href="#litres_trial_promo"> CHAPTER EIGHT
BEING EQUAL NUMBER TWO on the international rich list might have made Leonidas Stathakis the envy of the world, but Leonidas knew from personal experience that money was a poor substitute for having what you really wanted in life.
Billions in the bank didn’t take away the empty throb of loss that dogged your steps when you’d had to bury your loved ones.
Being rich didn’t take away the grief, nor the guilt, nor the pain and the sense of impotence at knowing you had put someone in harm’s way—that you had failed to protect them.
This was his fourth New Year’s Eve without his family. The fourth year he’d seen draw to a close with only memories of his wife, Amy, and their two-year-old son, Brax.
It felt like a lifetime.
When he closed his eyes, he saw her as clearly as if she were standing in front of him. He’d never forget the way she smiled, as though she’d struck a match inside and happiness was exploding out of her.
How could someone so full of life and vitality simply cease to exist? For all her strength, she’d been so weak at the end, so fragile. Ploughed into while walking Brax to the playground. What chance did either of their bodies stand against that hunk of metal, commanded by a madman?
Hair that had been a vibrant russet with eyes that were the same shade as the ocean beyond this hotel; he saw her as she’d been in life, and then, as she’d been in death.
He would never forget Amy Stathakis, nor the violent fate that had awaited her, murdered because of his father’s criminal activities.
Dion Stathakis had destroyed their family, and, with Amy and Brax’s death, had destroyed Leonidas’s life.
Anger surged inside him and he curved his fingers more tightly about his Scotch glass, wondering how many of these he’d had. Not so many as to dull the pain yet, though in his experience it took more than a few quick drinks in a bar to get anywhere near the obliteration he sought. Especially at times like this, when his memories were at their clearest.
Happiness surrounded him. Loud, exuberant noises of celebration. People seemed to love marking the close of a year, celebrating the arrival of a new one, and he could understand that. At one time, he’d felt just the same—he had celebrated life with Amy.
Now, every day was something to be got through. Every year was simply something he survived—without them. His very existence was a betrayal. How many times had he thought he would give his life to return theirs? He was the son of the criminal bastard—he, Leonidas, should have paid for his father’s crimes. Not his innocent wife and their beautiful son.
Bitterness threatened to scorch him alive.
He threw his Scotch back and, without his signalling for another, a hostess arrived at his table, replacing it with a substitute, just as he’d requested. There were some perks to being the owner of the place, and this was one of them.
He lifted his head towards her in acknowledgement, noting dispassionately how attractive she was. Blonde hair, brown eyes, a caramel tan and pale pink lips that were quick to turn into a smile. A nice figure, too. She had the kind of looks he had once found irresistible.
But not any more.
Yes, he could have opened himself to the hint of desire that stirred inside him. That started in his gut and, as his eyes dropped to her breasts, to the hint of lace he could see beneath the cotton shirt she wore, spread like flame, threatening to make him hard right there in the skyline view bar of his six-star hotel on Chrysá Vráchia.
But he refused the impulse. He turned his attention to his Scotch, taking pleasure in denying his body any hint of satisfaction on that score. It had been four years. Four years without Amy, four years without knowing the pleasure of a woman. It was a habit he had no intention of breaking…
HANNAH HADN’T COME to Chrysá Vráchia to lose her virginity.
She hadn’t come to this stunning Greek island for any reason other than she’d been in shock and needed to escape Australia. Her controlling aunt, uncle, and the cousin she’d thought of as a sister—who’d been sleeping with Hannah’s fiancé.
She’d discovered them in bed together and been at the airport two hours later, booking the first available flight—which just happened to bring her here.
This stunning paradise she’d heard of all her life and wanted to visit. Golden cliffs, white sand beaches, turquoise waters, lush green forests—it was paradise on earth and the perfect place to chew through her honeymoon savings and rebuild her heart.
So apparently even the darkest storm clouds had silver linings.
No, Hannah hadn’t come to Greece to lose her virginity but as her eyes kept straying to the man across the hotel bar, she felt the pull of desire deep in her chest, and something more.
Vengeance? Anger? No. It was less barbaric than that, less calculated.
Fascination.
She looked at the man across from her, cradling his Scotch with a brooding intensity that tied her tummy in knots, and she felt a surge of white-hot desire that was as unfamiliar as it was intriguing.
Waiting until they were married had been Angus’s idea, but she’d gone along with it. She loved Angus, she liked the way he made her feel, the way he kissed her and held her tight. But she’d never really longed for him. She’d never trembled at his touch nor fallen asleep imagining his kisses.
And the idea of carelessly giving something away to a stranger, sleeping with a man she didn’t know, felt like the perfect way to respond to her fiancé cheating on her with her cousin.
Hannah’s chest tightened as flashbacks of that moment sliced through her. It was too raw. Too fresh.
Still…he looked like a man who wanted to be left alone. As she watched, a blonde waitress approached and said something sotto voce. He didn’t even meet her eyes when he responded, instead looking towards the view beyond them, the dark night sky inky for now—though it would soon be illuminated with the fireworks that marked the conclusion of one year and the start of another.
Midnight ticked closer and Hannah sipped her champagne thoughtfully.
She’d never approached a man before. She had no idea what to say. And it was a stupid idea. Hannah was twenty-three years old; there was a reason she was so woefully inexperienced with the opposite sex.
She was completely clueless.
No