Page 67 of The Boss

I was angry. With my brother. With God. With people in general. But mostly with myself. After providing first aid that included a hefty looking bandage, Dimitrios had allowed me to explore the house alone for a few hours before making the declaration we were headed out to a very late lunch. Although my stomach was growling, I didn’t think I could eat. Why should I be sitting here enjoying a beautiful location overlooking crystalline blue ocean waters while drinking some expensive Greek wine when my parents were lying on a cold slab?

I was still unable to put any of this into a decent perspective.

Our table was nestled in the corner of a deck, the railing unable to block the fabulous view. With the light breeze, warm temperatures, and the combined scent of seafood and the salty ocean waters, this could be described as yet another slice of heaven. It was also far too romantic for a couple who’d entered into a business arrangement.

He was sitting back in his chair, looking far too relaxed for a man who’d been told I’d been responsible for killing his brother. While technically it wasn’t true, I’d felt the guilt of his loss as well as that of my own.

“Talk to me, Willow. You can’t keep this bottled up.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You either did it to hurt me or allow your conscience to be cleansed. Which is it?”

There was the fabulous hint of venom in his voice I’d heard the night inside the villa. Why was I here? Why had I agreed to marry him? “I don’t think this is going to work.” When I started to stand, he leaned over the table.

“I’ve tried to be patient with you because of what you’ve been through. However, the fact you’re playing dangerous games with me isn’t something I can tolerate. Sit down and tell me what you meant.”

He wasn’t threatening me, but I’d been reminded of how powerful he was the moment we’d walked into the restaurant. I don’t know how many pictures were taken, so many customers yanking out their cell phones. It was as if a big-name celebrity had walked into the place. One of the waitresses had even asked for his autograph. At least that’s what I’d thought was happening. She’d spoken in Greek, keeping her voice seductively low.

My God. It was like I was the jealous one now.

Dimitrios’ celebrity had continued, the maître d’ insisting he give us the best table, the bartender handing us wine becausewe’d had to wait for five minutes. Oh, golly gee. A five-minute wait. How tragic.

But there was no mistaking his control, including over me. I had nowhere I could go. I’d seen him taking my passport. I was stuck.

His prisoner.

I sat back into my chair, hating the way my face felt more heated than before.

“What did you mean?” He was growing more impatient as the minutes ticked by.

“Did you know my parents were basically broke?”

He narrowed his eyes. “No. Gregory never mentioned it.”

“My father was a proud man. There’d been some unexpected medical expenses that insurance wouldn’t pay for. His investments had all but dried up. He used the savings account to try and keep things normal. He took out a second mortgage recently. I wasn’t supposed to know but caught my mother crying. She confessed.”

“Then why this trip? Renting that villa cost a lot of money.”

“I was the one who wanted to come. I’ve been asking myself why. After all the years since I’d been to Greece, why had it seemed so important to come here? I still don’t know.” Although the little voice inside my head had been hammering me for days. Some part of me had wanted to recapture the moments spent with his family.

With him.

It was silly since I’d been a girl, but I’d felt as if a part of me had been left here.

He seemed surprised, nodding a couple of times. “And the villa?”

“Not my doing and I honestly don’t think it was my father’s either. I offered to pay half on a basic cheap hotel, but he was having none of it for his baby daughter. He told Mother and me he’d make the arrangements. I didn’t know a thing until we arrived on the doorstep.”

“I still don’t see why you think it was your fault what happened.” At least his voice had softened.

Maybe he wasn’t going to kill me.

“Don’t you see? If I hadn’t begged to come back to Greece, everyone would still be alive.”

I meant what I said and felt it deeply in my soul. He stared at me for an abominable period before half laughing.

“Don’t make fun of me,” I challenged. “I admitted it. You wanted the truth, so I gave it to you.”

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