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She tucked her free hand behind her back and dug her fingers into her palm to test if she was still awake. The sting registered firmly enough to reassure her that, yes, she was indeed conscious.
Somehow, by some miracle, her bold and wild gamble had paid off.
But at what cost?
Because his firm grip on her waist and that silkily drawled warning about keeping her word, that hard look in his eyes and the tension in his body despite the charming smile he was displaying...
Everything indicated strongly that Ares Zanelis wasn’t coming to her aid out of the goodness of his heart. Hell, his initial cold no still resonated like distant thunder in her ears.
A formidable reckoning was headed her way—one she didn’t fool herself into thinking wouldn’t exact a crushing toll.
She knew it in her bones.
And as hushed whispers swelled into rushed speculation she was left in no doubt at all that she’d truly set the cat among the pigeons.
But at least she’d evaded Vincenzo and her uncle’s clutches.
As frying pans and fires compared, she’d take that outcome. For now.
She pushed the harrowing thoughts away as Ares leaned in close, his lips almost brushing her earlobe, and another cascade of shivers crashed through her body, reminding her in vivid colour of how she’d reacted to that kiss.
Dear God, she’d allowed him to kiss her—heck, she’d all but fallen into his decadent kiss—at her father’s funeral.
‘I know you’re in mourning, but try for a small smile at least, agapita. This was your idea, after all, and you’ve just been granted your heart’s desire. Act like it.’
She couldn’t refute that. So Odessa forced lips that still tingled and stung from his voracious kiss to curve. Forced herself to focus as the crowd surged towards her, morbid curiosity driving them forward.
She was almost thankful when Ares raised his hand, halting the advancing guests.
‘Please respect that my fiancée is mourning her father. If you wish us well, we accept gratefully, but I’m sure you’ll understand that she’d like to conclude this occasion as originally scheduled before discussing any new matters.’
Her heart thudded wildly when he lifted her hand and brushed his lips across it once more.
Then he was urging her across the room—not towards her uncle, but to where his father stood, a pleased smile on his face.
Sergios grasped her free hand the moment she was within touching distance, a joyful light glinting in his eyes. ‘My dear, let me be the first to welcome you to our family. You have no idea how happy you’ve made an old man.’
Her startled gaze flew to Ares. The clear caution in his eyes stilled her tongue, but inside a shrill voice screamed. She blinked in surprise and alarm when she saw the film of tears in the old man’s laughing eyes. And as he turned to address his son in rapid-fire Greek cold waves of consternation washed over her.
What had she done?
She hadn’t considered the old man’s feelings when she’d hatched her desperate plot. The thought of upsetting him settled over her like a suffocating cloak making it hard to breathe. Was it too late to—
‘No room for regret now, eros mou,’ Ares rasped in her ear, eerily and accurately dissecting her thoughts.
His ominous words reverberated through her head in the hour it took for the funeral to conclude. They grew even louder when they were finally alone with Flávio, Vincenzo and a handful of distant relatives.
Sergios had gone to see the butler’s much talked about newborn grandson—a move she suspected had been orchestrated by Ares. And now her heart stuttered for a different reason as Vincenzo strode towards him, fury blazing in his eyes as they shifted from her and settled on Ares.
‘I don’t know who you think you are—’
‘Were we not introduced properly?’ Ares interrupted coolly, pivoting to face Vincenzo, who was at least a foot shorter and was made to feel every millimetre of it when Ares peered down from his great height. ‘Let me correct the oversight. I’m Ares Zanelis, Odessa’s betrothed. And you are...?’ he drawled, his tone sounding bored in the extreme.
The older man spluttered in outrage before spinning towards her uncle. ‘Flávio, inform this little upstart who I am, will you?’
‘This is Vincenzo Bartorelli. A...a business acquaintance,’ her uncle stated.
Odessa, breath held, waited to hear her what else her uncle would add. To her shock, Flávio’s gaze caught Ares’s. A pointed look passed between the men, clearly fully deciphered by Vincenzo. His beady eyes narrowed and his fingers tightened around his glass until she feared it would shatter.
