Trish Morey

At His Revenge


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in every way. Her mother had confessed that at first she’d found it romantic to have a man who wanted to care for her. It had been later, much later, that she’d realised that he hadn’t wanted to care for her. He’d wanted to control her. And so her mother’s independence had slowly leeched away, stolen not by a swift kill but by a slow, cruel erosion of her confidence.

      ‘I have enough to get me to Athens. Then I’m going to get a loan to start my business.’ It was the only option open to her and she knew other people did it all the time. They borrowed money and they paid it back and she would pay it back, too. All of it.

      ‘He has contacts at all the banks. None of them will loan you money, Selene.’

      ‘I know. Which is why I’m not going to a bank.’

      Her mother shook her head. ‘Name one person who would be prepared to do business with you. Show me a man with the guts to stand up to your father and I’ll show you a man who doesn’t exist.’

      ‘He exists.’ Her heart pumped hard against her chest and she forced herself to breathe slowly. ‘There is one man who isn’t afraid of anyone or anything. A strong man.’

      ‘Who?’

      Selene kept her voice casual. ‘I’m going to see Stefanos Ziakas.’

      The name alone drained the colour from her mother’s face. ‘Ziakas is another version of your father. He’s a ruthless, self-seeking playboy with no conscience and not one shred of gentleness in him. Don’t be fooled by that handsome face and that charismatic smile. He’s deadly.’

      ‘No, he isn’t. I met him once, years ago, on the yacht on one of the occasions we were forced to play “happy families” in public. He was kind to me.’ Selene was annoyed to feel herself blushing.

      ‘If he was kind, it was because he knew it would annoy your father. They hate each other.’

      ‘He didn’t know who I was when we started talking.’

      ‘You were the only seventeen-year-old there. It was obvious who you were.’ Her mother sounded weary. ‘Ask yourself why a sophisticated man like him would spend his time talking to you when he came with the actress Anouk Blaire.’

      ‘He told me she was boring. He said she only cared about how she looked and who wrote about her and that being with him enhanced her career. He said I was much more interesting. We talked all night.’ About everything. She’d told him things she’d never told anyone before. Not about her family, of course—she was too well trained to let that particular truth slip—but she’d talked about her dreams and her hopes for the future and been grateful when he hadn’t laughed. He’d listened with those sexy eyes fixed on her and when she’d asked him if he thought she might be able to run a business one day he’d spoken words she’d never forgotten.

      You can do anything if you want it enough.

      Well, she wanted it.

      Her mother sighed. ‘The schoolgirl and the billionaire. And because of this one conversation you think he’ll help you?’

      Come back in five years, Selene Antaxos, then maybe we’ll talk.

      She’d wanted to do a whole lot more than talk and she suspected he’d known that, just as she suspected he’d guessed the truth about the fabricated life she led. She’d felt more of a connection with him than she had with any other human being. For the first time in her life someone had listened to her and his words had stayed with her, day and night. When life had grown hard it had been a comfort to remember that she had someone to go to if things were desperate.

      And things were desperate.

      ‘He’ll help me.’

      ‘That man is more likely to hurt you than help you. You have no experience of men like him. I would not put you with a man like Ziakas. I would find you someone kind and gentle who deserves you.’

      ‘I don’t want him to be kind or gentle. I need him to be ruthless or this isn’t going to work. If he doesn’t have the guts to stand up to my father then there is no hope for my plan. I want to run my own business and Ziakas knows more about how to do that than anyone. He did it all himself. He lost his parents when he was young. No one helped him. No one gave him a helping hand. And look at him now. He was a billionaire by the time he was thirty and he did that by himself.’

      She found his story inspirational. If he could do it, why couldn’t she?

      Her mother struggled upright, finding energy from anxiety. ‘Do you honestly think you’ll just be able to walk up to a man like Stefan Ziakas and ask him for money? He is protected from the outside world by layers of security, just like your father. Getting an appointment with someone like him would be almost impossible, especially at short notice. Even if you could somehow find a way to leave the island undetected while your father is away, Ziakas won’t see you.’

      ‘He’ll see me. And I have found a way to leave the island.’ Determined not to reveal too much, and even more determined not to let her mother batter her confidence, Selene stood up. ‘I will be back tomorrow, which gives us plenty of time to get far away before my father returns from—from his trip.’ ‘Trip’ was the word they both used to describe her father’s frequent absences from the island. It disgusted Selene that he didn’t even bother to keep his infidelities a secret. Disgusted her more that her mother accepted them as part of the marriage deal.

      She couldn’t allow herself to think about what she’d do if her mother refused to leave, as she’d refused so many times before. All she knew was that she didn’t want to spend anther day on Antaxos. She’d lived here all her life, trapped within its rocky shores, thirsty for a life other than the one she’d been given. She didn’t want to spend another day in this ‘family’ pretending that everything was perfect.

      The events of the last week had shown her that she had to do it sooner rather than later.

      Bending down, she kissed her mother on the cheek. ‘Dream about what you’re going to do on the first day of your new life. You’re going to laugh without worrying that the sound is going to draw his attention. You’re going to paint again and people will buy those paintings, just as they used to.’

      ‘I haven’t painted for years. I don’t feel the urge any more.’

      ‘That’s because he didn’t like you doing anything that took you away from him.’ The anger was like an energy source, giving her a determination that felt close to power. ‘You’re going to get your life back.’

      ‘And if your father returns from Crete early and finds you gone? Have you thought of that?’

      It was like stepping off a cliff or missing a step on the stairs. Her heart bumped uncomfortably and she wanted to clutch something for support. ‘He won’t return early. Why would he?’

      Bored out of his mind, Stefan lounged with his feet on his desk.

      Far beneath the glass cocoon that housed his corporate headquarters, Athens was slowly waking up. Athens, a city in trouble, licking its wounds as the world watched in wary fascination. People encouraged him to move his base to a different city. New York. London. Anywhere other than the troubled Greek capital.

      Stefan ignored them.

      He had no intention of abandoning the place that had allowed him to become who he was. He knew what it was like to have everything and then lose it. He knew how it felt to go from prosperity to poverty. He understood fear and uncertainty. And he knew all about the effort required to drag yourself back from the edge. It made winning all the more satisfying and he’d won in a big way. He had money and power.

      People would have been surprised to learn the money didn’t interest him. But power? Power was different. He’d learned at an early age that power was everything. Power opened doors that were closed. Power turned no to yes and stop to go. He’d learned that power was an aphrodisiac and, when it needed to be, it was a weapon.

      It was a