Mediterranean Mavericks: Greeks. Кейт Хьюит

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СКАЧАТЬ I’m not going to ask how you have been.”

      Set against Stavros’s lacerating contempt, there was a slumbering, almost comforting quality to Dmitri that had always put her at ease. Looking into the bottomless depths of Dmitri’s eyes now, she wondered how much of that warmth was a deceptive facade.

      “Come, I’ll take you home. Stavros will thank me for stopping his precious wife from getting arrested for indecent exposure.”

      Leah shivered, only barely stopping herself from covering her chest with her arms. Hearing herself referred to as Stavros’s wife, even the mention of that bond that tied them together made her queasy inside, and Dmitri knew it.

      Straightening her shoulders and resolutely holding her arms down, she glared at him. “Then he shouldn’t have dumped me in that monstrous tub of yours.”

      His laughter swathed her. Leah ducked, just enough when he threw an arm to pull her to him.

      “I’m not playing your games, Dmitri, so back off.”

      His eyes warmed up even more. The few times she had come into contact with him, he had at least had a kind smile for her, whether real or fake.

      Familiar trust awoke in her, something inside her desperate for a friend after Stavros’s stinging scorn.

      Unless it was part of his game to get her to trust him and pump her for information so that he could take it back to Stavros… She sighed, feeling immensely tired and lonely.

      “I have missed your sharp tongue all these years.”

      “Wish I could say the same, but I don’t have your gift or charm for lying.”

      Reaching her, he hooked her arm through his and herded her toward the steps. “Let’s not pretend about your talents. At least not with me.”

      Swallowing her fear, Leah dragged her feet. Dmitri saw far more than he let on. As different as they were, his friendship with Stavros was as inviolate as their devotion toward Giannis.

      Donning that mask of reckless ignorance, Leah faced him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about but I can find my own way, thank you.”

      “I heard your conversation, Leah.”

      “Then you’re as uncivilized as they say.”

      He stared at her with unblinking eyes. “I had the yacht empty in five minutes but I couldn’t leave. I was afraid of what you both would do to each other,” he drawled silkily.

      Every time she had seen Giannis with either Dmitri or Stavros, she had felt a yawning chasm in her chest knowing she could never share something like that with her own grandfather. And that it was her choice.

      “It doesn’t concern you, Dmitri.”

      Grabbing her arm, he turned her. “You’re playing a dangerous game with Giannis’s life, Leah. This is not like one of those antics you used to take up just to make Stavros furious.”

      That he had always seen through her ploys unnerved Leah. “All I want is my freedom, Dmitri, a chance to live my life. You get that, don’t you?” she threw back at him, remembering bits and pieces of what Calista had told her about Dmitri’s life before Giannis had plucked him off the streets of London.

      “Try a different way then. For once, try to change the dynamic between you two, Leah.”

      “How?” she whispered, her voice breaking. “He’s left me no choice. In that moment—” she pointed to the ominously quiet lower deck, her heart pounding in her chest “—it started as a bluff. But I… I don’t know what I’m capable of anymore.”

      “Stavros and you are intent on destroying each other.”

      “Me destroy Stavros? All the power, all the cards are in his hands, Dmitri. As always.” And the worst part was that she had given it all to him with her irresponsible behavior.

      All she had today was the wretched power to hurt Giannis. And Leah was terrified that she would use that power. Desperation turned her words into a pitiful entreaty.

      “If you count Stavros as your friend, if you really care about Giannis’s well-being, then convince Stavros that I don’t need his brand of protection anymore. Please, Dmitri.”

      Two days later, Stavros and Dmitri were sparring in the ring in the ultra-sophisticated, custom-built gym attached to Dmitri’s Athens apartment.

      It had started when Stavros had suggested Dmitri could work his way out of a temper instead of losing it when Giannis had brought him to Athens years ago, morphed into a way for them to resolve arguments when they struggled to keep up with the rigorous, grueling schedule that Giannis set for them.

      A habit they had carried into adulthood.

      But today, Stavros was the one who felt bloodthirsty, like he was coming apart at the seams.

      After two days in which he had been supremely unproductive, he still hadn’t been able to master his reaction to seeing Leah.

       You already know that I don’t care about anyone but myself, don’t you?

      Her words rang through him, her glittering gaze and her vibrating body etched into his brain.

      The brazen curve of her mouth, the reckless shrug with one hand on a bony hip, her dark brown hair drying in curls around that angelic face… Cristo, he still couldn’t believe that…boldly stunning creature had been Leah.

      Leah, who had jumped like a live wire when he had touched her without meaning to…

      Leah, who, even at a naive sixteen, had somehow always pushed all the wrong buttons in him…

      Leah, who was, even now, insidiously unfurling the iron fist with which he ruled his…

       No!

      Moving his right foot forward, Stavros swung his left hook with a vicious fury. The thwack of his knuckle against Dmitri’s jaw, and the hiss of his exhale, followed by the filthiest curse words reverberated in the quiet.

      Shock flashed in Dmitri’s eyes.

      That Stavros had gone on the offense when it had always been about letting Dmitri work through one of his tempers, who learned to use his fists on the streets of London amidst gangs, spoke to his ragged control.

      “Ding, ding,” Dmitri mocked, dark amusement in his gaze. “Point for Leah Huntington Sporades.”

      Gritting his jaw, Stavros shot him a filthy look.

      Massaging his jaw with one hand, Dmitri reached for a bottle of water with the other. “In all the years that we have known each other, you have never gone on the offensive. Today’s win has to go to her.”

      Knowing how cunningly perceptive Dmitri was, Stavros decided to leave. It had been a miracle in itself that Dmitri had—showing what Giannis would СКАЧАТЬ