The Fallen Greek Bride. Jane Porter

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СКАЧАТЬ The doctors had said she was addicted to him, and her addiction wasn’t healthy. He wasn’t the sun, they lectured her, and Drakon, despite his intense charisma and chemistry, couldn’t warm her, nor could he actually give her strength. She was the only one who could give herself strength, and the only way she could do that was by leaving him, putting him behind her.

      And so here she was again, leaving him. Putting him behind her.

      So be strong, she told herself. Prove that you ‘re strong on your own.

      Morgan blinked to clear her vision, fighting panic as they rounded the villa and walked across the lawn for the open pool terrace where the helicopter waited, balancing like a peculiar moth on the high-tech titanium cover concealing the pool. The roar from the helicopter’s spinning blades made conversation impossible, not that Drakon wanted to talk to her.

      One of the household staff met them at the helicopter with Morgan’s travel bag and Drakon set it inside the helicopter, then spoke briefly to the pilot before putting out his hand to assist Morgan inside.

      She glanced down at his outstretched hand, and then up into his face, into those unique amber eyes that had captivated her from the start. “Thank you again, Drakon, and I hope you’ll be happy.”

      His lips curved, but his eyes glittered with silent fury. “Is that a joke? Am I supposed to be amused?”

      She drew back, stunned by his flash of temper. For a moment she could only stare at him, surprised, bewildered, by this fierce man. This was a different Drakon than the man she’d married. This was a Drakon of intense emotions and yet after they’d married she’d become convinced that Drakon felt no emotion. “I’m serious. I want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy—”

      “As you said I’m not one for meaningless conversation, so I’m going to walk away now to save us from an embarrassing and uncomfortable goodbye,” he said brusquely, cutting her short, to propel her into the helicopter. Once he had her inside, he leaned in, his features harsh, and shouted to her, “Don’t try to cut corners, Morgan, and save money by handling the pirates yourself. Get help. Call Dunamas, or Blue Sea, or one of the other maritime intelligence companies. Understand me?”

      His fierce gaze held hers, and she nodded jerkily, even as her stomach rose up, and her heart fell. If he only knew …

      If he only knew what she had done….

      And for a split second she nearly blurted the truth, how she had been negotiating with the pirates on her own, and how she’d thought she was in control, until it had all gone terribly wrong, which was why she was here … which was why she needed Drakon so much. But before she could say any of it, Drakon had turned around and was walking away from the helicopter.

      Walking away from her.

      Her eyes burned and her throat sealed closed as the pilot handed Morgan a set of headphones, but she couldn’t focus on the pilot’s instructions, not when she was watching Drakon stride toward the villa.

      He was walking quickly, passing the rose-covered balustrade on the lower terrace then climbing the staircase to the upper terrace, and the entire time she prayed he’d turn around, pray he’d acknowledge her, pray he’d wave or smile, or just look at her.

      He didn’t.

      He crossed the terrace to the old ballroom and disappeared into the great stone house without a backward glance.

      So that was it. Done. Over. She was finally free to move on, find happiness, find love elsewhere.

      She should be happy. She should feel at peace. But as the helicopter lifted off the pad, straight into the air, Morgan didn’t feel any relief, just panic. Because she didn’t get the help she needed, and she’d lost him completely.

      It wasn’t supposed to have gone like this. The meeting today … as well as their marriage. Because she had loved him. She’d loved him with everything she was, everything she had, and it hadn’t been enough. It should have been enough. Why wasn’t it enough? In the beginning she’d thought he was perfect. In the beginning she’d thought she’d found her soul mate. But she was wrong.

      Seconds passed, becoming one minute and then another as the helicopter rose higher and higher, straight up so that the villa fell away and the world was all blue and green, with the sea on one side and the sharp, steep mountains on the other and the villa with its famous garden clinging to that bit of space on the rock.

      Fighting tears, her gaze fell on the check she still clutched in her hand. Seven million dollars. Just like that.

      And she’d known that he’d help her if she went to him. She’d known he’d come through for her, too, because he’d never refused her anything. Drakon might not have given her much of his time or patience, but he’d never withheld anything material from her.

      Guilt pummeled her, guilt and fear and anxiety, because she hadn’t accomplished everything she’d come to Villa Angelica to accomplish. She needed more from Drakon than just a check. She needed not just financial assistance, but his help, too. There were few men in the world who had his knowledge of piracy and its impact on the shipping industry. Indeed, Drakon was considered one of the world’s leading experts in counter piracy, and he’d know the safest, quickest method for securing her father’s release, as well as the right people to help her.

      Morgan exhaled in a rush, heart beating too hard.

      She had to go back. Had to face Drakon again. Had to convince him to help her. Not that he’d want to help her now, not after everything that was said.

      But this wasn’t about pride or her ego. This was life and death, her father’s life, specifically, and she couldn’t turn her back on him.

      Swallowing her fear and misgivings, Morgan grabbed at her seat belt as if throwing on brakes. “Stop, wait,” she said to the pilot through the small microphone attached to her headphones. “We have to go back. I’ve forgotten something.”

      The pilot was too well-trained, and too well-paid, to question her. For a moment nothing seemed to happen and then he shifted and the helicopter began to slowly descend.

      Drakon didn’t wait for the helicopter to leave. There was no point. She was gone, and he was glad. While climbing the stairs to his bedroom suite, he heard the helicopter lift, the throbbing of the rotary blades vibrating all the way through the old stone walls.

      In his bathroom, Drakon stripped his clothes off and showered, and then dried off, wrapping the towel around his hips and prepared to shave. It would take a while. There was a lot of beard.

      He gathered his small scissors and his razor and shaving cream, and as he laid everything out, he tried not to think, particularly not of Morgan, but that was impossible. He was so upset. So angry.

      What a piece of work she was. To think he’d wanted her back. To think he’d loved her. But how could he have loved her? She was shallow and superficial and so incredibly self-centered. It was always about her … what she wanted, what she needed, with no regard for anyone else’s needs.

      As he changed the blade on his razor, he felt a heaviness inside, a dull ache in his chest, as if he’d cut his heart. And then Drakon took the razor to his beard.

      He had loved her, and he had wanted her back. Wanted her home with him. But that was before he understood how disgusted she was with СКАЧАТЬ