Chapter Five

Two days after the party, Dion decided to skip out of work early to visit his mentor. Being the boss meant he could leave whenever the hell he felt like it—though he was more often likely to leave at midnight than he was at 2 p.m. Running a company was hard work. Running a successful investing firm that was ranked in the top ten in all of Europe required sacrifice that most people couldn’t even fathom.

Today, however, Dion had too much on his mind to concentrate. After he’d almost flubbed a deal with a wealthy expat from Germany because he hadn’t read his preparation pack properly, he knew it was time to tackle the issues turning his brain to jelly. That meant first speaking with Elias. And then, secondly, going home to Sophia.

Dion walked through the foyer of Elias Anastas’s home. The grand structure was like a museum with its high ceilings, gallery walls filled with paintings, and wide-open spaces. The sound of his dress shoes echoed through the building as he followed Elias’s assistant, Dimi, to the back of the house. Even with a terminal prognosis and recent pneumonia, Elias was still working.

“At least I know he’ll give himself some time to enjoy the afternoon if you’re here,” Dimi muttered as she escorted Dion to the large room where Elias liked to work by the windows that overlooked the Ionian Sea. “Maybe you could have a word with him. He really needs to let himself rest more.”

“You think he’ll listen to me?” Dion asked with a roll of his eyes. “You grossly overestimate my influence.”

“And I think you underestimate it.” Dimi pressed a palm to his shoulder and smiled. “He values your relationship very much.”

Dion didn’t respond. Too many years of masking the emotions that made him vulnerable had left him with a permanent deficiency in that area. He wasn’t good at showing what he felt. And knowing that Elias didn’t have much time left had Dion relying more than ever on his ability to quash his feelings. But the beasts that were grief and anger and sorrow were growing stronger with each passing day. He’d explode at one point. Nobody could put those things into a box forever.

But he would make sure it happened in a safe space. Alone.

“Dion.” Elias looked up and smiled. He was in his wheelchair, one foot propped up in front of him on doctor’s orders after twisting his ankle in the fall last week. How he hadn’t broken something was a damned miracle. “They only make you work half days now? It’s barely lunchtime. Why are you skipping out on work to see me?”

The sound of his voice—weaker than it used to be—made Dion’s heart squeeze. Once upon a time, Elias had filled his room with that big, booming voice. Cigarettes had taken that away from him.

“I had a meeting close by,” he lied with an easy smile. For some reason, he couldn’t admit that he’d driven over here in a mild state of panic over what he might find. Increasingly, he’d found himself asking whether the end would come today. “Thought I’d drop in on the way back.”

“Dimi.” Elias motioned for his assistant to come into the room. “Coffee. And bring some of those sticky honey things.”

Dimi opened her mouth to argue. The doctor had told Elias to keep an eye on his blood sugar levels. But then she thought better of it and disappeared into the house.

“You can’t use me as a way to get around your diet,” Dion said.

Elias grinned. “She never argues when you’re here.”

“How’s the ankle?”

He grunted. “Still swollen. Damn thing doesn’t want to get better.”

“And the breathing?”

“A bitch, as usual.”

“And the—”

Elias silenced him with a hand. “If I wanted to be interrogated, I would have called my doctor. When you come, I expect you to make me feel young again, not to remind me that I’m withering away.”

Fuck. How could time be so cruel to such a great man? It was too easy to remember Elias when he’d been younger. Not five years ago, he’d bounded up hills like a mountain goat. Now he couldn’t even get himself out of his chair.

“How’s business?” Dion asked.

“That’s a better question.” Elias nodded. “Good. Marcus is doing a fine job, although I still maintain that you would have made a better CEO.”

“You know I wasn’t ready to give up my company.”

Dimi came back into the room with two small cups of strong coffee and a tiny plate of loukoumades. Dion passed one coffee to Elias and then grabbed the other for himself.

“I know. But you can’t blame an old man for trying.” Elias bit into one of the sweet honeyed dumplings and sighed. “I know they’re bad, but they taste so good.”

“That’s what you used to say about the cigarettes,” Dimi muttered as she fussed around her boss. They’d worked together for close to forty years, and she was more a family friend than an employee.

Elias rolled his eyes and motioned for Dion to hand him another. “Did you hear someone bought the land where the Afionas orphanage is?”

Dion’s head snapped up. “Really?”

“Someone made them an offer. More money than it’s worth, I heard. Three or four times as much, at least.” He reached for his coffee and took a sip. “They’re building a new facility.”

“And what happens to the kids in the meantime? It could take years to build a new facility. Are they expecting them to live on the street until then?” He placed his coffee cup down a little harder than he intended, and some of the dark liquid sloshed up against the inside of the cup, leaving a drop to dribble over the edge. Cursing himself, he grabbed a tissue and wiped it up. “Is the new buyer providing interim accommodation?”

“They’re relocating them for the time being,” Elias said softly. “The kids won’t be put out on the street.”

“How much?” Dion asked, glossing over his slight outburst by moving the conversation along.

“I don’t know exactly. Four million…maybe five.”

“And the church grounds aren’t protected? What would a company want with a place like that?”

“Property developers, apparently. They’ll restore the church and other registered buildings on the grounds and then build their accommodation around it.”

“Sounds like it will be good for the kids in the end.” He nodded. “Better than when I was there.”

At the time, it had been a crumbling and lonely place, but still better than the alternative. Dion had only spent a few nights on the streets of Corfu. Which had been more than enough to instill in him a desire to never, ever be without a roof over his head and a meal in his belly. He’d worked damn hard to have security, and it would have to be pried out of his cold, dead hands.

He wanted to tell Elias about his plans to buy his father’s business and burn it to ash, and the truth tap-danced on the tip of his tongue. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud—maybe it was because he knew what Elias would say.

The past is for fools and the dead.

If only Dion had been born to a man like Elias rather than his own father. Would Dion be so concerned with the past now? Not likely.

Elias moved the conversation on and, after not too long, his energy waned. Dion bid the older man goodbye with a firm hand on his shoulder—since a hug wasn’t something they’d ever shared—and headed home. He tried not to worry about Elias’s declining health, just like he did every time he visited. And like every time he visited, he failed to take his mind off it.

Dion was still pondering it when he pulled his car into its spot in the garage and walked into the house. It was the thought he was still pondering when he stalked into his bedroom and stripped off his suit and shirt, ready to head into the bathroom and wash the day—and worries—from his body. But all that came to a screeching halt when he walked through the bathroom door and smack-bang into a fox.

“What the fuck?”

…

Sophia clamped her hand over her mouth as Dion’s surprised cry echoed through the quiet house. Baroness Sasha Foxington III was a fine specimen. She’d arrived earlier that day, thanks to express shipping that had cost a small fortune, wrapped carefully so that nothing had been damaged in transit.

The second she’d heard Dion’s bedroom door close, Sophia had put aside her virtual-assistant work and crept out into the hallway, eagerly awaiting his response.

Since the party, he’d worked late and hadn’t been around the house much. It had been good to have long stretches during the day to work on her business, since it was the only thing stopping her from spending each passing hour stressing about her future. Unfortunately, more time to work meant less time to convince Dion they were totally and utterly wrong for each other. The sooner she grossed him out enough that he pulled the pin on the whole thing, the better.

Mission Reverse Ugly Duckling was now in full effect.

Sophia had dressed in another one of her “high-fashion man-repeller” outfits, this time consisting of a highlighter-yellow dress. She had a pair of clogs on her feet, and while they weren’t super ugly, they were the worst things she’d been able to find that she could actually walk around in.

She headed outside into the backyard, trying not to admire the view of the low sun bobbing at the horizon, where the water created a straight blue line of perfection. Dammit. Why did this place have to look like a freaking postcard?

“I assume this is yours?” Dion asked as he walked out of the house with the fox tucked under one arm.

Sophia had to hold back a snort. If he looked ridiculous holding the fox, then she was going to look ten times worse.

Perfect. Score one for the girls.

“Oh, you met Sasha.” She manufactured a big smile. “Isn’t she a specimen? I knew you would want to see her the second you got home. I had her shipped over because I feel quite bereft without my collection. The rest will come soon, but Sasha is my favorite.”

Dion looked on with a bland expression. Sophia figured the less his expression showed, the more concerned he actually was…which was a good sign.

“Did you have a good day at work?” she asked sweetly as she set the fox down on the ground next to her.

“Yeah.” He nodded.

Silence stretched between them for a moment, and Sophia resisted her natural urge to fill it with chatter. Ever since she was a young girl, she couldn’t stand the sound of a long pause in conversation. Usually it represented something bad—like her father slowly blowing up inside because something hadn’t gone his way. The silence was often followed by an explosion. Yelling or swearing. Sometimes a broken plate or glass. One time he’d yelled so loud he’d startled a little girl on the street outside their house.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Oh, good. I went for a walk on the beach during my lunch break. It’s such a pretty place.” It had been glorious to take the chance to wear something normal and get her feet wet in the ocean. Corfu was stunning, and it was a little too easy to imagine herself waking up to that view every morning.

In fact, it had that quiet, natural beauty that she loved so much. Whether it was a densely wooded forest or a pristine beach, Sophia loved being out in nature.

“It was nice to meet your friends at the party,” she said, doing her best impersonation of small talk. “How did you and Nico meet? Did you go to school together?”

“Actually, we grew up together.” He leaned back in his chair. From this angle, the early evening cast golden light over his skin, making him look even more tanned. His hair was a mess of waves and kinks, like he’d run his hands through it too many times. “At the orphanage.”

“Oh.” She blinked. Well, that was unexpected. Sure, she’d read something about him coming from humble origins to build an empire with his best friend, but she’d had no idea he was an orphan. “And you’ve been friends ever since?”

He bobbed his head. “Since the day he punched a bully in the face for me when I was four years old.”

“So he was your protector?” She reached for a glass of wine that had materialized on the table while she’d been wrapped up in her discovery of Dion.

“We protected each other,” he replied. There was something cryptic about the response that had her wanting to ask more, wanting to know him. Which was a very, very bad idea. “What about you? Do you still keep in touch with people from your childhood?”

The question was innocent enough, and she’d been asked it before. But the memories reared up like an ugly monster coming out from under her bed. She’d had a great group of friends in elementary school—a tight-knit gaggle of girls with important shared interests like posters of Zac Efron and shimmery lip gloss. The day she’d moved to middle school, it’d all changed, however, because her dad had plucked her out of her humble local school and stuck her into some elite place where nobody wanted to talk to her.

The other students seemed to know she didn’t belong, and nobody invited her to their birthday parties or sleepovers. She’d been a social pariah.

“Not really,” she replied noncommittally. “It took me a while to find my feet.”

These days, she kept her friendship group small. The fewer people she let in, the less chance there was for her to be shunned. But now they were at an age where everyone was falling in love and getting married, meaning girlie hangouts were becoming less and less frequent. They were forgetting her. Moving on with their lives, while she continued to rebel against her father like she was stuck in her teenage years.

“Nothing wrong with that.” Dion looked up as one of the kitchen staff brought out a platter of meats, cheese, and fruit, along with some smaller bite-sized food items. He eagerly reached for a meatball with a toothpick sticking out of it. “I was a late bloomer.”

Sophia raised a brow. “I don’t believe it.”

“Believe it. I was that skinny beanpole of a kid with acne and patchy facial hair until well after it was fair.” He grinned, and his endearing, full-lipped smile made her roll her eyes. The guy looked like he’d stepped off the cover of a movie poster. And if the smile was any more perfect, it would have been accompanied by a ping sound effect. “You could say I was an ugly duckling.”

She smirked at his choice of words. “I definitely don’t believe it.”

“Girls wouldn’t touch me.”

“That’s changed, hasn’t it?” The quip came out before she could stop it.

Unfortunately for her, those four little words lit a fire of truth inside her. She was attracted to Dion.

How could she not be? The man was physical perfection. Even in a business shirt and dress pants—which had never been her thing—he looked at ease and comfortable in his own skin. The pale blue shirt sat open at the collar, revealing the tanned column of his neck. His jaw was strong and angled, highlighted by a slight shadow. But it was his mouth that got her. He had full lips, wickedly curved like the lines on a sports car, the kind of lips that were almost too sensual to belong on a man. But somehow, against the backdrop of unabashed masculinity, they were the cherry on top of a perfectly decorated sundae.

They were the kind of lips made for kissing…and she didn’t mean only the French kind.

Swallowing, Sophia clamped her legs together, shocked by the sudden pulsing there. This was so not the time to start indulging in fantasies.

Dion cocked his head. “You don’t have to worry about that with me.”

“Worry about what?”

“About me fooling around.”

Sophia shook her head and held up a hand. “I wasn’t worrying. I don’t worry.”

Suddenly, a flustered kind of heat washed over her. The absolute denial made her sound defensive, on the back foot. And that was never a place to be.

“I don’t care who you sleep with.”

Dion frowned. “I’m not sure what your father has communicated to you—”

“Nothing, other than to send me here.” It came out more bitter than she’d wanted it to. The truth of her feelings was too close to the surface, too at risk of bubbling over. “He only told me that it was part of your deal.”

Dion’s frown deepened, creating a crease between his brows. “And you were happy to go along with it?”

God, she wanted to tell the truth so badly. She wanted to scream that she was only here because she was terrified her father would break her mother’s fragile psyche if she wasn’t there to intervene. That she was worn down by her father’s ability to get exactly what he wanted. Frightened that she might not ever realize her dream of a peaceful, independent life.

But those fears were what kept her grip on the last vestige of control. She couldn’t trust that Dion wouldn’t report back anything she said. What if he called her father and repeated it back to him?

No. It was too risky.

“Of course,” she said, wrestling her voice into a smooth, even tone. “My father is very traditional, and he wants nothing more than to see me married to someone with a high standing. And I want to do everything to keep my parents happy.”

Her statement didn’t appear to ease Dion’s concerns. “So, you’re on board with this?”

No. I will never be on board with this.

She opened her mouth and then snapped it shut again. The only way this would work was if he called off the wedding. Her father would be angry, but he’d have somewhere external to direct his anger. Somewhere away from Sophia and her mother.

No matter how much she wanted to answer Dion honestly, she…couldn’t.

“Yes, I’m on board.” She reached for a piece of melon, but it tasted of nothing. “Are you? You don’t seem like the type of guy who needs someone to find him a wife.”

“Truthfully?” He pushed the hair back from his forehead. “I never thought I would get married. It wasn’t something I saw being part of my life.”

“How come?” She shouldn’t be interested, but dammit, she was.

“My mother never married,” he said, his voice taking on a vague quality, as if he’d lost himself in his thoughts. “Because my father already had a wife. They were having an affair, and she got pregnant.”

But he’d grown up in an orphanage. So how—?

“My mother died after I was born, and my father didn’t want anything to do with me.” The vague quality had taken on a razor edge. This was the man behind the charming smile. This was the real Dion. “He was fine screwing young girls on the side, but he didn’t want to deal with the consequences. Apparently, he had an important reputation to uphold, or so the sisters at the orphanage told me one day. But I heard them whispering, it wasn’t the first time he’d cheated on his wife.”

He looked as though he wanted to say more, but he didn’t continue.

“Have you ever met him?”

“Once, and I immediately regretted it.” He cleared his throat. “But it’s water under the bridge. He’s dead now.”

She waited for more information, but nothing came. This explained a lot—how he was fine with a marriage that meant nothing just to secure a business deal.

“So, there won’t be any touching family moments at our wedding, I’m afraid.” For a moment, he looked almost…regretful. “But at least you won’t have any pesky in-laws to deal with.”

“Fantastic,” she whispered. A sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.

Dion’s jaded view of marriage and family would be a hard thing to work against. If he had no expectation of a happy married life, then maybe he would do what was necessary to get his hands on her father’s company without any care to what happened after the I dos.

“I, uh… I think I’m going to head to bed.” Sophia pushed up from her chair so suddenly that the damn thing almost tipped over. But the need to get some space was clawing at her, panic settling into her muscles, making them twitchy. “Well, good night.”

She grabbed the fox and tucked it under her arm before dashing back into the house, her stomach swishing. But then it hit her. The solution was crystal clear, and he’d handed it to her on a silver platter.

An affair.

A fake one, of course. There was no way Sophia would sleep with someone for any reason besides mutual attraction and genuine feelings. To her, sex was never a means to an end. Never a weapon or a tool. It should be an experience shared between two people who care for each other.

But if she looked like the kind of wife who’d be unfaithful, then maybe that would be enough for him to pull the pin. After all, it was clear he hated his father and the fact that he’d had an affair.

Guilt stabbed her in the gut. It was a shitty thing to do. A really, really shitty thing. But she reasoned that she wasn’t actually going to be having an affair with Theo. And concocting a fake affair so Dion would pull the pin was doing them both a favor in the long run. Saving them from a marriage that wouldn’t be good for either of them. Her father was pulling the strings so he could have what he wanted, and that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

She was helping Dion as much as she was helping herself.

Sophia dug the cream-and-gold business card out of the drawer next to her bed and turned it over in her hands. Looked like it was time to give Theofanis Anastas a call.