Bartered (The Encounter #1)(43)

“But I adore you more when you blush.”

Damn. With that, I went from soft pink to crimson.

“Now you’re just doing that on purpose to see how beet red I’d get.” I gave him an accusing look before he reached out for my hand that was resting on the table, gently taking it against his own before brushing a kiss against the skin on the back of my hand.

“When a woman blushes or seems flushed, it sends out a message to the rest of the male species that the man she’s with pleases her—that she finds him attractive.” He paused, giving me a breathtaking look. “I love knowing that they know you’re taken just by looking at you.”

Where was he going with this? Why did his words feel more intimate compared to how he used to say those things weeks back?

“Your possessiveness will get you in trouble one day. Besides, it’s so unnecessary, especially with me. It’s not like men would dare take you on.”

“True,” he agreed without hesitation. “But they still have eyes that wander around, appreciating what’s mine.”

I considered him a moment, uncertain if I found this trait of his baffling and disturbing, unimaginably beyond sexy, or all of the above. Okay, I conceded that it was the latter option. However, as much as I wanted to admit it to him by saying it out loud, I’d rather appear less interested than seeming to be overeager.

“Maybe it would benefit you not to act like you’re an alpha male all the time.”

“I am the alpha male.”

That statement was true. To that, I had no smart rebuttal. Instead, I chose to inflate his ego some more. “Alpha… you sure are very male—virile, potent, dominating to a point of madness.”

“Ah, ma belle.” He grinned whole-heartedly. “Are you beginning to compliment me?” His teasing tone made me roll my eyes.

“Almost…” I retorted back, enraptured at being in his company.





Later that night…

“Hello?” I took the call absentmindedly, as I was about to jump into the shower.

“Hello, Iso. How are you, koritsáki mou?” my paternal grandmother’s voice flittered through the phone, making me tense a little.

My grandparents spoiled my father rotten, nurturing a monster in the making, a man who knew nothing about being a husband, nor being a father.

“Grandmother,” I said, feeling cold. She was Greek, and I was supposed to call her nana, but saying that meant she was a woman who meant something dear to me, which wasn’t the case. Calling her grandmother was far more appropriate. It was much more formal, cold, and detached, just like the very woman herself.

“Your mother has fallen ill. Come home at once,” she demanded chillingly before ending the call without bidding me goodbye.

Staring at the phone, I didn’t even have to think twice about asking Hugo permission to go home for a week or so to see my mother. Besides, this was an emergency. I knew he wouldn’t hesitate to send me home with well wishes for my mother.

Home.

Greece…

Where my father awaited.

Where Damen was.

Damn, I had hoped I wouldn’t have to come across him, face him and lie or something worse.

I sighed deeply, feeling helpless.





Chapter 24


Isobel


Last night, when I told Hugo about the news of my mother falling ill, he didn’t even question if I wanted to go home. He simply made arrangements for me to fly out first thing in the morning. And for the first time, after we started our gluttonous nightly festivities last night, he didn’t demand anything from me. He simply held me close all night long, kissing the back of my neck whenever he could. Without words, he found a way to comfort me because he knew that I was worried. It might’ve meant nothing to him, but to me, it meant so much.

The moment I arrived in Athens, I took a cab and headed straight to see my mother. Our home was huge, sitting atop a hill, but that was basically all it was, all for show. Behind it all, debts piled up, and my father’s uncontrollable spending and gambling habits had buried us so deep into debt that I doubted we’d all be able to pay it off even if I made a decent size income after I graduated from university.

There was no mistaking the scent of Athens. I knew I was on Greek soil the moment I stepped out of the terminal. It was the smell of home, yet I fully couldn’t call it home when most of my memories here were rotten ones. Apart from that, however, I loved the city—the country itself.

Even though I was only half Greek, there was something in our blood that made us proud—it was a part of us, imbedded in our hearts, centered in the very core of our souls—to share a part of something so significant that helped shape the civilization of today. Not only that, but our cities were rich with culture and destinations where the past met the present, magnificent beaches and islands, full of wonder and intrigue. Once a person met Greece—the real Greece—it never left their hearts.

Even with all this love I had for everything Greek, it never changed the fact that coming back still brought tremors to my body—that familiar feeling I got knowing quite well that, whatever happened to my mother, I was almost a hundred percent sure my father had some part in it. He always did. It was his way of “reminding” us of who was in charge, who we should fear, and who we should never fail to follow. He was a tyrant through and through. His damning views in life and beliefs was troubling, and yet no one—not f*uking one of his family—ever dared question or put him in place. They watched in silence as their beloved son terrorized his family, beating my mother whenever his mood struck him.