The Fallen Greek Bride

He dipped his head and raised his voice in order to be heard over the hum of the helicopter, which had begun to descend. “You will receive your full settlement once the dissolution occurs. With the current state of affairs, I’d suggest you allow me to open a personal account for you in London or Geneva and I can deposit the funds directly into the account without fear of your government freezing it. I know they’ve frozen all your family accounts in the United States—”

“I don’t want your money.”

“Yes, you do. You came here for my money. So take what you came for—”

“I came to see you for my father, and that was the only reason I came here today.”

“A point you made abundantly clear.” He smiled at her but his amber gaze looked icy, the golden depths tinged with frost. “So I am giving you what you wanted, freedom and financial security, which fulfills my obligation to you.”

She shivered at the hardness in his voice. She had never heard him speak to her with so much coldness and disdain and it crushed her to think they were ending it like this—with contempt and anger.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her heart beating too fast and aching far too much.

He didn’t answer her, his gaze fixed on the helicopter slowly descending. Morgan watched him and not the helicopter, aware that this just might be the last time she would see Drakon and was drinking him in, trying to memorize every detail, trying to remember him. This.

“Thank you,” she added, wanting him to just look at her, acknowledge her, without this new terrible coldness.

But he didn’t. He wouldn’t. “I’ll walk you to the landing pad,” he said, putting his hand out to gesture the way without touching her or looking at her.

Perhaps it was better this way, she told herself, forcing herself to move. It was hard enough being near him without wanting to be closer to him. Perhaps if he’d been kind or gentle, she’d just want more of him, because she’d always wanted more of him, never less. The doctors had said she was addicted to him, and her addiction wasn’t healthy. He wasn’t the sun, they lectured her, and Drakon, despite his intense charisma and chemistry, couldn’t warm her, nor could he actually give her strength. She was the only one who could give herself strength, and the only way she could do that was by leaving him, putting him behind her.

And so here she was again, leaving him. Putting him behind her.

So be strong, she told herself. Prove that you ‘re strong on your own.

Morgan blinked to clear her vision, fighting panic as they rounded the villa and walked across the lawn for the open pool terrace where the helicopter waited, balancing like a peculiar moth on the high-tech titanium cover concealing the pool. The roar from the helicopter’s spinning blades made conversation impossible, not that Drakon wanted to talk to her.

One of the household staff met them at the helicopter with Morgan’s travel bag and Drakon set it inside the helicopter, then spoke briefly to the pilot before putting out his hand to assist Morgan inside.

She glanced down at his outstretched hand, and then up into his face, into those unique amber eyes that had captivated her from the start. “Thank you again, Drakon, and I hope you’ll be happy.”

His lips curved, but his eyes glittered with silent fury. “Is that a joke? Am I supposed to be amused?”

She drew back, stunned by his flash of temper. For a moment she could only stare at him, surprised, bewildered, by this fierce man. This was a different Drakon than the man she’d married. This was a Drakon of intense emotions and yet after they’d married she’d become convinced that Drakon felt no emotion. “I’m serious. I want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy—”

“As you said I’m not one for meaningless conversation, so I’m going to walk away now to save us from an embarrassing and uncomfortable goodbye,” he said brusquely, cutting her short, to propel her into the helicopter. Once he had her inside, he leaned in, his features harsh, and shouted to her, “Don’t try to cut corners, Morgan, and save money by handling the pirates yourself. Get help. Call Dunamas, or Blue Sea, or one of the other maritime intelligence companies. Understand me?”

His fierce gaze held hers, and she nodded jerkily, even as her stomach rose up, and her heart fell. If he only knew …

If he only knew what she had done….

And for a split second she nearly blurted the truth, how she had been negotiating with the pirates on her own, and how she’d thought she was in control, until it had all gone terribly wrong, which was why she was here … which was why she needed Drakon so much. But before she could say any of it, Drakon had turned around and was walking away from the helicopter.

Walking away from her.

Her eyes burned and her throat sealed closed as the pilot handed Morgan a set of headphones, but she couldn’t focus on the pilot’s instructions, not when she was watching Drakon stride toward the villa.

He was walking quickly, passing the rose-covered balustrade on the lower terrace then climbing the staircase to the upper terrace, and the entire time she prayed he’d turn around, pray he’d acknowledge her, pray he’d wave or smile, or just look at her.

He didn’t.

He crossed the terrace to the old ballroom and disappeared into the great stone house without a backward glance.

So that was it. Done. Over. She was finally free to move on, find happiness, find love elsewhere.

She should be happy. She should feel at peace. But as the helicopter lifted off the pad, straight into the air, Morgan didn’t feel any relief, just panic. Because she didn’t get the help she needed, and she’d lost him completely.

It wasn’t supposed to have gone like this. The meeting today … as well as their marriage. Because she had loved him. She’d loved him with everything she was, everything she had, and it hadn’t been enough. It should have been enough. Why wasn’t it enough? In the beginning she’d thought he was perfect. In the beginning she’d thought she’d found her soul mate. But she was wrong.

Seconds passed, becoming one minute and then another as the helicopter rose higher and higher, straight up so that the villa fell away and the world was all blue and green, with the sea on one side and the sharp, steep mountains on the other and the villa with its famous garden clinging to that bit of space on the rock.

Fighting tears, her gaze fell on the check she still clutched in her hand. Seven million dollars. Just like that.

And she’d known that he’d help her if she went to him. She’d known he’d come through for her, too, because he’d never refused her anything. Drakon might not have given her much of his time or patience, but he’d never withheld anything material from her.

Guilt pummeled her, guilt and fear and anxiety, because she hadn’t accomplished everything she’d come to Villa Angelica to accomplish. She needed more from Drakon than just a check. She needed not just financial assistance, but his help, too. There were few men in the world who had his knowledge of piracy and its impact on the shipping industry. Indeed, Drakon was considered one of the world’s leading experts in counter piracy, and he’d know the safest, quickest method for securing her father’s release, as well as the right people to help her.

Morgan exhaled in a rush, heart beating too hard.

She had to go back. Had to face Drakon again. Had to convince him to help her. Not that he’d want to help her now, not after everything that was said.

But this wasn’t about pride or her ego. This was life and death, her father’s life, specifically, and she couldn’t turn her back on him.

Swallowing her fear and misgivings, Morgan grabbed at her seat belt as if throwing on brakes. “Stop, wait,” she said to the pilot through the small microphone attached to her headphones. “We have to go back. I’ve forgotten something.”

The pilot was too well-trained, and too well-paid, to question her. For a moment nothing seemed to happen and then he shifted and the helicopter began to slowly descend.

Drakon didn’t wait for the helicopter to leave. There was no point. She was gone, and he was glad. While climbing the stairs to his bedroom suite, he heard the helicopter lift, the throbbing of the rotary blades vibrating all the way through the old stone walls.

In his bathroom, Drakon stripped his clothes off and showered, and then dried off, wrapping the towel around his hips and prepared to shave. It would take a while. There was a lot of beard.

He gathered his small scissors and his razor and shaving cream, and as he laid everything out, he tried not to think, particularly not of Morgan, but that was impossible. He was so upset. So angry.

What a piece of work she was. To think he’d wanted her back. To think he’d loved her. But how could he have loved her? She was shallow and superficial and so incredibly self-centered. It was always about her … what she wanted, what she needed, with no regard for anyone else’s needs.

As he changed the blade on his razor, he felt a heaviness inside, a dull ache in his chest, as if he’d cut his heart. And then Drakon took the razor to his beard.

He had loved her, and he had wanted her back. Wanted her home with him. But that was before he understood how disgusted she was with him, how disgusted she’d been by their marriage.

Disgust.

He knew that word, and knew disgust produced shame. His mother used to be disgusted by emotion, and as a young child, Drakon had felt constant shame in her presence, shame that he had such strong emotions, emotions she found appalling. He still remembered how wild he’d felt on the inside as a little boy, how desperate and confused he’d felt by her rejection, and how determined he’d been to win her affection, even if it meant destroying part of himself. And so that became the goal, his sole objective as a child. To master his hideous emotions. To master want and need, to stifle them, suppress them, thereby winning his mother’s approval and love.

He succeeded.

Drakon rinsed the shaving cream from his face and studied his smooth, clean jaw in the mirror. He’d forgotten what his face looked like without a beard, had forgotten how lean his cheeks were above his jutting chin. He had a hard chin, a stubborn chin, which was fitting since he knew he’d become a very hard, stubborn man.

A knock sounded on the outer door of his suite. Drakon mopped his damp face, grabbed a robe and crossed his room to open the door, expecting one of the villa staff.

It wasn’t one of the staff. It was Morgan.

Something surged in his chest, hot and fierce, and then it was gone, replaced by coldness. Why was she back? What game was she playing now? He leaned against the door frame, and looked her up and down, coolly, unkindly. “Need more money already?”

Color stained her cheeks, making her blue eyes even deeper, brighter. “You … shaved.”

“I did.”

“We need to talk.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Thank you, but no. I’ve heard more than enough from you already. Now if you’d be so good as to see yourself out, and get back into the helicopter—”

“The helicopter is gone. I sent him away.”

“That was foolish of you. How are you getting back home?”

“We’ll figure that out later.”

“You mean, you can figure that out later. There is no more we. I’m done with you, and done helping you. You’ve got your check, and in a month’s time you’ll receive your settlement, but that’s it. That’s all there is. I’ve nothing more for you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.”

Her eyebrows lifted and she walked past him, into his room, glancing around the impressive bedroom where they’d spent the first month of their marriage. “Looks just as I remembered,” she said, turning to face him. “But you don’t. You’ve changed.”

“Yes, I grew a beard, I know.”

“It’s not just the beard and hair. It’s you. You’re different.”

“Perhaps you weren’t aware. My wife left me. It wasn’t an easy thing.”

She gave him a long, level look. “You could have come after me.”

“I did.”

“You did not.”

“I did.”

“I’m not talking about phone calls, or emails or texts. Those don’t count.”

“No, they don’t, and they don’t work, either, not once you turned your phone off. Which is why I flew repeatedly to New York, drove up to Greenwich—”

“You didn’t!”

His hands clenched at his sides. “Good God, if you contradict me one more time, I will throttle you, Morgan, I will. Because I did go after you, I wanted you back, I wanted you home and I did everything I could to save our marriage. I visited your father at work. I appeared on your parents’ doorstep. I spoke—repeatedly—to each of your siblings—”

“I can’t believe it,” she whispered.

“Believe it,” he said grimly, moving toward her, stepping so close he could smell the hint of fragrance from her shampoo, and the sweet clean scent of her perfume on her skin. He loved her smell. Loved her softness. Loved everything about his woman.

But that was then, and this was now, and he was so done with the craziness and the chaos that had followed their marriage.

His gaze caught hers, held, and he stared down into her eyes, drinking in that intense blue that always made him think of the sea around his home in Greece. Tiny purple and gold flecks shimmered against the deep blue irises … like the glimmer of sun on the surface of water. He used to think her eyes perfectly expressed who she was … a woman of magic and mystery and natural beauty.

Now he knew he’d been tricked. Tricked and deceived by a beautiful face, by stunning blue eyes.

Bitterness rolled through him and his gut clenched, his jaw hardening, anger roiling. He really didn’t like remembering, and he really didn’t like feeling the fury and rejection again, but it was what it was. They were what they were. Such was life.

“And if you don’t believe me, make some enquiries. Ask your brother, or your sister Tori, or Logan, or Jemma. Ask them all. Ask why no one would tell me anything. Demand answers, if not for you, then for me. Find out why the entire Copeland family turned their backs on me. I still don’t know why. Just as I don’t know why you disappeared, or where you went, but you were gone. I even hired private investigators, but you were nowhere to be found.”

Morgan bundled her arms across her chest and drew a slow, unsteady breath. A small pulse beat wildly at the base of her throat. “You really came after me?”

“Of course I came after you! You were my wife. You think I just let you go? You think I’d just let you leave?”

She swallowed hard, her blue eyes shining. “Yes.”

He swore softly, and walked away from her, putting distance between them. “I don’t know what kind of man you think you married, but I am not he. In fact, you, my wife, know nothing about me!”

She followed him, her footsteps echoing on the tiled floor. “Maybe that’s because you never gave me a chance to get to know you, Drakon.”

He turned abruptly to face her, and she nearly bumped into him. “Or maybe it’s because you didn’t stay long enough to get to know me, Morgan.”

Morgan took a swift step backward, stunned by his blistering wrath. She squeezed her hands into fists, crumpling the check in her right hand.

The check.

She’d forgotten all about it. Her heart ached as she glanced down at the paper, creased and crumpled in her hand. “If that is truly the case,” she said, voice husky, “I’m sorry.”

“If,” he echoed bitterly, his upper lip lifting. “I find it so ironic that you don’t believe a word I say, and yet when you need something, you’ll come running to me—”

“I didn’t want to come to you.”

“Oh, I’m quite sure of that.” He made a rough sound and turned away, running a hand over his newly shaven jaw. “My God, what a joke. I can’t believe I waited five years for this.”

“What does that mean?”

“Forget it. I don’t want to do this.” He turned and looked at her, cheekbones jutting against his bronzed skin, his amber gaze hard. “I have finally come to the same realization you did five years ago. That we don’t work. That we never worked. That there is no future. And since there is no future, I’ve nothing to say to you. You have the money, you have what you came for—”

“I didn’t just come for money. I need your help.”

“That’s too bad, then, because the check is all you’re getting from me.”

She inhaled sharply. He sounded so angry, so bitter, so unlike her husband. “Drakon, please. You know how the pirates operate. You’ve dealt with them before—”

“No. Sorry. I’m not trying to be ugly, just honest. I’m done. Done with you. Done with your family. Done with your father—my God, there’s a piece of work—but he’s not my problem anymore, because I’m not his son-in-law anymore, either. And I never thought I’d say this, but I’m actually glad to be done … glad to have a complete break. You’ve exhausted every one of my resources, and I’ve nothing more to give. To you, or the rest of the Copeland family.”

She winced and looked away, hoping he didn’t see the tears that filled her eyes. “No one told me you came after me,” she said faintly, her gaze fixed on the view of the sea beyond the window. “But then, in that first year after I left you, no one told me anything.”

“I don’t see how that is relevant now.”

“It probably won’t mean anything to you now, but it’s relevant to me. It’s a revelation, and a comfort—”

“A comfort?” he repeated sarcastically.

She lifted her chin a fraction, squared her shoulders. “Yes, a comfort, knowing you didn’t give up on me quickly, or easily.”

“Unlike you, who gave up so quickly and easily.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sure you are, now that the privileged Copelands are broke.”

She laughed to keep from crying. He was so very, very changed. “We’re broke,” she agreed, “every last one of us, and struggling, but my brother and sisters, they’re smart. They’ll be fine. They’ll come out of this okay. Me … I’m in trouble. I’m stupid—”

“If this is a play for my sympathy, it’s not working.”

“No. I’m just telling you the truth. I’m stupid. Very, very stupid. You see, I didn’t come to you first. I tried to handle the pirates on my own. And I’ve already given them money—”

“What?”

She licked her lower lip. “We didn’t want it known about my father, and so we kept the details to ourselves, and I tried to manage freeing my father on my own, and I gave them money. But they didn’t free my father.”

Drakon just looked at her, his jaw clenched, his lips a hard flat line. She could see the pulse beating at the base of his throat. His amber gaze burned. He was furious.

Furious.

Morgan exhaled slowly, trying to calm herself, trying to steady her nerves, but it wasn’t easy when her heart raced and the blood roared in her ears. “I didn’t want to have to bother you, Drakon. I thought I could manage things better than I did.”

He just kept staring at her, his spine stiff, his muscles tensed. He was clearly at war within himself and Morgan felt his anger and frustration. He wanted to kick her out of the villa but he didn’t run from responsibilities, or from providing for his family.

He was Greek. Family was everything to him. Even if he didn’t enjoy his family.

His tone was icy cold as he spoke. “You should have never tried to handle the pirates on your own. You should have gone to Dunamas or Blue Sea immediately—”

“I didn’t have the money to pay for outside help or expertise,” she said softly, cutting him short, unable to endure another lecture. “I didn’t even have enough to pay the three million ransom. You see, that’s what they asked for in the beginning. Three million. But I couldn’t come up with exactly three million, and I’d run out of time, so I made the sea drop with what I had, thinking that almost three million was better than nothing, but I was wrong. The pirates were really angry, and accused me of playing games, and they were now doubling the ransom to six million and I had just two weeks or they’d execute Dad.”

“How much were you short?”

“A hundred thousand.”

“But you dropped two-point-nine million?”

She nodded. “I was so close to three million, and to get it I emptied my savings, sold my loft, liquidated everything I had, but I couldn’t get more. I tried taking out personal loans from family and friends but no one was able to come up with a hundred thousand cash in the amount of time we had.”

“You didn’t come to me for the hundred thousand.”

“I didn’t want to involve you.”

“You have now.”

“Because there was no one else who would help me. No other way to come up with six million without my father’s situation becoming public knowledge.”

“One hundred thousand would have been a hell of a lot cheaper than six million.”

“I know.” Her stomach heaved. She felt so terribly queasy. “But then, I told you I was stupid. I was afraid to come to you, afraid to face you—”

“I wouldn’t have hurt you.”

“No, but I have my pride. And then there were all those feelings—” she broke off, and gulped air, thinking she might just throw up “—because I did have feelings for you, and they confused me, but in the end, I had to come. Had to ask you for help … help and money, because the pirates are playing games. They’re toying with me and I’m scared. Scared of botching this, scared of never seeing my father again, scared that they have all the power and I have none.”

She opened her fist, smoothed the creased check, studied the number and sum it represented. “I know you’re angry with me, and I know you owe me nothing. I know it’s I that owe you, but I need your help, Drakon. At the very least, I need your advice. What do I do now? How do I make sure that they will release my father this time?” Her gaze lifted, met his. “Who is to say that they will ever release him? Who is to say that he’s even … he’s even …” Her voice drifted off, and she gazed at him, unable to finish the thought.

But she didn’t have to finish the thought. “You’re afraid he might not be alive,” Drakon said, brutally blunt.

She nodded, eyes stinging. “What if he isn’t?”

“That’s a good question.”

“So you see why I need you. I’ve already given them three million. I can’t give them another six without proof, but they refuse to let me speak to him, and I don’t know what to do. I’m frightened, Drakon. And overwhelmed. I’ve been trying to keep it together, but I don’t know how to do this—”

“You and your father sing the same tune, don’t you?”

She just stared at him, confused. “What does that mean?”

“The only time I hear from you, or your father, is when one of the Copelands needs money. But I’m not a bank, or an ATM machine, and I’m tired of being used.”

Morgan struggled to speak. “I never meant to use you, Drakon. And I certainly didn’t marry you for money, and I’m ashamed my father asked you to invest in his company, ashamed that he’d put you in that position. I didn’t agree with it then, and I’m shattered now that he lost so much of your personal wealth, but he is my father, and I can’t leave him in Somalia. It might be acceptable … even fiscally responsible, but it’s not morally responsible, not to me. And so I’m here, begging for your help because you are the only one who can help me.”

She paused, swallowed, her gaze searching his face, trying to see a hint of softening on his part. “You might not want to hear this right now, Drakon, but you’d do the same if it were your family. I know you … I know who you are, and I know you’d sacrifice everything if you had to.”

Drakon looked at her hard, his features harsh, expression shuttered, and then turned away, and walked to the window where he put his hand on the glass, his gaze fixed on the blue horizon. Silence stretched. Morgan waited for him to speak, not wanting to say more, or rush him to a decision, because she knew in her heart, he couldn’t tell her no … it’d go against his values, go against his ethics as a man, and a protective Greek male.