CHAPTER TEN

GLORY WAS BARELY aware of anything as Castor smoothed her gown over her shaking thighs, then adjusted his own clothing. Her heart was beating far too fast and the throb between her legs was an aching reminder of what had just happened between them.

Without a word, he took her hand and led them out of the room, moving fast down the corridor and out of the gallery.

She found the lights blinding, still processing the stunning effects of the orgasm he’d given her as he pulled her down the steps. His hand was strong and warm in hers, and it was a good thing he knew what he was doing, because she was still dazed.

The limo was waiting for them and soon they were both inside and pulling away into the late-night Parisian traffic. And it was only then that Glory began to process what was going on, because something was.

First he’d kissed her like he was desperate, and then he’d pushed her into an empty room. And when she’d asked him what was going on, he hadn’t answered her. Only made love to her as if his life depended on it.

She didn’t understand.

‘Castor?’ Her voice sounded a bit rough and scratchy. ‘What’s wrong?’

He was sitting opposite her in the limo, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped. His attention was on the floor, the expression on his beautiful face shuttered.

He was silent for a long moment, then without looking up he said, ‘I have to return to the States tomorrow. Some pressing work issues have come up.’

Her stomach lurched with a disappointment she tried to tell herself she didn’t feel, because of course their time together had always been limited. This couldn’t go on for ever. ‘Okay. So are you going to tell me—?’

‘You can stay in France as long as you wish. My staff will be at your complete disposal.’

She stared at his shuttered face. He’d been so desperate back there in that room, holding onto her tightly, as if he’d been afraid she’d slip away from him.

Or as if that was the last time...

A thread of ice wound through her. She didn’t want to ask, but she had to know.

‘Is this it?’ Her voice sounded hoarse. ‘Is this the end? Is this goodbye?’

He lifted his head, his amber gaze gone suddenly cold, as if there was a sheet of glass between them. ‘Give some thought as to where you want to live as my wife. I’ll have my property manager give you a list of suitable properties. There’s a place in the Hollywood Hills you might like. Or if you’d prefer the east coast, I have a penthouse in New York that will suit.’

Yes, apparently so. This was goodbye.

Her eyes prickled, her throat closing.

You always knew that this wasn’t real, that it was only temporary.

Yes, and she’d told herself so many times these past two weeks. But all of that hadn’t helped her prepare for the moment when it would all end. And now that moment was here it was every bit as painful and terrible as she thought it would be.

Why are you so upset?

Oh, she knew why. She knew down to her soul. She wasn’t falling for Castor Xenakis, she’d already fallen, hard and fast and irrevocably.

She was in love with him and she didn’t know what to do about it.

‘We can’t...we can’t have another week?’ she asked, hating how desperate she sounded, yet unable to stop herself from asking.

Castor’s gaze flickered, then he shook his head slowly. ‘No, mikri alepou, I’m afraid that will not be happening.’ Slowly, he sat up, his gaze unwavering. ‘You’re right though. This is where we part ways.’

She didn’t want to be needy, didn’t want to demand things of him that he couldn’t give her, because as she’d told herself time and time again, she didn’t have the right.

Yet she couldn’t stop the words from coming out. ‘What about another few days? Surely that’s okay?’

‘That will only be putting off the inevitable.’ He let out a breath. ‘This was never going to be real, Glory, I told you that. And it can’t be, understand?’

She swallowed, her throat suddenly thick. ‘Why not? Why can’t it be real?’

The cold mask that had settled over his features rippled, revealing what lay underneath, that bleak expression and a rawness that made her chest feel like it was full of broken glass.

‘Because I can’t,’ he said, suddenly fierce. ‘Because it’s too dangerous for you, and now that you’re my wife, you’ll be put in harm’s way.’

‘But I’m already in harm’s way,’ she said a little desperately. ‘And you have a lot of security. And I don’t mind—’

‘You might not, but I do.’ His gaze burned as he stared at her. ‘I can’t do it, Glory. I can’t let anything happen to you. You’re too important to me already and you shouldn’t be. You’re a threat to my mission and I can’t allow that to continue.’

Shock stole her breath. ‘A threat? What are you talking about?’

His expression shifted for a moment, became softer, warmer. ‘Mikri alepou, you have no idea what the past two weeks have meant and how much I’ve enjoyed being with you. It was a...respite for me. Some time out from reality and I needed it. But I have a mission to get back to and I can’t be effective if I’m worrying about someone. If I’m afraid for someone.’

She understood. She understood all too well. She was a burden to him, an obstacle preventing him from doing what he needed to do, the way she’d been with Annabel.

Seriously? So that’s it? You’re not even going to protest?

But how could she protest? How could she demand that he consider her feelings? He was trying to save people and she wasn’t more important than all of them. She wasn’t more important to his mission.

‘I...get it,’ she said huskily, her chest aching. ‘I really do. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of what you’re doing.’

The warmth drained slowly from his expression, the lines of his face hardening once again. ‘I have to do this, Glory. You understand that, don’t you?’

She wasn’t sure why he seemed to think she was arguing with him. ‘Of course I understand.’

‘It’s for Ismena’s sake.’ Gold glittered in his eyes. ‘It was my fault that night. I was the one who took her out and all because I wanted to talk to some girl. Because I put my own needs first.’ A muscle jumped in the side of his jaw. ‘I shouldn’t have. I should have been watching out for her. I should have protected her. And I didn’t.’

The broken glass in Glory’s chest shifted around, cutting into her. There was so much pain in his beautiful voice, so much self-recrimination, that she forgot her own hurt, leaning across the space between them and reaching for his hand, taking it in hers.

‘Stop punishing yourself, Castor,’ she said thickly. ‘Please, stop.’

He went still, his gaze flaring. ‘Glory...’

‘Don’t think I can’t see it,’ she went on, because now the words were out she had to keep going. ‘You were fifteen. You were a child. How were you to know what was going to happen? You couldn’t have predicted—’

‘No.’ The word fell like a sword, heavy and edged and lethal. ‘You think I can excuse myself simply because I was fifteen? Everyone knew there were traffickers about in our neighbourhood—it was common gossip. Do you think I took any notice? No, I didn’t.’ He spat out a curse in Greek then, rough and guttural, and ripped his hand from hers. ‘I was her older brother and I should have protected her, and there is no forgiveness for my failure. None at all.’

The warmth of his fingers in hers lingered on her skin, but the pain of his withdrawal stung. She didn’t know what to say or how to help him, because she’d never suffered a loss like he had, not something so terrible. It was true that she’d lost her parents but that was an old grief, and not one she’d ever blamed herself for the way he had.

You have something to offer him though.

Glory took a breath as realisation came to her. Because yes, she did. She might be a plain, ordinary checkout girl, but there was one thing that she was that he wasn’t.

She was someone’s little sister.

She braced herself, then met his gaze and held it, blinking back her tears. ‘Your sister would forgive you. And she wouldn’t want you punishing yourself. It would have broken her heart if she knew you’d spent the last twenty years torturing yourself for something that wasn’t even your fault to begin with.’

His eyes blazed with sudden fury. ‘What would you know about it? What would you know about what she would and wouldn’t have done? Ismena wasn’t your sister. She was mine!’

Glory didn’t look away. ‘What would I know? I know that I would have done anything to make Annabel’s life better. Because watching my older sister run herself into the ground trying to take care of me just about broke my heart.’ The tears she’d been holding back suddenly spilled out, running down her cheeks, but she didn’t stop them. ‘And if I was Ismena, that’s exactly how I’d feel, watching you suffer for something you shouldn’t take the blame for.’

He stared at her for a long moment, the anger dying out of his eyes, leaving behind it that terrible bleakness, that terrible grief. ‘I don’t know,’ he said roughly, ‘why you’d even care.’

Glory swallowed. ‘Why? Because I’m in love with you.’

He’d thought, that after the last twenty years, he’d got rid of the last remnants of his own heart. But apparently he was wrong, because looking into Glory’s eyes, he could feel the remains of it tearing itself apart.

He let it though, let it tear itself to pieces in his chest. Because he didn’t want it. Love was another threat to his mission, another weakness he couldn’t afford. Love was nothing but recrimination and grief and twenty years of grinding sorrow, and he didn’t want anything to do with it.

Even her love?

Castor ignored the thought. There was no point in continuing this conversation and dragging this whole process out. He’d made his decision and it didn’t matter if Glory didn’t like it, just as it didn’t matter what she felt for him.

He’d said goodbye in that room in the Musée d’Orsay, he’d taken his last fill of her, and now it was over.

Why? There is an alternative, you know. Your life doesn’t have to be all about the mission.

A ridiculous thought. His life was only the mission. His sister demanded justice and he would give it to her somehow. Otherwise what would be the point of the past twenty years?

Castor stared at the warm, lovely woman sitting opposite; she wasn’t so ordinary after all, and never had been. He felt...nothing. An echoing coldness in his chest where his heart had once been. It was comforting.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said flatly. ‘That is not my problem.’ He turned, hit the button on the intercom. ‘Stop the car.’

Glory took a shaken breath. ‘Castor...’

The limo came to a stop.

‘Castor, please.’

He found himself pulling at his tie, trying to get some air, because it felt as if he could hardly breathe.

Already this whole scene had gone on too long. It was time to bring it to an end.

Ignoring her, Castor opened the door, got out and strode away.

He didn’t return to the mansion that night. Instead he took the jet to London, then spent a week at his company’s London office, before crossing the Atlantic to New York. His staff informed him that Glory was still in Paris, which was fine. He told them to keep him posted.

Then he got the invite he’d been waiting for to an exclusive party thrown by the inner circle of the group he’d been trying to infiltrate. Apparently rumours of his wedding had been circulating and there had been ‘approval’ from certain quarters.

He would get his meeting.

Castor told himself he was pleased since obviously marrying her had been a good thing, but no matter the emptiness in the centre of his chest, the dread wouldn’t leave him. He put extra men in the security team he still had watching her, already going over plans for how he could take her out of range of the people he was dealing with.

Somehow, he would do it. He was the one who’d put her in danger by dragging her into this mess, and so he would be the one who would protect her.

You hurt her.

Yes, he had. But better the wound to her heart than anything else. Besides, she deserved someone who would put her first, and that someone wasn’t him.

His mission was more important and always would be.

Eventually he got word that Glory had returned to LA, but not to any of his residences. She’d gone back to her apartment, which he didn’t understand, not when she could have had any property she wanted.

Then again, who was he to argue? He’d let her go. He’d put distance between them, and that distance would have to stay. He made sure his security team was keeping an eye on her though, not that it mattered any more.

Not now he’d finally stopped caring.