money running out, Anna had convinced herself that Nikos wouldn’t be staking out her great-grandmother’s old palace. Now mortgaged to the hilt, the crumbling palace was their family’s last asset. Natalie was trying to repair the murals in hopes that they’d be able to find a buyer and pay off their paralyzing debt. A fruitless hope, in Anna’s opinion.
As fruitless as trying to escape Nikos Stavrakis. He was bigger than her by six inches, and eighty pounds of hard muscle. He had three bodyguards, with more waiting in cars hidden behind the palace.
The police, she thought, but that hope faded as soon as it came. By the time she managed to summon a policeman Nikos would be long gone. Or he’d pay off anyone who took her side. Nikos Stavrakis’s wealth and power made him above the law.
She had only one option left. Begging.
“Please,” she whispered. She took a deep breath and forced herself to say in a louder voice, “Nikos, please don’t take my child. It would kill me.”
He barked a harsh laugh. “That’s what I’d call a bonus.”
She should have known better than to ask him for anything. “You…you heartless bastard!”
“Heartless?” He threw the cup at the fireplace. It smashed and fell in a thousand chiming pieces. “Heartless!” he roared.
Suddenly afraid, Anna drew back. “Nikos—”
“You let me believe that my son was dead! I thought you both were dead. I returned from New York and you were gone. Do you know how many days I waited for the ransom note, Anna? Do you have any idea how long I waited for your bodies to be discovered? Seven days. You made me wait seven damn days before you bothered to let me know you were both alive!”
Anna’s breaths came in tiny rattling gasps. “You betrayed me. You caused my father’s death! Did you think I’d never find out?”
His dark eyes widened, then narrowed. “Your father made his own choices, as you have made yours. I’m taking my son back where he belongs.”
“No. Please.” Tears welled up in her eyes and she grabbed at his coat sleeve. “You can’t take him. I’m—I’m still breastfeeding. Think what it would do to Misha to lose his mother, the only parent he’s ever known…”
His eyes went dark, and Anna wanted to bite off her tongue. How could she have drawn attention to the fact that she’d not only denied Nikos the chance to experience the first four months of their child’s life, but she’d broken her promise about their son’s name?
Then he bared his teeth in the wolflike semblance of a smile. “You are mistaken, zoe mou. I have no intention of taking him away from you.”
She was so overwhelmed that she nearly embraced him. “Thank you—oh, God, thank you. I really thought…”
He took a step closer, towering over her. “Because I’m taking you as well.”
He should have savored this moment.
Instead, Nikos was furious. For four months he’d fantasized about taking vengeance on Anna. No, not vengeance, he corrected himself. Justice.
Some justice. His lip curled into a half-snarl. Bringing Anna back to Las Vegas, where he’d see her face across his table every day? That was the last thing he wanted.
He’d intended to take his son and leave, as she deserved. But from the moment he’d first seen his baby son a surge of love had risen in him that he’d never felt before. At that moment he’d known he could never allow his son to be hurt. He’d kill anyone who tried.
For four months he’d hated Anna. But now…
Hurting her would hurt his son. His child needed his mother. The two were bonded.
The payback was off.
He cursed under his breath, narrowing his eyes.
Anna had lost all her pregnancy weight, and then some. Under her coat’s frayed edges he could see the swell of her breasts beneath her tight sweater, see the curve of her slender hips in the worn, slim-fitting jeans. There were hungry smudges beneath her cheekbones that hadn’t been there before, and tiny worry lines around her blue-green eyes. The tightly controlled secretary was gone. Her long dark hair, which she’d always pulled back in a tight bun, now fell wild around her shoulders. It was…sexy.
Anna slowly exhaled and stared up at him, her eyes pleading for mercy. Even now, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her aristocratic heritage showed in the perfect bone structure of her heart-shaped face, and in every move she made.
Once he’d been grateful for her skills. He’d admired her dignity, her grace. He’d known Anna’s value. As his executive secretary, she’d run interference with government officials, employees, vendors and investors, making decisions in his name. She’d reflected well both upon him and the brand of luxury hotels he’d created around the world. Even now he still missed her presence in his office—the cool, precise secretary who’d made his business run so smoothly. She’d made it look easy.
It made him regret that he’d ever slept with her.
It made him furious that he was still so attracted to her.
Misha, indeed. A Russian nickname for Michael? Anna had promised to name their son after Nikos’s maternal grandfather, but it didn’t surprise him that she’d gone back on her word. She was a liar, just like her father.
“I had Cooper pack your things,” he bit out. “We’re leaving.”
“But the storm—”
“We have snow chains and local drivers. The storm won’t slow us down.”
Anna glanced from Nikos to the empty crib, and the fight went out of her. Her shoulders sagged.
“You win. I’ll go back with you,” she said quietly.
Of course he’d won. He always won. Although this victory had come harder than he’d ever imagined, at a price he hadn’t wanted. Already sick of the sight of her, he growled, “Let’s go.”
But as he turned away Anna’s throaty voice said, “What about Natalie? I can’t leave her here. She has to come with us.”
“What?” her sister gasped.
Nikos whirled back with a snarl on his lips, incredulous that Anna was actually trying to dictate the terms of her surrender. Another Rostoff woman in his house? “No.”
“No way, Anna!” Her sister echoed, pushing up her glasses. “I’m not going anywhere with him. Not after what he did to our father. Forget it!”
Anna ignored her. “Look around, Nikos. There’s no money. I was planning to get a job as a translator to support us. I can’t just leave her.”
“I’m twenty-two! I can take care of myself!”
Anna whirled around to face her young sister. “You barely speak Russian, and all you know about is art. Mother doesn’t have any more money to send you, and neither do I. What do you expect to eat? Paintbrushes?”
The girl’s eyes filled with tears. “Maybe if we went to Vitya he would…”
“No!” Anna shouted.
Who was Vitya? Nikos wondered. Another impoverished aristocrat like Anna’s father had been? For most of Anna’s young life he’d forced his family to live off the charity of wealthy friends. She’d once dryly commented that that was how she’d learned to speak fluent French, Russian, Spanish and Italian—begging the Marquis de Savoie and Contessa di Ferazza for book money.
Although of course that had been before Alexander Rostoff had realized it would be simpler to just embezzle the money.
Aristocrats, he thought scornfully. Rather than live in the comforts of Nikos’s house near Las Vegas, his brownstone in New York, or his villa in Santorini, Anna had