Page 41 of Reclaimed By His Billion-Dollar Ring

Resolve.

And the heaviness inside her was like a concrete weight. Dragging her to the bottom of the sea. The deep and drowning sea...

Nikos sat at the desk in his hotel room, attempting to focus his thoughts on own business affairs. But he hadn’t touched the keyboard on his laptop for ten minutes.

Since she’d left him at dinner last night there had been nothing from Calanthe. Nor from Georgios Petranakos either. He would give it another twenty-four hours, then head back to Zurich.

But every atom of his being resisted such action.

He stared at the blank wall in front of him, feeling emotions shift and shape within him.

Surely Calanthe would accept him? And not just for her father’s sake, but for her own too? Surely now she would finally let the past go? Would accept what had brought them back together after so long? How much he wanted her and she him?

Longing filled him. Memories of that night at the beach house tormented him.

Waking to an empty bed had been unbearable.

All I want is her—Calanthe.

Her name rang in his head.

A ping sounded from his laptop—an email arriving. Another one. He’d ignored most of them, his mind too distracted to pay them any attention. But he cast a cursory glance down to see who this one was from and suddenly his entire attention was on it.

It was from Calanthe.

He clicked it open. Conscious that his heart rate had increased. Conscious that he resented the fact that it had. Conscious that he did not know how to predict just what her answer would be. Or even if she was prepared to give it.

It seemed she was.

The email was brief.

I accept.

Yes! He wanted to punch the air in triumph.

Then, just below, in parentheses, he saw she’d written something else.

(Ts and Cs apply. To be discussed and confirmed.)

He didn’t care. He snatched up his phone, to call the Petranakos mansion immediately, but before he could the hotel phone rang.

He wanted to ignore it, but didn’t.

‘Yes?’ His tone was impatient.

It was Calanthe.

‘Nikos?’ She sounded brisk. Businesslike, even. ‘You have my email now. Meet me for lunch in forty-five minutes.’

She named a restaurant, and the street it was on.

He frowned. That was the same street as Petranakos HQ. But he made no demur—only agreed. He made no mention of her email, or what it contained, making his voice smooth and co-operative.

‘Of course. I’ll see you there.’

She rang off and he sat back. That sense of triumph was still coursing through him.

Triumph—and more than triumph.

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