Gemma stretched, feeling deliciously relaxed despite the fact that she’d barely slept last night, and smiled over at Dominic.
“I love you,” she murmured, and kissed his shoulder. “You’re amazing.”
He mumbled something indecipherable – and probably filthy – back.
Still smiling, she got out of bed and reached for her silk robe, tying it tightly around her waist, and made her way downstairs to the kitchen.
In a moment a pot of coffee was brewing. She took out eggs and bread and several rashers of bacon and put them on the counter to make them both a nice fry-up when Dom woke up.
For now, Gemma decided, she needed some toast to tide her over. Dominic’s enthusiastic lovemaking had left her sated and tingling from head to toe, but also ravenous. She popped two slices of wholemeal into the toaster.
When the bread was ready and liberally spread with butter – screw her diet – Gemma leaned against the edge of the counter and took a large, greedy bite.
As she licked the buttery crumbs from her fingers, she caught sight of her phone on the kitchen table, where she’d left it last night. Dom had wanted dessert halfway through dinner, and she’d been only too happy to follow him upstairs to the bedroom and oblige.
She picked the phone up now and sat down to scroll through her messages. There was nothing from Jack. Gemma frowned.
She’d called him yesterday to say sorry for the way they’d left things, and to apologize for leading him on such a confusing dance during Dominic’s disappearance with Christa.
She felt she owed him that much. But he hadn’t called back.
No surprise there, she reflected. He was angry, and hurt, although a man like Jack would never admit it. Impulsively, she scrolled to his number once more and waited. Her call went straight to voicemail.
“Jack?” she murmured, frowning. “Please, call me back? We don’t have to talk – just leave me a message, a text, anything – to let me know you’re okay. Thanks.”
She’d just rung off when Dominic wandered into the kitchen. “G’morning.” Gemma put the phone aside and stood up to greet him.
He pulled her close and kissed her. “Umm…you taste like breadcrumbs and butter…with just a hint of minty toothpaste. My favourite combination.” He lifted his head and looked around hopefully. “Making breakfast, are you?”
“Yes. Are you hungry?”
“For you, babes?” he murmured, and made a growling noise as he nuzzled her neck. “Always.”
Jack groaned. He either had the mother of all hangovers, or the worst headache of his life. Or both.
When he’d left his father’s office that morning, he’d seen no sign of Georgios or anyone else. He ducked down a narrow staircase that led to the club downstairs to have a quick look round. He doubted he’d find Jools, but he couldn’t leave without checking it out.
He was halfway down the stairs when something hard and solid came crashing down on his head from behind, knocking him unconscious. That was the last thing he remembered, at any rate. He lifted his head now, wincing at the pain as he did. He felt as through Alice and the Red Queen were playing croquet inside his head. With metal mallets.
“Where am I?” he croaked. He was tied to a chair, his arms and legs bound tightly.
“You’re back in my office, Jakkos,” his father announced from somewhere behind him. The unmistakable scent of a Montecristo floated on the air. “I’m giving you another chance to reconsider my offer.”
“Generous of you, I’m sure,” Jack muttered. “But unless you hand Jools over, the answer’s still ‘no’.”
“A pity.” His father reappeared in his field of vision and nodded to someone behind him. “Gag him, and let’s try and persuade my son to change his mind.”
Jack watched as a man – muscular, and as wide across as he was short – sauntered towards him with a strip of cloth drawn taut between his hands. “What the hell? What the fuck do you think you’re doin—?”
His words were cut off as the man stuffed the gag in his mouth and tied it tightly behind his head.
“We don’t want to disturb our patrons in the kebab shop,” Nikkos remarked, and took a draw on his cigar. “Not good for business, you understand.”
The dusty cloth made Jack choke. But that was the least of his worries. Without warning the big man’s fist flew into his solar plexus, and Jack doubled over in pain as the breath left his lungs. Blows to his jaw and left eye followed the minute he straightened in the chair, knocking his head back.
“Now, I’ll ask you one more time,” Nikkos said, as amiably as if the two of them were discussing what to choose from the dinner menu. He yanked the gag down. “Are we partners, my son?”
Jack’s head sagged forward. His gut was on fire and his left eye was swollen shut. “No,” he managed to choke out.
Nikkos nodded to the man who’d just pummelled his son.
Once again, the man retied the gag around Jack’s mouth and punched him in the stomach. For the second time that day, Jack nearly lost consciousness. But the pièce de résistance was the final blow…
… a single, swift kick to his groin that left him nauseated and unable to speak.
“I’m truly sorry it’s come to this, Jakkos,” his father said as the gag was yanked away. “But I admire your refusal to yield in the face of such harsh persuasion. So, in the spirit of conciliation, I’m offering you a deal – one that will, hopefully, benefit us both.”
Blood leaked from the corner of Jack’s mouth as he dragged his head up and tried to focus on his father.
“If you give me a percentage of your company, as we discussed,” Nikkos said as he walked slowly around his chair, “your niece will be released and returned to her family.”
Despite the intense pain that each word cost him, Jack choked out, “I knew it. You have her. You have Jools.”
“No. But I know who does. And I assure you, she’ll be set free the moment you draw up the papers and give me one-quarter ownership of Hawkins InterArms.”
There was silence as Jack digested this…and as he tried to collect his thoughts. “And you think I’d believe anything you say, because…?”
“You have my word. And the word of a Greek—”
“Is like shit on my shoe,” Jack spat.
“I’ll take you to her myself.”
“And all I have to do,” he mumbled, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, “is agree to hand over twenty-five percent of Hawkins IA to you?”
“Such a smart young man you are!” Nikkos approved. “Do we have a deal?”
Several minutes went by. Jack’s head lolled forward over his chest as he passed in and out of consciousness. Nikkos shrugged and turned to go.
Just as he reached the door, Jack lifted his head and croaked, “I’ll do it.”
A slow smile of satisfaction spread over his father’s face. “Good. I will have someone come and release you.”
“But I want to…see Jools first. Or we have…no deal.”
Nikkos paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Don’t you understand, Jakkos?” he asked gently, and chuckled just before he turned to leave. “You’re in no position to bargain.”
Jack spat and muttered something in Greek.
“Such language!” Nikkos tutted. “And to speak to your own father with such disrespect is truly a shame.” He walked back up to his son and grabbed his chin, tilted his face up, and slapped Jack hard across the face.
“You never learned the proper respect,” he snapped. “You can think about it tonight, while you’re tied to this chair. And you can think about your final decision.” He went back to the door and flung it open. “You’ll see the girl, I promise – after we conclude our business. Until tomorrow, Jakkos.” He smiled. “Goodnight.”
“The answer’s…still…no,” Jack mumbled, just before he passed out.