Her attempt to smooth the troubled waters fell flat. “It’s okay.” The teenager scowled down at his soup. “For school.”

  This from the boy who, two months ago, had poured over the class schedule with Tam, chatting excitedly about each choice he made.

  His mother’s gaze landed on him like a torch. A quiet, firm, blazing torch.

  All right. He could see there were problems. The boys were unhappy and something needed to be done.

  By him.

  His mother didn’t have to say the actual words. He got it.

  He shouldn’t have abruptly left Aarōn and Isaák on their own so swiftly after Tamsin had exited their lives. He should have been here. Been here to help them settle into the Vounó clan, find their way at school, figure out how to live without the care of their sister.

  He got that. He understood his mother’s unspoken censure.

  What she didn’t get, or understand, was that he couldn’t. He didn’t have it in him to be around these boys.

  He’d always noted the boys’ resemblance to the Vounós, but now every time he looked at Isaák, he saw the arch of Tam’s brows. When he stared at Aarōn, he only noticed the line of his jaw matched his sister’s. When he spent even a moment of time with either of the teenagers, her name inevitably came into the conversation.

  The pain was too great.

  The memories too heated and hard.

  Even now, he felt the howl building inside him, punching up his throat, strangling any words he wanted to say.

  “You said you were going to go to my first football game, Rafe.” Isaák peered at him, his dark eyes filled with lingering hope. “It’s tomorrow.”

  “I can’t.” His raw throat made the statement too harsh. Still, he couldn’t help it. The howl tied around his vocal chords like a whip. “I’ve got a business meeting.”

  Aarōn scoffed, his expression going hard. “Of course you do.”

  His twin’s gaze went flat.

  The boys hadn’t been like this at first, a month ago. Not angry and resentful as they were at this point. The morning after Tam had left, they’d been startled to hear she was gone, but not overly worried. She’d call. She’d come to visit, they told each other. She’d miss them soon and return for good. Return to kiss Rafe, Isaák had snickered to Aarōn. They had their uncle until their sister came back. With him, they were safe—it was clear this is what they’d thought.

  The knowledge had lain like a heavy sludge of guilt over him all month.

  After one sleepless night in Sparti, he hadn’t been able to help himself. Not even for the boys could he stay one more day in the house they’d shared. Yet when he’d announced they were returning to Athens, the twins hadn’t complained. They were eager to see their cousins again, excited to start school.

  Apparently, things had changed.

  Rafe stared at Aarōn and saw the defensiveness, the anger, the fear in his gaze that had been there when he’d first walked into their lives. The look that hadn’t been in the twins’ eyes this summer.

  His mother was right.

  He’d been neglecting a duty.

  For ten years, he’d met every duty, every pledge. For ten years, he’d been the rock his family needed when the storm hit. However, now, with this duty, he couldn’t do it.

  The heavy sludge of guilt turned to hardened cement.

  Nephele coughed, bringing Rafe’s gaze back to her. “Perhaps something can be arranged.”

  Nothing could be arranged to make this pain go away. Nothing his mother or anyone else could do or say would make it palatable for him to be anywhere near the boys.

  Not right now. Maybe not ever.

  The realization ran through him, bleeding his heart into his soul. Years ago, Tam’s betrayal had scarred him, yet he’d gone on, made a life for himself and his family. This betrayal, this time she’d poisoned him in a way that would never heal.

  And the boys were going to pay the price.

  “Rafe,” Rhouth laid a hand on his, her warm palm burning his skin. “I know you’ve been very busy, but the boys—”

  “Leave it.” He thrust his chair back and rose. Staring at his youngest sister, he remembered the hatred she’d had for Tamsin. Rhouth, of all of them, should be rejoicing that she was gone. Instead, he saw worry in her eyes, a look he remembered from years ago, when Tamsin Drakos had been able to gut him for the first time.

  The thought tightened his every muscle and knotted every brain cell.

  He’d been stupid once more. This was his fault. This time, though, it wasn’t only Raphael Vounó who was going to pay the price. This time it was his family who was being torn apart. This time it was two thirteen-year-olds who were in his care and who were as lost as he was.

  And he couldn’t think of a thing to say or do to make it right for his family or the boys.

  He turned away from them. From the worry in Rhouth’s eyes, from the love on his mother’s face, from the sneer on Aarōn’s mouth. He had to figure out someway to make this up to the twins, but at this moment, there was nothing inside him except agony.

  “Raphael. Stop.”

  Not even his mother’s soft command could stop him from pacing down the hall and into the library. He slammed the door behind him to make sure no one misunderstood.

  He wanted to be alone.

  He needed to be alone.

  Striding to the window, he put his sweating forehead on the chill of the glass. The cool air of the October night whispered along the edge of the palm trees, waving shadows of moonlight across the terrace. Something he didn’t want to name wrapped around his heart. His broken, defeated, dead heart. He breathed in, trying to push the emotion away.

  With no success.

  Grief welled inside, clogging his throat and burning his eyes.

  He missed her.

  He missed his enemy, a woman who’d betrayed him so easily, who’d walked out of his life twice without looking back. The woman who’d torn his heart apart for the second time.

  He missed her.

  He missed the way her eyes lit when she saw him. The way she swung her blonde hair over her shoulders. He missed her slurred voice as she scolded the boys and the lilt of her laugh as she dipped into the pool. He missed her warmth beside him while he slept and the heat of her welcome when she wrapped her body around his.

  Here’s where you took my virginity.

  The soft slur of her words slid into his thoughts for the thousandth time.

  You took.

  His fist tightened on the window sill and just he had before, for the thousandth time, he pushed the thought away.

  He missed his enemy. God damn him.

  But he still didn’t believe anything she’d said. Thank God.

  The door creaked open.

  “Go away.” He didn’t shout, yet his words cut through the air like a slice of threat.

  “No.”

  Rhouth. Skata. He couldn’t talk to her. He didn’t want to hear how he was better off without Tamsin, that she wasn’t good enough for him, that she couldn’t be trusted.

  He knew all this in his head, but not in his heart.

  God damn him.

  The door clicked closed.

  “Raphael.”

  “I said—” he kept his gaze pinned on the moon “—go away.”

  “I have something you need to see.”

  Turning, he glared at his younger sister. “If it’s about Tamsin being the enemy and Tamsin being a betrayer and Tamsin being—”

  “It’s about Tamsin.” She stood her ground in the face of his rage. Her dark gaze didn’t hold hate, though, it held sorrow. Something that nearly crippled him to see.

  He was the strong one. He was the big brother.

  He was the one who kept everyone together.

  His little sister shouldn’t be staring at him like this. Like there was something wrong with him, like she pitied him.

  “However, it’s not about anything you mentioned.” Holding a packet in her hands, she lifted it as if offering a gift. “I decided you needed to see these.”

  “If it’s about Tamsin, I don’t want to know.”

  A frown of determination brought her dark brows together. “You must.”

  “Rhouth,” he sighed. Exhaustion flowed through him and he leaned on the cool window, hoping he could stay standing until she left. “There’s no need to talk about her. She’s out of our life for good.”

  “What?” The frown turned from determination to puzzlement. “The boys expect her to—”

  “You don’t have to show me anything to convince me she was a viper in our nest.” He crossed his arms across his chest, noting with disgust that his hands trembled. “She proved it again and I got rid of her.”

  “She proved it again?”

  “Nai.” He glanced away, not willing to expose his self-disgust while he made his confession. Not until this moment had he ever planned on telling anyone in the family. His hope had been that Tamsin’s memory would fade and eventually, everyone would forget her. Including him. But if this was the only way to silence his sister, then he would do it. “She stole some information from me and sold it to a competitor.”

  His sister gasped.

  “A month ago I found out and told her to leave or face jail time.”

  A stunned silence filled the room.

  Forcing himself to look at her again, he gritted his teeth and smiled. “So, you see, you got your wish. She left. For good.”

  He’d expected to see triumph covering Rhouth’s face. To his astonishment, her expression screwed into a mask of disbelief. “That can’t be.”

  “You of all people say that?” He laughed, a short burst of pain. “You? Who was so sure she’d betray us again.”

  “Betray you again.”

  The words hit him like pellets from a gun. “And she did. You were right. Can we leave the subject of her alone now? Forever?”

  She frowned at the packet in her hands. “No, we really can’t.”

  “We absolutely can—”

  “I’m sorry.” Lifting her head, she gave him a scowl. “But this is too important and I can’t let you make this mistake.”

  “Mistake.” He dropped his hands to his sides and they fisted in frustration. “Anything about Tamsin Drakos is a mistake. I don’t want her name ever mentioned again.”

  His sister ignored his taut pronouncement and walked to the green velveteen sofa and sat.

  “Rhouth, I swear—”

  “Listen.” She pulled a peach ribbon off the packet. “Please listen.”

  Rafe stamped down the urge to yell or run from the room. She pitied him enough. He wasn’t going to act the fool and appear to be incapable of dealing with some insignificant detail about a female thief. Folding his arms in front of him once more, he glared at his sister. “Fine. Say what you have to say and then I never want the subject brought into a conversation.”

  She slipped a flowery piece of paper from an already-opened envelope. Suddenly, he realized the packet was a stack of a couple of dozen letters. Glancing at him, her eyes filled with tears. “These are from Tamsin.”

  Outrage yanked him upright. “She’s been writing to you? She dares to write after what she did last month—”

  “These were written ten years ago.”

  Blank astonishment stopped him from racing over and ripping the offensive papers out of his sister’s hand. “What?”

  “She wrote to me. I told you before, remember?” His sister stared at the letter in her hand. “All the time. For months. I kept every one of them.”

  Wrenching his emotions back into a hard grip, he forced himself to lean on the cool window. “Why the hell did you keep the damn letters? And what does it matter what a girl said ten years ago?”

  “I kept them because I wanted to remember her and what she’d done to you.” Rhouth glanced at him. “And it does matter. Especially at this point.”

  “These letters might matter to you, but they don’t to me.”

  “I never opened them. Any of them.” Her hand tightened on the packet. “I was so angry when she left. I was too mad at how much she’d hurt you.”

  “Rhouth—”

  “Still, watching you during the last month, I realized something.”

  “What?” He wanted this to be done. He wanted to return to Sparti and hide. Yet the ghost of his enemy lingered in every room, on every inch of his land. There was nowhere for him to hide.

  “I realized I might have been wrong. About everything.”

  “You were right about everything. Everything about her.” He tried not to shout, but the anger and pain were too great. “You were right to want her away from this family, out of our lives.”

  “Out of your life.” She opened the letter. “I know that’s what you think at this moment, except you’re wrong.”

  He cursed. A harsh string of words intended to scare her off of what it was so clear she was determined to do. Force him to hear Tamsin’s own words.

  Ignoring him, his sister began to read. Her voice was hushed, yet the words were stark and sharp. A sixteen-year-old’s crushing pain blew off the letter’s pages like ragged shards of steel. The emotions expressed were taut with frustration, fraught with despair.

  “Stop.”

  She chose another bombshell, another piece of paper filled with a teenager’s plaintive wail at fate. Every word hit him in the gut. This was the Tam he’d known before she’d rejected him. Kind and loving. Even through the agony-soaked words he heard her kindness. Her love.

  “Enough.” The harshness of his voice told too much, but he couldn’t stand it anymore. Couldn’t stand hearing one more word.

  Dropping her hands in her lap, Rhouth stared at him. “I read every single one last night.”

  “Why?” The hoarse cry came from his dead heart. “Why did you keep the damn things anyway? Why did you read them after all this time?”

  “I loved Tamsin.” His sister sighed. “Not as much as you did—”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Not as much as you love her now.” Her bold claim slapped him to silence. “Before, I was so hurt by what she’d done to you, I couldn’t force myself to listen to anything she had to say.”

  “You should have kept it that way.”

  His sister’s dark eyes met his. In them, he saw the same determination she’d exhibited when she came into the room. “I’ve watched you, Raphael. I’ve watched the boys this last month.”

  “There isn’t anything to see.”

  “I’ve watched all of you suffer because she isn’t here.”

  “No.”

  “I remembered. Finally.” She took in a deep breath. “Remembered how wonderful a friend Tam was. Remembered how happy you were with her years ago.”

  Pivoting away, he stared through the window at the moon. “I don’t want to talk about this—”

  “You and the boys were happy this summer. You stayed in Sparti for months and the boys looked so happy when they returned to Athens.” She kept at him with her relentless pace. “You were all happy when Tamsin was with you. It’s clear.”

  “That’s not what—”

  “Because you’re all so obviously miserable now.”

  “Not true.” He swiveled to face her, making sure his face was blank. “And what this has to do with those letters, I can’t understand.”

  Her mouth tightened. “I knew I was wrong about her. Somehow I’d gotten it wrong.”

  “As I said before, you were, in fact, right about her.”

  “So I read the letters.”

  “You’re making no sense.”

  “Quite the opposite.” She slipped the letter back into its envelope. “After I read them, I understood.”

  “Understood she could spin a good tale, even as a teenager?”

  “Oh, Raphael.” Her laugh was faint and sad. “After you read every one of these letters, you’ll know she was spilling her heart out for you.”

  He laughed, the sound cold and hard. “I’m not reading any of them. You can burn them for all I care.”

  His sister tied the ribbon around the letters without answering him. Standing, she walked to his desk and placed the packet in the middle with crisp precision. Then she turned to face him. “I’ve read every one of them and I’ll tell you this.”

  “I don’t want to know.”

  “Someone made Tam do what she did to you ten years ago.” Rhouth clasped her hands together as if praying he’d listen. “She was forced. Although she doesn’t say so precisely, it’s clear.”

  “That was ten years ago.” He pressed himself on the window pane, trying to appear unmoved. “This doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “This matters because I think the same thing must have happened now.”

  “Right.” His hands fisted in his pockets. “I’m supposed to believe she sold company secrets for something other than money.”

  “Correct. But you have to know…” His sister took a step towards him, but must have seen something in his face to stop her.

  “I can read a thousand letters written by her and I won’t believe one word of them.” He stared her down. “Not one.”

  “Why won’t you—”

  The buzz of his phone cut through the argument, much to his relief. Striding to his desk, he reached for the mobile and noted the caller. “I have to take this call. It’s business.”

  His sister glared at him. “Of course it’s business. That’s all you ever do—”

  “I need some privacy.” He tapped his finger on the phone.

  “This isn’t over.” She paced to the door and threw it open. “Not by a long shot.”

  The door slammed shut behind her.

  “It’s over,” he muttered before clicking on the buzzing call. “Savas.”

  “Rafe.” His friend’s voice was puzzled. “Something odd has happened.”

  “What?”

  “We won the bid.”

  “What bid?” They had dozens of bids going at the time. Even though Tamsin’s betrayal had cost Viper Enterprises a bundle, it hadn’t stopped them from continuing their work in many different areas of medical research. “Why is winning a bid odd?”

  “Because we weren’t supposed to win this one.” Savas paused as if unable to find the words.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”