A Perfect Wife: International Billionaires V: The Greeks (23 page)

Looking around, she almost laughed. How convenient.

She was only a couple of blocks from his company’s building if she wasn’t mistaken. Tugging her suitcase behind her, she weaved around the growing crowd of office workers striding to work and street vendors crying their wares. Within a few minutes, she walked right to the front doors proudly proclaiming the Zenos name.

The Zenos crest. The lone eagle, gilded with gold, flying into the air on the glass pane.

Proud and alone.

Aetos Zenos could not have been clearer. And that was fine with her. He could fly off, leaving her behind forever with her blessing. Still, she would not allow him to crush her in his talons and leave her in the dust. Exactly like every other woman he’d had.

She’d survive. She wasn’t dead yet.

Natalie opened the door and strode into a lobby filled with the bustle of a new day. The envelope burned in her hand. She needed to get rid of it. Rid of him.

“Yes, miss?” The elderly gentleman’s bushy eyebrows rose and he leaned over the front desk as she approached.

For a moment, she held onto the envelope.

Not the money.

No.

No, for a moment, she held onto the connection to her lover, her soul mate. For a moment, she remembered. The way he threw his head back when he laughed. The light in his chestnut eyes as he eased inside her willing body. The adorable look of confusion when his
giagiá
hugged him.

Then the moment passed.

The envelope was gone. As well as Aetos Zenos from her life.

A
etos stared
through his office window at the skyscrapers. The spires of blue glass and gray steel reminded him of the silly, bright shingles his
giagiá
had picked out for her roof.

He shifted in his leather office chair. The thought was crazy. There could not be anything so dissimilar as these monsters of modernity compared to a simple farmhouse lost in the ancient mountains of Greece.

Swinging around, he stared at the blank screen of his computer. Exactly as he had the day before. The computer had nothing to say to him. He glanced once more, because he couldn’t help himself, at the newspapers littering his desk. The newspapers he’d bought as he walked from his brownstone to the office this morning.

His chauffeur had been astonished.

Aetos Zenos always went to work in the limo. The habit allowed him a few extra minutes to make a dozen calls and answer a hundred emails.

He couldn’t be in the limo. It reeked of her scent and her presence. Plus, he was restless. Even though he’d lain awake all night long in his empty bed, a sort of hot, hard virus streamed through his blood. It made him feel as if he were about to explode if he didn’t keep moving.

So, he walked.

The pictures of her caught his attention the moment he’d seen the papers. The blond wisps of hair streaming in the wind when he’d yanked her to the limo. Her wide blue eyes staring in shock at the camera. Her lithe, long body twisting as she took her seat.

He stared at himself in the photos. Stared at the hard, guarded face, the ugly slant of his mouth, the fisted hands. He’d never paid much attention to the thousands of photographs taken of him during the course of his rise to wealth and power. His time was better spent making money and purchasing properties. What did it matter if he rarely smiled or laughed or enjoyed himself?

That wasn’t the point of life. That wasn’t what mattered.

Was it?

The pictures made him look like a tough, angry tyrant.

He was tough. He’d admit it. He’d had to be to survive. The way he’d gotten rid of her could be described as tough, but again, it was a matter of survival. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t a tyrant.

He was just as he’d learned to be: a survivor.

Aetos took in a deep breath. His hand fisted on the desk and the gold cufflinks flashed in the dull light of the sun. A sudden tight burst of bewilderment streaked through him and with a startled look, he realized his hand was shaking. Right over the image of the
mágissa’s
horrified face.

“Mr. Zenos?”

His PA’s voice shot through the intercom jolting him in his seat.

What the hell was wrong with him? “Yes, Cynthia?”

“I have some correspondence for you that was dropped off at the front desk yesterday, sir.”

“What?” No one dropped off correspondence in this day and age. Even if they had, Cynthia should have dealt with it in her usual capable fashion. The only kind of correspondence he received was via email and texting from people he gave his personal information to.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get it earlier. The front desk said it had been misplaced.” Cynthia’s voice hesitated. “The envelope is labeled personal, Mr. Zenos.”

His assistant should be hesitating. Never, in the entire ten years she’d worked for him, had there been a personal issue she’d had to deal with.

He didn’t have personal issues.

A sliver of emotion he hardly dared to define as hope slithered down his spine and landed in the pit of his stomach. But it didn’t stop there. Silky deft fingers of hope slid along his nerve endings, zinging and dancing, turning his skin to fire.

Had Natalie reached out? She was the only person he could think of who would do such a thing.

The beat of his heart pumped and pushed inside his chest. The heat of his blood and his hope bloomed into a searing need. The need, the want, the hope astonished him, but he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t help the words. “Bring it in.”

Cynthia gave him her usual crisp smile as she entered his office. With her customary discretion, she said nothing as she glided over to him. However, when she glanced down at the newspapers strewn across his desk, her smile turned into a wide O of surprise.

Aetos Zenos never perused his own publicity.

He never spent his time scouring the tabloids.

He never cared what others thought of him.

For the first time since he’d been fifteen, confronting a naked woman intent on initiation, he flushed. Yet the ancient memory no longer hurled him back into the black abyss he’d entered as a kid. Instead, to his astonishment, the memory barely scraped his heart. He was too focused on the now, on the future, on what this
personal
correspondence was to spend any time on the past. “Where is it?”

“Here.” His PA’s mouth snapped shut and her hand shot out.

The envelope. Of course, it could be another envelope. There were thousands, millions of plain white envelopes on the planet. Plus, this envelope was different than the one he’d handed Natalie yesterday. It had his name emblazoned on the front of it in sharp, black lines.

Zenos. Personal
.

He took it. Felt the heaviness of the money inside. Felt it burn his fingers in accusation. “That will be all, Cynthia.”

She left. Left him holding the envelope. He opened it and looked at the money. Only money. Nothing personal. No note or plea. No begging words or humble requests. Nothing of her.

A slight whiff of scent floated around him.

She might not have called to him in words. But the smell of her, the fresh, wild scent of her soft skin and moonbeam hair and sweet breath wrapped around him. Bringing her back to him, bringing the memory of her back to him.

The teasing smile she gave him when she slid her hand down his naked stomach.

The sound of her laugh while she watched him eat another of his
giagiá’s
cookies.

The gentle touch of her fingers as she brushed a curl off his forehead.

Aetos stood. He had to stand in order to breathe. Still, it didn’t help. The stream of memories continued to storm through his brain and blood like a seething, scouring fire.

Blindly, he stared down at the papers, the photos. His brain had not been working when he’d given her this money. He hadn’t thought of her going to the papers and telling her story and cashing in for a bigger prize. All he’d been thinking of was getting rid of her. Somehow, someway.

Wrenching away, he paced to the window and back. He ran his hands through his hair, then wrenched his suit coat off and threw it on a chair. His brain buzzed and bustled with myriad thoughts, none of which made any sense.

If her plan was to tell her story, why weren’t those words plastered across the papers along with the photos? She’d had plenty of time to sell him out yesterday. Plenty of proof she was involved with him. The pictures had made this clear.

Yet she hadn’t sold him out.

Why hadn’t she kept the money she’d requested from him weeks ago? Why had she dropped off the wad of cash without asking to see him? Why hadn’t she demanded an audience so she could yell at him and scold him and harass him?

Theós
. He missed her scolding. Her chiding. He missed her belief that he could be…

Whole.

“Mr. Zenos?” Cynthia’s voice over the intercom was far from her usual serene tone. Trepidation edged her words.

What now? “
Nai
.”

“There’s a man on the phone.”

“So what?” What did he care if there was some man on the phone? Cynthia’s job was to take care of the hundreds of people who called his office every day.

“He insists on talking to you.” Her voice dripped with fear. “He’s very demanding—”

“I’m busy.” Busy trying to keep himself from cracking open, becoming something other than the man he’d been for seventeen years.

“He says it’s personal.” Disbelief colored her tone, indicating she found it hard to believe she had to deal with two personal issues in one day.

Aetos stared at the photos of the Natalie. “Tell him no.”

“He says it’s about your wife.”

The jerk of his head wrenched his neck. His wife. His
mágissa
. His Natalie. “Put him through.”

The man’s thick Brooklyn accent didn’t mask his innate intelligence nor the implicit threat in his words. He’d been cunning enough to see the tabloid photos, spot his prey, and zero in on the person who had the money—all in less than twenty-four hours. If Aetos had been any other kind of man, a man who’d never had to sully his hands with the seamier side of life, he might have let himself be intimidated. But this was a world he’d lived in when he’d arrived in America. The hard work on the docks, the constant jostling for position, the ever-present threat of the gangs and hoods and mobs.

This was a man he knew how to handle.

Within minutes, the deal was struck. Business was business. He didn’t care about the small amount of cash the man demanded.
Kólasē
, he held the amount in his hand as they spoke. The only thing he cared about was getting rid of the man and his threats toward his wife.

His pretend wife.

Where was she?

The man didn’t know and now that he had his deal, he didn’t care.

Slowly, he lowered his hand and let the phone slip onto the desk. He stared blankly at her image on the papers. The horror now made sense. All of it now made sense. She hadn’t landed in his house looking for a free ride. She hadn’t demanded the fifty thousand dollars so she could go out on a shopping spree. She hadn’t agreed to come with him to Greece with the idea she’d found her golden ticket.

His Natalie had been afraid.

His
mágissa
had been on the run.

His pretend wife had become his perfect wife because she’d been desperate.

To compound it all, the debt wasn’t even hers. Her stupid, dead brother had not only dug himself a grave, he’d also placed his sister in a grave situation. If the guy stood before him right now, he would have punched him in the face.

Knowing Natalie, she would have hauled off and hit him in the jaw right after.

He chuckled, a dry, raspy sound.

Because look at what she’d done. In spite of the danger she faced, in spite of the fact he’d handed her the money that would set her free from her fear, she’d turned him down. She’d walked away from his money right into the terror she’d fled from weeks ago. Willingly.

He spun on his heel and paced to the window once more.

Why?

He stared out the window, trying to find an answer. The blue of the sky suddenly struck him as impossibly dull and lifeless compared to the sterling blue of the Greek sky as it arched above its ancient mountains. The sky held no answers. Nor did his brain.

Only his heart—the heart he had left behind when he’d departed Greece for the first time, and somehow, inexplicably had found again with Natalie’s help—only his heart held any kind of sure knowledge.

He had to find her. Only she had the answer.

T
he tiny
, black spider inched along the cracked wall before skittering into the moldy corner of the hotel ceiling where it stopped, as if waiting for her to make the next move.

Natalie didn’t move from the bed. She hadn’t moved from it since she’d lain down on it two days ago. Well, not exactly true. She’d managed to go to the bathroom a time or two.

Everything seemed…pointless.

The bravado that had swept over her when she’d made the decision to return the money had leached from her at a fast clip. By the time she’d marched out of the Zenos offices, she’d come back to the realization that she’d marched into a New York reality.

No money. No future. No hope.

When she’d stumbled onto this rundown hotel, the only thing she’d wanted to do was lie down and never wake.

She was so pitiful right now she hated herself.

The spider eased away from the corner, finally realizing she posed no threat, and scurried across the line of the ceiling heading toward its silvery web in the archway by the bathroom. Any other time, Nat would have called housekeeping to wave a broom or even taken care of the spider and its web herself.

However, this was not any other time.

She didn’t have the energy and honestly, the spider gave her an object to focus on. Other than her crying and weeping. Other than her endless
what ifs
and
could have beens
. The spider had been her only companion, but at least she had one. For now.

For now was ending, though.

When she’d checked into this seamy hotel, she’d used her credit card since she hadn’t cared about anything anymore. She knew her trackers would spot the purchase and it would lead them right to her door. The hotel wouldn’t provide any security; it wasn’t that kind of place. Rather, it was the kind of hotel people came to when they were desperate. No one asked any questions or wanted any answers.

She hadn’t cared. Hadn’t cared about no one caring. Hadn’t cared about the lumpy mattress or the dirty ring around the tub. Or the spider. What did it matter for a day?

Yet now it was day two.

Where were they? Where were the threats and demands?

Wherever they were, they apparently were not going to be fast enough to find her here. Her credit card limit was maxed—she’d been informed of this by last night’s call from the hotel manager. She had to leave this morning. Nat peered at the red light of the clock. Actually, she had to leave within the next fifteen minutes.

Pushing herself up like an old woman, she glanced down. She still wore the black slacks and turtleneck she’d put on a thousand years ago in Greece. On the day they’d left, the day she’d left hope behind.

She waited. For the rush of anger and grief. For a tear or two. Anything.

But there was really nothing inside her. Evidently, she’d managed to drain everything out of her with her endless bouts of weeping. She wasn’t even panicked at being homeless or terrorized by the sure knowledge the men who tracked her were not going to quit.

Perhaps they were just waiting for her to leave the hotel. Glancing up at her new friend, she gave it a resigned smile. Maybe, like the spider, they were waiting to catch her in their web.

Okay. Well, she was ready. She was ready to get this over with.

Shuffling into the bathroom, Nat forced herself to brush her teeth and wash her face. She didn’t have time for a shower to tame her unruly hair. Instead, she yanked the strands into a braid. What did it matter? She wasn’t out to impress the mob with her looks. The only thing they wanted was cash.

Cash she didn’t have.

Cash she’d given back because of her stubborn need to prove herself to a man who didn’t care and wouldn’t understand her actions even if he took a moment to think about her.

Honestly, though, Aetos Zenos wouldn’t be thinking of her at all.

A dry, hoarse chuckle escaped her. Why did she continue to love? When it was utterly hopeless. Why did she continue to torture herself when the man had flown away so easily?

Don’t think about him anymore
.

The door creaked as she opened it. The hall was empty except for a plastic bag left in front of one of the dozen other doors. She trudged down the threadbare carpet to the elevator. The elevator creaked, too. Or perhaps it was her bones.

She felt as if she’d aged a hundred years.

The foyer was deserted, a blaring TV the only sound. The cheerful voice, chattering on and on about some kind of new treatment for hair loss, grated on Nat’s nerves. Rolling her suitcase behind her, she quickened her pace and soon found herself outside the swinging front doors.

It was sunny and warm for January.

She stopped in her tracks. The world hit her all at once. The traffic streaming past the hotel, horns honking. The bustling crowds on the sidewalk, swirling around her motionless figure. The calls of the vendor selling newspapers at the corner.

Life went on. Even though she had convinced herself she was dead to everything.

“Finally.” The brisk word came from right behind her.

Her breath caught in her throat and her brain froze in horror. The trackers. She realized with stunning clarity she wasn’t dead inside and she didn’t want to be dead on the outside either.

A strong hand grabbed her arm. “
Mágissa
.”

The nickname, said in a rough, raw voice, turned her entire being into ice. Aetos? The man she never thought to see or touch again held her?

“It took my security too damn long to find you.” Frustration ripened his words.

Against her will, she lifted her head and looked at him. The sun splashed the inevitable golden glaze over his hair and face. His dark gaze burned with determination and a hint of something she didn’t want to define. The ache she’d cried out on her pillows for the last two days threatened to return with a vengeance. “Get your hand off me.”

“I bribed the hotel clerk.” Ignoring her brittle demand, he tightened his grip. “He told me you had to leave today.”

“I said, get your hand off me.” A crack opened in her numbness, releasing a waft of fiery anger from deep inside. “Now.”

“Now,” he responded, his voice going harsh. “I have you.”

His claim of ownership was enough to propel her into action. Only this could be worse than the mob. She hadn’t had any time to recover from the last, brutal confrontation with him and she had no reserves left to deal with him. “No, you don’t.”

Jerking her arm from his grasp, she turned and walked blindly down the sidewalk. A shiver of panic ran up her spine. She felt him, felt his gaze on her back, felt his silent purpose in the air. What could he possibly want from her? He’d been clear two days ago. Was he some kind of sadist who wanted to see what effect his rejection had had on her?

To hell with him.

To hell with Aetos Zenos.

She reached the curb as the light turned green. Two old men gingerly stepped onto the pavement in front of her and Nat rolled her suitcase around them, over a lump of melting snow, intent on getting across the street and away. A long, stretch limo, black with tinted-silver windows, came to a stop halfway into the walkway. One of the old men wagged his finger at the chauffeur.

With no warning, a strong arm wrapped around her waist in a grip so tight her breath came out in a gasp. “Apparently,” Aetos murmured in her ear. “I need to work on my communication skills.”

Before she could catch another breath and cry out, the limo door in front of her opened. With economical skill she’d have admired at any other time, she and her suitcase were stuffed into the backseat. Jumping in behind her, he slammed the door closed before she could mount a defense.

“Go.” His one word held complete authority.

The chauffeur nodded, the vehicle eased into traffic and the privacy barrier slowly inched up, leaving her alone with him.

The two old men outside stared, their eyes wide and jaws slack, as the limo pulled away. An excited crowd on the sidewalk pointed at the limo, some of them busily punching numbers into their phones or frantically texting.

“This is kidnapping.” Tugging on the locked door did no good, so she wrapped her arms tight around her.

“We need to talk.”

She pinned her gaze on the outside instead of him. She couldn’t stand to look at him and catalogue all the things she yearned for even when she knew he was deadly to her heart. Perhaps the police would find them and arrest him. Maybe that’s how she’d finally be free of him. But the thought of him, the image of him being dragged away in handcuffs, put a stop to any idea of turning him in or ratting him out. Even if the police did manage to track this vehicle down, she wouldn’t say the words that would get him in trouble.

She might hate him, but she couldn’t hurt him.

The knowledge angered her.

Her hands twisted into fists.

The silence deepened around them, the only sounds were from the outside—muted horns and muffled yells. The limo turned onto Fifth Avenue, heading towards Central Park.

“You look like crap.” The words were harsh, but his voice held a husky tinge of warmth.

Gulping in a breath, she lectured herself. She would not allow herself to do this. She would not pretend she heard something in his voice or saw something in his eyes. Something she could mistakenly hold on to with her stupid hope. Look at the pain she’d experienced after sticking her neck out in Greece.

She kept her gaze pinned to the outside world. Yet, her entire being vibrated, waiting for what was going to come next inside of this limo.

He shifted beside her and his clean pine scent drifted to her.

God. The tears welled again despite her silent cursing. She shouldn’t continue to want him. She shouldn’t let him do this to her.

“
Mágissa
.” A soft tug on one of her long curls made the tears slip down her cheek. “Talk to me.”

She couldn’t speak. If she opened her mouth, she’d howl. Though his voice held a pleading note and though he touched her hair as if begging for attention like a young boy, she couldn’t be sure of him. She’d believed and hoped and everything had crashed around her only days ago. She couldn’t allow him the opportunity to hurt her once more.

Managing to swallow the rest of her tears, she straightened her back. “Let me out of this limo.”

A dead silence answered her. She sensed rather than saw him withdraw. They drove past the beginning of Central Park. Sun slanted over the bare trees and across the dusting of snow lying white and pristine on the brown grass. A flock of pigeons pecked aimlessly on the sidewalk while a gaily decorated horse-drawn carriage waited patiently for its next ride.

“I paid them off.” His voice cut through her turmoil, his accent heavy, his tone desperate.

The meaning of his words finally penetrated her thoughts. She whipped her head around and stared at him. “What?”

His dark eyes blazed in his pale, taut face. She’d seen this expression before. When he’d been determined to get her cooperation with his family. When he’d doggedly taken on the task of converting his grandparents’ farmhouse. Whenever she saw this look in his eyes, he always got what he wanted. The question was…what did he want with her?

She had nothing left to give.

The knowledge sank into her like a dead weight.

The line of his mouth tightened when she shrank back on the leather seat. “I said, I paid them off.”

“Who?” But she knew. This was why she hadn’t been tracked down and grabbed in the last two days. The thugs had already got what they wanted from Aetos Zenos. Who, for some unknown reason, had paid them off for her.

“You know who.” His stare turned into a glare. “What were you thinking?”

Her chin lifted in the face of his blast of anger. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The hell you don’t.” He rustled in his coat pocket and pulled out a familiar envelope. Slapping it on the seat between them, he turned his glare on her once more. “I know you’re not stupid, so there has to be some other damned good reason you didn’t take this money. Money you desperately needed.”

She turned her back to him. She couldn’t chance he’d see the hopeless love in her eyes. A love he didn’t want and a love she didn’t want to reveal. The only thing she had left was her pride. “I’ll pay you back.”

Another silence fell. This one deeper and darker than any that had come before. A sudden, sharp rap on the privacy barrier made Nat jerk around.

Aetos lowered his hand from the barrier, his mouth grim as he stared at her.

The limo slid to a stop. The door locks clicked open. Before she could respond by jumping off her seat and running away as fast as she could, he grabbed the envelope lying between them and threw open the door. Leaping out, he turned back to peer in.

“Come out here with me,” he commanded.

Her hands gripped the door handle, trying to force herself to open it and leave him.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him lean into the interior, his whole attitude one of fierce resolve. “You said you’d pay me back.”

She managed a nod.

“Then look at me.”

Her head was no longer in her control. She turned and faced him.

“Get out of the car, Natalie.”

She stared. But didn’t budge.

His eyes blazed, a rich, dark brew of intention. “If you want to pay me back, do this one thing for me.”

Money. She’d meant she’d pay him back the money. Not this. Whatever
this
was.

“Get out of the car and walk with me.”

Walk with me
.

His voice had turned from demand to plea, a tone that sounded like something she could believe in, dream of, hope for. The simple words hit her straight in the heart and shattered the last of her control. Tears sprang into her eyes again and threatened to dribble down her stiff cheeks.

He sucked in a deep breath and his eyes turned to black. “Please.”

Aetos Zenos saying please.

Shock ran through her like an electric current. She froze on the seat.

Grimacing, he ducked his head into the limo, coming closer. “Natalie.”

“Yes?” she gulped, still sorting through her disbelief.