Page 4 of The Billionaire's Seduction Revenge

“Yeah, well, I’ve been threatened by way worse than you, buddy, so my recommendation is that you don’t waste your breath.” She stepped back from the door, and despite the bravado in her words, he couldn’t help but see the fragility in her slender frame. And it was more than that—there was a look of being haunted in her eyes, of being hunted, that caused a wave of shame to roll unexpectedly over Vasilios.

But only for a brief moment, then he tamped down on the feeling of contrition and focussed instead on the matter at hand: his dying grandfather was cosying up to a beautiful young woman and had been for months.

Just as well Vasilios had returned to put things to right.

2

“HIS BITE IS AS bad as his bark,” Costa issued the warning over a jug of thick black coffee. Emma had lost count of how many times they’d shared this small ritual: traditional Italian breakfast on the terrace of Costa’s home. Or should that be Vasilios’s? Emma wasn’t overly interested in the financial structure of Costa’s life, but naturally she’d presumed this washisplace. Otherwise, she’d have struggled to accept his generous offer of accommodation in exchange for the job—she hated being in debt to anyone, but with Costa, they’d struck a fair deal, aquid pro quothat suited them both. Her accommodation was in exchange for companionship, something the older man was sorely missing.

“You didn’t know he was coming?”

Costa bit into a pastry, so flakes fell down his shirt. Emma reached forward without thinking, wiping them indulgently from the older man’s chest.

“I am a mess, eh,cara,” he said with a wide smile and she returned it. As a child, her favourite adage had been, ‘everything will look better in the morning’. It was how she consoled herself through the darkest of nights then, as a little girl, listening to her parents’ arguments, and again as an adult, when Jack, her husband, hadn’t returned home night after night and finally, when he lay dying in her arms, and then again, a week later, when the baby she’d been carrying, in the early stages of her pregnancy, had failed to remain in place. It wasn’t as though she’d woken up fromthatnightmare and enjoyed instant relief, but morning after morning, the grief and shock had faded somewhat, and she’d begun to see some small pleasures in life again.

Small pleasures, like just-baked pastries and sun-warmed fruit with rich Italian coffee.

And today, when the morning had shone through her window and the air had been rich with the smell of salt and sea spray, the bubbling in her blood from the night before seemed far less violent and wretched. So what if Costa’s grandson was visiting? What business was that of Emma’s? She was an employee. And while it was true that she and Costa had become good friends during her time in Puglia, that didn’t override Vasilios’s place in his grandfather’s life.

Whatever their relationship was, it was no business of Emma’s.

“No,” Costa said after taking a large drink of coffee. “I did not know.”

She scanned his lined face, trying to decipher the tone in his voice. “And you’re…unhappy?”

Costa’s eyes narrowed sharply, showing the beady intellect that had made him such a formidable man. “Not at all. My biggest regret is that my grandson and I do not see more of each other.” He sighed, and Emma couldn’t help thinking how sad it was to have such an enormous regret at this age. “You do not talk about your family, but I suspect you understand these relationships can be…complicated. Even when there is much love.”

Emma’s heart jolted at the mention of family. “Yes,” she said, careful to keep her voice neutral, but nonetheless, she felt the old man’s inquisitive gaze resting on her face and busied herself with another pastry, reaching across the table and lifting it to her plate right as a looming figure stepped onto the deck and almost seemed to blot the entirety of the sunlight. A physical impossibility, but Emma felt a darkening and shivered.

“There you are,” his tone was curt, his eyes scathing as they raked over Emma first and then drifted to Costa, to whom he at least offered something like a smile. The skin on Emma’s arms lifted in goosebumps.

“Sit,” Costa commanded, and Emma watched from shuttered lashes, curious to see how this man would take the instruction. To her surprise, he did as the old man suggested, which meant, to Emma, that he must have intended to join them anyway. She couldn’t imagine Vasilios bending his will easily to that of another man’s.

“How are you this morning?”

“I am well, Vasilios. How can I not be, with such food and company?” He asked with his cheeky grin, that dug dimples deep into the grooves of his cheeks and always made Emma’s smile flicker to life.

Vasilios did not smile. If anything, his scowl deepened. “You did not mention you’ve employed someone full time.”

It was both a statement and a question, sharp and laced with barbed intent. “You did not ask,” Costa said with a shrug.

Vasilios was perfectly still, eyes trained on his grandfather’s face. “You know I would have helped to arrange any staff you require.”

“I managed quite fine myself,” Costa shrugged and Emma dipped her head forward to hide her smile. Costa was clearly goading his grandson. Was this why they weren’t close anymore? Or was this one of the ways Costa had learned to cope with Vasilios’s…personality?

“And what is it this young lady does for you?” Vasilios asked, the question bland enough, but Emma’s eyes darted to Vasilios’s and sparks exploded in her chest when their gazes met and held. She knew what he believed—that she was in some kind of relationship with Costa, that she was exploiting his loneliness for financial gain.

“Everything,” Costa said with a shrug and a grin, apparently completely unaware of the tension that was ratcheting up between his two companions.

“Everything?” Vasilios repeated, the word formidable, his power and command unmistakable, so Emma shivered a little. In another life, she might have found his raw virility appealing, but she was done with alpha-holes. With men who were so pumped up with testosterone they thought they were gods on earth, moving outside of the normal laws and decency. She’d made the mistake of marrying one such man, and seeing him be killed by others. “Cooking? Cleaning? Nursing?” He prompted with barely concealed impatience.

Costa waved a hand through the air. “It is no concern of yours, Vas. I am happy. Leave it at that.”

The younger man compressed his lips until they were lined with white and Emma watched in awe. The ease with which Costa had said ‘no’, and Vasilios’s evident displeasure. Their dynamic was fascinating to her.

“I am beginning to think her role is some state secret,” Vasilios muttered, reaching for the coffee jug before realising there were no spare cups. Emma didn’t think twice, scraping back her chair abruptly.

“I’ll get you a mug,” she said, already halfway to the kitchen.

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