A Perfect Love: International Billionaires VI: The Greeks (9 page)

He swiveled around, slamming his hands down on the desk. “All these years.
An
á
them
á
se
!
I should have been with them.”

The thread turned into a river. She wanted to swear too. Swear at herself. Swear at her too-tender heart. “Rafe—”

“Never mind.” He kept his gaze turned toward the open window. “What matters is getting Drakos out of my nephews’ lives forever.”

These last few days she’d seen only the angry man, the man filled with hate. But now, before her stood a weary man, a man weighted down by regret. The urge to soothe swept through her. “I have already—”

“That means I need your help.” He restlessly ran his hand through his hair, indicating he understood the underlying premise of what that meant. “So what do I have to give you to make this happen?”

She didn’t want Haimon anywhere near Aarōn and Isaák either. Not anymore. He’d shown his true colors and as far as she was concerned, he’d never see the boys again. Admitting this to Rafe, however, would cause her to lose any bargaining power. Right now, this very minute, she could ask for the only thing she wanted, and get it. She saw the realization in his hostile black eyes. She had him backed into a corner. He knew it and she knew it.

I get to stay in the boys
’
life. For now.

She’d work on forever later.

Yet the words froze on her tongue. She tried to choke them out, but they wouldn’t come. They refused to be said because she didn’t want to force Rafe to do this. She wanted him to willingly acknowledge the bond between her and the boys couldn’t be broken. Should never be broken.

“It’s already done,” she stuttered. “I’ve taken care of it.”

“What?” His eyes widened and went blank.

Why was she letting this opportunity flit away? What she wanted lay right in front of her. She couldn’t make herself claim it, though. Not in this way. “My solicitor is sending over papers now.”

“Papers.”

“Haimon has agreed to grant me sole custody.” Her last chance to bargain wafted away with her words.

“Really.” He shook himself, as if trying to wake from a dream. Never taking his gaze off her, he folded his arms across his broad chest and leaned on the desk. “How did you manage that?”

“The details aren’t important.” She wasn’t stupid enough to tell him about the money. Or lack thereof. She’d given far too much as it was. “Just know he’s out of the boys’ lives.”

“And yours.” Implacable, insistent, his demand rang in the room.

She sighed. What did it matter if she, too, never saw her stepfather again? His actions today, his actions during the years, and his actions against Rafe and his family, had stolen any affection she’d ever had for the man. “And mine.”

His shoulders relaxed. Silence descended while he examined her, and Tamsin had the silly impulse to duck her head like she’d done something wrong.

She
had
done something wrong.

She’d foolishly thrown aside a bargaining chip. One she desperately needed to fend off this man and his ruthless march to victory.

“Interesting.” He tapped one finger on his arm; his face was smooth, yet his eyes were still sharp and pointed. “I wonder what your scheme is.”

The unjustness of the attack drove every thought of bargaining chips and strategies straight out of her head. Her fists tightened in knots at her side. “Why do you always believe the worst in people?”

“I don’t.” The finger stopped. “I only believe the worst when it’s been proven to me over and over again.”

“You don’t know—”

“I know all about the Drakos way of life.” The tapping began once more. “For example, I know you lied to me ten years ago.”

“I never lied to you.” She wanted to race across the room and bang his head on the wall.

“No?” Gazing at her, his mouth went grim. “Not with your kisses? Your sweet promises?”

“I was sixteen!”

“Kisses and promises that disappeared as soon as my father killed himself.”

She should tell him. Tell him the truth of her motivations all those years ago. True, she’d promised Haimon to keep their deal secret, but she had no loyalty to her stepfather anymore. She was free to tell Rafe she’d still loved when she told him to leave, that she still loved…

“Once a liar, Tamsin, always a liar.” He thrust the words at her like a sheaf of knives.

He wouldn’t believe her. Not a word. So why should she throw her heart in front of him only so he could march right over it? Something inside him had been poisoned and she’d be a fool to trust him with her truth.

“Nothing to say?” He smiled, another brutal thrust. “Then should I keep going on the Drakos way of life? I know everything about your father and his dirty deals.”

“He’s not my father.” The flash of energy his unfair accusation had caused inside her dulled in the face of his relentless attacks. Staring at the floor, she imagined sinking into the thick rug, curling into a ball and sleeping this conversation away.

Rafe ignored her and kept going with his list. “I know what your mother did to my brother.”

“What?” Jerking her head up from her contemplation of the dark blue carpet, she eyed him. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about blackmail.” His words landed like thrusts into her heart.

“No.” She had no love for her mother. Hadn’t really mourned her passing nine years ago. As a kid, she’d tried to wrench Skylla’s attention her way, but had never been successful. By the time she’d been a teenager, she’d stopped trying. Still, her mother wouldn’t have—

“Your mother wasn’t satisfied with concealing the twins from their true heritage. From their true father.” Rafe’s eyes blazed with the inevitable hate. “No, she went one evil step further.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” The headache came back with a vicious bump. Tam lifted her hand once more, attempting to stroke away the pain.

His hands tightened on his arms as if trying to keep himself from physically ripping her apart. So he did it in words instead.

“I went through my brother’s papers after he died.” His voice dropped with the last word like he had to push it out. “All of them.”

Staring at him, she knew immediately whatever he was going to say would be bad. But she couldn’t find anything inside herself to stop him.

His mouth tightened at her silence. “There were pictures of the twins.”

“Pictures?” A sharp, slashing cut across her heart made her gasp. Her mother hadn’t spared her sons one visit after she left mere months after they’d landed in London. She’d been too busy with her new rich boyfriend, she’d said. Too busy for mewling babies. Yet bizarrely, she’d asked Tam to send her regular photos of the boys. “She sent your brother pictures?”

“
Nai.”
The finger tapped a staccato refrain on his skin. “Along with her blackmail letters.”

“She wouldn’t have.” The protest held no punch, because deep inside, she acknowledged her mother might have done such a thing if she’d been desperate.

Rafe’s smile had no life in it. Cold and icy, it sliced into her weak objection. “She wanted money. Or else she was going to tell his family about the twins. So Ben sent it to her.”

“Why would he do that?”

Her question stopped the tapping finger and for a moment, she thought she detected a shadow of pain slip across his eyes. Then they turned black as death once more. “Who knows?” He shrugged. “But he paid her.”

“So…” Her mind whirled. “Your brother didn’t want the boys to know his family. Is that right?”

“Like I said, who—”

“I wonder why?” A deep well of rage opened inside her, wiping out the load of guilt she’d carried around since the moment this man had walked back into her life.

During these last few days, Rafe had thrown accusation after accusation at her. At first, she’d taken it because she’d felt guilty that the twins had been unfairly kept from the Vounós. Then, she’d felt guilt for the devastation Haimon had caused to Rafe’s family. And finally, a tiny part of her heart still mourned and grieved for the pain she’d caused this man unintentionally, thinking she’d been giving a gift.

A gift he hadn’t received.

“What does it matter?” He straightened from the desk.

“It matters.” A Vounó, Rafe’s brother, was as much at fault for this mess as any Drakos.

“He’s dead—”

“So is my mother. Yet that doesn’t stop you from judging her.” Tam’s head of steamy anger burst. “Maybe Ben thought your family wasn’t worthy of knowing the boys.”

He tensed, his hands fisting. “That’s not
—
”

“Maybe Ben thought
you
shouldn’t have any contact with the twins.”

“Stop right there—”

She stood her ground when he prowled closer. “Maybe Ben realized what you’d become and didn’t want his sons tainted with
you
.”

“That’s enough.” Grabbing her arms, he yanked her to him. “Don’t say another word.”

She wasn’t going to stop. She couldn’t. “Maybe Ben knew the man you’d become—angry, hateful, ruthless—and didn’t want his sons anywhere near you.”

His mouth slammed onto hers, stopping the words that clearly seared him. She knew they had when she saw the flash of pain in his eyes.

Before she closed her own.

Because she couldn’t take him in all at once. Not his pain, and then his hate and then his lust. Because the kiss wasn’t only about punishment; it was about lust. She fought against the pull, the draw. Tightening her muscles against him, she pushed on his chest.

He ignored her. His lips were hot and hard. The heat of his body branded her, while his mouth commanded her unconditional surrender. And somehow, someway, her body responded.

The prickle of her nipples itched again.

The buttery warmth blossomed inside once more.

She opened her mouth to protest. To protest his demands. To protest to herself for her response. His tongue delved in before she could catch her breath. It swept over her objections and swirled them into a blend of lust and need. His tongue played magic on her own, filling her head with mindless desire. His hands moved to her back and hips, pushing her into his heat.

This was nothing like the kisses they’d shared years ago. This was a man’s kiss, a man’s demand, and hopelessly, Tamsin slid into him, gave to him.

All her muscles softened. All her emotions melted.

All her dreams reawakened.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and moaned, a husky, sultry call.

With an abrupt jerk, he yanked himself from her embrace.

Tam swayed, bereft and chagrined and shaken. The jumble of emotions inside made her want to retch. Or cry. Or fall at his feet in defeat.

Forcing herself to steady, she stared at him.

His back was to her. He’d walked to the desk and his hands were idly sifting through some papers as if what had just occurred was no more than a minor occurrence in a very busy day.

She couldn’t say anything. Not without crying out in pain.

He took a breath in, his shoulders lifting then almost, but not quite, shrugging. “You can come to Greece.”

Joy should have filled her, and yet, the only thing she felt swimming through her blood was dread. Because this man, this man was a threat to her in a way she hadn’t realized until moments ago. A violent delight to her body. A infecting madness for her emotions.

A threat in a way that had nothing to do with the boys.

T
he plane banked
, the last lights of London twinkling brightly, then hazing with the first of the clouds sliding past.

The last of the life she’d known for ten years.

The last of the life she’d cobbled together from disaster.

The last of the life where she’d been the most important person in the boys’ life.

Tamsin swung away from the window to stare at her brothers. Both dark heads were bent over the tablet Rafe held in his hands as he leaned across the low, ultra-modern table sitting between him and the twins.

She glanced around and once again, the reality of his wealth stunned her.

Scared her.

The limo ride to the airport hadn’t frightened her. Not after several days of getting used to the ease of traveling through the city without battling the crowds on the Tube. No, the anxiety had started when they’d arrived at Heathrow and had been ushered into a private lounge.

“What’s this?” she’d said, peering behind her as the door had closed, shutting out the masses of people waiting to check in.

“This is your private lounge, madam.” The attendant had smiled.

Not hers.

His
private lounge.

Aarōn and Isaák hadn’t even blinked. But then again, they’d never returned to Heathrow since they’d been babies.

Yet she’d remembered. Remembered their arrival years ago. Her mother snarling at Haimon as they wrested luggage from the carousel. The boys crying in their carriers as they’d gone through customs. She’d remembered how overwhelmed she’d been with the bustling crowds, the dozens of shops, the Byzantine hallways.

This time there’d been only smooth service. A glass of wine in her hand while they waited. A smile as her passport was handed back to her. Another limo to the plane.

“My private plane,” Rafe had explained to Isaák as they’d boarded.

Both boys had finally been appropriately dazzled.

She’d been filled with fear. It was one thing to be told Raphael Vounó had money. It was an entirely different matter to be faced with precisely what that meant.

The plane was huge, as big as a commercial airplane. However, size was the only thing comparable. The interior didn’t have hundreds of seats smashed together in order to conserve space. Instead, it looked like something from a science-fiction movie. Silvered panels lined the walls, giving one a sense of being in a spaceship. Lush grey carpet covered the floor. Cushioned chairs and sofas were scattered across a vast living room.

“It’s like so cool,” Isaák had hooted.

Even Aarōn had been impressed.

The boys had explored the ultra-modern bathroom, the two bedrooms with the king-size beds, the galley featuring crystal glassware and porcelain dishes.

“This can’t be yours.” The protest had slid out before she could stop.

“No? Why not?” He hadn’t even glanced at her. He’d been focused on the twins. Ushering them into chairs directly opposite his, he’d begun his continued campaign to win them over.

A campaign he was winning.

He was becoming important to Aarōn and Isaák.

During the last three days, as they’d waited for the DNA test to come back, Rafe had steadily undermined the twins’ initial hostility. There’d been the ongoing chats about Greece and the big family awaiting their arrival. The family who now knew they existed and were ecstatic at the news, he had told them. There’d been the daily outings to various London attractions she’d never been able to afford either in time or money or both. Madame Tussaud's, the zoo, even a musical at a West End theatre. She’d come along to all the events because the boys had wanted her there, but she hadn’t enjoyed any of them.

She’d been sad. Sad she hadn’t been able to do this for them. Which wasn’t sensible. She’d given them many more important things.

She’d also been angry. Angry at Rafe that he’d given the twins something she hadn’t. Which was churlish of her. She shouldn’t begrudge him giving to the twins after so many years lost.

More than anything else, though, she’d started to be afraid. Afraid of the wealth this man obviously had and the power this gave him over her and the boys.

Yet it wasn’t merely money that was winning the boys’ attention.

It was him.

There’d been the mornings where Rafe talked about his father and the family legacy of brilliance. There’d been the times he had described Greece and its beauty with a boyish charm that reminded her of the past. There’d been the daily trips to the pool where he’d dived into the twins’ play—at first meeting resistance, but soon, winning them over. Only yesterday, Aarōn had even laughed as Rafe had twirled the plastic pool ball on his fingertips.

And Rafe had smiled.

That one smile had shafted into her heart like a torpedo. The memories of
that
smile had stayed in her heart for years. A balm to her pain and an ache all the same.

He’d turned at that moment, stared into her eyes, and the smile,
that
smile, had fallen away.

“Let me try.” Isaák wiggled on the silver couch, his gaze never leaving the tablet in front of him.

“I want to try first.” His twin reached for the electronic enchantment.

Tamsin gulped in a big load of guilt. She’d been able to provide food for the boys and a home. She’d managed to eke out enough money to give them some lessons. Still, she’d never been able to give them all the extras other children received without even asking. She’d never been able to give them Wembley and the West End. She’d never been able to carve enough money from the budget to buy them first-rate computers. Much less tablets or e-readers or fancy PlayStations.

“You both get one.” Their uncle slipped out another tablet from a side pocket of his ever-present leather briefcase.

This was too much. Way too much. She jerked forward in her seat, the bite of the seatbelt cutting into her shoulder. But before she could mount a feeble objection to this continued largess, both boys crowed with delight.

“You’re spoiling them.” Her hushed accusation slipped through the chortles and glee from the twins and hit Rafe. She could tell by his sudden tenseness.

He ignored her as he’d been doing quite successfully since the kiss.

The kiss.

The memory of the meeting of their mouths consumed her every night as soon as she slid under the silk bedcovers. He’d tasted of heat and hot. Of intent and intensity. She couldn’t say the kiss had been anything except aggression wrapped in fire.

But she couldn’t stop thinking about every moment of
the kiss
.

“Tam!” Isaák piped up, popping her thoughts and memories like a pin to a balloon. “Look at what we got!”

A small nod was the only thing she could manage.

“They’ll use them in school.” Rafe didn’t turn to stare at her, although his cool words finally addressed her accusation. “Every child in their new school has them.”

He’d informed her about his plans for the boys’ schooling by email.
Email
. Tam had opened her laptop yesterday to find an abrupt message with an attachment. The school was top-notch, catering to international students. The fees were astronomical; far more than anything she could have possibly afforded. The class list and teachers were impressive. The opportunity for Aarōn and Isaák was undeniable.

The place was a boarding school.

Tamsin’s hands fisted in her lap.

Glancing at her lap, she forced her fingers to splay out. Forced them to smooth across her simple cotton dress.

A boarding school.

What would she do if the twins went away in the fall? What would she do with herself? Yet how could she protest when the school would be such an amazing chance for her boys? The questions rattled in her brain exactly as they had since she’d received the cold, brutal email.

“Would anyone like something to eat?” The flight attendant came out from the galley. She was young and beautiful and looked like something from a futuristic movie herself, with the silver dress and metallic jewelry.

“Pizza?” Aarōn gave her a half smile, all adolescent charm.

“Pizza sounds great.” Isaák grinned. “If you have it.”

The attendant nodded. “Of course, we—”

“Wait.” Tamsin had to put her foot down somewhere. “This is dinnertime and they should eat something healthier.”

“Oh, come on, Tammy.”

“Why not? This is so cool—”

“I don’t think one meal of pizza will hurt.” Rafe’s words cut through the cluttered objections of the boys.

The voice of authority.

The attendant didn’t even give her a glance. She walked away, her mission clear.

The twins stared at her, quiet all of a sudden. As if they could also sense what was happening.

She was losing control of her brothers.

A clutch of fear and anger surged inside. She whipped around to glare at the man sitting so negligently on the cushioned seat several feet from her. “It’s dinnertime. They shouldn’t eat junk.”

Easing back on the leather sofa, his dark gaze never left her face. “Consider it a snack. We will be eating with the family once we land.”

“But…” She stuttered to a stop. “But we won’t land until after eight p.m.”

“You’ve forgotten so much.” He clicked his tongue, a disgusted sound. “Don’t you remember Greece? We eat late.”

She remembered. Too much. “Of course I do. However, the boys aren’t used to the lifestyle. They’ll need to go to bed as soon as we arrive.”

“Come on, Tam.” Aarōn appeared as disgusted as his uncle.

“We’re not babies, Tammy.” Isaák’s voice was softer, yet still filled with disagreement about her dictates.

She felt the reins of her control slipping away. Panic edged her words. “You’ve had a lot to deal with during the last few days. You need to rest.”

“The family will be gathered to meet the boys when we arrive.” Rafe’s fingers tapped impatience on the silk-covered arm of the sofa. “I’m sure they are gathering even as we speak.”

“All of them?” Aarōn leaned forward eagerly.

“When I called your grandmother, what we call
giagiá
—”

“
Giagiá.
” Isaák tried out the word, rolling the vowels and consonants in his mouth.

“Correct.” Rafe smiled. A genuine one. “You’ll catch on very quickly.”

Another billow of guilt went down her throat even though her choices had been solid when she’d made them years ago. The boys had been adjusting to a new home, the loss of their mother, a strange environment. Choosing only one language for them to learn had made things much simpler.

“No,” she’d told Rafe when he’d expressed shock and anger at the fact his nephews knew no Greek. “I haven’t taught the boys to speak their native tongue.”

His glare had shot her way as if she’d personally insulted him. Had rejected not only Greece, not only her own heritage, but everything he prized in life.

Except he didn’t understand. He didn’t know how much it had hurt to hear the words that had only brought back bitter memories and the defeat of sweet dreams. Rafe didn’t understand the yawning pain in her heart was the reason for her decision. As soon as she’d had some semblance of control over their London life, she’d forbidden Greek in their home. The boys need to learn English for school, she’d said, don’t confuse them. In this, as with many things, Haimon had agreed.

Haimon.

Tamsin peeked across the plane to meet gleaming black eyes. She resisted the impulse to look away as if she had anything to be sorry for. Even though, she did. “What?”

He stared at her for one more moment, before glancing at the attendant who was bringing in platters of pizza.

Guilt at what he didn’t know about Haimon clogged in Tam’s throat, making it impossible for her to continue to fight about the food.

“You warned him, didn’t you?” Rafe had cornered her the night after the kiss. The only time he’d come near her since. “You went to the hospital to warn him.”

“What?” She’d skittered back from the angry heat of his body. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s gone.” As if he couldn’t stand to be close to her, he wrenched himself away and began to pace back and forth in front of her. The echo of the TV in the other room joined by the boys’ chatter competed with Rafe’s harsh breath.

“Gone? From the hospital?” She couldn’t imagine the old man having the energy to leave.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t know what his plans were.” Swiveling around, he glared.

“I had no idea.” Tam gazed at his face. A face filled with instant rejection. “Didn’t you have security surrounding him?”

“Not enough, clearly.” He paced again. “The police are searching for him. He can’t go far without money.”

Saying nothing had seemed the best choice. He apparently thought the Drakos clan had little money—and he was mostly right. But she’d saved some. Enough to give Haimon the chance to escape.

Something she hadn’t confided to Rafe.

“Here.” He reached over, breaking into her thoughts. A plate of pizza rested in his hand. “You have to eat something.”

The air stilled between them. The simple act of giving her food was not so simple when coming from this man. A gift. An acknowledgement of her presence and her needs. Tamsin’s brain whirred.

She took the plate.

Something sparked in those dark eyes. Then his mouth tightened, and he leaned back. “Or not. It’s your choice.”

Frowning at the pizza, she was amazed when her stomach growled. Even with the guilt and anger and fear surging in her, it appeared her body still wanted food.

A short laugh escaped him. “Eat.”

The pepperoni spiced in her mouth and the gooey cheese oozed into her taste buds. Her stomach rumbled in satisfaction, and for a moment, she let herself focus on the delicious junk food rather than her worries.

The boys consumed the pizza within minutes, before bounding down the aisle to inspect the huge flat-screen TV, which looked like a big movie screen to her.

“Do you want more?” Rafe’s big body draped lazily on the sofa.

“No.” Unbuckling herself, she walked over to put the plate on the table. “I’m full.”

He stared at her, his eyes carefully blank, his mouth easy, his jaw relaxed. Was this a truce? Was he beginning to accept her in the twins’ life?