CHAPTER FOUR

VERY EARLY IN the mysterious journey that was his new reality, Zeph had decided to trust his gut instinct. Sure, he relied on his other senses when needed. His reasoning, observation and strategy had turned Petros’s mediocre fishing business from a two-vessel, barely ticking over concern into a ten-vessel growing business in a matter of months. A factor he knew deep down had played into the older man’s desire to keep him around, perhaps even pushing his daughter into a commitment she hadn’t been totally ready for.

It was why he didn’t need his gut to tell him Imogen wasn’t being entirely truthful about their sleeping arrangements. Perhaps even keys areas of their married life.

But it was that pure gut instinct that had prodded him just now.

It was partly why he’d delivered that statement about a honeymoon he hadn’t even thought of before it came spilling out. But once uttered, there was no taking it back.

And his wife’s quickly masked shock only deepened the need to get to the bottom of the mystery surrounding his marriage, doctor’s advice be damned. He might not know himself through and through, but he knew enough to know he wasn’t a man who sat around and waited for things to go his way or for opportunities to fall into his lap.

For a moment the searing reminder that he had no immediate family to provide insight pained him. Had he inherited that characteristic from his mother or father? Perhaps even a loving grandfather or uncle?

Accepting the futility of such thoughts, he pushed the sensation away. The same way he’d been pushing away the urge to go digging for answers. After all, if his parents were dead and he had no close relatives to paint a picture for him, wasn’t he just as lost now as he had been twenty-four hours ago?

He would tackle one problem at a time.

For now, his instincts insisted the one in front of him held supremacy.

Watching Imogen cycle through a myriad emotions, he decided to go one better. Up the stakes to unravel whatever this conundrum was. ‘Or you can come clean with everything.’

‘E-everything?’ she echoed, then frowned as if hating herself for the shakiness in her voice. He’d seen echoes of that self-disgruntlement. As if even a hint of a flaw was anathema to her.

He shrugged inwardly. He didn’t need instinct or the influx of memories to tell him he was the same. Perhaps that was part of the attraction between them?

‘I’m not sure I know what you mean.’

‘No?’

She shook her head, and he silently willed that knot at the back of her head to unravel. The acute need to sink his fingers into those lustrous locks mildly alarmed him. As had that pounding need he’d been restraining himself from acting on again since she’d left him with the doctor. Hell, he’d barely been able to pull back from that kiss.

So why resist?

She was his wife, after all, wasn’t she?

He wasn’t sure why he was holding back. Perhaps he was savouring what was to come. Had he been this patient before? Or was it something else? Something less...palatable?

He’d returned—by all accounts from the dead—and she’d barely even touched him. That flash of jealousy she’d exhibited in the church when she’d believed he was marrying another woman—which he admitted now had stoked something primal and possessive to life within him—was now carefully but firmly under control. Which was all the more dissatisfying in light of his own emotions when he’d heard that young buck attempting to inveigle his way into a private lunch with Imogen.

His wife.

Zeph couldn’t deny there was distance between them. He might not remember every relationship he’d had in the past but even he knew a contented married couple didn’t live in separate apartments. Or have separate sleeping staterooms on a private yacht.

He watched her open her mouth, no doubt about to issue another prim denial. An excuse. A less welcome alternative.

And he felt that primitive urge swell higher. ‘I haven’t gone down the unsavoury path of looking myself up online yet but I’ve learned enough about my business practices to know I’m not averse to tough negotiating. Is that what is needed now, matia mou? Or will my wife come willingly?’

He tried to ignore the fact that she seemed to wince imperceptibly every time he reminded her that they were married.

No matter. They had time. Time to delve into the mystery of why this woman, who awoke intrigue and carnal desire he hadn’t experienced for any of the women who’d crossed his path in the last ten months, alternately looked at him with defiance and wariness.

He frowned inwardly. He hadn’t...hurt her, had he?

His jaw clenched, willing her to give a positive answer so the unnerving sensation crawling through his belly would cease.

‘I’ve already said I’ll come and stay on the yacht with you,’ she murmured, but that mildly bewildered look in her eyes didn’t dissipate.

And that only made the churning in his gut intensify. He quelled it and nodded, telling himself to tread carefully. ‘Good—’

‘But a honeymoon isn’t necessary,’ she blurted. ‘We’ve been married for over a year.’

‘Barely enough time to feel like a boring old married couple. Were we estranged, Imogen?’ he asked, boldly taking a chunk out of the mystery.

‘No, we weren’t,’ she murmured after one too many beats.

He sidestepped the relief that oozed through him. ‘Good,’ he repeated, then held out his hand. ‘We will buck a trend and celebrate our second wedding anniversary and our honeymoon in one go. So shall we?’

He gritted his teeth as she eyed his hand as if it were a coiled snake about to strike. Patience. His senses shrieked that was what was required here.

After an eternity, she crossed the room and placed her hand in his.

And that sonic explosion came again, rocking him on his feet.

He’d dismissed it as his over-exuberant imagination the first time it’d happened. Just as he’d downplayed the effect of that kiss and the way it’d thrilled his blood and roused his male senses.

Now he knew it wasn’t.

His libido was alive and well, and eager for this intriguing woman who’d somehow taken his name but didn’t act one little bit like a wife happy to be reunited with her husband.

And perhaps that was a tool rather than an obstacle. Or, at the very least, a satisfactory way to pass the time while he waited for his memories to return. He shrugged inwardly. At this point he was beginning to accept that nothing was off the table.

And if he had to seduce his wife in order to unravel this mysterious part of his life...well then, so be it.

What on earth was she thinking, agreeing to a honeymoon with Zeph?

What did that even entail?

Well, for starters, it seemed he wasn’t willing to let go of her hand. Every subtle effort to withdraw it had been thwarted all the way through saying goodbye to the household staff, including a tearful Despina, and reboarding the helicopter.

This new state of play also, it seemed, included staring broodingly at her as they were transported back to the yacht. Thankfully, she managed to extricate herself from his sizzling grasp and take a full breath for the first time once she alighted.

Then she threw herself into busy mode. Her fingers flew over her phone as she read and replied to emails and text messages.

Sensing his gaze once more on her, she looked up to find him watching her.

‘Do you want something to eat? I’m sure something can be organised for you?’ she asked, to hide the fluttering in her belly.

A smile cracked his lips. ‘You seem determined to fatten me up. For what purpose? Do I need fattening up?’

‘I... What?’ Stumbling, she made the mistake of eyeing him from head to toe again. Which of course triggered that knowing smile that made her want to kick herself. ‘No, of course not...unless you...’ She shook her head. ‘I know it’s a Greek thing to always have refreshments available.’

‘Indeed, but one still gets bored with an endless flow of meze after a while. Be assured that when I’m hungry, you’ll be the first to know, eros mou.’

Her stomach jumped at the endearment. She’d been in Greece long enough to learn a few of them. Eros mou held much more earthy connotations.

Love. Lust. Intimacy.

Things a honeymooning husband in love wouldn’t hesitate to shower his wife with. Her fingers curled over her phone as her body reacted to it. Skin grew hot and taut. Nipples hardened and strained against satin. And between her thighs... God, had she ever felt such urgent need?

While she’d found the man she’d married compelling, his chilling demeanour and indifference had restrained the unwanted bites of awareness she’d experienced at those first meetings. And even when she’d unwillingly accepted how handsome and utterly captivating Zeph Diamandis was, she’d managed to curb any wayward yearning before it’d developed into something neither of them wanted.

This new version of Zeph...mesmerised her. He made her burn with awareness. His proximity wrecked easy havoc on her senses while her heart raced with...hunger.

She tried to breathe calmly through it, to not show in any way how affected she was.

Because it seemed Zeph was determined to wring reaction after reaction from her. And she couldn’t let that happen.

She pounced on her phone when it pinged with a message, then breathed a sigh of relief when she read it. ‘The stylists are on their way. They should be here in about fifteen minutes.’

His lips twitched with a touch of mild disinterest, then he draped one muscled arm over the back of his seat. ‘Fifteen minutes gives us enough time.’

Her senses jumped and scrambled helter-skelter once more. ‘Time for what?’ she all but screeched.

His amusement intensified. ‘Time to tell me more about the intricacies of my company,’ he replied coolly.

Oh. She swallowed. Not what she’d expected. But she still needed to be delicate. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘Let’s start with structure. Then you can tell me how Callahan Shipping—which I’m assuming is your family company?—came to be involved.’

Choosing her words carefully, she gave a PR version of what she knew about his company. Then took a breath and added, ‘There was a threat of Callahan Shipping being disposed of in the deal you made with Avalon.’

‘Unless it was on the verge of bankruptcy or woefully mismanaged, you could’ve walked away with something, no?’

She shook her head. ‘It wasn’t as big as Diamandis obviously, but I didn’t want that.’

‘Why not?’

Old feelings of inadequacy and bitterness rumbled through her, wounds she’d never quite been able to fully heal. But she had spent a considerable part of her life suppressing it, it was fairly customary to slap more bandages over it, numb it beneath layers of suppressed emotion. So she could focus on answering him again without arousing the sharp spikes of his suspicion the way she’d come close to doing. And the best way she knew how to achieve that was to concentrate on herself.

On the parts Zeph didn’t know about her. And if that made her pathetic in his eyes... She shrugged mentally and ploughed on.

‘I spent my whole life trying to prove to my father that I was as capable as the son he never had. I wasn’t about to step aside and let everything I’d worked for be tossed away.’

Another gleam in his eyes, perhaps even a hint of that pride she’d spotted earlier lit through the midnight-blue depths. Sparking something far too close to pleasure inside her. ‘So you fought for what you wanted.’

‘Yes.’

‘And you got it?’

She nodded. ‘Eventually, yes.’

‘I’m glad.’

Are you?

She exhaled in relief when the question didn’t slip free.

‘You look sceptical,’ he observed, right on cue. ‘You doubt my sentiment?’

‘We’re both attempting to navigate this new normal, Z-Zeph. If I seem...surprised about things, that’s the reason why. We don’t need to dissect everything—’

Despite his relaxed stance, she could feel the rumbles of his aura, the sheer magnetism she suspected would overwhelm even when he slept. ‘Say that again,’ he invited thickly, his gaze raking her face.

‘What?’

‘My name.’

She slicked her tongue over her dry lips. ‘Why?’

Those midnight-blue eyes were almost black now, his gaze shamelessly fixed on her mouth. ‘Because I find that I like hearing you say it.’

She shook her head to deny that and to dispel the foolish sorcery he evoked with each word. ‘There’s nothing special in the way I say it.’

‘I beg to differ,’ he drawled, a thickness in his tone that escalated that spark into flames. Flames that shamelessly flared all over her body igniting illicit lust in their wake. ‘Say it, Imogen,’ he commanded, his tone low, deep and utterly mesmerising.

‘Zeph,’ she whispered.

He surged forward, his movements almost involuntary as he ran his thumb over her lower lip. Calluses, probably from the taxing job of hauling nets from the ocean, grazed over her lips, sending further sparks through her. Lean cheeks shadowed by sculpted cheekbones made him stunningly handsome. But it was the air of confidence that clung to him that drew her. And she suspected most women to their doom.

‘If your husband were to kiss you again, would you run away in terror the way you did last time?’

‘I—I didn’t run away.’

‘Perhaps not physically. But I felt the distance. I want that distance gone, Imogen.’ The growled determination behind that statement sent another wave of heat through her.

Oh, dear God...

She struggled to breathe as he continued to caress her lips, slowly, back and forth, his eyes following his movement with rabid focus. ‘We shouldn’t... You’re not in a—’

‘Cite my memory loss one more time and I’ll shut you up with my tongue.’

Sparks that probably shouldn’t have felt so damn thrilling lit her insides. ‘Is that a threat?’

‘Oh, no, matia mou. It’s a very vigorous promise. One I can guarantee you will enjoy.’

For a blind moment, Immie felt searing jealousy.

For all the women he’d displayed such single-minded craving for in the hazy past. Perhaps even for the future lovers who would get to enjoy this rabid carnal attention from the most compelling man she’d ever encountered.

Then she was dragged back to the present by his insistent thumb, seeking entry between her lips. Lips that were parting almost of their own accord. Because the sorcery he was enacting was too hypnotic to resist.

But she had to.

She needed to remind herself that this wasn’t the true Zephyr Diamandis. This was the imposter wearing his skin until his true self emerged once more. And as much as the sensation zipping through her bloodstream was seducing her to succumb to this...moment of sweet madness...she couldn’t.

Because to do so would be to risk the very freedom that had fuelled her determination to find her lost husband. Freedom she could now pursue.

Because in a year, she would be free. She would’ve served her time.

The three years she’d agreed to would be up!

Divorced from Zeph Diamandis with the company she’d nurtured intact and her sacrifice behind her.

With that reminder in mind, she pulled away, ignoring the sharp pang of disappointment triggered by eluding his touch.

‘Not citing doesn’t mean any of this is still a good idea. Or what I want,’ she tagged on in a bid to firm her resolve. So what if it came out weak and a little desperate?

What if it seemed to rouse something in his eyes? Determination? A resolve much thicker and weightier than her own?

She swallowed the darts of alarm, and firmly grasped the tail-end of their previous discussion. ‘Yes, so to answer your question, Callahan is mine but falls under Diamandis’s overarching purview.’

For an age, he stared at her. Then he nodded. ‘Tell me about the board members. Who impresses, who disappoints. Who will smile at me while stabbing me in the back.’

She couldn’t quite hide her grimace, and her breath caught when one corner of his mouth quirked.

‘That bad?’

Her shoulders sagged and she realised she’d been tense at the direction of his conversation where perhaps she needn’t have been. ‘Only if you consider a bunch of men alluding to a woman’s place not being the boardroom or being CEO of a conglomerate on a far too regular basis a bad thing.’

His eyes glinted and she caught a glimpse of the formidable tycoon in that look. The one men who valued their skins bent over backwards not to invite. ‘But you didn’t let that cower you.’

She shrugged. ‘I held my own. I’m used to doing that when it counts.’

Those eyes narrowed. ‘Does that include with me?’ he enquired silkily.

She shivered, then decided she had nothing to lose by stating the truth. ‘I won’t let you run roughshod over me when it counts.’

‘I’ll consider myself duly warned.’

Imogen had a feeling she’d need to keep that statement alive and burning at the forefront of her mind since her emotions and body were behaving in ways she found disconcerting. Luckily, she was saved from further torment when the head steward approached to let them know the stylists had arrived.

She scrambled up, very much aware of his solid presence behind her as they descended one deck to the more intimate one where the designers waited.

Zeph barely glanced at them as they scurried about unzipping garment bags. She knew why when he immediately intercepted her when she tried to make a discreet exit.

She gulped when he loomed in front of her, one eyebrow slanted upward. ‘You always seem in a hurry to leave my presence. A lesser man would have a complex about his wife fleeing his presence when they’re supposed to be on their honeymoon.’

She didn’t miss the fact that he exempted himself from that weaker man bracket. ‘But...you don’t need me to choose your attire for you,’ she whispered heatedly.

‘No, and yet I want you to stay. I would appreciate your input. And after all, you need to appreciate the view too.’

Her eyes widened even as colour swam into her cheeks. Her gaze darted to the stylist who had discreetly turned away. Zeph suppressed a smile and proceeded to tug his T-shirt over his head. His shorts were kicked away next and he stood in his boxers, tall, proud, blatantly near-naked and unselfconscious, with both hands propped on his lean hips.

Sweet heaven, he was breathtaking. Too much. Heat billowed between her thighs and she swallowed the moan that threatened to escape.

Desperately reaching for her phone, she started to glance down at it, hoping for some sort of electronic intervention. The device was plucked out of her hand a moment later and tossed onto a cushioned seat several feet away.

‘Hey, you can’t do that.’

His face hardened. ‘I’m your boss. In that capacity you’ll find I can do whatever I want.’ He pointed to a seat. ‘Sit.’

Oh, yes. The very much insufferable Zephyr Diamandis was alive and kicking in this version, too. But since he was indeed her boss, and she’d agreed to this...farce, she had no choice but to obey.

She sat down.

Then spent the next hour with her hands clenched tight in her lap, biting her tongue so it didn’t hang out like a teenage groupie as her husband strutted around like a supermodel who’d stepped off the pages of GQ magazine.

With the early evening sun over the glittering Aegean as the perfect backdrop against the vibrant and bronzed breathtaking pillar of masculinity, each audacious exhibition made her belly flip over in saucy excitement, until she feared she would quietly hyperventilate and expire where she sat.

And when he casually dropped questions like, ‘Do you like this?’, ‘Does this please you?’ Imogen felt as though she were being treated to her own version of that erotic movie that had taken the world by storm a handful of years ago. Only with the shoe thrillingly on the other foot. And even if the power dynamic wasn’t quite as favourable for her, there was enough of it for risqué and illicit fantasies to reel through her mind, sending arrows of lust and need between her thighs as she nodded or rejected at will.

She was partly regretful but mostly relieved when it was all over and the designers had taken their leave. Of course that didn’t mean reprieve from Zeph.

Imogen turned from watching the departing stylists to find him frowning down at his left hand. The new lemon-coloured polo shirt and khaki cargo pants he’d kept on highlighted every inch of bronzed flesh on show, his tousled hair lending him a rakish look that continued to play havoc with her equilibrium.

But it was what he was doing—running his thumb over his ring finger specifically—that made her heart jump into her throat. She had an inkling of his thoughts, and yet she wasn’t ready for the words that came out of his mouth.

‘I wasn’t wearing a wedding ring when I woke up. You didn’t mention it when you listed what I was wearing the last time you saw me. Since you haven’t enquired about it, I’m assuming there wasn’t one in the first place?’

She shook her head. ‘No, there wasn’t.’

Rapier-sharp eyes cut into hers. ‘Why not?’

She pursed her lips as her mind raced to find an adequate, non-harmful answer.

But...how long could she keep skirting this issue? Because it was clear he knew there was something missing besides just his memories.

‘Tell me, Imogen,’ he insisted, his voice thick with command.

Crossing her fingers that she wasn’t making a mistake, she exhaled. ‘You never gave me a reason why. You simply stated that you wouldn’t be wearing one.’

His nostrils flared and he snagged her left wrist. Her fingers involuntarily curled around his when he raised her hand and stared at the wedding and engagement rings adorning her finger. After an age, his thumb slid over the diamonds, just as intimately as he’d caressed his own skin. Heat unfurled through her belly, but alongside it came another sensation.

Anticipation? Hope? For what, exactly? She shook her head as the emotion persisted. As it thickened and attempted to find fertile soil to grow.

‘Well, I’ve changed my mind,’ he announced.

Why on earth did that send her heart thumping against her ribs? Whatever he did during this period while he waited for his memories to return, it didn’t change the fact that they were still locked in a marriage of convenience. That she had no business letting this...intensely fascinating and compelling version of Zeph Diamandis slip beneath her guard.

‘Are you going to give me the name of our jewellery broker or should I go rummaging?’

The very idea of Zephyr Diamandis rummaging for anything made her lips twitch. Which was, again, madness in itself. Hadn’t she reassured herself that the time he’d cracked a joke, reminding her that he was the first to make her laugh harder than she had in as long as she could remember, was a one-time indulgence?

She jerked as his thumb swiped over her lips.

‘I’m attempting not to be insulted that you keep drifting away from me mentally and physically.’ The possessive bite in his voice piled another truckload of coals onto the fire already smouldering inside her.

‘I...yes, if that’s what you want, I’ll make it happen,’ she said with a far too husky voice.

She told herself she strode away from him to return to her desk to call her PA simply to get some breathing room. But her voice—and her insides—didn’t feel as firm as her assistant answered.

‘Kalismera, Mrs Diamandis. Is everything okay?’

No, she wanted to blurt.

‘Yes, thanks, everything’s fine, Agatha.’

‘How can I help, Mrs Diamandis?’

Aware of the gaze fixed on her, she gathered her tattered composure together and answered. ‘I need you to have the Diamandis jewellery broker brought to the yacht tomo...’ she paused as Zeph gave a firm shake of his head, then cleared her throat ‘...this evening.’

‘Of course, Mrs Diamandis. Anything in particular you’d like to see?’

Immie bit the inside of her lip, attempting to channel her husband’s immense authority for half a second, and failed. Throwing caution to the wind, she winged it. ‘He’ll know what we need. Contact the chopper pilot to arrange transport.’

‘Yes, of course.’

She hung up to find Zeph watching her. ‘What?’

‘Watching you wield power is sexy,’ he drawled, his arms reaching out.

She had time to step away. So why didn’t she?

Why did she remain standing, her senses leaping and somersaulting as he tugged her close? As his hands slid over her waist and boldly cupped her behind?

As she felt her husband’s hot, muscled body for the first time.

Not even at their wedding had he held her this close.

Because theirs had been a cold and short ceremony in a formidable building that had been Athens’ equivalent of city hall, with only his lawyers acting as witnesses.

It’d been over in under half an hour, after which he’d deposited her at his Kifisia home and promptly returned to the office and she’d been introduced by his butler to her new, separate apartment.

Every single reason for that remained real and alive, if temporarily shrouded by Zeph’s amnesia. And yet caution seemed to be just out of reach and temptation spiralling through her, urging her to wrap her arms around that trim waist, plaster herself closer to his sublime body.

She scrambled around for something to say to diffuse that treacherous feeling. ‘Thank you.’

‘No. Efharisto,’ he murmured instead.

‘What are you thanking me for?’

He shrugged, the movement sliding his torso against her front, turning the tips of her nipples diamond-hard. ‘Among other things? Coming to find me,’ he said.

There was no hint of humour in that statement, just a deeply solemn recognition in his hypnotic eyes. An unspoken acknowledgement of her actions.

‘Ten months is a long time. Others would’ve given up. Why didn’t you?’ he prodded.

Because I needed to know, unequivocally, one way or another before I grasped my freedom.

She chose a less volatile but truthful response. ‘Call it gut instinct. I needed proof, one way or another.’

Would he be this appreciative when the full truth came out? When he discovered that beneath all the reasons why she’d needed to find him was a fraction of selfishness for her own ends?

She swallowed and suppressed the pang that thought produced, instead reaching for the question that had been niggling at the back of her mind since this morning. ‘For a man who couldn’t remember his past, you seemed...accommodating of your situation. Did you...did you not want to know what happened to you?’

His eyes grew shadowed and for almost a minute she thought he wouldn’t answer. ‘My injuries weren’t life-threatening when I was found but neither was I in a state to go on a hunting spree. I was repeatedly reminded how close I’d come to dying. I had no other medical facility to compare to the one on Efemia so I accepted my slow nursing back to health.’

She frowned. ‘But...didn’t Petros or any of your rescuers make any effort to get to the bottom of who you were?’

His lips pursed, then a wry smile curved his lips. ‘I was reassured efforts were being made in the first few months. You were there. You saw how...laid-back they were. In hindsight I suspect there was no great desire for things to change once the initial efforts had come to nothing.’

‘You mean Petros? He and his family wanted to keep you to themselves?’ The words came out sharper than she’d intended and she couldn’t deny that the possibility that she might not have found him, ever, struck her a little too raw for comfort.

He shrugged, but the fleeting tightening of his lips said he took that a little more seriously than he wanted to admit. ‘Perhaps.’

Her shock grew. ‘And you were happy with that? It doesn’t—’

She stopped herself before she said something his brilliant mind cottoned onto. Something she wouldn’t be able to take back.

‘It doesn’t seem like the man you know?’ he finished.

Swallowing, she jerked out a nod. ‘That man...he would’ve stopped at nothing to discover who he was. What he’d left behind.’

Zeph glanced around him, then at the stunning view beyond the deck, before his gaze returned to her. ‘Maybe I always knew I would return. There seems an inevitability to all this.’

Her breath caught. ‘There is?’

His mouth twitched. ‘Don’t look so distressed, matia mou. We have lost a little time. But I intend for us to more than make up for it.’

The words were too ominous to stop the shiver that raced through her. And this close, he felt it. His eyes narrowed and his arms tightened. Even more alarmed by how much she wanted to stay, to delve deeper into this fascinating aspect of Zeph, she cleared her throat and pushed away.

He resisted her for a fraction of a second before he set her free, the faint tic in his temple conveying that he wasn’t too pleased about that.

Ignoring the thrill that sent through her blood, she went to retrieve her phone. ‘I really need to catch up on work. Dinner is normally served at eight, unless you prefer it to be later?’

He waved her away, his eyes following her as she headed for the stairs. ‘Eight is fine. And, Imogen?’

She looked over her shoulder, that jumpiness taking an even firmer hold on her. ‘Yes?’

‘There will be many more discussions in the coming days. I hope you’re prepared for that.’

‘I know.’

‘Kalos.’

Good.

But would it be for her?