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He drifted his fingers down her arms, delighted in the shivers that raced after his touch. ‘Hmm...let’s go and find out how effective we’ve been, shall we?’
Catching her fingers in his, he tugged her after him.
‘Ares, what are you doing?’ she hissed.
Something hard and hot and decadent punched through him at hearing his name on her lips after all this time. The sexy Italian huskiness of her voice had first turned him on as a callow youth—the chauffeur’s son enchanted by the princess in the dark castle. It partially grated that its erotic effect hadn’t entirely waned.
Perhaps it was a good thing, he mused. A heightened libido wasn’t altogether bad.
He continued until he’d reached the door of the soggiorno and then, pausing in full view of the guests, he cupped her delicate jaw. ‘Anything I want. Those are still your terms, correct?’
Her silver eyes grew saucer-wide, her pupils dilating as her tongue emerged to dart nervously over her bottom lip. ‘Ares—’
‘Yes or no?’ he pressed. A rabid need was pounding through him, filling his ears with an unstoppable roar.
She sucked in a breath, the awareness that she was caught between a rock and one immovable Greek visible in her mercury eyes. The longest three seconds of his life dragged past. Then...
‘Yes,’ she answered, and that punch of bold almost-dare kicked like a narcotic in his blood. As if inviting him to do his worst.
Just wait, s’agapo. You’ll see.
Triumph equal to or perhaps even surpassing what he’d felt after his last multi-billion-dollar real estate deal surged through him. But he wouldn’t celebrate just yet. He knew better where this woman was concerned.
‘You’d better hope that your oaths mean more to you now than they did all those years ago, agapita. Because trust me when I say you’ll regret it otherwise.’
Warning delivered, he dropped one hand but left the other in the small of her back, using it to draw her close as they faced the now hushed room.
Slowly he took in people’s expressions, cataloguing which men would pose a problem and need handling, noting the ones eager to get into his good graces. His gaze lingered longest on Bartorelli, saw the moment the other man recognised he’d been bested.
Then Ares’s gaze shifted to his father.
Up until that moment he hadn’t been entirely sure he’d go through with this madness...whether he would only go far enough to ensure Odessa was removed from the threats that dogged her—for a yet to be determined price but no more. Because she was and should remain where she belonged.
In his past.
But the flash of hope that arrived and then lingered on his father’s face as it darted between him and Odessa sealed his decision.
Ares kept his gaze on Sergios for another second, then glanced down at the woman who’d held a compulsive fascination for him once upon a time. Who, he admitted, continued to have an absurd grip on him that he needed to rid himself of once and for all.
Ne, perhaps she’d handed him the very tools to do so...
‘Our apologies for our absence,’ he started, without taking his eyes off her. ‘Odessa and I were getting...reacquainted.’
His tone dripped with deliberate innuendo and he didn’t regret it one bit. Tugging her even closer, he captured her hand in his and raised it to his lips. Catching her shocked inhalation, he allowed his lips to curve, his eyes to grow hooded as they raked her flushed face.
Then he levelled his gaze once more on the mourners. ‘While this isn’t the venue I would’ve chosen, we’re too impatient and eager to keep the news to ourselves.’
‘What news?’ Flávio demanded, his eyes flaming with a mix of speculation, anger and greed.
Ares let the suspense linger for a few seconds, then he gripped her hands tighter. ‘That your lovely niece has just accepted my proposal. Odessa and I are to be married. As soon as possible.’
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.
Light-headedness assaulted Odessa as Ares’s announcement dropped like flaming hailstones on her.
He’d just...just announced—
She’d done it!
