Page 24 of Breaking the Annulment

Michalis tensed. “And why would there be a repeat? Something I should know about?”

Antonio smiled, but his eyes failed to warm. “Funny, I have the same question. Is there somethingIshould know about?”

Michalis’s voice hardened. “Meaning?”

“We always keep one ear to the ground, just like I’m sure you do. Some of our shipments have disappeared, taken by Victor Khomenko and his crew…same as you.” Antonio paused. “I waswondering what brought them back to town, so I started doing some digging.”

Michalis had to fight to keep his emotions in check. How much did Antonio know about Aurelia and Victor Khomenko? Had he discovered their connection? In the mood Michalis was in, he wouldn’t mind beating the information out of the man and damn the consequences. He kept his features relaxed as he stared at Antonio as if the entire conversation bored him.

“Not going to bite, eh?” Antonio smirked. “I’d heard you like to play it cool. Okay. I’ll lay it out for you. One of my guys put two and two together. Your father married a woman named Petrova right before they were both killed. We all thought your father’s death was what started your rampage. Now we’re not so sure. We think she may have had ties to the Mafia Româneasca. Ties to Victor.”

“My patience is wearing thin, Bonetti,” Michalis warned. “Victor Khomenko is a human trafficker, something neither your family nor mine have ever condoned. He and his kind have no place here.”

“I agree.” Antonio gave Michalis a piercing stare. “So, if they’re here because you’re holding his daughter hostage at your estate, you need to let her go.”

Lightning fast, Michalis dropped his shot glass and drew his gun, aimed at point blank range, between Antonio’s eyes.

Staring back at him was the muzzle of a Glock 19.

Within seconds, every weapon in the room was drawn––the heavy breathing of men who knew their lives were hanging by a thread, the only sound in the room.

“That’s never going to happen,” snarled Michalis.

“Unless you have a damn good reason,” Antonio snarled back, “I have three dead men who say you are.”

The two alphas stared, neither willing to give an inch.

Dimitris finally broke the stalemate. “He can’t. She’s his wife.”

11

The rain lashed against the window of Aurelia’s room as she cinched the waist tighter around the short strapless dress Gita had been kind enough to leave on her bed. Gita told her it was a swimsuit cover-up from the guest supplies in the pool area, explaining its sheerness, but Aurelia didn’t care––it wouldn’t matter if it looked like a sexy negligee. She was going to bed, and anything was better than trying to sleep in that damn formal. The men’s shirts still weren’t an option since her wrists were still bound. The fact that she could do almost anything thanks to the length of rope between her wrists almost made her angrier as she yanked a brush through her long hair.

The storm outside mirrored the turbulence she felt within, though she couldn’t quite pin down its source. She threw the bush down and went back to pacing, like she’d been doing for the past three hours, replaying their last argument, telling herself she didn’t care where Michalis had gone or what he was doing.

Damn him for leaving her like this. It didn’t matter that the ropes were quite comfortable, made of a soft, silky mesh that she could almost forget were there. They didn’t hurt. They weren’t chafing. She was free to roam the estate, even outside,she’d discovered, which meant they were purely symbolic, and she didn’t like what she was beginning to suspect was the deeper message.

She was angry, yet the knot of unease in her chest refused to loosen. Michalis had been tense before he left, they all had, their faces grim, the talking and joking between the guards outside her door non-existent. Something was going on. Something dangerous. What if he got hurt? What if he didn’t come back? What if…

The door burst open with a force that made her jump, the handle slamming against the wall.

Michalis stood in the doorway, drenched from head to toe, his tailored shirt clinging to his body, rainwater dripping from the ends of his dark hair. His piercing blue eyes locked onto her, blazing with an intensity that rooted her to the spot. The walls seemed to close in around her, the air growing thick and heavy as his presence filled every corner of the room.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. Every line of his body screamed with pent-up emotion. Anger. Relief. Possessiveness. Something deeper, darker, that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Michalis—” she began, but the words died on her lips.

Before she could register what was happening, he crossed the room in three long strides and seized her face in his hands. His lips crashed against hers, his kiss fierce, demanding, consuming. There was no prelude, no gentleness—just raw, unrelenting need.

Aurelia gasped against his mouth, her hands instinctively coming up to push him away. But the moment her palms met the solid, rain-soaked plane of his chest, her resistance faltered. Heat shot through her like a live wire. She clung to his shirt instead, her fingers curling into the wet fabric as she gave in to the onslaught of his kiss.

Michalis growled low in his throat, his hands sliding down to her waist, pulling her flush against him. The cold dampness of his clothes seeped through her dress, but she barely noticed. His mouth moved over hers with a hunger that left her breathless, her pulse pounding in her ears.

He broke the kiss only to tilt her head back, his lips trailing down the column of her neck. The rough scrape of his stubble against her skin sent a shiver through her, and a small, traitorous moan escaped her lips.

The sound seemed to snap something in him. He pushed back against the hard wall. His weight pressed into her as he covered her body with his own. His hand found the hem of her dress, drawing it up with practiced ease.

Aurelia’s heart raced, her hands sliding up to his shoulders, caught between pulling him closer and pushing him away. “Michalis, wait?—”

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