatorgomad.Holly’sheadwasbent,her

hairawildmessaroundhershouldersinawayhehadn’tseeninyears,andTheowassocaughtbythethickfallof

itthathealmostmissedthewayherhandswereclenchedintotightballsathersides.Butshestoppedwalkingandthenstoodthereswayingslightly,almostasifshereallywasthatobedient,andTheocouldn’ttellwhichoneofthemhehatedmoreinthatinstant.Hollyforcausingthismessinthefirstplace.Orhimself,asever,forremainingsodamned

susceptibletoher.Evennow.EvenonadarkstreetinBarcelona,wherehestilldidn’tknowwhattobelieve.Muchlesshowtofeel.He

thrustthataside—becausehewasverymuchafraidheknewhowhefeltandherefused,hedamnwellrefused,toindulgeit.“Areyouplanningtofling

yourselfintothesea?”Hesoundedflippantand

aggressiveatonce,buthecouldn’tseemtostophimself.Hishandachedfaintlyfromitshardcontactwiththewallintheclubandherefusedtolooktoocloselyatthethingsricochetingthroughhim,atthethingsitmightmeanifshe’dactuallytoldhimthetruth,forachange.Ifshereally,truly,hadn’tbetrayedhimfouryearsago—atleast,notwithherbody.“That

seemsundulyhistrionic.Thepaperswouldhaveafieldday.”“Whatdoyoucare?”she

asked,hervoicethick,asifshe’dbeenscreamingintothenightbeforehe’dfoundher,andhefilledupwithadangerouskindofrageattheideathathe’dsomehowcausedherpain.Asifshehadanyrightto

feelanythinghere.

Hewantedtopokeatheruntilshemadesensetohimagain,untilshedroppedthislatestactandreturnedtoform.Hewantedtorevealher,somehow,onthisdarksidestreetmerestepsfromallofBarcelona’slate-nightclubmagic.Yetallhecouldseemtosummonwasacasualcrueltythatdidnothingtotakethetasteofherawayandevenlesstomovethatgreat,

hulkingstoneofathinghecouldstillfeelpressingdownonhim,crushinghim.God,hehatedthis.He’d

feltindifferentforafewmomentsbackinTheChatsfield’slobby,andthathadfeltlikearelief.Likefreedom.Likesomekindofresurrection,butithadn’tlasted.He’dalreadybeenboredandfuriousagainwhenhe’dlookedupandseen

HollystandingthereinthatVIProom.Thiswasnothingnew,thiscut-to-shreds,darkandtormentedthinginhim.Buthehateditallthesame.Andthensheturned

aroundtofacehim,andtheworldseemedtoslipabitbeneathhisfeet,rockinghim.Shelookedwrecked.Utterlydestroyed.AndTheofeltperilouslyuneven,suddenly,scrapedrawandhollow,

becauseheknewexactlywhatshewasfeeling.He’dfeltexactlywhatshewasfeeling.Hecouldseeitrightthere

onherfaceandshe,byGod,didn’tdeservetofeelthatway.“Don’tyoudarelookatme

likethat.”Therewasnothingflippantabouthimthen.Itwasallaggression,allfury,andhemadenoattemptto

softenit.Hecouldfeelitsurginginhim,makinghimfeelsomethingagooddeallikedrunk.“Youdidthis,Holly.Notme.”Herefusedtofeelguilt.He

refused.Butheunderstoodthatthethingthatpressedintohimwasthat,andmore.Muchmoreandmuchworsebesides,andhisrefusaldidn’tseemtomattermuch.Itwasdarkandfetidanditwasn’t

listeningtohim,aterriblecoilofbitternessandregretandloss,andhertasteinhismouthonlymadeitworse.Andhestillcouldn’tseem

tofindhisfeetbeneathhim.“Youwinagain,Theo.”

Shesoundeddifferent.Notthecool,brittlequeenofthecharitycircuit.Nottheopenandtoo-brightgirlhe’dmarried.Weary,hemighthavesaid.Broken,finally.

“You’vehurtmeworse,atlast.Hooray.Doyouwantmetocongratulateyou?”“Whatdidyouthinkwould

happen?”Heblazeditather,andhedidn’tcare,forthefirsttimeinyears,ifanyonewaswatching.Listening.Hedidn’tconcernhimselfwithwhetherornotthisentireconversationwouldshowuponthefrontpageofsomesleazytabloidandrevealall

oftheirdirtylaundrytotheworld.Hedidn’tcareaboutanythingbutshiftingthatthingoffhim,becauseherefusedtoacceptthatitwasguilt.Herefusedtoletitin.Thatwouldmeanbelieving

her.“Ihaven’taccusedyouof

anything,Theo.”Butherwordswerelikebulletsandhefeltthempunchintohim,piercinghisskinand

burrowingdeep.“Ihaven’tcalledyouawhoreormyselfamark.Ihaven’tsaidadamnedthing.”Herefusedtobelieveher.

Thiswasjustanotheroneofhergames,surely.Thenwhyareyououthere,arguingaboutit?asmallvoiceaskedreasonablyenoughinsideofhim.Ifyoureallybelievedthiswasanotherlie,whywouldyoucareenoughto

followherhere?Theoscowledatherasif

she’dbeentheonetosayit.“Ifthesanctityofourmarriagevowswasimportanttoyou,perhapsyoushouldn’thavegonetosuchlengthstoconvincemeotherwise.”“Whatlengthsareyou

talkingabout?”shedemanded,surprisinghimwiththeflashoftemperinhereyes,thecrackofitinher

voice.“IsaidI’ddoneitandyoubelievedmeinstantly.Instantly.Youtooknoconvincingatall.Itwasalmostasifmybetrayalwasaforegoneconclusion.”“Ah,yes.Revisionist

history.Myfavorite.”Sheignoredhisharshtone,

thoughhertriangularchinedgedupanotch,andthatsametemperflashedagain,brighter,inherprettygaze.

“IwasavirginwhenImetyou.I’dmanagedtomakeitmorethantwentyyearswithoutsleepingwithanyonebutyou.YetyoufounditperfectlyreasonablethatsixmonthslaterI’dhadablisteringone-nightstandwithsomeoneelsewhosenameIdidn’tevenbothertolearn.”“Becauseyoutoldmeyou

had,”hebitout,that

heavinessinsidehimstartingtospreadoutwider,pressdownharder,andhewouldn’tletit.Hewouldn’t.“Iwasn’tsomejealousmaniac,bristlingwithaccusationseverytimeyouwalkeddownastreet.Itneverwouldhaveoccurredtomethatyou’dcheatonme.”“Iknow.”Hervoicewasa

terriblethingthen,judgmentandpainandsomethinghe

didn’twanttorecognize,butthelookinherblueeyeswasworse.Muchworse.“BecauseyouandIwereinseparableandinloveandwespentmostofourtimeinbed.Still,youbelieved,withoutquestionanddespiteeverythingyouknewaboutme,thatIhadthetimeandtheenergytonipdowntoatouristbarandhaveaquickieinanalleywaywithsome

stranger.”“Becauseyoutoldmeyou

had.”Hedidn’trecognizehis

ownvoiceandsheshookasifithadbeenarollofthunderinstead,andhecouldn’ttellwhichoneofthemwasthestormorwhereitwascomingfrom,onlythathehadnoideahowtoescapeit.“Imustbetheworld’sbest

liar,”shewhispered,andher

eyeswerenearlyblackwithtorment.Torment,damnher,andtherewasnoescapingthatheavyweightthen.Itcrushedhim.Itflattenedhim.“TofoolamanasjadedandcynicalasyouwerewhenImetyou.Thenagain,perhapsyouwantedtobelievetheworstofme.Perhapsthatwaswhatmadeitsoeasytoconvinceyou.”Shelaughed,anditmadeeverythingworse.

“BelieveI’mawhoreandwhatdoesitmatterifyouare,too?Yougettoslipbackintoyouroldwayswithoutasecondthought.”“Don’tyouputthison

me,”hegratedather,scarcelyawarethathe’dmovedtowardher,orthathishandswereonhershouldersagain,pullingheruponhertoesandmuchclosertohimthanwaswise,sothather

warmvanillaandfaintlyspicyscentsurroundedhim.“Youliedtomeofyourownvolition,Holly.Wasthereaguntoyourhead?Wasthereforceinvolved?Wastheresomevillainlurkingintheshadowswhoforcedyoutoruinourmarriageandrun?”“Novillain,”shethrew

backathim.“Justahusbandwhocouldn’twaittogethisownback.”

Sheshruggedoutofhisholdandhelethergobecausethatwasthesmartercourse,notbecausehewantedtodoit.Hispalmsfeltburnedbytheheatofhersoftskinevenaftershemoved.Shestaggeredbackastep,lookingfaintlydazed.Thenherblueeyesnarrowedonhim.“Howlongdidyouwaitto

startsleepingaroundagain,

outofcuriosity?”sheasked,hervoiceascrispashergazewaswild.“Fiveminutes?OrdidyouwaitawholenightafterIleft,outofrespect?”

CHAPTERSIX

“ILOVEDYOU,”heseethedather,refusingtoanswerher,becausethiswasthecruxofit.Thiswasthepoint,andshewastwistingitanddistortinghimintheprocess.“Andyoudestroyedme.”“Ifonlythatweretrue,

Theo,”Hollywhispered,andhedidn’tknowwhichshe

meant,thathe’dlovedherorthatshe’ddestroyedhim.Both.“Butthatwasjustwhatwetoldourselves,wasn’tit?I’dhavetohavereallyknownyoufirst,andyoume.”Shemadeahollowsortofnoise.“AndIthinkwebothknowthatneverhappened.”Shestaggeredbackastep,

thenanother,wrappingherarmsaroundherselfasifshewascoldwhentheairwas

warmallaroundthem.Andsomehowallofthatblackandterriblefurysimplydrainedfromhimthen.Notgone,hethoughtasheeyedher,butbanked.Hefeltnothingsomuchastired,andasruinedashe’dfeltfouryearsagowhenhe’dbelievedshe’dbetrayedhim.Andworsethanallofthat,

sad.Itwasthenheunderstood

thathedid,infact,believehernow.Despitewhatthatmadehim.Despiteallthethingsthatmadehim,thathe’dpromisedhimselfhe’dneverbecome.Theoshovedahandthroughhishairandtriedtoforceairintohislungs,andHollytookanotherstepawayfromhim,lookingoverhershouldertowardthelightsofthecity,asifshecouldwillherselfsomewhere,

anywhere,else.Anywherebuthere,stuck

inthismiserythey’dmade,andforthelifeofhim,Theostilldidn’tknowwhy.“Willyourunnow?”he

askedher,hisvoiceassoftasthenight,andasdark.Inkyandlethal.“I...”Butshedidn’tfinish.SoTheodid.“Thatiswhatyoudo,isit

not?”Hedidn’tsoundlike

himself.Butthen,hewasn’thimself,washe?Hewasthecreatureshe’dmadehim.Amanlikehisownfather,thekindofmanwholinedupthepromiseshemadeinwhatevershiftingorderofimportancehechoseandthenignoredtherestwhentheybecameinconvenient.Hisownworstnightmare,inotherwords.HefocusedonHollyinstead.“Whenitishard,

whenitisintense,youmakeexcusesoryoulie,andthenyourun,andyouleavenothingbutthiswreckagebehindyou.”Heshrugged.“Whyshouldthisbeanydifferent?”

***

Thatlastpartwasalmosttheworst.Almost.Hollyfelthalf-dead—or

maybesheonlywishedshedid.Maybesheonlywishedshecouldretreatintosomethingthatmuchlikeoblivion,becausethatwouldmakethiseasier,surely.“I’mnotrunning

anywhere,”shetoldhimfiercely.Butshehadtolockherkneestokeepfrommovingbackevenfarther,awayfromthatlookonhisface,anywhereatallbuthere

withhim.Andshehatedthefactthathecouldreadhersowellwhenitturnedoutshe’dbeensoterriblywrongabouthim.Itmadeherfeelvulnerable.Ormorevulnerable,

anyway.Andforwhatfeltlike

forever,theysimplystoodthere.Themusicfromtheclubsbehindthemwasawildsmearofsoundthroughthe

darkness,bassanddrumandeeriemelodiesdistortedbythewater.Andtherewasnothingbuttheseainfrontofthem,andyettheystoodthereasiftheywereonoppositesidesofit.“Howmany?”Hollyasked.

Itwassick.Sheknewthat.Butshecouldn’tseemtohelpherself.Andshecouldn’tseemtostop,either.“Howmanywomendidyousleep

with?Howmanytimesdidyoupaymebackformybetrayal?”“I’mnotgoingtoanswer

that.”Hisvoicewasadarkthrobintothenight,andshedidn’tknowhowhecoulddothat—howhecouldsoundsodangerousandfuriousandloftyatonce.“Youdonotgettoclaimanymoralhighgroundinthis,Holly.Youarenotthewrongedparty.”

“ButIamthefaithfulparty,itturnsout.”Heletoutalow,male

growlthatmovedinsideofher,halfheatandhalfaccusation.“Youcannothaveitboth

ways.Youleftme.Youthrewyouraffairinmyfacewhetheritwastrueornot,andthenyouleft.Thatisnotfaithful,byanydefinition.”“Howaboutthedefinition

thatinvolvessexwithotherpeople?HowamIdoingwiththatone,Theo?”Heshifted,andshehadthe

impressionhewasholdinghimselfback,butbarely.“Whatdidyouthinkwould

happen?WasImeanttosuspendmyselfinpointlesssainthood,awaitingthismomentIhadnoreasontobelievewouldevercome?”Heletoutascrapeof

somethingtoopainfultobelaughter,anditmadeHollyfeelhollowandruinedatonce.“Youcannotbesonaive.”Sheunderstoodshewasn’t

beingfair.Thatnoneofthiswasfairandthat,worse,she’dputallofthisinmotionherselfwhenshe’dtoldthatfirstlie.Butshecouldn’tseemtostopherself.“Youneverwanteda

divorce,”shesaidhelplesslyafteramoment,whenthebuzzinginherearsstoppedmakingherfeeldizzy.“IsupposeIthought...”Sheshouldn’thavesaid

that,andHollywasn’tsurprisedwhenheseemedtoreboundintoagreaterragerighttherebeforeher,hisdarkfacetautandfurious,hiseyesblazing.“Thatthiswassomekind

ofsickflirtationacrosswholeyears?”Hisvoicewasscathing.“ThateventhoughIbelievedthatyou’dcuckoldedme,Istillhopedtowinyoubackwithopenaccesstomybankaccountandmyotherwisecompleteandtotalindifference?”“You’retheonewho

taughtmehowtoplaythesegames,Theo!”shehurledathimwildly,andshedidn’t

haveitinhertoworryaboutwhatwasfair.Maybeitwasthatwordhe’dused:indifference.Becausethatwaswhatshe’dseeninthelobbyofTheChatsfield,andthatwastheendofeverything.Sheknewthat.“Youcouldhavecomeaftermebutyouchosetothrowmoneyatmeinstead.Don’tyoudarestandhereandaccusemeofruiningour

marriagewhenyoudidnothingtosaveit.WhenyounodoubtrejoicedthemomentIleft!”“Enough.”She’dneverheardthattone

fromhimbefore.Abruptandpowerful,remindingherwhohe’dbecomeinthesepastyears.Theheightshe’dclimbedinhisfather’scompanyandhowliketheoldmanhe’dbecomealongthe

way.Itwasonlythensherealizedshewasshakingagain,andnotfromthetemperature.Sherubbedherhandsupanddownherownarmsandhismouthtightened.“Theo...”ButHollydidn’tknow

whatshemeanttosayanditdidn’tmatter,becausehewasalreadyshakinghishead.“Isaidenough.”Heclosed

thedistancebetweenthem

andtookholdofherarm,andsheautomaticallypulledagainstit,lettingoutasurprisedsortofsoundwhenhisfingersonlytightened.“Walkorbedragged,agapimou.”Itwasnearlyasnarl,andshefeltitlikeaslap.Orperhapsakick.“InthemoodIaminrightnow,Idonotmuchcarewhich.”Hollywalked.Theokeptatightholdof

her,andshetoldherselfitdidn’tmatter.Itdidn’tmakeadifferencethathehadputthosebeautiful,gorgeoushandsofhisoncountlessotherwomen,possiblyeventonightbeforeshe’dfoundhim.Thatheknewaboutplaceslikethatalcovebecausehe’dusedthem,obviously,andnotonlywithher.Thatmadeherfeelsick,it

wastrue.Andyetthepitinherstomachthatyawnedopenwiderwitheverystepwasn’taboutthat,notreally.Thiswasherfault.No

matterwhatshethrewathim,sheknewthat.Shehaddonethis,nooneelse.Shehadrememberedsovividlywhathermother’sdeparturehaddonetoherfather,howithadbrokenhimbutmadehimunwillingtogoafterherinall

theyearsthatfollowedoutonthatlonelylittleranch,andshe’dusedit.She’dclaimedthesamesinandgottenthesamereactioninresponse.She’ddonethis.Butknowingthatonly

seemedtomakethingsworse.Ormaybeitjustmadeherhateherself.Shecouldhardlytellthedifferenceanylonger,andhisfingerswrappedtightaroundherupperarmdidn’t

help.“Icantakeataxi,”shetold

himwhensherealizedTheowasstridingtowardhiscarandtheuniformeddriverwhobeckonedfromaspotdownthestreet,butnearlyswallowedherowntonguewhenheturnedasavageglareuponher.Itseemedsmartertogetin

thecar.Andthentotellhisdriverwhereshewasstaying

whenasked,becausethatwouldbefasterthanfightingaboutitortryingtoconcealit.“Theo,”shestartedagain

whenthecarglidedintotraffic,“Iwanttotryto...”“MymotherdiedwhenI

wasonlytwelve,”hetoldherinthatabruptwaythatmadeherthinkofthatlookhe’dturnedonher,cuttingheroff.Hesatbesideherbuthe

mighthavebeenworldsaway,thatfinebodyofhistautandvisiblyfuriousbeneathhiselegantclothes,hiselbowproppedupagainstthefarwindow.Hestaredoutofit,outtowardthedeliriousexplosionofthecityandallitsfantasticalstructuresasifshewasn’tthere.ButHollydidn’tmakethemistakeofthinkinghewasspeakingtohimself.

“Iknow,”shesaidquietly.“I’msorry.”“Itistheproperthingto

murmur,asifitwasatragedy,oramistake,butthetruthisthatshetooktoomanypillswithfartoomuchalcoholandIbelieveitmusthavebeenagreatrelieftohertofinallyslipoffintoeternity.”Hollyfeltrippedwide-

open.“Ihadnoidea.”

“Myfathertoldeveryoneshehadlostastrugglewithasuddenandviolentillness,andIsuppose,insomeway,thisisalsothetruth,”Theosaidinthatsamelow,pointedway,asifhecouldhavebeentalkingofhisshippingconcernsaseasilyastheseprivatefamilythingsHollyhadneverheardevenawhisperofbefore.Hepausedforsolongshe

thoughthewasfinished,andwonderedwhyshetrembled,whyevenherbonesseemedtoshake,butthenheturnedhisheadtolookatherinsteadanditpinnedhertoherseat.“Butanother,more

pertinenttruthisthatmyfather’saffairswerenotonlylegionbutcommonknowledge.Everypieceofjewelryhegavemymotherwasabribe,anapology,

anotheryoungwoman’sbodyhe’dtakenashisdue.Thisbrokeher,jewelbyjewelandloverbylover,andheknewit.Butheneverstopped.Andshedrapedherselfineachandeveryoneofthem,everybaublethatproclaimedmyfather’sguiltandcarelessness,whenshekilledherselftoescapehisendlessstreamofbetrayals.”Hollycouldn’tmove.The

citylightsplayedoverherface,bathingthembothinintermittentlightasthecarnavigatedthestreets,butallshecouldseewasTheoandthatterriblegleaminhisdarkgaze,thatgrimlineofhismouth.Shewhisperedhisname,or

shethoughtshedid,andheignoredit,anyway.“Andtonight,”hesaid

quietly,withferocious

precision,“youhavemademeexactlylikehim.”Hollycouldn’tbreathe.“I

thoughtyouadmiredhimnow.Ithoughteverythinghadchangedbetweenyou.”Theo’steethbaredin

somethingfartoostarktobeasmile,andsheknewhecouldseeexactlywhatkindofcowardshewas,toavoidthepointofwhathe’dtoldher.Butshecouldhardlytake

itin.Shewasn’tsureshecouldbearit.“Isaidhewasatoughman.

Anexcellentbusinessman.”Theo’sdarkgazehurtasitmovedoverher,Hollyrealized.Shewashalf-afraiditwouldleavescars,tofitrightinwithalltherestsheborefromtheirtimetogether.Nottomentiontheonesshe’dcaused.“Ineversaidhewasagoodone.”

Andtheysatinstrainedsilence,anotherwoundthatwouldleaveitsmark,fortheremainderoftheride.“Iwillwalkyoutoyour

door,”hetoldherinthatharshwayofhiswhenthecarpulleduptothetall,gleamingdoorsofTheHarrington,toweringoverthenarrow,medievalstreet.Hedidn’tglanceatherashesaidit.Hollyswallowed,hard.“I

can’tthinkofanythinglessnecessarythanthat.”Shecouldsimplygoback

toDallasandresumeherlonely,graylife,shethought.Thiswasaterriblemistake,thatmuchwasclear,butshecouldremedyit.Shecouldtakethefirstflightoutinthemorning.Shecouldstopplayingstupidgameswithhismoney,hersillyandchildishattemptstogainhisattention,

andmoveonwithherlife,suchasitwas.Allshehadtodowasleave.“Ididn’taskyouforyour

permission,Holly.”“Whynotpretendnoneof

thiseverhappened?”shesuggested,ignoringhistoneandpretendingthateverythingelsethathadgoneontonightwasn’tcrowdingoutherabilitytothinkclearly.“We’lldivorceand

goonourmerryway.Wecanstartbyyounotwalkingmeinsidelikethisissomesickparodyofagooddate.”“Youcameonmyhandnot

anhourago,”Theoretortedicily,andturnedthattoo-blackgazeonheragain,makingherfeelstillandsmall.“Yetanescorttoyourhotelroomisanintimacytoofar?”Shedidn’trespondtothat.

Shedidn’ttrustherself.Hollyclimbedfromthecarandlethimaccompanyherinagrimmarchacrossthelobby—thoughshewasn’tcertainletwastherightword.Howcouldshehavestoppedhim?Howcouldshehavestoppedanyofthis?Onceshe’ddecidedtoleavehimfouryearsago,hadallofthisdarknessanddespairbeeninevitable?

Itmadeherfeelsomethinglikeseasicktothinkso.Theydidn’tspeakonthe

endless,deeplyfraughtrideinthepaneledelevator,northelongwalkdownthehushedcorridortoherroom.Sheglancedathimwhenshewenttoswipeherkeycard,butheonlystaredbackather,stone-faced,withthatvengefulglitterinhisdarkgazeandhishandsthrustdeepintohis

pockets.“Openthedamneddoor,”

hesaidwhenshepaused,hisvoicesoftbutlikenailsevenso.“Iwillnotdiscussanymoreofmyprivatelifeintheseopenpublicplaces,filledastheyarewithsomanyeyesandears.”Athousandhurtfulreplies

tothatswirledinsideherthen,buthisglareonlyintensified.

“Don’tpushme,Holly,”headvisedherinthatsametone.“Nottonight.”Sheopenedthedoorandit

feltliketheworstkindofcapitulation,butshewasn’tsuresheknewherselfanymore.Shefeltlikeamarionette.Asifherlimbswererespondingtosomefar-offcontrollerandshecouldonlydoasshewasbid.Thenagain,maybethat

wasonemorewaytoavoidtakingresponsibilityforthemessshe’dmadeofhermarriage.Andthentheywere

standingthereinherhotelsuite,whichhadfeltcomfortablyspaciouswhileshe’dbeeninitalone.ButTheoroamingthroughit,lookingangryandmaleandtoomuchinthemidstofsomuchquietlyassured

elegance,madeherfeeltrapped.Orperhapsthatwasthesuddenlumpinherthroat,restrictingherbreath.Theinsistentpulseofher

ownshame,herowndeepeningguilt.Tonightyouhavemademe

exactlylikehim.“I’msorry,”sheforced

herselftosay,thoughshefeltnothingsoeasyoruncomplicatedassorry.“I

realizeyouactedonlyontheinformationyouhad.Ihavenorighttoblameyouforthat.Ihavenorighttobehurtbywhatyoudid.”He’dmovedovertothe

windowsandheturnedbackthen,somethingterribleonhisface,caughtthereinhisdarkeyes.“Icannotprocessthis,”he

toldherafteramoment.“Icannotmakesenseofit.You

havenotonlydoneamonstrousthingtome,tous—youmademeintotheverycreatureIvowedIwouldneverbecome.Icouldnotbearthefirstbetrayal,Holly.IhavenoideahowIamtocometotermswiththisone,theonethatmakesmeworsethanyoubyanyemotionalarithmetic.”Herhandswereinfists

again,tightandhardagainst

herthighs.“Isthatwhatthisisabout?Who’sworse?”“Ihavenoideawhatthisis

about.”Hisvoicewasharsh.“Icannotimagineyoudo,either,oritwouldnotbethisconvoluted.”Everythinghadshifted.

Theroomwassobrightwherethenightandtheclubhadbeensodark,andHollycouldn’teverrememberfeelingsonakedbefore.So

wide-openandondisplay.Shewasn’tshakinganylonger,butshefeltevenmorebrokenthanbefore,andlookingatTheomadeitthatmuchworse.Heheldhergazefrom

acrosstheroom,acrossalltheliesandthebetrayalsandthestupidgamesthey’dplayed,andHollyfeltagreatwaveofsomethingdarkerthansimplegriefcrashoverher.She

rememberedthatfirstweekonSantorini,glossyandsunnyandperfect.Thatbeautifulweekwhenthey’ddonenothingbutbaskineachotherandfallmadlyinlove,andshe’dbelievedwitheveryfiberofherbeingthatsomethingsomagical,soimpossiblyvast,couldneverbreakorshatterorend.Shenevercouldhaveimaginedthey’dbestandingherenow.

Hadn’tthatbeenwhathaddrivenheralltheseyears?Shestillcouldn’tbelieveit.She’dmadeithappenherself,butshecouldn’tbelieveithadworked.“Noneofthismatters,

anyway,”shesaid.Ithurttoswallow.Tobreathe.“Youhadtherightideaearlierwhenyouwalkedaway.That’swhatweshoulddo,ofcourse.Thisnevershould

havebeenmorethanabrief,holidayromanceyearsago.Yourwholefamilywasright.”Hismouthtwistedinto

somethingtoopainful,toodarkandcutting,tobeasmile.“Ofcourse,”hesaid,andit

hurtalltheworsebecausetherewasnothingharshinthewayhesaidit.Itsoundedlikeacceptance.Likeresignation.

“ThisisthemosthonestmomentIthinkwe’veeverhadoutsideabed,andyouthinkweshouldendit.Idon’tknowwhythatsurprisesme.”“Youdon’tknowanything

aboutme,”shesaid,thatexpressiononhisfaceprickingather,gettingdeepbeneathherskin.“Ifthisnight—thismarriage—hasprovedanything,it’sthat.Youarenottheauthorityon

myhonesty.YoubelievedthebiggestandworstlieIevertold.AndwhatdoIreallyknowaboutyou,anyway?AllIknewwasthatyou’dlostyourmotherwhenyouwereyoung,nothow.Wemightaswellbestrangers,Theo.Marriedstrangerswhoarelongoverdueforadivorce.”Helookedatherforwhat

feltlikealifetime,andGod,butithurt.Ithurtmorethan

alltherest,ormaybeshecouldn’ttellthedifferenceanylonger,andthenithurtevenmorewhenherakedhishandsthroughhishairandstartedmoving.Forthedoor,sheassumed.Maybethisreallywasover,

afterall.Shetoldherselfthatshouldhavebeenarelief.“I’mnotgoingtochase

afteryou,Holly,”hesaidinalowvoice.“Youstartedthis

fouryearsagoforwhatIassumeareyourowngoodreasons.”Hisexpressionsuggestedheassumednothingofthekind.“YouknowwhereI’mstaying.Ifyouwanttodealwiththemessyoumade,ifyouthinkyoucanbeartostopplayingthesegames,youknowwheretofindme.”“Towhatend,Theo?”Her

ownvoicewasarawscrape

ofsound,thoughitseemedtoechoinherlikeashout.“Toseeifwecanmakeallofthisthatmuchworse?”“No.Toseeifwecan

makeithonest.”Hismouthcrookedandhewastooclosetoherthen.Muchtooclose.Butshecouldn’tbreathe,anyway.“ButIamnotoptimistic.”“Andwhatdoyouthink

thatlookslike?”sheasked.

Shewaswhisperingnow,thoughthewordsfeltlikeacidatthebackofherthroatandshewasterriblyafraidthattheheatonherfacewasmoreofthetearsshedidn’twanttolethimsee.“AsfarasIcantellweonlyhavetwospeeds.Wildsexorpureagony.Andbeforeyousuggestit,I’mnotasdebauchedasyouare.Idon’tquiteseemyselfworkingout

thetwoextremeswithwhipsandchainsinsomeSandMdungeonsomewhere.”“Toobad,”hesaid,his

eyesonhers,standingoverherwithhishandsstilldeepinhispocketsandtoomanyshadowsonhisface.“IthinkI’denjoythrowingyouovermykneeandpaddlingyouuntilyouscreamed.”Anotherfaintcrookofhismouth,thisoneakindofdark

amusement,anditwaslikeagift.ItgaveHollythesmallestbitofhope.“Atabareminimum.”Andsheremindedherself

thatwhatshewanted—whatshe’dalwayswanted,howeverterriblyshe’dshownitanddespitetheawfulthingsshe’ddonetoruinitwhenshe’dhadit—wasTheo.Notadivorce.Itseemedsillytohavecomeallthisway,gone

throughsomuch,andnotmakethatasclearaspossible.Nomatterhowmuchshereally,truly,wantedtorunintheoppositedirection.“Or,”shesuggested,not

knowinghowshedaredwheneverythingwasruinedandhewasstilllookingatherasifhemighthateher,ormaybeitwasbecauseofthat,“youcouldkissme.”Hestudiedherforan

eternity,whileHollycameface-to-facewiththedepthsofherowncowardiceand,conversely,theboundlesslimitsofhercapacitytohope.“Thatdoesn’tstrikemeassufficientpunishment.”“Thatalldependsonthe

kiss,I’dthink,”shereplied.Theomovedthen.Hewas

sobig,sobeautiful,andthatlookonhisfacemadeherheartcartwheelmadlyinside

herchest.Hereachedoverandtookherfacebetweenhispalms,tippingherfacetowardhis,anditfeltnew.Perhapsbecauseofthehighshoesshewore,perhapsbecauseithadbeensoverylong.Herheartbeatsoloudit

blockedouttheworld.Hiseyesweresodarkthey

rivaledthenight.Theobentcloserand

pressedhislipssoftly,sosoftly,againstherbrow.Thenonecheek.Thentheother.Andifthatcareening

wildfirethatracedthroughherburnedinhim,aswell,hedidn’tshowit.“ThenexttimeIkissyou

—ifthereiseveranexttime—itwillbebecauseItrustyou,Holly,”hetoldherquietly,almostsweetly,thoughsheunderstoodthis

wasneitherofthosethings.Thiswasaweaponmadeallthesharperforhisrestraint,andshefeltruncleanthrough.Heletgoofherthen,hisdarkeyestearingintoherasifhecouldseethewayherheartbeat,thewayitspunandjumpedanddipped.“AndIdon’timaginethat’slikelytohappenanytimesoon,doyou?”AndHollycouldn’tseem

todoanythingbutstandthere,ruinedalloveragain,ruinedanew,herthroatasdryasherstomachwastwisted.Hegaveheronelastlook

fromhistoo-darkeyes,hismouthsoverygrim,andthenhemovedacrossthehotelroomandlethimselfoutintowhatwasleftofthenight.

CHAPTERSEVEN

THEOWOKELATEthenextmorninginwhathadoncebeenhishoneymoonsuitetofindhimselfneck-deepinathree-ringcircus,whichwasmarginallypreferabletotheseaofrosepetalshe’dorderedremoved,beforehe

evenrolledoutofthevastbed.Thereweremoremessages

fromhisofficethanhecouldcount.Hisdirectemployees.Mrs.Papadopoulos,hervoicemoresteelyeachtime.Hisfather.Evenhisyoungerbrother,Brax,awayonabusinesstripinthefar-offreachesofPerth,Australia.“Yourfatheristryingto

reachyou,sir,”Mrs.

Papadopoulossaidicilyinoneofhervoicemails.“Hehaspassedbyyouroffice.Inperson.Fourtimesalreadythismorning.Tosaynothingofthenumerouscallsfromtheexceedinglyimpolitepress.”She’dleftthatmessageat

9:00a.m.“Whatisitwithyouand

thatdamnedwoman?”Braxdemanded,soundingas

aggrievedashedidfaraway.“WhymustyouplaytheseendlessgameswithhertothedetrimentoftheTsoukatosname?Whycan’tyoucallherthemistakesheis,divorceherandmoveon?”Hisfatherwasmoregruff,

andsoundedthemostfurious.Asusual.“Inolongerfindit

amusingtoseemysuccessorpresentedaslittlemorethana

patheticsexmachineinthepapers,”DemetriousTsoukatosgrowled.“Endthis,Theo.Now.Endaxi.”Theotossedhismobileto

theside,swunghimselfoutofthebedandontohisfeetwithasurgeofadrenalineanddraggedhishandsthroughhishair.Thenheforcedhimselftostop.Tobreathe.Hetoldhimselfhispulsewasnotpounding,thathedidnotfeel

thatalltoofamiliarwallopofsomethingmuchtooclosetobetrayalalloveragain.Hetoldhimselfthatwhateverhadhappened,whateverhadspurredallthesemessages,Hollycouldnotpossiblybeinvolved.Howcouldshe?He’dleftherroomnotlongbeforedawn,andhe’dleftherinemotionalturmoil.Aquickcalltothe

suspiciouslyoverapologetic

frontdesk—neveragoodsign,Theothoughtdarkly—broughthimagiantcarafeofverystrongcoffeeandthepapersinquestion,whichTheospreadoutbeforehimonthelow,solidglasscoffeetablewhereonce,yearsbefore,he’dmadealong,sweetfeastofhisbrand-newwife,tastingandsavoringeverylastinchofherdelectablebody.

Itwasharderthanitshouldhavebeentoshovethoseunhelpfulimagesfromhishead,butTheomanagedit.Thescreeching,salacious

headlinesplasteredalloverthetabloidpapershelpedhimalong.TsoukatosSavages

ScornedWife!thefirsthollered,featuringagrainypictureofthetwooftheminTheChatsfield’slobby,Theo

toweringoveramiserable-lookingHolly,appearingtobeeveryinchthesavagetheyclaimedhewas.

It’s been years sinceshipping tycoon TheoTsoukatos has beenseeninpublicwiththeAmerican wife hisdisapproving fatherbegged him not totake,givingrise toall

manner of rumors thenotoriously tight-lipped magnate hasrefused to eitherconfirmordeny...Butthis emotional scene—captured in theluxurious Barcelonalocation of the grandChatsfield Hotel—suggests that anestrangement is theleast of the former

lovebirds’problems!Unnamed sources

atTheChatsfielddishthat while once-infamous Theochecked into thehotel’s swanky lovenest, a suite createdspecifically to meltthehardestheart,he’sstayingtherealone!Can the messy

divorce the whole

world predicted yearsagobefarbehind?

Hisjawached,andTheorealizedhewasclenchingit.Muchtoohard.Hehadtoforcehimselftoreadtherestofthe“article,”aseriesofparagraphssupposedlyoutlininghisandHolly’shistorywhileactuallymakingdramaticnoisesabouthiswealthandsupposed

corporatemight,beforemovingontotheotherpaper.ReunitedatLast?queried

theheadline.Andthenjustbelowthat:OristhisjustaspotofrearrangingdeckchairsontheTitanic?Thisoneshowedapicture

ofTheoleavingHolly’shotel,TheHarrington,withatimestampinthecornertoshowitwasnotexactlyatanhouranyonemightconsider

decent,noteveninSpain.Inside—onatwo-pagespreadfilledwithregurgitatedphotosdatingallthewaybacktotheirfirstdaysonSantoriniwhenHollyhadbeencalledhis“unnamedcompanion”—hefoundapictureofhimescortingHollyinside,hishandwrappedpossessivelyaroundherarm,andmorebreathlessspeculation.

Are the famouslyestranged couplefinally working outtheirdifferencesinthehigh-class embrace ofThe Harrington,perhaps the mostromantic hotel in allof Barcelona? Or isthis secret reunion—intheverycitywherethepairhoneymoonedfollowing their

whirlwind romanceand too-hastywedding almost fiveyears ago—merely apart of a bid forcontrol over the vastTsoukatos shippingempire?After all, Holly

Tsoukatosstandstobeaverywealthywomanin any potentialdivorce, given fiery

tycoon Theo’sinfamous refusal tosign a prenuptialagreement when theymarried.A decision asource close to thefamily claims waswidely held to havebeen “unconscionablystupid.”

Brax,Theoassumed,ashisfatherwouldsoonergive

himselfafrontallobotomythanspeaktothepressforanyreason,thoughitcouldaseasilybehissecretary.

Representatives forthe Tsoukatos familycould not be reachedfor comment, butaccording to oneobserver,“Itwasveryflirty and they lookedlike they were back

together. Theocouldn’t keep hishands off Holly, andshewasclearlylovingit.”But is she playing

him?

ItwasonlywhenthoselastwordsblurredinfrontofhimthatTheorealizedhewasscowlingferociously.Hishandswereinhardfistsand

histemperwaskickinginhisgut,soloudandsointrusivehewascertainhecouldactuallyhearit.Likeakettledrum.Ittookhimlongmoments

torealizethatitwasn’thistempermakingtheracketinhishead—itwassomeoneathisdoor.Heglared,butthe

poundingcameagain.Hard,direct,pointedslaps,likethe

palmofahandslammingwithsignificantforceintothecenterofthedoor.Theostalkedacrossthe

greatroomandthrewitopen,welcomingtheopportunitytoexpressthedepthofhisfeelingstowhateverhaplesshotelemployeehadfoolishlyhappenedbyintothemiddleofthismoodhewasin...But,ofcourse,itwasno

hotelemployeeatall.

ItwasHolly.Hefelthisadrenalinesurge

again,andthendesirewithit,thatsameoldunquenchableandungovernableneedthatmadehimactwithoutthinking.Fourandahalfyearsago.Lastnight.Thatbone-deepwantingthatmadeTheohatehimself.Almostasmuchashetoldhimselfhehatedherthen,fordoingthistohiminthefirstplace.For

theirentire,twistedandtangledhistory.Formakinghimafaithless

breakerofvowsdespitehimself,justlikehisgoddamnedfather.Themomentstretchedout,

electricandintense.Shewasdressedlikethat

chillyversionofherselfTheodecidedheactuallydetested,inoneofthosesleekdressesshemusthavehadmadefor

herbytheton,thewild,thickhairhecouldn’tresistcoiledintosmoothsubmissionatthenapeofherneck.Gonewasthecreaturehe’dtouchedlastnight,thehalf-gypsywomanhe’dbeenunabletokeephishandsoff.Hesupposedheshouldthankherforthat.Hedidnotfeelanything

likethankful.“Whyareyouhere?”Theo

demanded,hisvoiceascool

ashistemperwashot.“Doyourequireanotherphotoop?Didthetabloidreportersmissanything?”“Didyoudothis?”she

threwrightbackathim.Shescowledathim,thenbrushedpasthimtoenterthesuite,herarmbarelygrazinghisbarechest,andTheowastoofurioustocarethewayheshouldhavewheneverythingseemedtosimplylightup

insidehimatsocasual,sotiny,atouch.“Didyousellusoutforsomelabyrinthinereasonofyourown?”Itwasasifshe’dswitched

himonthateasilyandnomatterhowlittlehemightwishit.Shestrodeinsideand

despiteeverything,despitethewholeoftheirpastandeventhatnoteofaccusationinhervoice,Theoallowed

himselfthepleasureofwatchinghermove.He’dforgottenthesheerjoyofit,andhetoldhimselfhewouldhavetobemadeofstoneindeednottonoticethatsweetrollofherhips,thatsmooth,lickablegaitshecouldn’thidebeneathherelegantclothes.Itmadehimrememberhercowboyboots,herlaughasbigasthesky,herhairwrappedaroundher

likeawildcloak.Itremindedhimthatthe

Hollyhe’dthoughtheknewhadn’tbeenacompletefigmentofhisimagination—shewasthere,somewhere,beneathalltheliesandthecostumesandthehurt.Hehadn’tmadeherupoutofthinair.Andthenhehadthefar

greaterpleasureofwatchinghercometoanabruptstopas

hersurroundingsimpressedthemselvesuponher.Heheardherbreathein,sharpandhard,andsawthewayshestraightenedherspine—andhepreferredfocusingonthatratherthanthedisquietingthingsinsideofhimthathecouldn’tseemtoshoveaside.Hewashonestenoughto

admit,ifonlytohimself,thathelikedthatthissuite

affectedher,too.Thathewantedtheirhistorytogetunderherskinasmuchasitdidhis.Thatevenifshewasstillplayingherdamnedgames,evenifthepaperswerecorrectandthiswasallpartofherattempttostartmaneuveringforcontrolofthecompany,theheatbetweenthemhadneverbeenfeigned.Heremembered,toowell,thethingsthathad

happenedinthissuitefourandahalfyearsago.Neitheroneofthemhadbeenfaking.Atleastnotthat.“Itissonostalgic,isit

not?”heaskedacidly,stillstandingatthedoor,thoughhe’dcloseditbehindher.“WhatapityIhadthemcleanupalltherosepetalsyou’dsothoughtfullyrequested.OrImighthaveaskedyoutocrawlthroughthem,theway

youdidbackthen.”Hollyturnedtolookover

hershoulderathim,hereyesasblueasthebrightSpanishdayhecouldseeoutthewindowsbeyondher,herwidemouthinafirmline.“Really?”sheasked

mildly.Assmoothaswhatevershe’ddonetoherhairandhelikeditaslittle.“Thepapersarefullofinsultingspeculation,you

almostcertainlytippedoffthepaparazziyourselforhowwouldtheyhaveknowntotrackustoTheHarrington,andyouwanttostandhereandtalkaboutafour-and-a-half-year-oldboutoforalsex?”“Ithink,agapimou,that

youmaywellfinditdifficulttounearthasinglemanalivewhowouldnotfindthatparticularsubjectpreferable

toallothers,”heobserved,adarkkindofamusementcoloringhisvoiceashespoke.“Nomatterhowhardyoutrytomakeitsoundlikesomekindofvirulentillnesswesufferedintandem.”“Yes,Theo,”shesaidina

brittletoneofvoice,pivotingaroundtofacehim,hersharpheelsloudagainstthemarblefloorofthearchingvestibule,brightsunlightanddelicate

artallaroundher,framingher.“Iremember.IremembercrawlingacrossthefloortoyoubecauseIcouldn’tthinkofasinglethingI’dratherdo.IrememberwhathappenedonceIreachedyouonthecouch.IrememberwhatyoudidwiththechampagneandIrememberhowinsatiablewebothwere,thatdayandthelongmonthafter.Areyousatisfied?Canwetalkabout

thepresent?”“Idon’tunderstand,”he

said,andherefusedtoacknowledgehowdifficultitwastomaintainthatdry,offhandedtoneinthewakeofallthoseimagesshe’dthrownathim,allthosememories.“SurelyyouwantedmetostayinthissuitesothatIwouldberackedwithmemoriesandtorturedalivebythepast.Butnowitisthe

presentyou’dprefertodiscuss?HowcanIpossiblykeepup?”Sherolledhereyesandit

occurredtoTheothathewasasclosetoenjoyinghimselfashe’dbeenin...years.Thatthefuryhe’dfeltrollingthroughhimwhenhe’dreadthetabloids,whenhe’dthrownopenthedoor,hadsimplygone.Disappeared.Itwaslostinthatstubborn

mouthofhers,perhaps,orsomewhereonthattoo-prettyfacehestillfoundmuchtoocaptivating.Ithaddisappearedintotheperfectcurveofherbehind,thesweetindentationofherwaistabovetheintriguingflareofherhips...Ormaybeitwassimply

thathe’dtouchedherlastnight,tastedher,andhewasanaddict.Howcouldhe

pretendotherwisewhenhestillwantedher—whenhealwayswantedher?He’dalreadyfallenoffthe

wagon.Whynotindulgehimself?Asifshecouldreadthe

risingheatinhim,seeitrightthereonhisface,Hollymovedfartherintotheroom.Hefollowed,studyingherasshewalkedovertothefarsideofthecoffeetableand

thenfrowneddownatthepapersspreadoutacrosstheglassthere.He’dgottenlost

somewhereinhistoo-vividmemoriesofHollyonherkneesbeforehim,butherememberedtherestofwhatshe’dthrownathimnow.Belatedly.“Ididnottipoffthe

paparazzi,”hesaid.Sheliftedhergazetohis,andheheldit

ashemadehisunhurriedwayaroundhertosettleonthelow-slung,softwhitesofa.Heleanedback,takinghistime,watchingthewayhergazeshiftedfromhisfacetotheexpanseofhischesthehadn’tbotheredtoclothewhenhe’dgottenoutofbedearlier—asifshecouldn’thelpherself,either.“ThereislittlebenefittomeinremindingthecorporateworldthatImarried

asocial-climbingAmericannobodywithouttakingthetroubletoprotectmyfamilylegacy.”“Iappreciateyouapplying

suchcreativelicense,”shesaid,hertonestillsocoolthatifhehadn’tbeenwatchingherfacesoclosely,ifhehadn’tbeenabletoseeallthatfrustratedheatinherblueeyes,hemighthavebelievedtheiceinit.“ButIdon’t

recallanyofthearticlesreferringtomeaseitherasocialclimberoranAmericannobody.”Heinclinedhishead.“I

believeitwasinferred.”“Isthatwhyitwassoeasy

foryoutobelieveI’dcheatedonyou,Theo?”sheaskedquietly.Hehadn’tbeenexpectingitandhetoldhimselfthatwaswhyitslammedintohimlikethat.

“Becausethatwaswhatyouthoughtofme?Becausedeepdown,ormaybenotsodeepatall,youimaginedcheatingonyouwithsomerandomtouristwasexactlywhatasocial-climbingAmericannobodywoulddo?”Theofoughtbacktheurge

todefendhimself—again.Ortoofferheranyexplanationsforthethingshe’ddoneaftershe’dtornhimapart.He

owedherneither,heassuredhimself.Instead,heloungedbackagainstthesofaandspreadhisarmsalongthelengthofit,keepinghiseyestrainedonherfaceashedid,watchingallthereactionsshefoughttohide.Pretendinghedidn’tfeel

eachandeveryoneoftheminthehungrylengthofhissex,asifitwashermouthinstead.“Whydidyoucomehere?”

heaskedafteramoment.Hecouldseeafaintflushhighonhercheekbones,andheorderedhimselfnottoreacttoit.Nottogiveintotheurgesofflesh,ofmemory.Notyet.“Surelyatelephonecallwouldhavesufficed.Whycomeinperson,therebythrowingfuelonthefire,iftheblazewasn’tofyourownmaking?”“IsupposeIwantedto

watchyoulietomeinperson,”shereplied,andhesuspectedsheknewitstung.Heforcedhimselftoshrugitoff.“Andwhyareyoubackin

allthatarmoryouwear?”heaskedinsteadofrespondingtoherdig.Insteadofsurgingtohisfeetandhaulingheragainsthim,thenrollingherbeneathhimatlast.Insteadofhandlingherwithhisbody,

withthepassionthathadalwaysbeentherebetweenthem,aconnectionnothingeverseemedtobreakordiminish.Acompulsion,hethought.Adamnedaddiction,nothingmore.“WhatdoyouimagineImightdotoyou,thatyoushouldrequireit?”Shestoodtaller,ifthatwas

possible.Morerigid.“Armor?WhereIcomefromwecallthisadress.”

“LastnightyoucametofindmeintheclubsdressedlikethegirlIremember,”Theosaid,asifhewasspeakingwordsoflove.Orsex.Asiftherewasadifferencewherethetwoofthemwereconcerned.Asifthepoetrybetweenthemhadeverbeenanythingbutdark.“Wasthatonlyforthedarkofnight?Orwasityetanothermanipulation?Anotherrole

foryoutoplayasyoutriedyourbesttobendmetoyourwill?”“Itwasanoutfit

appropriateforthecircumstances,”Hollysaid,hervoiceassharpasglass.“Notagrandconspiracy.I’msorrytodisappointyou.”“Andwhatcircumstances

arethese,then,thatrequireyoudressasanimposterofyourself?”heasked.Helet

hiseyesmoveoverher.“YoumustrealizethatIhavealwaysfoundHollyHolt,thecharminglyinnocentadventuresswhohappeneduponmeonasunnyGreekislandonesummer,farmoreattractivethanHollyTsoukatos,thebrittleandschemingsocietywifewhodrainsmybankaccountsandmypatienceinequalmeasure.”

“I’llbecertaintoletyouknowthenexttimeIrequireyourinputonhowIdress.”Aflashoftemperinthoseblueeyes.Acoldcurvetoherlips.“Letmeofferyouahint.Itwon’tbesoon.”“Yetyouracedhereto

speaktome.DressedlikethisagainwhenonlylastnightyoushowedmetheHollyIrememberforthefirsttimeinyears.HowcanIimagineitis

anythingbutdeliberate?”Hemadeashowofleaningback,ofrelaxing.Heevensmiled,thoughhecouldfeelthesharpedgetoit—andmore,couldseeitreflectedinthewayshepulledinabreath.“Lastnight’sHollywasthecarrot,Isuppose.Thismustbethestick.”Shesniffed,andeyedhim.

“ShouldIhavedressedlikeyou,Theo?Thenmademy

waythroughthecityhalf-nakedandrumpledwithsleep?Whatgrandtheorieswouldyouhavecomeupwiththen?”“Whatdoyouwant?”he

askedagain,softly.“Andwhydidyoufeelyouhadtoputonyourfavoritedisguisetocomehereandaskforit?”Hollylookedsomething

likeshakenforamoment,butthensheblinked,andhewas

almostconvincedhe’dimaginedit.Almost.“Ithinkweshould

concentrateonthefactwe’realloverthepapersagain,”shesaidtightly—asifthiswashardforher,Theothought,andGodhelphim,buthewantedthistobehardforher.Hewantedallofthistobehardforher.Becauseifitwashard,it

mustmatter.Itmust.

Herefusedtothinkaboutwhyhefoundthatsocritical.“Idon’tthinkso,”hesaid.“Youdon’tthinkwe

shouldworryaboutthefactthetabloidsarestalkingus?”Shesoundedincredulous,andirritatedbesides.“Tellingmelodramaticstoriesaboutusalloveragain?”“Idon’tthinkthat’swhy

you’rehere.Idon’tthinkthat’swhyyouwenttosuch

carewithyourappearance,thebettertolookcoolandpolishedwhenyouarrived.”Helethisgazelingeronher,letherseewhatshe’dmadehim,steelandstone.“Idon’tthinkthetabloidsareanythingbutanexcuse.”“Forwhat?”Sheliftedher

chinandherblueeyeswerechilly,buthervoicebetrayedher.Itwastoosoft.Ithintedattoomuchturmoilbeneath.

“Forthis.”Hedidn’tmoveanyclosertoherthen.Hedidn’tstandupandputhishandsonher—hedidn’thaveto.Itwasasiftheyweregrippedinthesametightfist,heldcloseandtrapped.Hecouldfeeltheconstrictionofit.Hecouldseethewayitmadeherbreathingshallow.Hecouldfeelitinsideofhim,heatandlonging,andsomethingfardarkerbesides.

“I’dbesurprisedifyousleptatalllastnight.Youwantedtoracehereassoonaspossiblethismorningtotakethemeasureofmyguilt.”Sheonlystaredbackat

him.Herblueeyeswerebright,perhapstoobright.Hecouldseethepulseinherthroat,beatingtoofast.Givingherawaynomatterhowshetriedtohideinherelegantcostumeandhaughty

demeanor.Hecouldsee.Heknew.“Youseemcrippledwith

shame,”shepointedoutdrily.Theliecameeasily.“Ifeel

noshame,Holly.Noguilt.Allofthatisyourstobear.”“Yes,”shesaidina

whisper.“Twowrongsarelargelyrenowned,I’vefound,formakingaright.Everybodyalwayssaysso.”“Therewasonewrong,”he

toldher,verydeliberately,veryclearly.“Onelie.Andeverythingthatfollowedcamedirectlyfromthat.Willwearguethisforever?Isthiswhyyoucameherethismorning?Toseeifmyanswerwouldmagicallychange?”“Ididn’tthinkyouranswer

wouldmagicallychange,”Hollysaidquietly,andthewayshelookedathimthen

madesomethinginhimverynearlyshudder.Hetoldhimselfitdidn’tmatter,justashe’dbeentellinghimselfshedidn’t—andyetheretheywere.“ButIpersistinimaginingyoumight.”He’dchanged.He’dbeen

leveled.Butheonlystaredbackatherandrefusedtoadmitthat.Notnow.Nothere.“Itdidn’tmatterwhothose

otherwomenwere,”hesaidthen,andhedidnothingtoeasetheblow.Hedidnothingtomakeitbetter—ifanything,heletthebittertruthofitspilloutwhereitwould.“AllIeversawwasyou.”

***

HollystoppedlyingtoherselfinasuddenrushasTheo’s

harshsuckerpunchconnected,adirecthit,thenreverberatedthroughherasifhe’ddeliveredastreetfighter’skicktotheback.Hardenoughtomaim,she

thoughtdimly,ifsheletit.“Oddly,”sheheardherself

say,asiffromsomegreatdistance,fromsomewhereherearsweren’tringingandshefeltlessdizzywithreactionandregretalike,“thatdoesn’t

helpatall.”Theowasloungingback

againsttheall-whitesofa,lookingdarkanddangerousandsomethingfarmorecompellingthansimplydeliciousashesatthere,allofthathardheatinhisdarkeyesandthevast,sculptedexpanseofhisnakedchestbeneath.Wouldthisbeeasierifhe

waslessbeautiful?Hollywondered.

Whenhe’dansweredhisdoorwearingnothingbutdarkathletictrouserslowonhishipsandascowl,she’dnearlytoppledover.ThiswastheTheosheremembered,thisimpossiblybeautifulcreature,allsinewandstrength,evenwhenitlookedasifhe’ddonenothingmoretodaythanrolloutofhisbed.Heexudedsex.Danger.Hewasmaleandhotand

astonishinglymagnetic,andmorethanthat,hewasimprinteddeepinhersoul.Everyplacehe’dtouchedherlastnightthrilledtothesightofhimandthenached,longandlow.Likeafireshe’dneverputout.Shestoppedpretendingshe

could.Orthatshe’deverwantedto,becauseshehadn’t.Notreally.“Whatpartofme?”she

askedinstead,beforesheknewshemeanttospeak—andmaybeitwasbetterthatway.Therewaslesschanceshe’deditherself.Lessopportunitytohideinplainsight.“Whatpartdidyousee?”Theoblinked,andthen

wentstill—sostillthatHollyhadtoreplaywhatshe’djustsaidtomakesureshe’dreallysaiditoutloud.

Oh,yes.Shereally,trulyhad.Itwaslikeanotherkick,

andthistime,shewastheonewho’ddeliveredit.Shockwavesrolledthroughher,andshecouldseetheminhim,too,thoughhedidn’tmove.Noparticularshamein

tellingalie,Isuppose,herfatherhadtoldheroncealongtimeago,whenshe’dbeenayounggirldealing

withtheusualtrialsofmiddleschoolandtheduplicityofsomeofherpeers.Apersonhasreasons.Theshameisinholdingontotheliewhenthetruthisrightinfrontofyou.Theshameisinpretendingthelieisthetruth.Aliemightnotkillyou,darlin’,butshamealwayswill.“Ibegyourpardon?”Theo

askedwithanexaggeratedpolitenessthatalmostmade

Hollylaugh.Butshedidn’t.Thiswasmuchtooimportant.“Whichpartofmedidyou

seewhileyouweredrowningyourtroublesinotherwomen?”sheaskedinstead,asdistinctlyanddirectlyasshecould.Shedidn’tunderstandwhat

washappeningtoher,whatshewasfeeling.Theideaofhimwithotherwomenmadeherfeelsick,assheimagined

hemeantitto—butthen,thelogicalpartofherbrainknewhewasright.Shewastheonewhohadbroughtinfidelityintotheirmarriage,whetherrealorimagined.She’dopenedthatdoor.Shewastheonewho’dbrokenthetrustbetweenthem,who’dclaimedshe’dbrokenthevowsthey’dmadetoeachother.Howcouldsheholdhimtoastandardshe’dinsistedhe

believeshe’dignoredherself?Whenshe’dlefthimtomarinateinwhatremainedafterhertortured“confession”?Butitwasmoreinsidious

thanthat,Hollyknew.Itwasfarsicker,ifsheletherselfconsideritfully.Itwasallrightthereinwhathe’dsaid.Thathe’dseenher,evenwhenshewasfaraway.Thatitwasallabouther,

somehow.Shedidn’tunderstandwhy

thatfeltlikeagift.Likesomethingalmostromantic,inadeeplytwistedway,giventheircircumstances.Onlythatitdid.Andthatnomatterhowmessedupitallwas,shewouldacceptit.Andshedidn’tcarewhat

thatmadeher.“Idon’tknowwhatgame

thisis,”hegrowledather.

“Myhands?”Hollyasked,ignoringhim.Shemovedtowardhim,lettingthestilettossheworeaccentuatetheswayofherhips,notingthewayhisdarkeyesdroppedhungrilyandstayedthere.Watchingher.Enjoyingher.“Myhair?”“Notscrapedbackand

hiddenlikethat,no,”hemuttered,almostasifhecouldn’thelphimself,and

Hollyfeltthateverywhere.Itigniteddeepinsideher,rollingoutward,darksmokeandthickflames,makingherfeelmoltenandundone.Andpowerful,somehow.

Asifhereallywasstillhers,afterall.Aftereverything.Shestoppedmovingwhen

shestoodbeforehimatlast,justslightlyinsidehissprawled-outlegs.Hedidn’tsitupstraighterordo

anythingtosuggesthewasreactingtohernearness—butshecouldseethathungerinhiseyes,sodark,sodamnedhot,anditwasenough.Itmadethatfireinherarc

higher.Itconsumedeverything.Itwasallthatmattered.

CHAPTEREIGHT

HOLLYREACHEDUPbehindher,takinghertime,archingherbackasshediditsoherbreastspressedagainstthebodiceofherdress,andpluckedthepinsfromherhair.Oneafterthenext.Lazily,withhergazeonhis.

Herhairuncoiledslowlyandthen,whenshepulledoutthelastpin,fellinathicklinetohershoulders.Thatwaswhensheshookit

out,usingherwholebody,runningherfingersthroughthemassofit,lettingtheblondwavesswirlandthenfallwheretheyliked.WhileTheosattherebelowher,gazingupatherasifhewashavingareligiousexperience,

hisarmsspreadwidewhilehishandsgrippedthebackofthecouch,hisknucklesaswhiteasthefabricbeneathhim.“Whereelsedidyousee

me?”sheaskedhim,andshecouldheartheroughnessinhervoice.Sexandlonging,thelongacheoflostyears,thebittersweetneedstillsoripeaftersomanybetrayals.Itonlyspurredheron.

“Whichpartofmedrewyouinthemost?”“Youshouldn’thaveleft

me,Holly.”Hedidn’tmeantosaythat.

Shecouldseethattruthasplainlyasifhe’dconfessedit,couldseethetormentinhisdarkgazeandthewayhishandsdugintothesofa,andlater,perhaps,shewouldtellherselfthatthatwaswhyshesankdownonherkneesthen,

placingherselfsquarelybetweenhisoutstretchedlegs.Muchasshehadyears

before.Hisdarkgazeignited,then

wentmolten.Hollyfoundshewasbiting

herlip.Shedidn’tthink.Shedidn’t

worryanylonger.Sheletgoofthegreathoardofpainandhurtfeelingsandbetrayalandhorroratwhathadhappened

betweenthem.Whatshe’ddone.Whathe’ddone.Sheignoredallofthatandreachedoutinstead,slidingherpalmsontohisknees.Hewenttautbeneathher.

Shecouldseethetightnessofthesmoothmusclesofhishardchestbeforeheraswellasshecouldfeelthembeneathherhands,andshereveledinthesensation.Inthepure,sweetglorythatwas

touchinghimagain.Theo.Hisnamewaslikea

lightinsideofher,sobrightithurt.Shecouldfeeltheheatof

hisskinthroughhistrousers,andshewantednothingmorethantotipforwardandtastethattemptingshallowbetweenhispectoralmuscles,wheresheknewhetastedofsaltandmusk,allman,andinamomentlikethis,allhers.

Hollykneltforward,runningherpalmsupoverhiskneesandontotheshelfofhisthighs,feelingsomethingbloomwithinherathischeckedbreath,atthejaggedwayheexpelledit.Highershemoved.Thenhigherstill.“Whatareyoudoing?”Shesmiledslightly.“You

can’tguess?Itreallyhasbeenalongtime.”“Tellmewhatthisis,

Holly.Now.”Anorder,almostbarkedout—butthehardlinesofhisfacespokeonlyofneed,ofwant.Ofbarelyrestrainedpassion,andHollysmiledwider.“Tellmewhatyouwant.”“Therecanonlybeafew

options,Ithink,”shemurmured,gauginghisresponseasshetracedtheheavymusclesofhisstrongthighs,testingtheir

mouthwateringstrengthanddensity,lettingthesparkofit,thesheertactileexcitement,runalloverher.Throughher.Touchinghimwasalmostasgoodaslettinghimtouchher.Insomewaysitwasbetter.“Whydon’tyoupickone?”“Holly...”Buthername

trailedoffintoamutteredGreekcursewhenshereachedthetopsofhisthighsand,withoutpausing,covered

thestrainingheatofhimwithonehand.God,butshewantedhim.

Shehadalwayswantedhim—perhapsshealwayswould.Fromthemomentshe’dglancedupfromhertableinthatlong-agocafé,she’dbeenstruckwiththissameelectricalchargeofpureneed.Nomatterwhathadhappenedsince.Nomatterwhatmighthappennext.Heburnedso

hot,eventhroughthetrousershewore,thatittookheramomenttorealizethatshewasbreathingasheavilyashewasasshereachedbeneathhiswaistbandandpulledhimout.Hewassoproud,somale.

Hewasperfect.Andittookaverylong

timetoregisterthefactthathe’dsaidhernameagain,andthen,whenshedid,todrag

hergazebackuptohis.Hiswasadarkstorm,

elementalanddemanding,andshefeltgoosefleshrisealloverher,sweepingfromthebackofherneckdownherarms,ripplingoverhertomakehernipplesintohard,needypebbleswhilebetweenherlegstherewasnothingbutwetheatandyearning.Nothingmatteredbutthis.

Nothingmatteredbuthim.

Shewrappedherfingersaroundhislength,marvelinginthesoftnessofhisskinwithallthatsteelbeneath,andhecursedagain.Harsherthistime.“Itoldyoulastnight.”But

hisvoicewasmadeofsandandgreed,grittyandneedyatonce,andallshecouldseeinthosedarkeyesofhiswasthis.Sex.Yes.Now.“Idon’ttrustyou.”

“Thenbyallmeans,Theo,”Hollymurmured,trustingthehardestpartofhiminherhand,trustingthefaintestofshuddersshecouldfeelinhispowerfulbodybeneathher,trustingthatthiswastherightthingwitheverypartofherthatshiveredandachedanddemanded,“don’tsullyyourself.Don’tkissmeifyoudon’twantto.Idon’tcare.”Andthenshebentherhead

andtookhimdeepintohermouth.

***

Healmostlostit,liketheuntrainedboyhehadn’tbeeninmoreyearsthanhecouldcount.Hermouthwaswickedand

hot,movingoverhimasifshewantedtolearnhimalloveragain.Withhersweet

tongue,thefaintscrapeofherteeth.Shetookhimdeep,

wrappingherhandaroundthebaseofhimandhummingherapproval,andTheotippedhisheadbackandlethimselfpretend.Thatthiswasasimple

exercise,needandheat.Thatshewantedhimwithoutanyulteriormotives.Withoutanyagenda.

Withherbetweenhislegs,hermouthlikeasacramentandafilthylittlecurseatonce,hecouldalmostbelieveit.Orinanycase,hedidn’t

care.Hewantedthistogoonforever.Asifsheagreed,sheseta

lazylittlerhythm,alternatingbetweenthedeepembraceofherclevermouthandtheteasingofherlips,her

tongue,againstthetipofhisneed.AndTheostoppedcaringabouttherestofit.Herlies,herabandonment.Thewholeoftheirtorturedwhirlwindofamarriage.Hedughisfingersdeep

intothefragrantsoftnessofherhairandhelethertakehimassheliked,howeversheliked.Butwhenhenearedthe

edge,hepulledherback,

openinghiseyestolookdownather.Heknewthatexpression.Itmadehischesttight,madethatfireinhimroar.Herflushedcheeks,herglassyblueeyes.Thewaysheshiveredandswayed,movingrestlessly,asifherownneedwasonthevergeofsweepingheraway,thoughshewastheonegivingpleasureratherthanreceivingit.“Imissedyou,”hegritted,

andthoughthe’dregretthatlater,buthecouldn’tseemtocareaboutthatthewayheknewheshould.Herubbedhishandovertheheatedsilkofhercheek.“Imissedthis.Butno.Notlikethis.Not...”“Please,Theo.”Hervoice

washusky.Needy.Ifshewasplayingagame,hethought,she’dgottenascaughtupinitashewas.“Iwantto.Iwantyou.”

Howcouldherefusewhenshesuckedhimdeepagain,makingsoft,greedynoisesthatshotstraightintohimlikelightning?Howcouldherefuseheranythingatall?Andthistime,whenhehit

thatedge,helethimselffallrightoverit,shoutingouthername.WhenTheocouldthink

again,shewassittingbackonherheelswiththosesexy

shoesstillonherfeet,lookingupathim,adeeplysatisfiedexpressiononherface.Hestudiedherforamomentwhilehisheartdiditsbesttoclawitswayoutofhischest.Shelookedglossyandreplete,andhecouldn’tremembereverwantinghermore.Andthetimeforthinking,

clearly,wasover.Sohereacheddownand

hauledhertohim,smilingtohimselfatthedesperatelittlesoundshemadeasshecame.Itdidn’ttakemuchtoputherwherehewantedher,beneathhimonthatlongwhitesofa,wherehecouldstretchoutaboveher,thenreachdownbetweenthemtotugthesmoothcolumnofherdresstoherhips,exposingherfemininitytohisgaze,hishands,hiswishes.

Hewantedtokisshermorethanhewantedhisnextmouthfulofair.Hewantedthecrushofherlips,herperfecttasteagainsthistongue,hermouthbeneathhis.Butherefusedtoindulgehimselfnomatterthetemptation.Nomatterthatshetiltedherheadback,asifshewasdaringhim.“Youhavetoearnthat,”he

toldher.

Heexpectedhertosaysomethingthen,toteasehimortrytolightenthemoment,orperhapstopushhimoffheraltogetherashehalfexpectedshe’ddo,butsheonlywatchedhim,herbreathslightlystutteredandherblueeyessobrighttheygleamed.Heat.Need.Andwhat

tempertherewasonlymakingthefireofitburnhigher.

Theoshifteddown,pressingakisstotheslopeofherbellyabovethelacyedgeofherpanties.Heshoulderedhiswayintoposition,drawingonelong,perfectlyformedlegupandoverthebackofthesofaandlettingtheotherfalltothefloor.Heheldhersoft,shapelythighsapartandthenhemovedincloser,inhalingherscent,warmandfemaleand

aroused.Heglanceduptofindher

watchinghim,thecolorhighinhercheeksandherlipsslightlyparted,herhairwildaroundherlikesomekindofsensualhalo,andhethoughthe’dneverseenanythingmorebeautifulinhislife.Thenhesimplybenthis

head,pressedhismouthoverthedampcenterofherneed,pantiesandall,andsucked

herin.Hard.

***

Hollywentrigidaroundhimandthenbrokeapart,thateasily.Sheheardherselfcryoutas

sheflewoverthesideoftheearth,butthenshewaslostintheshaking,thegloriousshuddering,thesweetmagicthatwasTheo.

OnlyandeverTheo.Andwhenshecameback

tothatcouchwithajolt,Theohadshiftedtopeelherpantiesdownherlegs,thentossthemasidewithhershoesbeforesettlinghimselfbackbetweenherthighs.“Theo,”shesaid,but

laughed,becausehervoicewasastranger’s,andheignoredher,anyway,holdingherinplacewithonehard,

stronghandagainstherbellyandtheotherwrappedaroundherhip.Hisgazemetherslike

lightning.Likewholestorms.Hishardmouthcurvedinobviousmalesatisfaction,andthatalonesentawildchargespinningthroughher,makingthatfireleapinsideofheranew.Andthenhebentdownand

lickedhiswayintoherwith

nobarrieratallthistime,andHollyforgotaboutanythingelse.Hetastedherasifshewas

precious,asifhewasravenous.Hetookherwithhistalentedmouth,makingherarchandwritheandfallapartbeneathhim.Hedroveherupintoallofthatgleamingwildnessagain,usinghisteethandhistongue,thepressureofhis

mouthandthesweetreachofhisfingers,againandagain,untilshewasbuckingandsobbing.Hisname.Asifitwasa

prayer.Untilshewouldhave

promisedhimanythingandgivenhimmore,andmighthave,forallsheknew.Onlythendidhethrowher

overthatedgeagain,holdingherassheshook,andthen

suckingthecenterofherneeddeepintohismouthjustasshestartedtocomedown,whichcastheroffalloveragain.Shewaswildwhenshe

washerselfagain,allofthatfireandbrightpassionslammingthroughherveins,poolinginsideofher,makingherreachoutforhim—buthewasalreadythere.HewasspeakinginGreek,

murmuringdarkwordslikeincantationsallaroundthemashesatback,pullingherwithhim.Sheclimbedoverhim,straddlinghimwhenheurgedherintoposition,feelingdesperateashesettledthembothbackagainstthecouchandthenheldherhipswherehewantedthem.Whereshewantedthem,too.Hollycouldfeelhim,hard

andhotandrightthere,

teasingtheheartofherwiththehardedgeofhisneed,makinghershudderandyearn.“Theo,”shewhispered.

“Please.”Andhethrustintoher,

deepandsure,bringingthembothhomethateasily.Theybothgaspedatthe

sleekfit,thesweetheatthatwasasperfectasithadalwaysbeen,andtheireyes

caught.Held.AndthenTheogrippedherhipsinhistalentedhandsashestartedtomoveheragainsthim.Upandthendown.Slow.

Soslow.Teasingthemboth.Killingthemboth.Killingher.“Hurry,”sheorderedhim,

almostcrossly,andheonlylaughedupather.Andthenhetookhisown

sweettime.

Hebuiltthatfireinsideherhigh,muchhigherthanbefore,sohighHollythoughtitmightkillthembothbeforehewasdone.Becausesurelynoonecouldsurvivethis.Surelyshecouldn’tsurvivethis.Theo’shandsdugintoherbottomashecontrolledthepace,thedepth,therhythm,andshedidn’tbothertofighthim.Instead,Hollysurrendered.

Tohismasterfultouch,tothefirehemadedanceinsideherashepleased,tothatlookofsheerwonderinhisdarkgaze.Tohim,thewayshealwayshad,andherrewardwasthegloriousthinghewovearoundthemwitheachdeep,deliciousthrust.Andthistime,shecame

apartassherodehim,writhingthereabovehim.Herheadfellbackandheheldher

eventighterasshearchedintohim,poundingouthisownreleaseintoherasiftheyhadalwaysbeenjoinedlikethis.Asifthey’dneverbeenapart.Asifthiswastheonly

thingthatmattered.Asifnothingelseever

could.Andshestayedthere,

wrappedinhisarms,forwhatfeltlikeaverylongtime.So

longthatshealmostletherselfbelievethatshecouldstaythereforever...ButasmuchasHollytried

toholdontoallofthatmagic,realityintruded.Theoshiftedbeneathherandsheclimbedoffhim,herdressstillcrumpleduparoundherhips.Shestoodonshakylegsasshesmootheditbackintoplace,anddidherbesttolookatanythingbuthimwhenhe

stoodtherenexttoherandtuckedhimselfbackintohistrousers.Henudgedhercast-offshoestowardherwithonefootanditseemedlikethehardestthinginalltheworldtostepintothemagain.“Theo...”shebegan,and

shehadnoideawhatshewasgoingtosay.Shehadnoideahowtofixwhatshe’dbrokenorevenhowtoexplainitinanywayhe’dunderstand

whenshecouldhardlyunderstanditherself.Shehadnoideawhatshe’ddoifheshiftedwhathadhappenedhereintosomethingcruel,nomatterhowmuchshemighthavedeservedit.“Areyouhungry?”he

asked,andtherewassomethinggruffinhisvoice,somethingshecouldn’treadinthetoo-darkgazehetrainedonherthen,asifhe

wasasloathtoletgoofthismomentasshewas.Shefoundshewantedtobelievethatfarmorethanwaswise.Muchlesssafe.Butshecouldn’tseemtohelpherselfaroundthisman.Hadn’tthatalwaysbeenthecase?“IfindIamravenous.”“I...Idon’t...”Hollydidn’tknowwhat

shewantedtosay.Whatshecouldsay,forthatmatter.

Therewerestormsinsideofher,threateningherfoundationsandrattlingherwalls,butshedidn’tknowhowshecouldpossiblyexplainanyofthattohim.Howshecouldlookathim,evennow,andlovehimsomuchdespitethefacthestillterrifiedheronsomedeep,fundamentallevel.Howcouldsheexplainittohimwhenshecouldhardly

explainittoherself?AndTheoonlywatched

her,hisdarkgazelockedtohers,asifhecoulddoitforever.Asifhealreadyknewallthosethingsthatscrappedandtumbledinsideofher.Asifhecouldreadeverysinglethingthatmovedinthedepthsofher,whensheknewhecouldn’t—whenevenshecouldn’t.“Yes,”shewhispered,

surrenderandsomethingelsetwistingaroundandaroundinsideofher,makingherfeelverynearlygiddy,“I’mveryhungry,infact.”Andwhenhesmiledather

then,itfeltlikethesunrisingafteraverylong,verydark,verydangerousnight.Likeavictoryfargreaterandfarmorecriticalthanasimplemeal.Likehope.

***

Itwasaperfectday.Later,Hollywould

rememberitasifeachparthadbeenspreadoutbeforeherinaseriesofpostcards,capturingeachmomentasithappened.Aleisurelymealtostart,filledwithallmanneroflocaldelicacies.ThenthelazystrollalongLasRamblas,windingtheirwaythrough

thecity,sidebyside.WanderinginandoutofthenarrowstreetsandsuddensquaresthatmadeuptheGothicQuarter.Andtalkingallthewhile,asiftheylikedeachotherthewaytheyoncehad.Abouttheworld.AboutTheo’sjobandhisaspirationsandwhatitwasliketofillhisfather’smightyshoes.AboutHolly’scharitywork,andthepartsofitsheenjoyed.

Asiftheyhadnopast.Asiftheywereonadateandcouldcuratethestoriesoftheirlivestobestsuitthemoment,tobestamusetheother.Asiftherewasnothingbetweenthembutacloudlessbluedayinabeautifulcity,andthewholeofagreat,brightfutureahead.Asnightfell,theystood

togetheronarooftopterracewiththesparkleofthePortof

Barcelonaspreadoutbeforethem,withviewsthatsweptovertheBarcelonetaQuarterandbeyond—butHollywasonlydimlyawareofthescopeofitbeyonditsshine.ItwasasifshewasnolongercapableofseeinganythingbutTheo.Asifheblockedoutthewholeoftheworld.Healwayshas,alittle

voiceinsideherremindedher.Warnedher.Don’tyou

remember?Youspentsixmonthsinhisshadow.Sixmonthsandyouforgotwhoyouwere...“Areyoucold?”Theo’s

voicewaswarmandclose,andHollyshovedthatlittlevoiceaside,focusingonhiminstead.Hismouthcurvedashisgazetraceditswayoverherface.“Youshivered.”Thiswaswhatshewanted,

shetoldherselfstaunchly,

flippingthroughthepostcard-perfectdayinhermindasshetippedherheadbacktomeetthatdarkgazeofhis.She’dsufferedforfouryearswithouthimandshe’dstillcomeback.Thiswaswheresheoughttobe,rightherewithinTheo’sreach.Thisiswhereyoubelong.Hollytoldherselfthathad

tobetrue,becausenothingelsemadesense.

Becausedespiteallappearancestothecontraryandherownbehaviorfouryearsago,shewasn’thermother.Shehadn’ttakenoffwithanotherman,nomatterwhatshemighthaveletherhusbandbelieveatthetime.Andshe’dcomeback,hadn’tshe?Shewasn’tanythinglikehermother.Shecouldn’tbelikeher

mother.Sherefused.

“Ifyoukeepfrowningatme,”Theopointedoutinthatdeceptivelymildwayofhisthatmadeeveryhaironherbodyprickleintoawareness,“I’llbeforcedtoconcludethatourlittlebubbleofpeacehasimploded.AndIdon’tknowaboutyou,Holly,butIamnotquitereadytofacethethingsthatneedfacingontheothersideofthis.”“Thatsoundsominous.”

Shehadtoforcethewordsout,forcethemtosoundlight.Airy.Apartofthenightaroundthem,themusicandthelaughterthatsoaredupfromtherooftopwheretheystoodtowardthestarsthatwereonlythenstartingtoshowthemselveshighabove.“Notatall,”Theosaid.

“Merelyrealistic.”Hereachedoverandtook

herhand,playingidlywith

theringshe’dputthere,thewayhealwayshad.Asifhewasreclaimingher,orherhand—orsimplyremindinghimself,perhaps.Shewasn’tsureshewantedtoknow.Whenhelookedupatheragain,therewasacertainresolveinhisdarkgaze,aparticularsettohismouth.AndHollywasn’tready.Shedidn’twantrealism.

Shedidn’twantanswers.

Therewerenoshadowstonight,nodisappearances.Theywerehere,together.Hewaswarmandreal,andshestillwantedhimsobadlyitmadeherquiverinside,andthat,shethought,shouldbetheonlythingthatmattered.Itshouldbetheonlythingsheletswayher,onewayortheother.“Iwanttodance,”shetold

him,beforehecouldspeak.

“ThisisBarcelona,isitnot?”Hisdarkeyesgleamedin

thegatheringdark.“Itis.”“ThenIwanttodanceuntil

dawnandthenIwanttorollaroundinabedwithyou,nakedandwildlikeit’sourownkindofdancing,andImightwanttodoitalloveragaintomorrow.Andthenagain.”Hollyslidherarmsuparoundhisneckandsheheldonwhenhewentstill,letting

herbodygrazehis,lettingthatsweetelectricityburnhotbetweenthemthewayitalwaysdid.Sheheldonbecauseshethoughtthatifshedidn’t,shemightfalloffthesideoftheworldentirely,andthistimeshedoubtedshe’dcomeback.“Whataboutthatforreality?”Theo’shandscametoher

hipsandheldherthere,gentlyenough.Hisdark,dark

gazesawmuchtoodeep.Hollyfoundshewasholdingherbreath,waitingforhimtorenderjudgmentinthatruthlesswayofhis,butthen,impossibly,thathardmouthofhiscurved.Itfeltlikeareprieve.Like

abone-deeprelief.“Asyouwish,agapimou,”

hesaid,quietandrich.“Youhavetwodays.”Andthoughhisvoicewas

lowanddark,itwasthefirsttimehe’dsaidthosewordswithoutthesarcastic,mockingedgeshe’dcometoexpect.Mylove.Almostasifhemeant

them.Asifthiswasreal,afterall.Hollyshiveredagain.Harder,anditmadeherbreastsscrapeagainsthischest.Itmadeherkneesfeelwatery.Itmadeherburnfor

him,hotandneedyandwild.Itmadeherwantallkindsofthingsshewasafraidtoadmitshewanted.ButTheoonlysmiled,asif

heknewthat,too.

CHAPTERNINE

Is this a secondhoneymoon for Theoand Holly? Or acalculatedattemptatahoney trap in the citywhereitallstarted?

HOLLYSIGHEDATthesightofyetanothertabloidheadlinescreamingatherfroma

newsagent’stuckedintoanalcoveinthebusyGothicQuarter.Ithadbeentwomoredays,

asTheohadpromised.TwoperfectdaysinbeautifulBarcelona,andsheandTheohadspentmostofthattimelostentirelyineachother.Wanderingtheromanticstreets,partakingofthemarvelousfood.DancingintheclubsasHollyhad

requested,thenexploringeachotherlater,untilitallblurredtogetherintoapotentmixofsexandtouch,rhythmandmusic,theseaandthesun.ThearchitecturalmagicofGaudíthatmadethecityintosomethingoutofadream,thelookonTheo’sdarkfacewhenhemovedinsideofheranddrovethembothinsane...Shewrenchedherattention

awayfromtheshriekingpaperandwasgladshewaswearingsunglasseslargeenoughtodisguiseherfacetosomedegree—thoughtherewasnodisguisingTheo.Heturnedheadswhereverhewent,cuttingaswaththroughthecrowdsastouristsandlocalsaliketrippedoverthemselvestogetoutofhisway,andthentogawkathimashepassed.Hehadthat

muchobviouspowerstampeddeepintoeveryinchofhisathleticbody.Thatmuchoffhandedintensity.“Idon’tunderstandthe

tabloidfascination,”Hollysaidinanundertone,pressingclosertohissideastheynavigatedaroundagroupofBritishgirlstakingjubilantself-portraitsdownanancientstreetwiththeBarcelonaCathedralrisingupinthe

background.“Surelythere’sasurlypopstarbehavingbadlysomewhere.Thousandsofminorcelebritiesclamoringforattention.Whydoesanyonecarewhatwedo?”Theohadspentthebetter

partoftheirrarebreakfastoutsideofthebedroomfiringoffemailsandmessagesfromhismobile,andhadonlyconcludedaphonecall—conductedinlow,emphatic

Greekthathadnotsoundedatallfriendly—momentsbefore.HeslidheralookthenthatremindedHollyofthewayhe’dwokenherupearlierinherwide,softbedatTheHarrington,slidingdeepinsideofherfrombehindandbringingherhalfwaytoblissbeforeshe’dcompletelywokenuptofindherself,quiteliterally,inhishands.Hesmiledwhenshe

flushedhotatthememory,andshewasstruck—notforthefirsttime—withthesenseoflosingherplace,somehow.Asif,shouldsheonlyallowherself,shecouldtipoverintothatdarkgazeofhis,tumbledeepintohimandneversurfaceagain.Ithadalwaysbeenlikethat.Andsomepartofherhadneverwantedanythingelse.Somepartofherstill

didn’t,nomatterhowmuchthatfrightenedheratthesametime,downdeepintoherbones.“Idoubtanyone

particularlycaresaboutusinspecific,”hesaidafteramomentastheyturnedatightcornerandstarteddownanotheroldandechoingstreet,packedwithpedestriansasthemorninginchedtowardanother

stunninglybluemidday.“Notreally.Isuspectithasagreatdealmoretodowithwherewe’restaying.”Hollyblinkedatthat.

“Whywouldanyonecarewherewe’restaying?”Theo’smobilebuzzedin

hishand.Heglancedatit,butthenreturnedhisattentiontoHolly,consideringherforamomentasheslippeditbackintohispocket.Orperhapsit

washisownwordshewasconsidering,shethought,asheappearedtochoosethemmuchmorecarefullythesedays.“Doyounotknow?”he

askedinthatcoolwayofhisthatmadeherthinkoftheboardroomstheyclaimedhedominatedmerelybyentering,justashislegendaryfatheralwayshaddone.Chromeandglasstowers,

powerfulmenandTheointhemiddleofeverything,rulingoveritwiththisnewironwillofhisheworesoeasilyandwieldedsomatter-of-factly.Ifpossible,shefoundthisincarnationofhisevenmorecompellingthantheTheoshe’dthoughtshe’dknownbefore,thoughshehardlydaredadmitit.“IassumedthatwaswhyyouchosetostayatTheHarringtoninthe

firstplace.TopickasideintheirfightwithTheChatsfield,inthisasineverythingelse.”Hollydidn’trealizeshe’d

stoppedwalkinguntilhetookherarm,drawingheroutoftheflowoffoottrafficintothemouthofawindinglittlealley,tuckedbetweentwomedievalbuildingsinthemazeoftheoldcity.Shedidn’tknowwhyshefelt

almostbreathless,asifshe’dbeenrunning,orclimbingupasteephill.Asifhe’daccusedherof

somethingsignificantlymoreterriblethanherchoiceofaccommodations.“Icanconfidentlyassure

you,Theo,thatifacoupleofhotelchainsarehavingpitchedbattlesinthestreets—ifit’sWestSideStorybutwithalotofconciergesand

bellhops—”sheheldhisgazeasshecontinued“—asdelightfulasthatsounds,Iamblissfullyunawareofit.”ItwasonlywhenTheo

studiedherfaceforalongmomentratherthanreplyingthatsherecognizedhertonewas,perhaps,ashadeortwotoostrident.Shethoughthemightcallheronthatbuthedidn’t,thoughshefelttheheatofhisstaredeepinside

ofher,kickingupbrushfiresshewasn’tsureshecaredtoexaminetooclosely.“TheChatsfieldsaretrying

totakeovertheHarringtonHotels,”hesaid.Heproppedashoulderagainstthefarwallofthenarrowalleyway,henevershiftedhisgazefromhersandshefeltsheneededtodigherfingersintothewallbehindhertokeepfromplummetingsofarintohim

she’dnevercomeoutagain.“Ibelieveaninitialofferwassomewhatunexpectedlyrefused.Feelingsofbetrayal,anenduringstrugglebetweentwoforces,complicatednegotiations.”Heshrugged,withhismouthaswellashisshoulder,inthatdeeplyMediterraneanwayofhisthat,despiteherself,shefoundfascinating.“Isupposeourtroubledmarriagemust

seemlikeanexcellentmetaphor.”“Forasetofboring

corporateshenanigans?”Hervoicewasdry,andsheignoredhowshefeltabouthisuseofthewordtroubled,howitechoedaroundinsideofherandthensankhard,likeastone.“Yes.Verymetaphoricindeed.”Hisgazeseemedto

sharpenthen,andsomething

changedintheairbetweenthem,sodramaticshethoughtforaninstantitwastheweather.Asuddensummerstorm,perhaps,sweptinfromthesea.Buttheblueskyaboveremainedbrightandperfect,andonlyTheo’sdarkgazealteredatall.“Thesearefamily

businesses,Holly,”hesaid,andthoughhistonewasmild,thatlookinhiseyeswas

anythingbut,andshewishedshecouldn’tfeelthatthewayshedidthen.Asifitwasreproofandchallengeatonce.Asifithummedthroughher,makingeverythinginsideofhershudderprecariouslyinitswake.“Everyoneinvolvedtendstotakewhathappenswiththemquiteseriously.Andverypersonally.”Shecouldhavetoldhim

sheknewallaboutpointless

familybusinesses,suchastheywere,andtheheartbreakingstruggletomaintaintheminthefaceofoneimpossibleobstacleandstaggeringsetbackafterthenext.Shecouldhavementionedthatitwasallanexerciseinfutility,intheend.Thattheentitywiththemostmoneyalways,alwayswon.Inthecaseofherfather’sranch,thathadbeenthebank,

nomatterhowhardHollyhadworkedtoraisemoneytohelppayoffthemortgage.Inthecaseofhermarriage,itwouldalwaysbeTheo,asherbatteredheartattestedeverytimeshelookedathim.Whyshouldasetofluxuryhotelsescapethesamesadfate?ButshesuspectedTheo

didn’twanttohearallthat.“ThenIimaginethefamily

membersinvolvedwould

makeafarbetterfocusforintrusivetabloidarticles,wouldn’tthey?”sheaskedhiminstead.Exceptshewasn’treally

asking.Andtherewasnopretendingthatwasn’tanaggressivetoneofvoice,completelyinappropriateforaquietconversationaboutthingsthatshouldn’tmattertoherintheleast,liketheChatsfieldandHarrington

hoteldynasties.Shetiltedherchinup,andthat,too,wasbelligerent.Shefeltit,butshecouldn’tseemtohelpherself.AndHollythoughttheywouldtoppleoverthecliffofthisstrangetensionstraightintooneoftheflashfightsthey’dusedtohavesooftenfouryearsago,andsomepartofheryearnedforit,becausethey’dalwaysendedthesameway,allofthatfuryand

temperandvolumerollingrightoverintothenearestbed...Butinstead,Theoreached

acrossthealleyandpickedupastrandofthehairshe’dleftdownthismorningbecausesheknewhelikeditbetterthatway,wrappingtheblondwavearoundandaroundhisfinger.Foramoment,thatwasthe

wholeworld.

Theybothstaredathishand,andthespiralofherhairhewoundtighterandtighteraroundhisindexfinger.Outsidetheirshadowed,surprisinglyprivatealley,theoldcitybustledandswirled,itsinsistentenergymakingitsownkindofmusicandswellingaroundthem.Upabove,theSpanishskybeamed.Andhereintheir

tinylittlecircle,Holly’sheartbeatsoloudandsohardshewascertainitdrownedoutalltherest.Maybetheentireplanet.“Whatisitthatdistresses

yousomuchaboutthetabloidattention?”Theoaskedafteramoment—orperhapsadecade—inchedby.Butshecouldn’tseemtofindhervoice,andhekepton.“Isitthatyouworrythefocuson

ourrelationshipwillforceyouintofinallymakingadecisionaboutthismarriage?Orthatitmaywellcompelmetodosoforthebothofus?”Itwaspanicthatrocketed

throughherthen,makingherpulseawildscream,herchestsotightithurt.“Ifourmarriagesurvives

orfailsbasedonthefantasiesoftabloidwriters,thenwe

deservewhateverweget,”Hollywhisperedfiercely,andshetriedtoshovethepanicbackdownintoaboxinsideher,tohideitaway,topretenditwassomethingelse.Sex.Fury.Something.Hetuggedgentlyenough

onthatstrandofherhair,andshefeltitlikeanelectriccurrent,makingeverythinginsideofherclenchtight.Asifallshe’deverbeen,or

wouldbecome,wasstrandedhereinthistightlittlespacewithhim,waitingforwhatevercamenext.Waitingforhimtomake

thedecisionsoyoudon’thaveto?alittlevoiceasked,soundingassnideasthosetabloidarticlesdid,asjudgmentalandarch,andasdamaging.Isthatwhatyou’rehopingwillhappenhere?“Orisitthatyoudon’tlike

allthisspeculationaboutyourmotives?”Theoaskedquietly,hiswordslikestones,droppingthroughheroneafterthenext.“Afterall,theyonlyclaimIamafoolforaprettyface.Theysuspectyouofafardarkeragenda.Doesithitabittooclosetohome?”AndHollycouldn’thelp

themiserythatfloodedherthen.Itcameonsofastandsohardsheunderstoodithad

neverbeenfarawayatall—ithadonlybeenwaiting.Itwashedoverher,swampingher,andshecouldn’thideanyofit.Hewasrightthere,watchingasitmovedthroughher,withthosedark,clevereyesofhisthathadalwaysseenfartoomuch,anyway.Itwasasifhewasinsideof

her,asiftherewasnothingthatcouldkeephimout,andHollystilldidn’tknowifshe

cravedthatconnectionorfearedit.Shestilldidn’tknowwhatshewanted.Onlythatshecouldn’tseemtolivewithoutthisman,nomatterhowtornshefeltwhenhewasnear.“Youdon’tunderstand,”

shesaidunsteadilynow,castingaroundforsomekindofexplanationwhenshefearedtherewasnone.Nonethatmadesense,notevenin

herownmind.“Myfatherlovedmymothersomuch.Hewascrazyabouther.Shewaseverythingtohim.ShelefthimwhenIwasalittlegirlandourentireliveswerearrangedaroundit.Notthefactofherabsence,buthisbedrockcertaintythatshewouldreturn.Sheneverdid.”Shepulledinaraggedbreath.“Andstill,whenhedied,rightthereattheend,he

calledouthername.”Theodidn’tsayaword,he

onlywatched,steadyandunyielding,andHollydidn’tquestionwhythatmadeherfeelmorebalanced.Whyhemadeherfeelstrongwhenshewasdeeplyafraidhewashergreatestweakness.Butwhateveritwas,thatdarkpatienceofhismadehercapableoftakinganotherdeepbreath,andthen

continuing.“WhenImetyou,Ifellso

hardIthinkIhadbruisesformonthsafterward.Maybeyears.”Sheshookherhead.“Ididn’tknowanything.Iwasallaloneintheworld,andthentherewasyou,andoverthesixmonthsweweretogetherIgotlostinthat.Completelylost.IwasterrifiedthatI’dendupjustlikemyfather.”

“SurelythatwouldonlybecauseforconcernhadIleftyou,”Theosaid,andonsomelevel,Hollyunderstoodthatonlyacoupleofdaysago,hewouldhavesaidthatwithaharshedge,calculatedtodrawblood.Thatitwouldhaveslicedherinhalfandhewouldhavereveledinthecutting.Todayhisvoicewassoft.

Quiet.

Sheswallowed.“Peopleleaveeachotherallthetime,Theo.”“Sothiswas,what?A

proactiveattempttoforestallpainbyinflictingityourself?BeforeIcouldmakeyourhistoryrepeatitself,somehow?”Itwouldhavebeen

differentifhe’dsoundedangry.Evenhurt.Butheonlysoundedcurious,andthatwas

whyshecouldkeepgoing.“Idon’tknow,”she

whispered.“AllIknewwasthatIhadtogetawayfromyoubeforetherewasn’tanyofmeleft.”Hisgazekindledintoa

kindofblaze,buthedidn’tmove.Hisexpressionremainedcalm,andshewonderedwhatthatcosthim.Anddeepinsideofher,Hollyfeltsomethingcrackwide-

open.“Theo,”shewhispered,

unabletostopherself.Unabletothinkbetterofwhatshewasdoing.“I’msosorry.Ihopeyouknowthat.”Heslidhishandsupto

holdhercheeksbetweenthem,andshe’dneverseenthelookheworethen.Itwasanakedthing,asifshewasn’ttheonlyonebreakingopen—anideashecouldn’tquite

accept.“Iam,too,”hesaidina

verylow,verygruffvoicethatseemedtowinditswaydeepintoherbones.“ThatIleftyou?”“That,yes.”Something

thatlookedlikepainmovedacrosshisface,anditechoedwithinher,makingherfeelwarped.Altered.“AndthatIchosetorespondtoitinsuchachildish,tit-for-tatway.

Whodidthatserve?JustbecauseIthoughtyou’dbrokenyourvows,thatdidn’tmeanIshouldhave,too.”“Theo...”Butthatfiercelightinhis

gazestoppedher.“ImeantitwhenIsaid

forever,Holly,”hewhisperedharshly.“Ihopeyoubelieveme.Ireallydid.”Andthenhebenthishead

andfinally—finally—fithis

mouthtohers.Hekissedherasifhe’d

neverstoppedlovingher.Hekissedherasifthetasteofherwasprecious.Heangledhisjawtotakethekissdeeper,heheldherfaceinhishandsandhekissedherasifitwasanewvow.Asifitwasanapologyandaprayeratonce.Anewstart.Asifthepast

didn’tmatteratall,and

couldn’thurtthemanylonger.Asifitwasfinallybehindthem,whereitbelonged.Asif,aftereverything,he

trustedheragain.AndsoHollymeltedinto

him,kissedhimback,andforthefirsttimeinfourandahalflongyearsletherselfbelievethingsmightbeallright,afterall.

***

“Well?”DemetriousTsoukatos’sgruffvoicewasmorebelligerentthanusualoverthephoneline,whichdidnotbodewell.“Haveyousortedoutyourmaritalissuesyet?OrcanIlookforwardtoevenmoreofthistabloidnonsensetogivemeindigestion?”Theostoodoutonthe

privatebalconythatranalongthesideoftheChatsfieldhoneymoonsuite,hiseyesonthesuninthedistanceasitsankdownintoariotofspringcolorarrayedalongthehorizon,andorderedhimselftoremaincalm.Orascalmasanyonecould

remainwhentalkingtohisfather.“Youcannotpossibly

imaginemymarriageisany

ofyourbusiness,”hesaidwhenhewascertainhecouldsoundcoolandunbothered,completelyincontrol.“Letmeassureyou,ifyouareconfusedonthatscore,thatitisnot.”Heevenlaughed.“Withallduerespect,Father,yoursisnotthecounselIwouldevervoluntarilyseekwhenitcomestomatrimony.”“Youareneededin

Athens,”hisfatherbarkedathim,theslightraspinhisvoicetheclosestheevergottoadisplayofemotion.Theoconsidereditadirecthit.“Youaremeanttoberunningmycompany,notlettingthatgirlparadeyouaroundEuropebyyour—”“Thatgirlismywife

whetheryoulikeitornot,”Theosaidicily,cuttingtheoldmanoffbeforehecould

veertoofarintotheunforgivable.“AndIamasinterestedinyourthoughtsonmymarriagenowasIwasfourandahalfyearsago,Father,whenyouboycottedmyweddingandyet,somehow,itwentaheadwithoutyou.”“Perhapsifyou’dlistened

backthenyouwouldn’tbeinthiscrisisnow!”hisfatherretorted,soundingasguilt-

freenowashehadthen.But,ofcourse,Theowasn’tcertainDemetriousknewwhatguiltwas.“Splashedalloverthepapersandhalfthecompany—mycompany—athergreedyfingertips!”“Whydon’twecontinue

thisconversationwhenyouhaverecalledthat,onceagain,Ididnotaskforyouropiniononmymarriage,”Theosaid,verydistinctly.

“Or—andthisismypreference—notatall.Makepeacewiththis,Father,howeveryoucan.Idon’tcarewhatyouthinkaboutit.”“Youmustendthis

spectacle,Theo.”Hisfather’svoicewasdark,andwhollyunmovedbyanythingTheomighthavesaid,asalways.ThegreatDemetriousTsoukatoscaredabouttwothings—himselfandwhatever

madehimmoremoney.Theoknewbetterthantoexpectotherwise,andthetruthwas,thelongerhespentwithHolly,thelesshecaredwhattheoldmandid.“Onewayortheother.”“Goodbye,Father,”Theo

replied,andendedthecall,tuckinghismobileintothepocketofhistrousersandlettingthestunningSpanishsunset,pinksanddeepblues

cavortingmagnificentlyovertheoldcitybeforetheysuccumbedtothecomingdark,soothetheraggedthingsinsideofhim.Butheknewthattherewas

onlyonethingthatcouldtrulydothat,onlyonepersonwhoeverhad,andhehadstoppedpretendingotherwise.They’dstoodinthatalley

foralongtime,kissing.Justkissing.

Andithadchangedeverything.He’dtastedheragainand

again,kissingherasifhislifedependedonit.Heratherthoughtitmight,

thatwasthetrouble.Becauseithadbeenonethingtoliveoutthepastfouryearsinadarkfury.Outragedatwhatshe’ddonetohimanddeterminedtoprovehewasn’truinedbyher

deception,herbetrayal.Determinedtobeunbroken,unchanged,bywhathadhappenedbetweenthem,he’dtoldhimselfalmostdaily—andyethehadn’tlethergo,hadhe?Hewantedtolethergo

evenless,now.“Thatdidnotsoundlikea

pleasantconversation,”shesaidfrombehindhim.“Perhapsyou’veforgotten

thatmyfatherisnotaparticularlypleasantman,”Theorepliedwithashrug.“Merelyaneffectiveone.”Heturnedtofindher

standinginthegracefuldoorwaythatledintothesuite,andhethoughtshewasfarmorebeautifulthanthesun’sdisplayoverthedistanthillsandthegleamingsea.Shewaswearinghisshirtlikearobe,wrappedaroundher

lovelyform,withherhairagreatandgloriousmessaroundhershoulders,andhischestachedatthesight.Maybeitwouldalways

achewhenhesawher.Maybethatwasthepoint.They’dhadagreatdealof

sexsincethatfirsttimeonthesofa,onlyahandfulofdaysago.Ithadbeenwild,intense.Deeplyaddictive.Perfect,everytime,justashe

remembereditfrombefore.Butnoneofithadcome

closetowhatthey’dsharedthislasttime,whenthey’dcomebackhereaftertheirinterludeinthatalleyintheGothicQuarter,drunkonallthatkissing.Intoxicatedandfilledwithanewkindoflight.Anewkindoftrust.Sacred,hethought.Hehadnointentionof

lettinghergo.None

whatsoever.Noteveragain.“Youmusthavethingsto

dobackinAthens,”shecontinuedafteramoment,herhandonthedoorframeasifsheneededtosteadyherself.Theo’sgazesharpenedatthat,andhefelteverythinginsidehimstill.“Youcan’thaveplannedforavacationontheflylikethis.”Sheswallowed,hard,asifshewasforcingdownareaction

shedidn’twanthimtosee,shovingitoutofhisviewbeforehecouldnameit.“Idon’twanttokeepyoufromyourresponsibilities,Theo.”Hestudiedherthen,allof

hissensesonhighalert.Thesunsetplayedoverherface,makinghershinethatlittlebitbrighter,buthecouldseetheshadowsinhereyes.Thatstarkvulnerability.Andheknew.Heknew

whatshewasgoingtodo.“Areyoureadytoreturnto

Greecewithme,Holly?”Heleanedbackagainsttherailbehindhimandkepthisattentiontrainedonher,andhedidnotballhishandsupintofists.Hedidnotbellowhisfeelingsintothetwilightsky.Hesimplygazedatherandwaitedforthisaxofherstofall.“Isthatwhatyou’retryingtosay?”

“IthinkyoushouldgotoGreecerightnowifthat’swhatyouneedtodo,”shetoldhim,andhecouldseeshemeantthat.Shewoveherhands

togetherinfrontofher,andhehadthesudden,perfectrecollectionofherstandingexactlylikethatfouryearsagoasshe’dspunherliesforhim,devastatinghiminafewstarksentences.Hehadn’t

paidmuchattentiontoherbodylanguagethen,thatshe’dheldherhandsoutlikethatwhensheneverhadbefore.Buthe’dhadfouryearsofangrymorningsinhisgym,rememberingeverysinglemomentofthatlastnightandeverytinythingshe’ddoneasshe’drippedouthisheartandstompedonit.Tonight,heknewwhatit

was.Fear.Again.“Youaretookind,”he

murmured.Holly’stroubledbluegaze

methis,thendancedawayagain.“Ithinkthesedaystogether

havebeenenormouslyinstructive,”shesaid,andhervoicechangedasshespoke.Shestoodtaller,heldherselfmoreelegantly.Hesupposed

thiswastheHollyTsoukatoswhodominatedallthecharitiesshewasinvolvedwith.Remote.Inaccessible.Unemotional—buthecouldseehereyes.Hecouldseeher,nomatterwhatshesaid.“Ithinkwe’velearnedthatwedo,infact,havesomethingtobuildon,afterall.Maybeweshouldtakeamonthorsotoreflectoneverythingthat’shappened,

andthencraftareasonablewaytomoveforward.”“Or,”hesaidsoftly,“you

canjustcomehomewithme.Andthenstaythere,thewayyoushouldhavedonefromthestart.”“Oh!”Herfaceflushedred

andhereyeswentwide,asifhe’dsuggestedsomethingshocking.“Idon’tthink—”“Holly.”Hesaidhername,

justhername,andhervoice

cutoffasifhe’dbarkedoutaharshcommand.Hemethergazeandheldit.Triedtowillhernottodothisthingheknewverywellshewasplanningtodo.Hecouldseeit,writtenthereoverherfaceasifshe’dinscribedthewordsinblood,rightthereontheperfectslopesofhercheeks.“Comehome,agapimou.It’stime.”

CHAPTERTEN

THEODIDN’TKNOWwhatheexpected,onlywhathewishedwitheverylastshredofhimself,yetHollyonlystaredbackathimforalong,shudderingsortofmoment,somethingmuchtoomuchlikemiserymakingherblueeyeslookdark.“No,”shesaid,hervoice

thick.“Ican’t,Theo.Ican’tgotoGreece.”Shedidn’twaitforhimto

formaresponsetothat,oreventoseeifhe’dtry.Shespunaroundanddisappearedbackinside,throwingherselfintotheshadowsofthesuite’sinteriorwithakindofdesperatelurchthatsuggestedshewasunsteadyonherownfeet.Butitwasthethrowing

herselfawayfromhimthathecomprehendedfirst,anditcutdeep.Shewasescapinghimasbestshecould,alloveragain,anditwashardnottobleedoutalittlebitatthat.Nomatterthathe’dseenthiscoming.Ifanything,thatmadeit

worse.Becauseheshouldhaveknownbetterthantokissherlikethat,tomakelovetoherlikethat.Painand

crueltyanduncertaintydrewhertohim,madeherruntohim.Lovemadeherrunaway.Thesedaystogetherinacityhewouldalwaysthinkofastheirsmadethatcleartohim.Heonlywishedhe’d

understoodthetruthofthatyearsago.Theostoodwherehewas

foralongmoment,thenanother.Whenhehadthat

brightredthingwithinhimundercontrolagain,shovedbackdowndeepandbounduptight,hefollowedHollyintothebedroom,notatallsurprisedtofindherpullingherclothesbackoninafrenziedsortofhurry.Asif,wereshetodelay

evenasecond,she’dbelost.He’dpeeledoffthatblouse

shewasshruggingbackonslowly,soslowly.He’dtasted

everylastmillimeteroftheskinhe’dbaredashewent.Hercollarbone,herelegantneck.Thatsweet,softplacewhereherarmmethershoulderandveeredofftowardherbreast.Onlywhenshe’dmoanedbeneathhimhadhemovedtostripoffthebrashe’dworn,baringthosedark-tippedbreaststohisview—tohismouth—atlast.Heshouldhavekepther

naked,theanimalinhimgrowled.Maybethenhe’dhavekeptherclose.“Whereareyougoing?”

Theoasked,hisvoiceaslightashecouldmakeit,butheknew.Healreadyknew.Hecouldseethepanicandthedarknessfightingitoutinthestorminsidehergaze,inthecarefulwaysheheldhermouth,asifsheworriedasobmightescapeifshewasn’t

careful.“Youneedtogetbackto

yourbusinessandI’mneededinDallas.”“Bywhom?”Hereyeshadthatsheenin

them,thathecticsparkle,thatgavehimalltheanswersheneeded.Buthedidn’trelent.Hecouldn’t.“Ihaveresponsibilities,”

shetoldhim,butshedroppedhergazeasshesaidit,

lookingaroundthebedroomasifthetossed-backsheetsandwell-usedmattressmightofferheraclue.Healmostfeltsorryfor

her,Theothought.Hewasalmostsympathetic.Buthewasstandingthereinnothingbutapairofboxerbriefsandhisbodywasstillpleasantlyworn-outfromallthewayshe’dexploredher,cherishedher,takenher.Worshipped

her.He’dkissedawaythetearsthathadleakedfrombehindherclosedeyeswhenshe’dshatteredinhisarms.Whenshe’dmoanedoutherpleasureandhe’dheardnothingbutloveinthesound.Buthedoubtedshe’dlethimdoitnow.“Doyou?”Hewatchedher

movearoundtheroom,everypartofhervibratingwithaterribletension,asifshewas

holdingbackapersonal,internalearthquakebysheerforceofwillalone.Perhapsshewas.Ifhewasn’tsoangrywithher,withwhatshewasabouttodoagain,hethoughthemightacheforher.“Andwhatresponsibilitiesarethose,exactly?”Shestoppedmovingthen,

andthrewherhandsout.“Stop!”shehissedathim,asifhecouldn’tseethewayher

handsshook,undercuttinganythingshemightsay.“Justletmego.”“Butyousee,thatisthe

trouble,”Theoreplied,makinghisvoicelazy,forcinghisbodytoleanagainstthedoorjambasifhefeltanythinglikeathisease.“I’vealreadyletyougoonce.Idon’tparticularlywanttodoitagain.”“Thiswasamistake,”she

muttered.“Thiswasallagod-awfulmistake.”“Whichpart,Holly?”He

watchedhershoveherhandsinherhair,sawtheconflictedexpressionthatmovedoverherface,sadandlostandwounded,andhewonderedhowhe’dmisseditthefirsttimearound.Hadhetrulybeensonarcissisticfouryearsago?Hadheseennothingatallbuthisownpain,hisown

ego?Butheknewhehad.He’dwatchedherdoexactlythisandhe’dbelievedher.Onsomelevel,Theothoughtthen,thatwasthegreatestbetrayalofall.Ifhe’dknownheratall,heshouldhaveknownbetter.“Thepartwhereyoulovemesomuchitterrifiesyou?Orthepartwhereyoudon’tknowhowtoloveatallunlessithurts?”Shebreathedinsomething

raggedthatsoundedagooddeallikeasob,buttherewassomethingelseinherstormygaze.Somethinglikesteel.Resignationandregret.“Maybelovesimplyhurts

becausethat’swhatitdoes,”sheflaredathim.“Maybeeverythingbetweenusistoopainfulforareason.Iliedtoyou.Yousleptaround.Noneofthatcouldeverhavehappenedifwewereanything

remotelyresemblinggoodforeachother!”“Holly.”Hestraightened

fromthedoorjambandwaitedforhertolookathimagain.Hewatchedthewayshetrembledandhecouldn’tthinkofanythinghewantedmorethantogotoher,togatherherclose,tosootheawaythislateststormofhers—buthedidn’t.“Youbelievethatloveshouldhurt.Thatthe

onlywayyoucanpossiblyknowifit’sloveinthefirstplaceisifit’scrippling.Ifyouworryitmightbreakyou.Soifthehurtdoesn’texistonitsown,youinventit.”Hermouthfellopenand

shestoppedtremblingwithasuddenness,anabruptness,thatwasalmostlikeagunshotthroughthequietroomaroundthem.“Isthataroundaboutway

oftellingmeI’mcrazy?”sheasked,buthervoicehadgonecold.Itwaspureice,allthewaythrough,andTheounderstoodit.Heunderstoodherforthefirsttime,hethought,herandhimandeverythingthathadhappenedbetweenthemthenandnow—andthatwaswhyhecouldn’tletthisgothewaysomuchofhimlongedtodo.“Notatall,”hesaid.“We

areallwhatwewereraisedtobe,arewenot?Thoughweclaimthatwillneverhappentous,thatwe’llfightitwithourdyingbreaths,thatwetakeonlywhatwelikefromourparentsandnomore.YetIammyfather’sson,forbetterorworse.Justasyouareyourfather’sdaughter.”Shesuckedinanothertoo-

harshbreath,anditwasloud.Soloudhethoughtitmust

havehurther.Ithurthim,too.“Becareful,Theo,”she

warnedhimthen.“Myfatherwasagoodman.Agoodmanandatrueonetotheveryend.He’snotammunitionyoucanusetomakeapoint.”Hereyesflashed,darkening,andherprettymouthtrembled.“Anygoodthingtheremightbeinme,hetaughtme.”“Hetaughtyouhowto

mourn,”Theocontradictedherwithgentledeliberatenessthatwasnolessaccurateforitssoftness,andshestiffened.“Hetaughtyouhowtomakeawholelifeintoamonumenttoaselfishwomanwhowantedneitheroneofyou.”“Helovedher!”Holly

cried.“Justasmymotherloved

myfather,andtowhatend?”Hisownvoicewasmerciless

then,Theoknew,buthecouldn’tstop.“Loveisalivingthing,Holly.Don’tyouseethat?It’snotsetinstone.It’snotatestofendurancedesignedonlytobreakyou.Youcanlovemewithoutallthisdarkness.Withoutthepainandthelossandthegrief.Youcansimplyloveme,Ipromise.”Sheletoutasoundfartoo

painfultobealaugh,andit

toreathim.Itwreckedhimassurelyasaliehadfouryearsago.“Howwouldyouknow?Whatevidenceistheretosupportthat?Notonethinginourhistorysuggestswecandoanythingbutfallapart.”“Thosesixmonthsin

Santoriniwerethebestofmylife,”hetoldher,holdinghergaze,lettingherseetheveryheartofhim.“Therewasnodarkness.Therewasnofear.

Therewerenoothersbetweenus,realorimaginary.Andwewerehappy.”Heletthatsinkinforabreath.“Thatwaswhyyouran,wasn’tit?It’snotlosingyourselfyoufear.It’sfindingyourselfwhole.Wholeandhappyandloved.Thewayyourfathernevercould.”Andhecouldn’tsayhewas

particularlysurprisedwhensheblanchedatthat,jerking

backasifhe’dhitherandgoingterribly,alarminglypalebesides.Nomore,everythinginside

ofhimshouted,wildandsnarlingattherestrainthewasshowing.Youshouldbetheonewhoprotectsher,nottheonewhoattacksher!“Holly...”“Enough!”shethrewat

him,thoughhervoicewasbutastrangledwhisper,and

shehardlysoundedlikeherself.Shesoundedaswreckedashefelt.Asifthey’dcrushedeachothertopiecesalloveragain.Shardsofglass,groundintodust.“You’vesaidenough,Theo.Morethanenough.Ican’thearanymoreofthis.”Andthistime,shedidn’t

sneakoutwhileheslept.Shedidn’trunawaywhilehewasn’tlooking,leavinghim

topickupwhatpiecesremainedandthenstitchhimselfbacktogetherwithwhateverfuryandheartbreakandgriefshe’dleftbehindher.Notthistime.Thistime,Hollywalked

swiftlyawayfromhimandshedidn’tlookback.Shedidn’tglanceoverhershoulder,andshewasstillsoalarminglypaleitwasasif

she’dbecomeherownghost.AndTheolethergo.

***

Hollywashalfwayacrossthegleaming,fresh-scentedlobbyofTheHarringtonbeforesherealizedthatsomeonewascallinghername—andthatitwasn’tTheo,theonlypersonshebothwantedtohearandwantedtoavoid,allatthe

sametime.Morethanthat,shewanted

todie.Moreaccurately,shethoughtshe’dalreadydiedandwantednothingmorethantohideherselfawayinsomecornersomewhereandcollapse...Maybethen,she’dstopfeelingallofthis.Maybethen,she’dmakesenseofthemadtiltandcrashthatwasstillhappeninginsideofher.Butinsteadofheadingup

toherroomtofindthatcorner,shestopped,pastingwhatshehopedwasasmileonherfaceandaimingitatthewomanwhomarchedtowardher,wearingthetrimsuitandgold-edgednametagofaHarringtonemployee.“Mrs.Tsoukatos,”the

womansaidinanefficientBritishaccent.“Iamsosorry.I’mthedaymanagerhereandIwantedtomakecertainI

apologizedtoyoupersonallyforthegrievousandunacceptablebreachofyourprivacy.IspentthemorningonthetelephonewithourCEO,IsabelleHarrington,whowasdeeplyconcernedandappalledandaskedmetoextendanapologybothonbehalfofTheHarringtoningeneralandfromherin—”“Forgiveme,”Holly

interruptedbeforeherhead

exploded,allovertheshinyfloorandthetastefulflowerarrangementsthattossedscentandcoloraroundlikeconfettiandmadeherfeelsomehowmoreexposedbecauseofit,“butIhavenoideawhatyou’retakingabout.”Thewomanstood

straighter,herpoliteexpressionintact,ifmorecareful.Sheclearedherthroat

andHollydidn’tbolt,becausethinkingaboutsomething—anything—besidesTheoandhermarriageandthestunningmessshe’dmadeofherlifeseemedlikeagift.Areprieve.“I’mafraidthattherecent

attentionyou’vereceivedinthepaperswasadirectresultoftheinappropriateactionsofoneofourHarringtonemployees,”thewomansaid,andonsomelevel,Holly

admiredthewayshegotrighttothepoint.“Obviouslywe’veremovedthisgentlemanfromhispositionandareconsideringwhatfurtherdisciplinaryactionsmightbeappropriate.”Shepausedandcougheddelicately.“Ifithelpsatall,hethoughthewashelpingthehotel,indirectresponsetosimilaractionsfromanemployeeatTheChatsfield.

Hedidn’trealizehisactionscouldbeinterpretedasanunacceptableattackononeofourhotelguests.Idon’texpectthistomakeadifferencetoyou,Mrs.Tsoukatos,norshoulditwhenyou’vebeenvictimizedbyhispoordecision-making,buthishearttrulywasintherightplace.”“Whatdoesthatmean?

Whatdoesahearthavetodo

withit?Withanything?”Hollyaskedwithoutrealizingshemeanttospeak.Shesawtheotherwoman’ssmoothbrowcreaseand,worse,sawherownreflectioninoneofthegreatmirrorsrimmedindeep,oldgoldthatlinedthefarwall.Shelookedlikealunatic.

Thatwasafact.Shelookedunkemptandwild—verymuchasifshe’dspentallday

rollingaroundinbedwithamanandhadthenracedoffacrossthecitytogetawayfromhimwithoutsomuchastakingacombtoherhair.Which,ofcourse,shehad.Ifshewashonest,she

lookedthewayshe’dalwayslooked,waybackwhen.Likearegularperson,asmallvoicewhisperedthen.Nohoursspentboredtotearsinsalonsachievingthekindof

highglossthatscreamedhigh-classtothesortsofpeoplewhocatalogedsuchthings.Noruthlessarmoroftherightclothes,therightshoes,eventherightfacialexpressions,toblendinwiththekindofwomenwholivedthelifeHollydidfollowingherdeparturefromSantorini.Theemptyandterribly,terriblyshinylifeshe’dmadeforherselfintheyearssince

she’dleftTheo.It’snotlosingyourselfyou

fear,he’dsaid—butshecouldn’tletherselfthinkaboutthat.Shecouldn’tlethiswordstakeroot.Shewastooafraidthatoncetheydid,oncetheyleveledhercompletely,therewouldbenothingleft.“Excuseme,”Hollysaid

then,beforetheotherwomancouldtrytocoverthe

awkwardnessthathungbetweenthemwithmoreapologies.“Iappreciateyourapology,Ido.ButI’mafraidImustcheckout.Immediately.”“WhileTheHarrington

fullyunderstandsyourposition,Mrs.Tsoukatos,andregretsit,Iwanttoassureyouthatstepshavebeentakenandwillcontinuetobetakentomakecertainthatthiskind

of...”Hollyshookherhead,

raisingahandtohertemple,andthewomancutherselfoff.“Please,”Hollywhispered,

andforonceshedidn’tcarewhatshesoundedlike.Orevenifanyoneoverheardher.“Haveacaroutfrontintenminutes.”“Ofcourse,”thewoman

said.

AndfinallyHollyspunaway,makingfortheelevatorbankandhopingagainsthopethatshecouldslipinsidebeforethefogtakingoverhersightspilledoutintotears.Youmeanmoretears,sheremindedherselfsharply,butshedidn’twanttothinkaboutthat,either.ThewayTheohadcradledherinhisarms,stillmovingsoslowanddeepinsideofher,holdingher

closewhilesheshattered.Whileshebroke.Whileshelostherselfandeverythingshe’dthoughtsheknew...Hollyjabbedthebutton

repeatedly,awarethatshewasinapanic,thateveryoneelseinthelobbycouldnodoubtseethatshewaslosingit—butthen,asshefeltthehintofheatatthecornersofhereyes,akindofdesperatechillstoleoverher,andjust

likethat,shedidn’tcare.Shedidn’tcareabout

anything,shethoughtfirmly—fiercely—astheelevatordoorsfinallyopenedandshecatapultedherselfinside,squeezinghereyesshutandbreathinghardassherodeuptowardhersuite.Shedidn’tcarewhatanyonethoughtofher,shetoldherselfassheburstintoherroomandpackedherthingsinawild,

freneticwhirl,asifshethoughtdemonsmightdescenduponherandcarryheroffifshewasn’toutofthehotelinmeremoments.Shedidn’tcarewhatshethoughtofherself,sheassuredherselfassheluggedherownbagsbackdowntothelobbyandintothewaitingcar,becausethathardlymatteredanylongerwhenshewasfairlycertainshe’dleft

thelastbitofwhoshewasinTheo’sbed.Inhisarms.Shewrappedherselfinthe

pashminashealwayscarriedinhertravelbag,thoughitwasanythingbutcoldonsuchawarmsummer’sevening.Thenshecurledupinthebackseatofthecar,andshedirectedthedrivertotakehertotheairportasquicklyashecould,andthen,onlythen,didshecry.

Shecriedandshecried.AndHollydidn’tcare

aboutthat—aboutindulginginanemotionalbreakdowninasemipublicplace,nomatterthatthecar’swindowsweretinted—either.Becausethetruthwas,shedidn’tcareaboutanythingbutputtingasmuchdistancebetweenherandTheoaspossible.Shecouldn’tcareabout

anythingelse,becauseshe

couldn’tthinkofanythingelse.It’snotlosingyourselfyou

fear,he’dsaid,damnhim,andshecouldhearhimasplainlyasifhewassittingrighttherewithherinthecar,nexttoherintheleatherbucketseats.Shecouldseehimasifhewasstilldeliveringthosewordstoherlikeaprisonsentencefromuponhigh,lookingatherwith

challengeandpityandsomeotherdarkthinginhisgazeshewasafraidtoidentify.It’sfindingyourselfwhole.Wholeandhappyandloved.Shewrappedherarms

aroundherself,andletthepastwashoverher.Hersad,lonelychildhood,spentaloneontheirremotespitoforneryTexasland,justHollyandhermournfulfatherandtheghostofthewomanwhohad

wantedneitheroneofthematall.Herearliestmemorieswere

oftherelentless,endlesschoresandherownguiltthatherfatherhadhertodealwithinadditiontothelandthatgavehimsolittle.Guiltandshamethathermotherhadn’twantedherenoughtotakeherorfightforherorevenkeepintouchwithheronceshe’dgone.Andguiltthatnomatter

howhardshe’dworked,nomatterhowdedicatedshe’dbeentohim,herfatherhadneverlovedherasmuchashe’dlovedthelanditselfandthewomanwho’dlefthimtheretorotonit.Inthecar,hurtlingtoward

theairport,Hollysuckedinasharpbreath,onehandmovingtomassagethathollowplacethathadopenedupinherchest.

Oh,herfatherhadlovedher.Hollyknewthathehad,asmuchashe’dbeenable.Asmuchashe’dhadleftinhim.ButTheohadbeenright.

Herfather’slovehadbeenafuriousthing,woundedandscarred.Ithadbeenlovelaidprostratetosomeonewhowouldneverwanthimback,muchlesslovehiminreturn.Itwasalifelivedfortheonewholeft,nottheoneswho

stayedbehind.Andithadneveroccurred

toHollytoquestionthat.Ithadnevercrossedhermindtothinkabouthowunhealthythatkindoflifewas.She’dshutdownanythoughtsofherupbringingalongtimeago.She’drefusedtothinkofherfatherasanythingbutthegoodmansheknewhewas.Becausethatpartwastrue.Hewasagoodman,adecent

man.Hehadadeepsortoffaithandhe’dtreatedothersfairly,andhe’dtaughtHollytodothesame.Buthewasamanfirst,a

humanbeing,andthosewerecomplicatedcreatures,neverallonethingoranother.GabeHolthadbeenharshandsilent.Stubbornlikethedamnedlandthathadbrokenhimdownyearinandyearout.Andhehadneverletgo,

notofanything—theranch,hiswife,hisdetermination—nomatterhowmuchithurthim.Nomatterwhatdamageitdid.Nomatterifitwashardtotell,afteradecadeortwo,ifitwasloveorhatethatdrovehim.“Stop,”Hollywhispered,

andshedidn’tknowwhoshewastalkingtoanylonger.Theghostsinherpast?The

unhealthycreaturewho

squattedinhermindandinsistedshehadtobeasunhappyasthepeoplewho’draisedher?Thattheirbrandofpainwasfamiliarandthatmadeitbetter,somehow?Oratleastright?Thatifshewasn’tracked

withpain,shewasn’talive?Outsidethewindows,the

daywasbright.Warm.Andyetshewasstillsocold.AndHollyknewthenthat

allofthiswasherfault.ThatnomatterwhatTheomighthavedone,she’ddoneitfirst.BecauseTheohadloved

her,deeplyandpassionately,fromthemomentthey’dmet.He’dfoughthisfamily.Ignoredhiscritics.He’dbeenafamousplayboybeforeherandyetwhenhe’dfoundher,he’dbeenutterlyfaithfuluntilshe’dconvincedhimshewasn’t.Ithadbeenherlie,

herdeterminationtoescapetheirmarriagebecauseshewasafraidoflosingherself,thathadcausedallofthis.Shehadneverunderstood,

untilnow,thatwhatshewasafraidoflosingwasthepain.Thepainshe’dbeenraised

with.Thedeephurtthatinfusedeverylastmomentofherchildhood.Theagonyhadhunglikesmokeinthedarkroomsofherchildhoodhome,

sneakingintoherclothes,herskin.IthadpressedintoherandweighedherdownlikethefamousTexasheat,untilshe’dhadnoideathatitwasn’tapartofher.Untilshe’dbelievedthat,withoutit,shewasunrecognizable.Becausewithoutit,Holly

didn’tknowwhoshewas.Thesocietymaven,capableofextraordinaryeleganceevenwhensheuseditas

armor?Ortheunsophisticated,untutorednaïfwhohadcareenedaroundEuropeinherowndizzybubble,whichshehadn’tunderstooduntilnowwasitsownkindofcostume?Shedidn’tknowwhoshe

was,butforthefirsttimeinaslongasshecouldremember,Hollyhadaveryclearideaofwhoshewantedtobeinstead.

Andthatwaswhyshedidn’tshakeatallwhenshesatupstraightandwipedhereyes.WhenshetuckedherpashminabackinherbagandsmootheddowntheblousesherememberedTheoremovingwithsuchbone-meltingpatience.Thatwaswhyhervoice

wasstrongandsmoothwhensheaskedthedrivertoturnthemaroundandtakeher

backintothecity,afterall.ToTheChatsfield,

Barcelona.ToTheo,ifhe’dhaveher.

CHAPTERELEVEN

HOLLYHADNOparticularplan.Shearrivedatthehotel,

hadtheportersdealwithherluggage,andthenshewasstandingthereoncemore,surroundedbygleamingmarbleonallsides,sparkling

chandeliersabove,everythingsoperfectlyluxuriousitmadehertrytobreathemorequietly,thebettertoblend.You’restalling,she

acknowledged.Herringscaughtthe

dancinglightfromaboveher,andHollystaredatthemthewayshehadwhenTheohadfirstputthemthere,highonacliffwithonlythegorgeousGreekseabelow.She

rememberedthewaythey’dcaughthereye,sobrightandhappy,justlikethefizzywayshe’dfeltinsideeverytimeshe’dlookedatTheo.Sherememberedhow

powerfulshe’dfoundthewearingofthem,becausetheyweremorethansimplyprettystonessetagainstgracefulbands.Theyweremorethanjewelry.Theywerepromisesforgedintoprecious

metal.Theywerevowsthatwere

nevermeanttocomeoff.Andshemighthavebroken

herpromisesinahundredwayssinceshe’dmadethem,buttheringswerestillrightthere.She’dneverremovedthem,notinalltheseyears.Asifhersubconscioushadbeentryingtotellherthetruththiswholetime.Itwastimetomakegood

onthattruth.Pasttime.She’dstartedtowardthe

elevatorwhensheheardaGreekcurse,utteredinarich,lowvoiceshe’drecognizeanywhere.Avoicethatmovedinherthewayitalwayshadandalwayswould.Likeheat.Likehome.“Letmemakesomething

cleartoyou,”Theotoldadiffidenthotelemployeewho

stoodbeforehimasifawaiting—evenanticipating—ahardkick.“Idon’tcareaboutSpencerChatsfieldorhisissuesorthemisbehaviorofhisemployees.Iwant...”Hollyfeltitwhenhesaw

her.Itwasharderthananykick.Itlitherup,makingherentirebodyshiftintobrightred.TheowavedtheChatsfield

manawayandmovedtoward

Hollyinstead,hisexpressionfierceatfirstandthen,ashedrewclose,shuttered.Shenoticedhisbagsbehindhimonagoldenhoteltrolleyandtoldherselfthatwasnothingtobeupsetabout.She’dleftfirst.“Whereareyougoing?”

sheasked,andshehadtoswallowhard,herthroatwassodry.“BacktoAthens?”Hestudiedherfora

momentinthatwayofhis,asifhecouldseestraightthroughher.Asifhecouldseedeepinsideherbones.Andforthefirsttime,shewelcomedit.Theoblinked.“Yes,”hesaid.“To

Athens.”Hedidn’treachouttoherthen,hesimplyshiftedslightly,andHollydidn’tknowwhyshefeltasifhe’dtouchedher.Asifhe’dheldherclose,somehow,without

evenlayingafingeronher.Thecornerofhismouthcurved.“BywayofDallas.”Somethinguncurledinside

ofher,warmandfragileatonce.Itfloodedher,makingherfeelweakandpowerfulallatonce.“Igotthedistinct

impressionthatyouwerelettingmego,”shewhispered.“Andwhocouldblameyou?”

“Iwas,”Theoagreed.“ButIdidn’tsayIwouldn’tfollowrightbehindyou.”Heshookhishead.“Youwereright,Holly,aboutsomanythings.Ishouldhavefollowedyouthen.Inevershouldhaveletthatlastnightstandastheonlyconversationweeverhadaboutourmarriage.Iwasfilledwithego,withhurtpride...”“Howcouldyoube

anythingelse?”shesaid,allthethingsshe’dwaitedalltheseyearstosayfallingoveroneanotherasshetriedtospeak,togetthemoutatlast.“Youweretheonlypersoninallmylifewholovedmeback,Theo.Itterrifiedme.Itstillterrifiesme.Idon’tknowhowtodoanythingbutrunasfarawayfromitasIcan,hurtingbothofusintheprocess.Againandagain.”

“Butyoukeepcomingback.”“Ineptly.”Shelaughed,an

unevensound.“Half-assedly.”“Yethereyouare,”he

pointedout,allthatwarmthinhisdarkgazemakingherfeelwrappedingold.Somethinglikecherished,thoughshehardlydaredthinkthatword.“Thatmustmeansomething.”

Hemovedagain,pullingherhandsintohis,andthen,simply,everythingwasbetter.Somuchbetter,itwaslikemovingfromdeepshadowsintothebrightnoondaysun.Itwascoldbecomeheat,thateasily.Hollygazeddownathisstronghandswrappedaroundhers,thenuptohisfaceagain.Anditwasasiftheywere

thrownbackintime,backto

thatbreeze-touchedcliffinallthesoaringSantorinisunshine.Hishandshadheldhers,justlikethis.She’dgazedupathim,justlikethis.Andshe’dmadepromisestohimshe’dnevermeanttobreak.Thistime,she’ddoit

better,shevowed.Thistime,she’dstaystrong.“Iloveyou,”shetoldhim

then,andnow,evenasthey

mixedtogetherinherhead.“Thoughyouhavenoreasontobelieveme.”“ButIdo,”hemurmured,

takingoneofherhandstohismouthandpressingakissthere,likeaboon.Likeanactoffaith,oflove.“Idobelieveyou.Ibelieveyoualwayshavelovedme,inyourownway.”“Ithinkyouloveme,too,”

shecontinued,hervoice

barelyaudible,thoughsheknewheheardherwhenhisdarkeyestookonthatbrightgoldengleamagain,deeperandmorepowerfulthanbefore.“ThoughIcan’tthinkofasinglereasonwhy.”“Icanthinkofathousand,”

heassuredher.“ButIdon’tneedreasons,Holly.I’vealwayslovedyou.Ialwayswill.Reasonschangebehavior,perhaps,butthey

can’tchangeaheart.Andmineisyours.Stillandalways,yours.”“Iwanttoloveyouthe

wayIshould,”shetoldhimfiercely.“IwanttoloveyousomuchIneverthinkofrunningagain.Iwanttokeepmypromisestoyou,andnevergiveyoucausetobreakyoursagain.”Hereyesstungthen,butsheforgedon.“Iwanttogobackintimeand

doitover,takeitback...”“Wemetandmarriedtoo

fast,”Theosaid,pullinghercloser,sosheproppedherselfagainsthimwithherhandsonhischest.“Weneededtogrowup.Ourproblemisthatwedidthisapart,that’sall.Everycouplemustgrow,Holly.That’stheonlywaytosurvive.”Heshifted,runninghishandsalonghersides,bringingthemuptotrace

somethinglikewingsonherback,asifhethoughtshecouldflyifshewantedtoandhere,inhisarms,shebelievedshecould.Shebelieved.“Andwewillsurvive.Ihaveeveryconfidence.”“Howcanyou?”sheasked,

hervoicesmall.“Aftereverythingthat’shappened?”“Becausethistimeittook

youamerehourtocomebacktome,”hesaid,hisfine

mouthcurvinggentlyinonecorner.“Nexttime,perhapsyouwon’tleaveatall.Andthat’swhatmatters,Holly.Everythingelse,wehavetherestofourdaystoworkoutasbestwecan.Fighting.Dancing.Rosepetalsandforcedmarchesdownmemorylane...”Sheslidherarmshighand

loopedthemaroundhisneck,andthoughshecouldfeelthe

coolkissoftearsagainsthercheeks,shesmiledathim.Shefeltthatsmileallthewaytohertoes.Becausehelookedlike

forever.Shethoughtthatmaybe,

thistime,that’swhattheywere.“Thatsoundstempting,”

shesaidnow,tiltingherheadbackandlookingathim.Reallylookingathim.Her

beautifulhusband.Whomshewouldlearnhowtolovewithoutmakingithurtlikethis,shepromisedherselfthen.Whomshewouldlearntoloveashedeserved,ordietrying.“Or,ofcourse,youcouldkissme.”Theo’ssmilespreadover

hisleancheeksandlituphiseyes.ItfilledHolly’sheartandspilledouteverywhereelse,makinghershine.

Makingherfeelasbrightashewas,asifbetweenthemtheyburnedbrighterandhotterthanthewholeoftheSpanishsummerahead.Shebelievedthat,too.“Icould,”hesaidsoftly.“I

will.Ipromiseyou,Holly.Ialwayswill.”Theomadegoodonhis

word,tippingherbackinhisarmsandkissinghersenseless,rightthereinthe

middleoftheluxuriousmarblelobbyofTheChatsfield,Barcelona.Andneitheroneofthem

caredeventheslightestbitifeverylastpaparazzoalivewaswatching.

***

Fiveyearslater,Theosprawledhappilyintheinfinitypoolofhisprivate

villa,sethighontheSantorinicliffs,andpermittedhimselfthesimplejoyofrelaxinginthebeautifulsummerafternoonallaroundhim.They’dearnedeachand

everyscrapofhappiness,hethought.They’dspentthefirstyear

aftertheirsecondhoneymooninBarcelonatestingthemselves.Couldtheytrusteachother?Couldtheygrow

together?Couldtheylearnhowtostaytogether,afterall?Thesimpleanswerwasyes

toall,butlifewasrarelysimple.Ittookcommitment.Ittookopenness.Vulnerabilityandtrustwereatthecoreofintimacy,andintimacytooktime.Itbuiltslowly.Anditwasonlysometimes

aboutsex,whichwastoobad,

asthatstillcameaseasyandasblisteringasitalwayshad.Hollyhadbeenfacedwith

theunenviabletaskofearningthetrustofthosewhohadnevertrustedhertobeginwith.Theohadhadthepleasureofwatchingthebrittleversionofherfade,thoughshewouldneverquitebethedizzy,naivegirlhe’dsweptawaysoeasily.Intheplaceofeitherof

those,shewashisHolly.Warmandoftensweet,

thoughneverapushover.Filledwithhopeandlaughter,ashe’dalwaysimaginedshe’ddeservedtobe.Smartenoughtorunthesocialsideofatycoon’slifelikeitsownruthlesscorporation,wiseenoughtoenlisttheotherwiseunapproachableMrs.Papadopoulostohelpherdoitseamlesslyandgraciously.

Shewasaforcetobereckonedwith,hisbeautifulwife—though,ofcourse,he’dalwaysthoughtso.Especiallywhenhe’dbeentheonedoingthereckoning.Hollyhadevenwonover

hisbrotherandhisdisapprovingfather,thoughthelatterhadtakenalmostthewholeofthesefiveyearstocomearound.Ithelpedthattheoldmanhadnothingtodo

anylongerbutsitaround,counthisolivegrovesandpermithisprettydaughter-in-lawtoflatterhim,Theothought,buthesmiledashethoughtit,hiseyesontheshiftingseadownbelowhimandtheGreekhorizoninthedistance.ThemightyDemetrious

Tsoukatoshadretired,leavingTheoinhisplace,anditwasperhapsonlyasurprise

toTheo—andonlyinhismoreself-deprecatingmoments—thathewasdamnedgoodatit.He’dmadehishardworkingbrother,Brax,hisright-handmanandhe’dcatapultedTsoukatosShippingstraightintothegloriousfuturethey’dspentallthesehardyearsearning.Allthatrosemustfall—

beforerisingagain,stronger

thanbefore.Thiswaswhotheywere.

Thiswaswhattheydid.Thiswastruehappiness,

Theorealizedthen.Purehappiness,emanatingoutfromthedeepestcoreofhim,anditonlygotbrighterwhenheheardherlightstepsonthestonesbehindhim.Hefeltthesilkenwaterofthepoolshiftassheenteredit,heardhersplashslightlyasshedunked

herheadasshealwaysdidwhensheslippedintothepool,andthen,momentslater,shewaspressingherselfagainsthisback,wrappingherarmsaroundhimandrestingherchinonhisshoulder.Theowaiteduntilshelet

outalong,happysigh,andknewhergaze,likehis,wasfixedonthehorizon.Onallthatlayaheadofthem.

Onthefuturegrowingwithinherevennow,thathervisittothedoctortodayhadbeenmeanttoconfirm.“Well?”heasked.“Ihaveaconfessionto

make,”shesaid,hervoiceripewithlaughterandwithlove,withthatteasingnotehefoundheadoredbeyondreason.“I’vefinallytakenitalltheway.”Hedidn’tknowwhatshe

meant,notreally,andsohesimplyheldherhandsastheygrippedhischest,foldingintogetherliketheirownGordianknot.Unbreakable,hethought.“ShouldIbeconcerned?”“Onlyifyoufindit

troublingtobetiedtomeforeverinthetime-honoredfashion,”shesaid,andtheechoofhisownharshwords,utteredsolongagoacrossa

restauranttableinBarcelona,camebacktohim.“I’mafraidthatyoureallywillbeforcedtoplaythesegameswithmeforever.”Heleanedhisheadagainst

hersandfeltherbreathe.Hefeltitmoveinhim,too,likeawish.Likeaprayer.Bothalreadygranted.“Ah,agapimou,”he

whispered.“Youhavegivenmeeverything.Iwanttogive

youthewholeworld.”“Sillyman,”shesaid,

shiftingtopressherlipstohisskin,amomentbeforehepulledherintohisarmsanddemonstratedhisjoyinthestarkestandmostemphatictermspossible.“Youalreadydid.”

*****

Ifyouenjoyedthisbook,look

outforthenextinstallmentofTHECHATSFIELD:RUSSIAN’SRUTHLESSDEMANDbyMichelle

Conder.Comingnextmonth.

KeepreadingforanexcerptfromTHESHEIKH’S

SECRETBABIESbyLynneGraham.

Whetheryou’reinAmerica,Australia,EuropeorDubaiourdoorswillalwaysbe

open…

Welcometo

TheChatsfield

Synonymouswithstyle,sensation…andscandal!

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CHAPTERONE

KINGJAUL,WHOHADrecentlyaccededtothethroneofMarwanonthedeathofhisfather,Lut,glancedacrossthedate-palm-filledcourtyardbeyondhisoffice.Abeautifulbrunettewasplayingballtherewithhernieceandnephew.HernamewasZaliha.Educated,elegantand

assweet-naturedasshewaswell-born,shewouldmakeawonderfulqueen,heknew.Sowhyhadn’thebroachedthesubjectyet?heaskedhimselfgrimly.MarwanwasaGulfstate,

smallbutoil-richanddeeplyconservative.Asinglekingwasnotexpectedtoremainsingleforlong.Governmentofficialshadmadenosecretoftheireagernessforhimto

takeabride.AroyaldynastywasnotseenassecureuntiltherewasanotherheirintheoffingandJaulwasanonlychild,thesonofamanwhohadbeenanonlychild.Thenewspaperswerefull

ofconstantspeculation.Hecouldnotbeseeneventalkingtoayoungwomanwithoutrousingsuspicions.Hiswide,sensualmouthcompressed,uneasy

memoriessurfacingofthewilderandmorehot-headedyoungmalehehadoncebeen.Ifhewashonestwithhimself,heknewexactlywhyhewasbeingindecisiveaboutgettingmarried.MoreoverhewaswellawarethatbeautifulthoughZalihawas,therewasnotthesmallestsparkofchemistrybetweenthem.Butshouldn’tthatbewhathewantednow?Amarriage

shornofthewildattractionandexcitementthathadonceledtohisdownfall?Ameasuredknocksounded

onthedoorheraldingthearrivalofBandar,whoservedastheroyalfamily’sseniorlegaladviser.‘MyapologiesifI’ma

littleearly,’thelittlemanwiththebaldingheadsaidearnestly,bowingwithsolemndignity.

Jaulinvitedhimtositdownandloungedbackagainsthisdesk,restlessattheprospectofanin-depthdiscussionofsomeobscurepieceofconstitutionallaw,whichfascinatedBandarmuchmorethanitfascinatedanyoneelse.‘Thisisaverydelicate

matter,’Bandarinformedhimuneasily.‘Butitismydutyasyouradvisertobroachitwith

you.’Wonderingwhatonearth

theoldermancouldbereferringto,Jaulstudiedhimwithunsulliedassurance.‘Thereisnothingwecannotdiscuss—’‘Yetthisisamatterwhich

Ifirstraisedeighteenmonthsagowithmypredecessor,Yusuf,andheinstructedmenevertomentionitagainlestIcausedoffence,’Bandartold

himawkwardly.‘Ifthatisthecase,pleaseacceptmyapologiesinadvance.’Yusufhadbeenhisfather’s

adviserandhadretiredafterKingLut’spassing,allowingBandartostepintohisplace.Jaul’sfineblackbrowswerenowdrawingtogetherwhileamixtureofcuriosityanddismayassailedhimashewonderedwhatmurky,darksecretofhisfather’swas

abouttobeunleashedonhim.Whatelsecouldthisverydelicatematterconcern?‘Iamnoteasilyoffended

andyourroleistoprotectmefromlegalissues,’Jaulresponded.‘NaturallyIrespectthatresponsibility.’‘ThenIwillbegin,’Bandar

murmuredruefully.‘Twoyearsago,youmarriedayoungEnglishwomanand,althoughthatfactisknownto

veryfewpeople,itissurelypasttimethatthatsituationisdealtwithintheappropriatemanner.’IttookalottosilenceJaul,

whosestubborn,passionateandoutspokennaturewaswellknownwithinpalacecircles,butthatlittlespeechseriouslyshookhim.‘Buttherewasnoactualmarriage,’Jaulcounteredtautly.‘Iwasinformedthattheceremony

wasillegalbecauseIdidnotobtainmyfather’spermissionbeforehand.’‘I’mafraidthatwasacase

ofwishfulthinkingonyourfather’spart.HewishedthemarriagetobeillegalandYusufdidnothavethecouragetotellhimthatitwaslegal...’Jaulhadlostcolour

beneathhishealthyolive-tintedcomplexion,hisvery

dark,long-lashedeyestelegraphinghisastonishmentatthatrevelation.‘Itwasalegalmarriage?’herepeatedindisbelief.‘Thereisnothinginour

constitutionallawwhichprohibitsaMarwaniCrownPrincefrommarryinghisownchoiceofbride.Youweretwenty-sixyearsold,scarcelyateenagerandthatmarriagestillstandsbecauseyouhave

donenothingsincetoseverthattie.’Wide,strongshoulders

nowrigidbeneaththelongcreamlinenthobehewore,Jaulfrowned,tryingtocalculatethesheerimmensityofthewreckingballthathadsuddenlycrashedintohismaritalplans.Hewasalreadyamarriedman.Indeedhewasstillamarriedman.Ashehadonlylivedwithhisbridefora

fewweeksbeforepartingfromher,whatBandarwasnowtellinghimnaturallycameasasevereshock.‘IdidnothingtoseverthetiebecauseIwasinformedthatthemarriageitselfwasillegaland,therefore,void.Likeabadcontract,’headmitted.‘Unhappilythatisnotthe

case.’Bandarsighed.‘TobefreeofthemarriageyourequireadivorceunderUK

lawandMarwanilaw.’Jaulstalkedovertothe

windowbeyondwhichZalihacouldstillbeseenentertaininghernieceandnephew,buthewasnolongerremotelyconsciousofthatview.‘Ihadnosuspicionofthis.Ishouldhavebeeninformedofthissituationmonthsago—’‘AsImentioned,Yusuf

wasmysuperiorandhe

refusedtoallowmetoraisethesubject—’‘Itisthreemonthssince

myfatherpassedaway,’Jaulremindedhimstiffly.‘Ihadtoensuremyfacts

werecorrectbeforeIcouldraisethismatterwithyou.Ihavenowdiscoveredthatinspiteofyourseparationyourwifehasnotsoughtadivorceeither—’Jaulfroze,hislean,darkly

handsomefeaturesclenchinghard.‘Pleasedonotrefertoherasmywife,’hemurmuredflatly.‘ShouldIrefertothelady

concernedasyourqueen?’Bandarpressedwithevenlesstact.‘BecausethatiswhatChrissieWhitakeris,whethersheknowsitornot.ThewifeoftheKingofMarwanisalwaysgrantedthestatusofQueen.’

Jaulsnatchedinaraggedbreathofrestraint,leanbrownhandsclosingslowlyintofistsofinnateaggression.Hehadmadeoneseriousmistakeinhislifeandithadcomebacktohaunthimintheworstpossiblewayattheworstpossibletime.Hehadmarriedagold-diggerwhohaddesertedhimthefirstchanceshegotinreturnforcold,hardcash.

‘NaturallyIrespectthefactthatyourfatherdidnotapproveoftheyoungwomanbutperhapsnow—’‘No,myfatherwascorrect

inhisassessmentofhercharacter.Shewasunsuitabletobeeithermywifeormyqueen,’Jaulacknowledgedgrittily,afaintflareofcolouraccentuatingthelineofhisspectacularhighcheekbonesasheforcedoutthelowering

admissionthatstunghispride.‘Iwasarebelliousson,Bandar...butIlearntmylesson.’‘Thelessonsofyouthare

oftenhard,’Bandarcommentedquietly,relievedthatthecurrentkingwasunlikehislateparent,whohadragedandtakenumbrageatanyonewhotoldhimanythinghedidnotwanttohear.

Jaulwasbarelylistening.Infacthewasbeingbombardedbyunwelcomememoriesthathadescapedfromtheburialgroundatthebackofhismindwherehekeptsuchunsettlingremindersfirmlyrepressed.Inhismind’seyehewasseeingChrissiewalkawayfromhim,herglorioussilver-blondehairblowingbackinthebreeze,herlong,shapely

legsfluidandgracefulasagazelle’s.Butshehadalwaysbeen

walkingawayfromhim,herecalledwithcoolcynicism.Rightfromthestart,Chrissiehadplayedacool,clever,long-termgameofseduction.Hot-bloodedashewasandneverbeforerefusedbyawomanashehadbeen,shehadchallengedhisegowithhermuch-vaunted

indifference.Ithadtakenatwo-year-pluscampaignforhimtowinherandshehadonlytrulybecomehiswhenhehadsurrenderedandgivenheraweddingring.Unsurprisinglyduringthatlongperiodofcelibacyandfrustration,ChrissieWhitakerhadbecomeasexualobsessionwhoseallureJaulhadnotbeenabletowithstand.

Thepaybackforhisweaknesshadnotbeenlongincoming.Theyhadhadaflamingrowwhenhe’dleftOxfordtoflybacktoMarwanwithoutherand,extraordinarily,hehadneverseenheragainafterthatday.Atthatpointandperhapsmostfortunatelyforhim,fatehadintervenedtocuthimfreeofhisfixationwithher.Followingaseriousaccident,

Jaulhadsurfacedinahospitalbedtofindhisfatherseatedlikeasentrybesidehim,hisagedfeaturesheavywithgriefandapprehension.Beforehehadbrokenthe

badnews,KingLuthadreachedforhisson’shandinaclumsygestureofcomfortforthefirsttimeinhislife.Chrissie,Luthadthenconfidedheavily,wouldnotbecomingtovisitJaulduring

hisrecovery.Hismarriage,Luthaddeclared,wasillegalandChrissiehadacceptedafinancialpay-offasthepriceofforgettingthatJaulhadeverfiguredinherlife.KingLuthadpurchasedhersilenceanddiscretionwithalargesumofmoneythathadevidentlycompensatedherforhersupposedlossofahusbandwhileprovidingherwithsupportforthefuture.

Forasplitsecond,Jaulrecalledoneofthemostinsanefantasiesthathadgrippedhimwhilehelayhelplessinthathospitalbed.AwareofhisdiplomaticimmunitywithintheUK,hehadactuallydreamtaboutkidnappingChrissie.Nowinthepresentheshookhisprouddarkheadslowly,utterlyastonishedatthetrickshismindhadplayedonhim

whilehehadstruggledtocometotermswiththedauntingfactthat,notonlywashiswifenothiswife,butalsothatgivengenerousenoughfinancialcompensationshehadnolongerwantedtobehiswife.ChrissiehadbeenquitehappytoditchherArabprinceonceshe’dhadthemeanstoberichwithouthim.Onlyangry,bitterandvengefulthoughts

haddrivenJaulwhilehe’dfoughthisinjuriestogetbackonhisfeet.‘Ineedtoknowhowyou

wantthismattertobehandled,’Bandartoldhim,shootingJaulbacktothepresent.‘WiththeassistanceofourambassadorinLondonIhaveengagedtheservicesofahighlyplacedlegalfirmtohavedivorcepapersdrawnup.Aftersolongaseparation

theyassuremethatthedivorcewillbeamereformality.MayIinstructthefirmtomakeimmediatecontactwithChrissieWhitaker?’‘No...’Withoutwarning,

Jaulswunground,hisleanbronzedfeaturestautandforbidding.‘Ifsheisnotyetawarethatweremainmanandwifeathirdpartyshouldnotbedealingwithit.

Informingherofthatfactshouldbemyresponsibility.’Bandarfrowned,taken

abackbythatassurance.‘But,sir—’‘Ioweherthatmuch.After

all,itwasmyfatherwhomisledherastothelegalityofourmarriage.Chrissiehasahottemper.Ithinkapersonalapproachismorelikelytoleadtoaspeedyandsuccessfulconclusion.Iwill

presentherwiththedivorcepapers.’‘Iunderstand.’Bandarwas

noddingnow,havingfollowedhisroyalemployer’sreasoning.‘Adiplomaticanddiscreetapproach.’‘Asyousay,’Jaul

conceded,marvellingatthetingleoftheillicitthrillassailinghimattheverythoughtofseeingChrissieagain.Itfeltneither

diplomaticnordiscreet.ButthennowomanhadeverexcitedJaultothatextent,eitherbeforeorsince.Ofcoursenowthatheknewhowmercenaryandhard-heartedshewas,thatattractionwouldbeabsent,hereflectedconfidently.Hewasanintelligentmanandnolongeratthemercyofhishormones.Hehadcrackeddownhard

onthatsideofhisnatureas

soonashe’dunderstoodjusthowbadlyhislibidocouldbetrayhim.TherehadbeenalessonwritlargeinthatexperiencewithChrissie,alessonJaulhadbeenquicktolearnandputintopractice.Neveragainwouldheplacehimselfinavulnerablepositionwithawoman.Thiswasthemainreasonhehaddecidedtostopavoidingmatrimonyandtakeawifeas

soonaspossible.Hismoodsoberedbythat

acknowledgementandtheimpossibilityofcurrentlyfollowingthroughonthatambition,hisleandarkfeaturesstiffenedandhiswide,sensualmouthcurledwithsuddendistasteattheprospectofbeingforcedtodealwithChrissieinacivilisedmanner.Therewasnothingremotelycivilised

aboutthewayChrissiemadehimfeel...Thereneverhadbeen...

***

Herarmsfullofgiftsandcards,Chrissieshoulderedherwayoutofthefrontdoorsoftheprimaryschoolwhereshetaughtthenurseryclassandwalkedtohercar.‘Here,letmegiveyoua

hand...’Atall,well-builtyoungmanwithbrownhairandareadysmilemovedtointercepther,liftingsomeofthepresentsfromherarmstoenablehertounlockhercar.‘Myword,you’repopularwithyourclass!’‘Didn’tyougetaloadof

stufftoo?’ChrissieaskedDanny,whotaughtYearSixandwasinchargeofgames.‘Yes.Bottlesofwine,

designercologne,’heprofferedwithamusement,flippingopenhercarbootsothatshecouldpilethegiftsin.‘Hereinthisprivilegedcornerofmiddle-classLondon,thelastdayoftermislikewinninginagameshow.’Involuntarily,Chrissie

smiled,herlovelyfacefullofanimation,turquoise-blueeyesalightwithanswering

laughter.‘Thegift-givinghasgotoutofhand,’sheagreedruefully.‘Theparentsspendfartoomuchmoney.’Dannyslammedshutthe

bootlidandleantbackagainstit.‘So,whatareyourplansfortherestofthesummer?’‘I’llbestayingwithmy

sister...doingabitoftravelling,’sheconfidedashadeawkwardly.

‘That’sthesisterwho’smarriedtotherichItalian?’Dannychecked.‘Ionlyhavetheone

sibling,’Chrissieadmitted,shakinghercarkeysinthehopehewouldtakethehintandmoveoutofherway.Dannyfrowned.‘You

know,you’reonlyyoungonce.Don’tyoueverwanttotakeabreakfromyourfamilyanddosomethingmore

daringonyourown?’Withdifficulty,Chrissie

kepthersmileinplace.Twoyearsearlier,shehadgonedownthedaringrouteandwhatadisasterthathadturnedouttobe!Nowsheplayedsafe,stayedsensibleandworkedtoeradicatethedamageshehaddonetoherrelationshipwithhersister.SheadoredLizzie,thesisterfiveyearshersenior,and

whenChrissie’slifehadgonewrong,Lizzie’sdisappointment,Lizzie’sconvictionthatsomehowshewasresponsibleforthepoordecisionsChrissiehadmade,hadfilledChrissiewithaguiltshehadneverquitemanagedtoshakeoff.‘Lizzielovesyou...sheonly

wantstoseeyouhappy,’herbrother-in-law,Cesare,hadsaidtoheronce.‘Ifyou

wouldjusttrustherenoughtotellherthewholestoryitwouldmakeherfeelbetter.’ButChrissiehadnevertold

anyonethewholestoryofherdownfall.Ithadbeenastupidshort-sighteddecisionshehadmadeandwhichshewasstillpayingfor.Itwasbadenoughlivingwithhermistakesbutitwouldbeevenworseifshehadtosharethetruthofthemwithothersandseetheir

opinionofherintelligencedive-bomb.‘Obviously,I’llbein

Cornwall,’Dannyremindedherasifshedidn’talreadyknow.EveryoneinthestaffroomhadbeenlisteningtoDannytalkabouthissummersurfingplansformonths.‘Ihopeyouhaveagreat

time.’Chrissieeasedpasthimtoopenhercardoor.

Dannyclosedhishandroundherslenderwristtoholdherbackandlookeddownatherruefully.‘Iwouldhaveabettertimeifyouagreedtocomewithme,’headmitted.‘Justmates,noneedtolayanythingelseontheline.Lastchance,Chrissie.Whynotlivealittleandgiveitago?’Blueeyesflaringwith

painedannoyance,Chrissie

jerkedherwristfree.‘AsIsaid,I’veotherplans—’‘Someguydidaright

numberonyou,didn’the?’Dannyremarked,hisfaceredwithdiscomfitureashemovedawayastepandthrusthishandsintohispockets.‘Butallcatsarenotgreyinthedark,Chrissie.Ifyoustillwantalife,youhavetoreachoutandtakeit.’Breathingfast,Chrissie

slidintothedriver’sseatofhercarandclosedthedoor.Shehadwantedalife,anentirelydifferentlifefromtheoneshenowhad.Shehaddreamtofclimbingtheacademicranksbypursuingadoctorateandofthefreedomthatwouldbehersonceshewasfullyqualified.Butlife,Chrissiehaddiscovered,hadahabitofstabbingyouinthebackwhenyouleastexpected

it,offorcingasuddenrethinkjustwhenyouwereontheapparentbrinkofsuccess.Nowshewasinnopositiontoreachoutandtakeanythingbecauseshehadresponsibilitiesthatrestrictedherindependenceandherliberty.Toherwayofthinkingthemostshamefulaspectwasthatshecouldn’tgetbywithouttakingadvantageofhersister’s

generosity.Yetitcouldallhavebeensoverydifferent,hadsheonlymadetherightdecisions...

***

LongbeforeChrissiehadmetJaul,LizzieandChrissiehadinheritedatinyGreekislandfromtheirlatemother.Lizzie’shusband,Cesare,hadboughtLionosfromthe

sistersforasmallfortune.ThesaleoftheislandhadtakenplacebeforeChrissie’stwinswereevenconceivedandsoChrissiehadoptedtoputthemajorityofhershareofthemoneyintoatrustthatshecouldnotaccessuntilhertwenty-fifthbirthday.Atthetimeshehadthoughtthatthatwasasensibleidea—theamountofmoneyinvolvedhadmadeherheadspinand

Chrissiehadasecretfearthatshemighthaveinheritedhermother’sspendthriftways.FrancescaWhitakerhadbeenextravagantandirresponsiblewithcashandChrissiehadwantedtocarefullyconserveherwindfallforwhatshehadassumedwouldbeamoresettledtimeinherlife.Nowhereshewas,twenty-

fouryearsofage,andforthepastyearshehadhadto

acknowledgethathadshehadtheabilitytousethatmoneyshehadputaway,shecould,atleast,havebeenfinanciallyindependent.Instead,toenablehertofollowateachingcareershe’dhadtosharehersister’snanny,Sally,tolookafterherownchildren—affordingSally’sservicessolelyonherearningsasateacherwouldhavebeenimpossible.

Ontheotherhand,byfollowingCesare’sadvice,shehadmadeonegooddecisionwhenshehadusedsomeofthemoneytopurchaseatwo-bedroomapartmentbeforesheputtherestofitawaywhereitcouldn’tbetouched.Furthermoreshehadboughttheapartmentoutright,whichmeantshecouldaffordtorunasmallcarandatleast

contributeahealthyamounttowardsSally’ssalary.OfcoursetohearLizzietellit,ChrissiewasdoingCesareandLizzieafavourbykeepingSallygainfullyemployedwhiletheywereabroad.Inthesameway,whenhersisterandherbrother-in-lawandtheirchildrenflewintoLondonforoneoftheirfrequentvisits,Chrissiemovedintotheir

townhousewiththemandstayeduntiltheydepartedagainbecauseitwasmoreconvenientforeveryonethatway.Now,ladenwithhercarrier

bagsofgiftsandcards,Chrissieunlockedthedoorofherground-floorapartment.Sallyappearedinthe

kitchendoorway.‘Cupoftea?’sheasked,acurvybrunettewithawidesmile.

‘I’dloveone.Nonightoutthisevening?’Chrissieteased,forSallyhadaveryhealthysociallifeandwasusuallyrushingbacktoLizzie’stownhousetodressup.‘Nottonight...notunlessI

wanttogointoanoverdraft!’shejoked,pullingaface.Chrissiesetherbagsdown

andwalkedintothelounge.Twobabieswereplaying

withplasticbricksinthecentreofthecarpet.Bothhadashockofblue-blackcurlsandeyessodarktheywerealmostblack.Tarifdroppedhisbrick,crowedwithdelightandstartedtocrawleagerlytowardsher.Sorayalaughedand,rarelyasenergeticasherbrother,sheliftedherarmshightobelifted.‘Hello,mydarlings,’

Chrissiesaidwarmly,her

facesofteningasshedroppedtoherkneestogatherupTarifbeforefreeingupanarmtopullhissisterclose.‘Mum-mum,’Sorayasaid

solemnly,aplumplittlehandtouchinghermother’scheekgently.Tariftuggedherhairand

plantedabig,sloppykissonhercheek,nestlingascloseashecouldget.Andalltheworriesandlittleannoyances

ofthedayfellfromChrissieinthesamemoment.Hertwinshadownedherheartfromthedayoftheirbirth.Shehadbeensoworriedthatshewouldn’tbeabletocopewithtwobabiesbutLizziehadtakenherhometothetownhouseandshowedherallthebasics.‘You’llmuddle

through...wealldo,’Lizziehadassuredher.

ButnobodyhadwarnedChrissiethatwhenshelookedatherchildrenshewouldbeoverwhelmedbyherloveforthem.WhileshewaspregnantshehadtriedtothinkofthemasJaul’schildrenandshehaddeeplyresentedthepositionhehadputherin.Shehadn’tfeltreadytobeamotherandhadshrunkfromthechallengeofbecomingasingleparent.Butoncethe

twinswereborn,shehadonlycaredthatherbabiesthrivedandwerehappy.‘Itookthemtothepark

thisafternoon.TarifthrewarealtantrumwhenItookhimofftheswings,’Sallyconfided.‘HewasthrowinghimselfaboutsomuchIhadtolayhimdownuntilhegotitoutofhissystem.Iwasreallysurprised.’‘Inthewrongmood,he’s

challenging,’Chrissieacknowledgedruefully.‘ButSoraya’stheexactsameifyoucrossher.Theyliketotestyouout.They’requitevolatile.’Verymuchliketheir

father,Chrissiereflectedhelplessly.AnimageofJaulflashedintoherhead,longblue-blackhairlooseonhisbroadshoulders,brilliantdarkeyesshimmeringwithanger.

Hotterthanhot,shethoughtnumbly.Hot-tempered,hot-blooded,hotinbed,hotineverywaytherewas.Asnakingquiverofforbiddenheatwashedthroughhertautlength.ButJaulhadalsobeenincrediblystubborn,impulsiveandunpredictable.‘Areyoufeelingallright?’

Sallyasked,pluckingthetwinsworriedlyfromtheirmother’sloosenedgrasp.

‘Sorry,youlookedabitpaleandspacedoutthereforamoment.’‘I’mfine.’Chrissieflushed

totherootsofherpalehair,scrambledupandhurriedintothetinykitchentomaketheteainSally’splace.Sometimesthepastjust

leaptupandsmackedherinthefacewithoutwarning.Amemorywoulddartthroughherandtimewouldfreeze,

catapultingherbackwards.Astraywordorafamiliarsmellorpieceofmusiccouldripherapartinthespaceofseconds,leavinghernohidingplacefromthebackwashofoldpain.Ifshehadn’tlovedJaul,shewouldhavegotoverhimmuchmoreeasily.ButthenshetoldherselfthatforthesakeofherchildrenshewasgladthatshehadlovedJaulevenifit

hadn’tlasted,eventhoughhehadusedherandliedtoherandprobablycheatedonheraswell.Themoneyhisfatherhad

offeredherhadbeenthebottomline,tellinghereverythingsheneededtoknowabouttheroguemale,whohadtoldhertheyweremarriedandwouldbetogetherforever.Jaulthoughtthatmoneywastheperfect

solutiontoeveryproblem,magicallysoothinghurtfeelingsanddisappointedhopes.Hisimmensewealthhadprovidedhimwithasmoothescaperoutefromallsuchtiresomecomplications.‘Togetherforever’hadcomewithahiddenqualification;‘togetherforever’hadonlylasteduntilJaulhadbecomebored.Unhappily,ithadneveroccurredtoChrissie

whenshewaswithhimthatonedayshewouldbeatiresomecomplicationinhislifetoo.‘Peopleexpectmetobe

generous,’hehadtoldheronce.‘Justbecauseyouhaveit

doesn’tmeanyouhavetosplashitaround,’Chrissiehadcountered.‘That’sextravagantandwastefulanditlookslikeyou’reshowing

off.’Jaulhadsentheran

outragedglance.‘Idonotshowoff!’Ofcoursehehadneverhad

toshowofftocommandattention.Hewasbreathtakinglygood-lookingandguaranteedtoturnfemaleheadswhereverhewentand,ifhislooksdidn’tdoitforhim,hisflashsportscars,phalanxofbodyguardsand

luxurylifestylehadmadetheirownveryeffectiveimpression.Chrissiepassedamugof

teatoSally,whohadsettledthetwinsbackonthefloortoplay.‘I’vepackedalltheir

favouritetoysandputtheminmycar.That’llbeonelessthingforyoutoworryaboutwhenyou’repackinguptomorrow,’Sallytoldher.

Slammingadoorshutonthememoriesattackingher,Chrissiesmiledatthebrunette.‘ThanksbutI’vecometostayatthetownhousesooftennowthatIreckonIcouldpackinmysleep.Ican’twaittoseeLizzieandthekids,’sheconfided.‘MaxandGianawillbe

fascinatedbythetwinsnowthey’remoreactive,’Sally

confided.‘Gianawillbedisgusted

thattheynolongerstaywhereyouputthem.’Chrissielaughed,picturingherbossylittletoddlerniece,whotreatedTarifandSorayalikelargedollsandheldteapartiesforthem.‘Orkeeptheirhandsoffhertoys.’WhenSallyhadgone,

Chrissiefedthetwinsandputtheminthebathbefore

settlingthemintotheircotsforthenight.Whileshereadtheirnightlystorytothem,shewaswonderingwhereorindeedifshewouldhaveajobwhenthesummerwasover.Shehadonlybeenteachingonatemporarycontract,coveringmaternityleave,andpermanentjobswereasscarceashens’teeth.Thatconcernstillinmind,shewenttobedearlyand

sleptfitfully.ThenextdayChrissiegot

uponautomaticpilottofeedanddressthetwinsbeforeputtingthemdownfortheirnapsothattheywouldbefreshwhentheyarrivedwithhersisterandherfamily.Shewasrunningroundtidyingup,stillcladinhercomfortablesleepshortsandatee,whenthedoorbellbuzzed.CuriosityhadtakenJaul

straightfromtheairporttotheaddressBandarhadgivenhim.Chrissielivedinanapartmentblockinanexpensiveresidentialarea.Hisbeautifullyshapedmouthtookonasardonicslant.Hemightnothavepaidalimonytohisestrangedwifebutthecashhisfatherhadgivenherhadevidentlyensuredthatshedidnotstarve.Notthathewould’vewantedherto

starve,hetoldhimselfpiously,unsettledbythevengefulthoughtsandrawreactionssuddenlyskimmingthroughhimatlightningspeed.Twoyearsago,lyinghelplessinhishospitalbed,whenhe’dthoughtofherturningtoothermenforamusement,hehadburnedwithmerciless,bitteraggression.Butthattimewaspast,heassuredhimself

circumspectly.Nowallhesoughtwastodrawaquietfinallinebelowtheentiremessybusinessofamarriagethatshouldneverhavetakenplace.Chrissieglancedthrough

thepeepholeinherdoorandfrowned.Atalldark-hairedmanwasonthedoorstep,hisbackturnedtothedoorsothatshecouldn’tseehisface.Sheslippedonthesecurity

chainandopenedthedoor.‘Yes?’‘Openthedoor,’heurged.

‘It’sJaul.’Hereyesflewwidein

disbeliefandsheflungherheadback,turquoiseeyesfranticallypeeringthroughthecrack.Shecaughtaglimpseofhisgypsy-goldskin,ahardmalejawlineandthenhergazemoveduptoimpatientdarkeyes

surroundedbylashesthickanddarkenoughtoresembleeyelinerandlongenoughtoinspirefeminineresentment.Unforgettable,hewasunforgettableandherheartstartedthumpingintheregionofherthroat,makingitimpossibleforhertobreatheorvocalise.Inaflash,gutreactiontookoverandshesnappedthefrontdoorfirmlyclosedagain,spinninground

inshocktorestbackagainstitbecauseherlegswerewobbling.Jaulsworeandhitthebell

againtwiceinanimpatientbuzz.Chrissiesliddowntheback

ofthedooruntilshewasinaheapatthefootofitandhuggedherknees.ItwasJaul...twoyearstoolate,itwasJaul.Anguishfloodedher,asharp,sharppainof

lossandgriefthatshehadburiedlongagointheneedtomoveonandsurvivehisbetrayal.Shecouldn’tbelievethatJaulwouldjustturnuplikethat,withoutanywarning.Butthenhehaddisappearedwithoutanywarning,sheremindedherselfdarkly.Thebellwentagainas

thoughsomeonehadafingerstucktoitandsheflinched.

Jaulwasveryimpatient.Shebreathedindeepandslow,strugglingtocalmherself.WhatonearthwashedoinghereinLondon?Howhadheevenfoundouthercurrentaddress?Andwhywouldhecometoseeherafterallthistime?Haditanythingtodowiththefactthathisfatherhaddiedrecentlyandhehadinheritedthethrone?Afterhisfather’svisitChrissiehad

refusedtoallowherselftosuccumbtothemorbidinterestofcheckingoutJaulontheInternet.Shehadclosedthedoorveryfirmlyonthatkindofcuriositybutshehad,quiteaccidentallyinearlyspring,readafewlinesinanewspaperabouthisfather’ssuddendeath.‘Chrissie...’hegrated

behindthedoorandhisvoicewashedoverher,accented

anddeep,unleashingatideofmemoriesshedidn’twanttorelive.Shesquashedthose

memoriessofastthatherheadliterallyhurtasshesprangupright.Nowaywasshehidingbehindadoorfromthemalewhohadtornherlifeapart!

Copyright©2015byLynneGraham

WELCOMETO

DearMsCrews,WearedelightedthatyouhavebookedyourroomtostayatTheChatsfield.And,becauseweprideourselvesoncreatingthemostuniqueandbespokeservicesduringyourstay,wehaveafew

questionsthatwe’dliketoask.

Whattimewillyoubecheckingin?9:00a.m.

Willyoubecheckinginalone?No

Whatmorningpaperwouldyoulikedelivered?

FinancialTimesHello

InStyleTheGuardianTheTimes

Wewouldliketoarrangesomemusicforyourlisteningpleasure.Isthereaparticularalbumorselectionofmusicyouwouldliketolistentoinyourroomduringyourstay?Ipreferquiet—especiallyinhotelrooms.

Weknowthatyoumaybeworkingduringyourstay,andweareawareofhowimportantitisforyoutohaveallyourcreaturecomfortsaroundyou.Inordertoensurethatyourstayisasfulfillingaspossible...

Wehaveawideselectionoffoodavailableforroomservicedelivery.Whatwouldyourmostdecadent

mealbeandwhy?

I’dlikechocolate-coveredstrawberriesdeliveredwhenIfinishmynextbook!Yum.

Doyouhaveanyspecialrequestsforyourstayatourhotel?

Justlovelyquiet,averydeepanddecadenttub,andaprettyview!

Whatisyourworsthabitwhenwriting?

Slouching.IswearI’llcripplemyself.Thankgoodnessforlongmassages!

Doyouhaveawritingroutine?Ifso,couldyoushareabitaboutitwithus?

Iwriteprettymuchallday.Itrytostartat9:00a.m.and

finisharound6:00p.m.,asIliketotaketheeveningoffandrelaxabit.Iusuallyspendtoomuchtimeonlineandhavetolimitmyself—whichI’mnogoodat,soIuseaprogramcalledSelfControltoturnoffallsocialmediaforthreehoursatatime!

We’realwayslookingtoexpandtheChatsfield

Libraryandwelcomerecommendations.Whatarethelasttwobooksyoureadandwhy?

ThelasttwobooksIreadwereLock&KeybyCatPorter,becausebikersarejustwaytoohot,andHavingHerbyJackieAshenden,becauseit’soneofthebestlovestoriesever,ever,ever!

Ifyoucouldwriteanywhereintheworld,wherewoulditbe?

IliketoexplorewhenItravel,whichmeansIprefertowriteathome—butIlovetravelling!I’dgoanywhere.

Wecantellfromyourrecentpublishedbookthatyouhaveavestedinterestinourveryownhotels!So

(curiousmindswanttoknow!)areyouteamChatsfieldorTeamHarrington?!

Idon’tthinkIreallywanttochoose—bothsoundsolovely!

Whatdidyoumostloveaboutwritingthisstory?

Ilovedthepassionbetween

TheoandHollythatneitheroneofthemcoulddeny!

Whathasbeenyourbesthotelexperienceandwhatmadeitmemorable?

MyabsolutefavouritehotelexperienceeverwasinagloriouscountryhotelnotfarfromBath,England,calledLucknamPark.Iwasonlyseventeenandabroadforthe

firsttimeeverwithmyparentsatChristmastime,andIspentoneofthemostmarvellouseveningsofmylifetuckedawayinagorgeouslywell-appointedroom,feastingonroomserviceandpretendingIwasthequeenofsomething.Whatagreatnight!

Whathasbeenyourmostunusualhotelexperience

andwhy?

DuringmybackpackingdaysIstayedinsomestrangeplaces,likethe“partyhostels”allovertheworld.TherewasoneoutsideHarare,Zimbabwe,thatwasparticularlynutty.AlllaundryandDJsandoddlyferaltwenty-somethingsloungingaboutlookingdangerousandappealingatonce...

Ifyoucouldhavegivenyourheroorheroineapieceofadvicebeforetheystartedontheirjourneyinyourstory,whatwouldithavebeen?

Listentoeachother.Behonestwithyourselvesandeachother.Anddon’tbesoafraidtolove.It’ssupposedtofeellikeyou’reriskingeverything,orwhat’sthe

point?

Thankyouforansweringourquestions.Weverymuchhopeyouenjoyyourstay!

WELCOMETO

DearTheoTsoukatos,ToensurethatyourstayattheChatsfieldisasexclusiveandprivateaspossible,wewillneedtoaskyouafewquestionsofperhapsadelicatenature,toensurethatourprivatesecurityteamwill

bebestplacedtosupportyou.

Ifyouhadtopickyourmostpublicscandalousmoment,whatwoulditbe?

ThepointisthatIdonotwishtochoosebetweenmomentsdubbed“scandalous”bytheviciouspaparazzi,ofwhichthereweremanybeforemyill-conceivedmarriage.IamstayingatTheChatsfield

becauseIwishtoavoidanyfurthersuchmoments.

Wasthereanevenmorescandalouseventthatdidn’tmakeitintothepress?

Thereareusuallymany,everyevening,butagentlemandoesnotsharethesethings.

Whatisyourbiggestsecret?

AsIhaven’tsharedthatwithmyfamouslyestrangedwife,whywouldIshareitwithaquestionnaire?

WhatdoyoulovemostaboutHolly?

Atthemomentitisthefactthatstayingatthishotel—wherewespentourhoneymoonfouryearsago—willalmostcertainlyhurther

feelings.Assumingshehasany.

WhatwereyourfirstthoughtswhenyousawHolly?

Ifyoumeanonthecomputerafewdaysago,whichisthefirsttimeI’veseenherinyears,theywerenotexactlykind.

Ifyourhousewasonfireandyoucouldonlysaveonething,whatwoulditbe?

Myself.IamGreek.Weknowhowtorebuild.

Whatisthenaughtiestthingyoudidatschool?

Ican’tpossiblyrememberalltheirnames.

Whatisyourguiltiest

pleasure?

Iamrarelyguilty.

Whatisyourworsthabit?

Fallinghead-over-heelsforgold-diggingAmericans.

Whatisyourfavouritefilm?

I’mpartialto300,thoughI’dpreferadifferentending.

WhatpresentwouldyouputbeneaththeChristmastreeforHolly?

Ifsheisverylucky,andverywell-behaved,itwon’texplode.

Howwillyouspendyourfirstanniversaryasacouple?

Wespentourfirst

anniversaryreflectingonoursixmonthsofseparation.Whatdelightfulmemories.PleasemakecertainIamnotdisturbedwithfurtherimpertinentquestionsduringmystay.

Thankyouforyourcandour.Wewillendeavourtoensureascandalfreetimeduring

yourstaywithus!

ISBN-13:9781460380871

Greek’sLastRedemption

Copyright©2015byHarlequinBooksS.A.

SpecialthanksandacknowledgmentaregiventoCaitlinCrewsforhercontributiontoTheChatsfieldseries.

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