Chapter Eleven

The first two days of their trip had been a whirlwind—vising the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Le Cinq, Sacré-Cœur. Champagne and pastries and baguettes and people watching. Dion couldn’t remember the last time he’d behaved like a tourist. In fact, he’d been to Paris four times in the last year, and not once had he set foot in a museum or a church or a gallery.

Experiencing it all with Sophia was like opening his eyes to a new world. Seeing the joy and wonder that she saw. Feeling the excitement that she felt.

They’d decided to take it slower on day three and had sat in a café for almost three hours over breakfast—drinking strong coffee, eating buttery croissants, and watching the world go by. On the way back to the apartment, they’d passed a quaint gift shop, and Sophia’s eyes had lit up at the stack of puzzles in the window. So he’d gone inside and bought her one, laughing at the strange look the cashier had given him when he’d asked the man to stick a piece of paper over the picture on the cover.

“You know, I thought the mystery-puzzle hobby was part of your act,” he said as they walked into the apartment and settled in at the large glass table. Sophia eagerly pulled the box out of the bag and opened it up. “Granted, it wasn’t quite as disturbing as the whole taxidermy thing.”

“Relieved that you won’t have to go to the bathroom with a bird watching you?” Her eyes glinted mischievously.

“You have no idea,” he said drily. “I much prefer the puzzles.”

“My grandmother actually got me my first ‘mystery’ jigsaw,” she said, tipping the pieces all over the table. Dion stooped down to pick up one that had raced over the edge. “I would get bored during the summer break, and she wanted something to occupy me for a few hours that wasn’t television or video games. So she bought me a jigsaw, taped a piece of paper over the image on the front, and bet me that I couldn’t solve it.”

Dion laughed. “Quickest way to fire up a bored kid is to give them a challenge.”

“Well, it certainly worked. I was quiet all afternoon and evening, determined to prove her wrong.” Sophia’s dark eyes twinkled. “Then it became a routine. Every school break when I stayed with her, a new box would appear.”

An automatic twinge of jealousy ricocheted through Dion. All he’d wanted as a boy was someone to do those things for him. Small acts of kindness that became tradition, something that could be carved out as a special memory and passed on as a way of preserving it forever.

“What else did you learn from her?”

“She taught me a lot of things, actually. I love baking because of her—not sweets, but bread. To me there’s nothing better than a fresh, crusty loaf of bread right out of the oven,” Sophia said. “And she taught me how to garden. She used to have a vegetable patch in her backyard, even though it was very small. There was barely any place to put your feet that wasn’t soil with vegetables growing in it. I grew up with dirt under my fingernails and bits of twig stuck in my hair and the juice of homegrown strawberries running down my chin.”

She sounded so…happy.

It was intoxicating, this reverence she had for simple things. Real things.

“Would you have a vegetable patch one day?”

“Absolutely!” She nodded enthusiastically. “I’d love to grow all the things she taught me about—chard and beans and lemons from a huge tree.”

“She sounds like a very special woman.”

“She was my savior, at times.” Sophia didn’t look at him as she spoke. Instead her eyes were focused on the fragmented picture in front of her, her fingers drifting in the air until she plucked another edge piece from the fray. “My father was very strict, and I found it…stifling at home. Going to my grandmother’s place was like being given a small piece of freedom. We baked cookies and watched movies and went for walks in the park.”

“You miss her?”

Sophia nodded. “She passed away ten years ago.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. She lived a great life. She was one of those people who understood what was really important, you know?” Sophia looked up, spearing him with a look so full of sincerity Dion wasn’t sure how to process it. “A good life isn’t about fine clothes and fancy artwork and having people envy you. It’s the relationships that you cultivate and the quality of the work you do. It’s the kindness you pay other people.”

“I’ve always believed that.” It was something Elias had instilled in him—relationships were what made a man successful. And while suits and cars might be needed to uphold an image, thinking they were the end goal was a grievous mistake.

“I, uh…” She paused, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “I haven’t shown you much kindness at all. You’ve had me in your home and treated me well, and I…”

“Covered my house with pictures of dead animals and wore clown pants to a cocktail party,” he deadpanned.

“It was pretty funny to watch your reaction.” Her lip twitched for a second, but it didn’t materialize into a full smile. “I’m sorry. I’ve probably given you nightmares about turkeys and foxes.”

“As much as I’m glad the charade is over, I respect that you were doing what you felt was necessary to protect yourself,” he admitted. “I’ve been in that situation a lot over the course of my life. I know what it means to get creative with a solution. To have to find a way out.”

Sophia stared, the puzzle forgotten. It was like having someone pry open your chest and look right into your soul. Her eyes were dark, the warm Paris light giving them an almost golden tone. Her dark hair tumbled over one shoulder, wild and unrestrained. She’d worn nothing but jeans and a tank top the whole time they’d been here, eschewing the pretty dresses because she’d wanted to be comfortable. To be herself.

And the more time they spent together, the more Dion realized that he and Sophia had a lot in common.

“Finding a way out seems to consume my life,” she replied.

“What would you do if you got out? What’s your big dream?”

She blinked, as if surprised by the question. But it only took a second before her eyes took on a soft-focus quality that made her beautiful face even more luminous. That moment right there—that switch from reality to dream—socked Dion right in the chest. Because he knew what dreams could do to a person, how they could save a person.

Without a dream of having a secure life, a secure home, Dion might not ever have picked himself up out of that filthy city gutter as an angry eighteen-year-old.

“My big dream is a cabin in the woods,” she said, holding up a hand as if warding off an interjection. “I want a property that’s secluded, perhaps by a lake or a stream. I want it to be surrounded by beautiful nature, to be quiet and peaceful. I’m going to buy it on my own, with no help from my family, and I’m going to move there with my mother. I even have a Pinterest board with exactly how I’m going to decorate every inch of it. It’ll be my oasis.”

She looked like a new person as she spoke, like she’d come truly alive. She was more beautiful now than she would be wearing any couture dress hanging in the bedroom closet. She was more beautiful now than she would be with high heels or the right lipstick or hairstyle. Because this was real.

And Dion had always craved real things. Meaningful things. It was the balm to his soul—an antidote to all the real things he never had growing up.

“Then I’m going to keep running my virtual-assistant business so I have money to pay the bills—but also because I love the idea of being my own boss. I keep my own hours and take the clients I want to take. I’ve never had that kind of control with anything.” She shook her head. “My dad has no idea I’m even doing it. He just assumes that I’m going to follow his orders, but I’ve been working toward this for almost a year now. And I’m sure it seems silly to you that my ‘big dream’ is nothing but a cabin in the woods, but it’s what I want.”

“I don’t think it’s silly at all, Sophia. It’s a symbol of everything you want out of life—privacy, security, beauty, peace.” He smiled. “It seems like the perfect dream for you.”

…

There were a lot of things Sophia had never really felt in her life, and one of them was understood. But right now, sitting next to Dion, the fancy backdrop of the apartment shimmering in the late morning light, she finally felt it.

Maybe it was because he was the first person who’d listened to her. Maybe it was because he was the first person interested enough in her to even ask what she wanted.

He’s interested because he needs something from you.

But even as her cynical inner voice tried to downplay his actions, she couldn’t quite cast them aside. Because she got the feeling they were two misfits who’d worked so hard to find their place in the world. Because they’d always been at the mercy of people who thought they knew better. Or worse, who didn’t care enough about what they wanted to guide them toward those dreams.

“I really hope this isn’t a ploy,” she said quietly. “I’m trying to remind myself I’m only here because of my father’s company.”

“Can’t it be that and also something else?” He was so close, his body turned toward hers. Today an even coating of stubble enhanced his sharp jawline. He’d thrown on a soft white shirt and left the top button open, sleeves rolled back to his elbows. Faded jeans hugged his thighs, and the whole look was so perfectly touchable. So perfectly appealing.

He’s handsome. That’s nothing but a fact.

Only it wasn’t about his looks, mouthwatering as they were. It was the way he looked at her, giving her his undivided attention in such a way that it made her think, if only for a second, that he really did care about what she had to say. That he found her interesting, intriguing.

And the only things people seemed to have ever found intriguing about her before were surface stuff. Her looks, her body. Her father’s reputation.

Nothing to do with who she was underneath it all.

“What’s the something else?” she asked.

“I’m…fascinated by you.”

Sophia laughed, suddenly self-conscious. Like she’d shown too much. Said too much. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”

“It is. I think there’s part of you that calls to me, in some weird way. Like calls for like, don’t they say? We’re both fighters, and I think we understand that about each other.”

A warm feeling started low in her belly and seeped through the rest of her, like a glow being carried through her bloodstream. “But our goals are opposed.”

“They don’t have to be. You want a beautiful cabin in the woods, and I can give that to you. You want to be your own boss and do puzzles in your spare time and dictate the way you live your life. You want space to be yourself.”

“And you can give that to me?” she asked. Sophia was a woman at war with herself, and her eyes flicked over his face as she weighed the pros and cons.

“I can.” He nodded. “I will.”

Her fingertips drifted up to touch the edge of his jaw, catching the prickly hairs that he battled every day with his razor but had grown a little unruly while they holidayed. It was like she was exploring him the way his gaze explored her. Unpacking. Assessing. Letting curiosity run riot.

Energy snapped between them, building with a crackling force far beyond anything she’d ever experienced before. A fleeting thought zipped through her mind: what if this was meant to happen? He was the first man to ever really get her. Understand her.

And the more layers she peeled back, the more she liked what he saw. The more she liked him. He was thoughtful, sweet, and loyal, which she’d always thought was a good sign of someone’s values.

“You’re very tempting, Dion Kourakis.” Her fingers toyed with the collar of his shirt. “You know exactly what to say. But I’ve grown up surrounded by men who could talk a big game.”

“That’s where you misunderstand me,” he said, capturing her wrist and rubbing the pad of his thumb over the delicate inner portion. “I don’t talk a big game. I act on what I say. When I make a promise, I deliver.”

Her breath stuttered as he stood, still holding her wrist. Holding her close to him. The scent of his cologne—something warm and woodsy—wrapped around her like a blanket, and his dark gaze held her. She felt ensnared in the best way possible.

“If my father’s company wasn’t part of the deal, would you even look twice at me?” she asked.

Dion’s lips curved into a sinful smile. “Would you be wearing clown pants and your scratchy cardigan?”

She shot him a look, but the seriousness was broken with a twitch in her lips. “Maybe.”

“I find you beautiful, yes. And I am a man who enjoys beauty, so I would look.” He brushed her hair back from her face, and it sent a shiver through her. “But I am much more interested in people with substance. So I might look, but it would be once I spoke to you that my attention would be captured. I want to hear what you have to say. I want to know all about your cabin in the woods and your grandmother’s vegetable patch and why you do puzzles without knowing what picture you’re putting together.”

“Wow.” She looked at him, almost with new eyes. “That’s a hell of an answer.”

“People interest me.”

“And I interest you?”

“Very much. You’re like a puzzle with no box,” he replied. “A mystery.”

“And you want to solve me?” she asked.

He traced the edge of her jaw, the shell of her ear, and his touch was like a balm and a flame all at the same time—soothing and stoking and so utterly intoxicating it took everything not to melt against him.

“I want to see you without all the pretence.”

“Well…here I am.” Her gaze was smoldering, smoking. “Get your fill.”

…

Dion didn’t want to stop at looking; he wanted to taste, consume. He wanted to see how she would morph under his kiss—would she melt against him? Or would her fists curl into his shirt?

She was strong, this woman. Not wavering in her stare, not retreating with her words.

He lowered his head down, just to see what she would do. Just to test her.

But she didn’t budge, not an inch. Sophia met him, her lips parting in anticipation as if inviting him in. Accepting his challenge.

The first kiss was so brief it was barely more than a graze of the lips. But he felt her reaction instantly, the soft little gasp. The way her hands slid up to curl over his shoulders. The way she angled to him.

Yes.

This time, when he kissed her, it was an invitation to explore. He coaxed her mouth open, and her tongue darted out to meet his. He tasted the remnants of pastry on her lips, the sweetness of orange. But there was nothing saccharine about this kiss—no. Sophia was hot and willing, pressing into him in a way that made his body roar to life with a force he hadn’t experienced since his younger, wilder days.

He turned them around and wedged her against the table, the movement so sudden that the sound of puzzle pieces skittering to the floor barely registered in his brain. His hands wound into her hair, and hers in his. The kiss was deep, a combustion of passion that had lain dormant for too long, as though they’d both unlocked something in each other that had been waiting. Wanting. Desperate.

His body pulsed, and Dion’s cock hardened against her thigh. He pressed into her, delighted in the needy moan that came from way back in her throat. There was a natural connection here—something that was bigger than both of them. Something he hadn’t expected.

He kissed along her jaw, down her neck, his palm skating up over her breast. Her nipple was beaded beneath the soft cotton of her T-shirt and whatever scrap of fabric was masquerading—unsuccessfully—as a bra beneath it.

“Wait.” Sophia pressed her hands against his chest, breathless, and Dion stilled immediately. “This isn’t what I should…what I…”

“What?”

“I’m not supposed to be attracted to you.” She wriggled off the table, her eyes wide and black. She’d been into the kiss—he could feel it.

And frankly, he was also reeling from the connection between them. It wasn’t what he’d expected, either.

“I’m sorry. I need a minute.” She pushed her hands through her hair. Her skin had started to glow, the sun’s subtle gold tinting her. “God, if this were any other situation, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

He wouldn’t push Sophia—but it wasn’t lost on him that this attraction would help his cause. It would help him get what he wanted. Hopefully, what they both wanted. If Sophia could break free of her father with his help, then she could have the cottage and her own business and freedom. Of course he needed a wife who would attend events with him and charm his guests, but Sophia could do that with her eyes closed.

Even at the cocktail party, where she’d been trying to put him off, everyone still loved her. In fact, Nico had commented to him the very next day how taken his wife, Marianna, had been with her. That she hoped they could be good friends.

“Why don’t we get some air?” Dion suggested. “You said that coffee spot by the gardens looked nice.”

Sophia nodded, looking at him while she bit down on her lip. He sensed a change between them—a bond of sorts, even if she was skittish. But that kiss didn’t lie—there was real attraction between them. Sizzling attraction.

And he would use that to his advantage.