The Greek's Pleasurable Revenge. Andie Brock

from his brow. ‘You’ll be on one of them, if you know what’s good for you.’

      Lukas gave a gruff laugh. ‘Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you.’

      ‘You have brought ruination and disgrace to our family, Kalanos, but Thalassa is the one asset my father managed to protect. You may own half of it now, but not for much longer.’

      ‘Is that right?’

      ‘Yes. We intend to make a claim for your half of the island as compensation for the financial ruin you and your father caused us. Our lawyers are confident we will win the case.’ Yiannis struggled to keep his voice firm.

      ‘We?’

      ‘My brother and I. And Calista, of course.’

      At the mention of her name Lukas released his arm from her waist, turning to give Calista a stare of such revulsion that it churned her stomach. She had no idea what Yiannis was talking about. She had never agreed to instruct a lawyer to sue for compensation. She wanted nothing to do with Thalassa—even the small share she assumed she’d inherit now, on Aristotle’s death. She certainly had no intention of fighting Lukas for his half.

      ‘Well, good luck with that.’ Narrowing his eyes, Lukas turned away, seemingly bored with the subject. ‘Actually, no.’ Turning back, he fixed Yiannis with a punishing stare. ‘You might as well know—both of you. The island of Thalassa now belongs to me. All of it.’

      ‘Yeah, right.’ Christos had joined them, positioning himself between Yiannis and Lukas, sweating profusely. ‘Do you take us for idiots, Kalanos?’

      Lukas’s pursed lips gave an almost imperceptible twitch.

      ‘You are obviously lying.’

      ‘I’m afraid not.’ Lukas removed a tiny speck of dust from the sleeve of his immaculate suit. ‘I’m only surprised your lawyers didn’t tell you. I managed to acquire your father’s half of the island some time ago.’

      Christos’s face turned puce, but it was Yiannis who spoke. ‘That can’t be true. Aristotle would never have sold to you.’

      ‘He didn’t need to. When he and my father bought the island they registered it in their wives’ names. A touching gesture, don’t you think? Or am I being naive? Perhaps it was simply a tax dodge? Either way, it has proved very convenient. My half, of course, came to me upon the death of my mother—God rest her soul. Acquiring your half was simply a matter of tracking down Aristotle’s first wife and making her an offer she couldn’t refuse. I can’t tell you how grateful she was. Especially as she had no idea she owned it.’

      ‘But you have been in prison for years. How could you possibly have done this?’

      ‘You’d be surprised. It turns out that you can make some very useful contacts inside. Very useful indeed.’ Lukas raised a dark brow. ‘I now know just the man for any given job. And I do mean any.’

      Yiannis visibly paled beneath his swarthy skin. In desperation he turned to Calista, but she only gave a small shrug. She didn’t give a damn who owned the island. She just wanted to get off it as fast as she could.

      Christos, meanwhile, always blessed with more brawn than brains, had raised his fists in a pathetic show of aggression. ‘You don’t scare me, Kalanos. I’ll take you on any time you like.’

      ‘Didn’t I hear you say you had a boat to catch?’ With a display of supreme indifference Lukas treated him to an icily withering look.

      Christos took a step forward, but Yiannis grabbed hold of his arm, pulling him away to stop him from getting himself into real trouble. As he twisted sideways his feet got caught in the green tarpaulin covering the fresh earth around the grave and they both stumbled, lurching dangerously towards the grave itself, before righting themselves at the last moment.

      Yiannis tugged at his brother’s arm again, desperate to get him away from humiliation, or a punch on the nose, or both.

      ‘You haven’t heard the last of this, Kalanos!’ Christos shouted over his shoulder as his brother hastily manoeuvred them away, weaving between the overgrown graves. ‘You are going to pay for this.’

      Calista watched in surprise as her half-brothers disappeared. Weren’t they supposed to have been staying a couple of nights on the island to go through their father’s papers and sort out his affairs? Clearly that was no longer happening. Neither did they seem bothered about leaving her behind to deal with Lukas. It was obviously every man for himself—or herself.

      But it did mean that there was nothing to keep her there any more. Unless she counted the formidably dark figure that was still rooted ominously by her side.

      Realising she was still clutching the single lily in her hand, she stepped towards the grave and let it drop, whispering a silent goodbye to her father. A lump lodged in her throat. Not just for her father—her relationship with him had always been too fraught, too blighted by anguish and tragedy for simple grief to sum it up—but because Calista knew she was not just saying goodbye to Aristotle but to Thalassa, her childhood, her Greek heritage. This was the end of an era.

      She turned to go, immediately coming up against the solid wall of Lukas’s chest. Adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder, she went to move past him. ‘If you will excuse me I need to be going.’

      ‘Going where, exactly?’

      ‘I’m leaving the island with the others, of course. There is no point in me staying here any longer.’

      ‘Oh, but there is.’ With lightning speed Lukas closed his hand around her wrist, bringing her back up against his broad chest. ‘You, agape, are going nowhere.’

      Calista flinched, her whole body going into a kind of panicky meltdown that sent a flood of fear rippling down to her core. Bizarrely, it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sensation.

      ‘What do you mean by that?’

      ‘Just what I say. You and I have unfinished business. And you won’t be leaving Thalassa until I say so.’

      ‘So what do you intend to do? Hold me prisoner?’

      ‘If necessary, yes.’

      ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

      She hardened her voice as best she could, determined that she would stand up to this new, frighteningly formidable Lukas. Pulling away, she looked pointedly at her wrist until he released it.

      ‘Anyway, what is this unfinished business? As far as I’m concerned we have nothing to discuss.’

      Her nails dug into her palms at the blatant lie. But he couldn’t be talking about Effie. If he had found out about his daughter he would have blown her whole world apart by now.

      ‘Don’t tell me you have forgotten, Calista. Because I certainly haven’t.’

      Dark, dark eyes looked down on her, glittering with intent.

      ‘Let’s just say the image of you lying semi-naked on my sofa, your legs wrapped around my back, has stayed with me all these years. I’ve probably conjured it up more times than I should have. Prison has that effect on you. You have to take your pleasures where you can.’

      Callie blushed to the roots of her hair, grateful for the black veil that still partially obscured her mortified face. That was until Lukas gently, almost reverentially, lifted the fine lace and arranged it back over her head. For one bizarre moment she thought he was going to kiss her, as if she were some sort of dark bride.

      ‘There—that’s better.’

      He stared at her, drinking her in like a man with the fiercest thirst. She held her breath. Each testosterone-fuelled second seemed longer than the last. She shifted beneath his astonishingly powerful scrutiny, her skin prickling, her heart pounding in her ribcage.

      ‘I had forgotten how beautiful you are, Calista.’