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But her apron was still the color of the Aegean. Her eyes had just the faintest hint of silvery-gray flecks in all that blue. There wassomethingdeep inside her expression close enough to hate to suit him.
“I would never risk Your Girl Friday in such a way,” she said. Pleasantly. Then she hefted the platter beautifully appointed with a wide variety of offerings, despite the fact only three of them would be dining tonight.
Unsatisfied, and knowing sparring with her would never bring any satisfaction because she refused to fight back, Athan grunted and moved his way from kitchen to dining room. Lynna followed, carrying her fancy and no doubt delicious platter of hors d’oeuvres.
But when they entered the dining room, there was only one person.
Athan regarded his father. The great, feared and ruthless Constantine Akakios. Sometimes Athan wished he knew how to be more like his father. To have absolutely no regard for anyone or anything besides his own success.
But mostly, he understood. His father was as close to evil as one got without full-on murdering people—not that Athan would put it past the man given the right circumstances.
Constantine stood by the exit, still wearing a jacket, like he wasn’t planning on staying.
“Did Christos forget to take your coat, Father?”
“I’m afraid not. I can’t stay as planned, Athan. Well, that isn’t true. I could, but I doubt that’s going to be on the table.”
An old foreboding feeling, one that spoke of a lack of agency and control over his own life, wriggled to life deep in the pit of his stomach. As a grown man, he’d done everything short of leaving his father’s company to solve that feeling. To grasp his own life by his own hands. All so he could change the fate of AC International.
But his father had flipped some kind of script, and Athan knew the only answer in the moment was to brace himself.
“Regina won’t be attending your little dinner either. To start.”
Athan stood, a head taller than his stylish father these days, and still it was like he was already shrinking.
“What do you know of Regina’s plans?”
“I’ve put her on a private jet back to Athens. You see, it turns out, she’s decided to marry me instead.” Constantine said it with a kind of offhanded, charming smile, as if this new information wasaccidental.Unavoidable.
Athan stared at his father for far too long, trying to understand how those words in that order made any kind of sense.
Marry…
“I am sorry, son,” Constantine said, and that was his great skill. To sound genuinely sorry, when Athan knew he wasn’t at all. He’d never been actually sorry a day in his life. He reveled in other people’s suffering—especially if he was the one to cause it.
“It’s a shame to have to do this. But you didn’t really think you’d pull one over on me, did you?” Constantine shook his head, as if saddened when it was clear he was actually enjoying himself. “You were never quite smart enough for subterfuge. Regina will be mine, and so will the Giordano shares. And it will beyouout of AC International.”
Athan’s hand curled into a fist, but he knew better than to advance on his father. Constantine reveled in playing the victim, particularly physically. He’d had more men than Athan could count thrown in jail for the weakest of punches.
“You can’t kick me out of AC.” Athan had spent the past few years making certain his position was protected.
“It’ll be interesting to see if that holds true once I control the Giordano shares.” His gaze darted to Lynna. And he smiled in a way that had Athan wanting to move between the two.
“If you’ve forgotten how the shares and control work, I’m sure you can ask the Carew girl how me controlling the majority of shares turns out for my second-in-command.”
Athan was sure he had a million strong comebacks when it came to his father, but in this moment, he’d been rendered utterly speechless. He’d thought he’d won already.
He should have known better.
“Adío, Athan. And sorry about the wedding costs. Perhaps you can get partial refunds if you beg enough.” Then Constantine exited with his usual dramatic flair.
And Athan was left standing in his dining room, all his plans thwarted, and his father winning.
Yet again.
CHAPTER TWO
Lynnahatedfeelinganysympathy for Athan. After all, why should she? He was just getting a taste of his own medicine. If anyone else had done this to him, she would be popping marinated olives and laughing herself all the way home.