His CFO’s voice rushed over the phone, filled with excitement. “We won the patent on the nano-device.”

  “What?” Stunned shock froze every one of his muscles.

  “Nai.” Savas stopped, then pushed forward. “I don’t know what happened. But she didn’t give them our bid. Tamsin didn’t betray you.”

  * * *

  The October rain was almost warm as it hit his face. The soft mist had driven most people off this narrow street leaving Rafe to himself.

  He stared at the hotel. The garish yellow light flashed the hotel’s name in the dusky gloom. The light also, unfortunately, highlighted the crumbling concrete and the unwashed windows.

  Fitting. For his oldest enemy.

  Stepping through the glass door, he found himself in a dinky foyer dominated by a front desk that had seen better times. Within a few minutes and after exchanging several euros, he had a key in hand.

  The room stunk of desperation and cigar smoke.

  “Hello?” The man on the bed rolled over and stared at Rafe’s silhouette standing in the hotel door. “Who are you? What are you doing in my room?”

  Rafe took a moment to admire his security’s reach when given a few good tips. Within twenty-four hours of his conversation with Savas, they’d tracked this man down to this hovel. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him with a decisive click.

  He wanted answers. He needed them.

  “Are you from the hotel?” The man pulled the covers to his chin.

  Rafe snapped on the lights.

  “You.” Haimon Drakos jerked upright. “How did you…? How could you—?”

  “Save your breath for answering my questions.” Stepping across a pile of dirty laundry, he yanked an old wooden chair out from under the ancient desk and sat. He tilted the chair on its back legs, leaning on the wall.

  “What do you want?” Drakos had apparently recovered his confidence because he managed to snarl.

  “I want some answers.”

  “I don’t have anything for you.” The old man’s expression sparked to life with anger. “You’ve taken everything away I had.”

  He’d hated this man before him for so long. Had wanted him harmed and hurt and dead. Yet at this moment, there was an eerie emptiness in his heart where this hate he’d stored for so long had burned. The hate had filled the hole his father and brother and Tamsin had left behind and now all he felt was…nothing. “I’m willing to pay for the answers, Drakos.” He glanced around. “It appears you may need the help.”

  A war between pride and avarice flashed in the old man’s eyes. Pride won. “I don’t want your money.”

  “Really?” He eased farther back in his chair. “Then why did you try and steal it?”

  The man didn’t even blink at the accusation. “I tried to get what was mine to begin with. Only a small amount of it.”

  The claim was so outlandish, so preposterous, he wondered if perhaps the man before him had slipped into dementia of some kind. If that was true, he had to zero in on the most important question he needed answered. “Where’s Tamsin?”

  “How would I know?” Unbelievably, the old man’s eyes filled with sudden tears. “I can’t believe she betrayed me.”

  “She wasn’t in it with you, was she?” Rafe had known as soon as he’d heard Savas’ voice, but he had to make sure. “She didn’t want to do this.”

  Haimon smirked. “The girl has always been too prissy. Too perfect.”

  “You’re proud you blackmailed your stepdaughter?”

  “I didn’t blackmail her.” The man tightened his fists around the sheets. “I just made her see she needed to do something for her father.”

  “You were never a father to her,” he gritted. “Never.”

  “Look what she did to me instead.” The old man’s wail cloaked the room with fury. “I can’t show my face in Athens anymore. There are men searching for me to hurt me.”

  “Good. You deserve it.”

  Drakos glowered at him, yet the light of battle slowly leeched from his eyes and face, and he slumped on the bed. “What does it matter?” he muttered. “I’ve lost everything.”

  “Tell me what you meant about getting what was yours.”

  “She didn’t tell you, did she?” His mouth contorted. “So like her to be too soft in the heart to claim her rights.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “It was my money, given to Tamsin,” the old man spat, “that allowed you to start that precious company of yours.”

  The front legs of Rafe’s chair hit the floor. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

  “Didn’t you ever wonder where the money came from?” Haimon sneered. “The money so conveniently left out of your father’s estate?”

  The breath seared his lungs. He had wondered. For ages. But the bank manager insisted he had no information to give him and eventually, he’d figured it was one of his father’s friends who’d anonymously made sure the Vounós weren’t left totally destitute. He’d been grateful.

  Now he felt enraged.

  He jumped from his chair and lunged for the bed. Grabbing the man by his cotton T-shirt, he yanked him forward.

  “Let go,” Haimon gasped.

  “Tell me.” He shook the man, surprised at how thin and wasted his enemy had become. He’d always seen Drakos as a great monster he had to take down. At this moment, all he saw was a sniveling creature not worth his time except for answering his questions. “Tell me.”

  Blurry grey eyes narrowed. “When your stupid father killed himself—”

  Rafe gave him another shake, but there wasn’t any heat to it. Somehow, somewhere he’d forgiven his father and hateful slurs no longer mattered. “Keep going.”

  “Tammy and I made a deal ten years ago.” The man’s breath reeked of smoke and sickness. “I needed her away from you.”

  His hand loosened. “What?”

  “I couldn’t have you hanging around.” Haimon sputtered, a dry, raspy noise. “You were too smart.”

  “You mean I’d figure it out. That you were at fault for my father’s death.”

  The grey eyes glittered. “I couldn’t let you have access to my house. To me. I couldn’t have you following us to London and making accusations.”

  “I followed you, old man. From the moment I understood what you’d done.”

  “When was that, I wonder?”

  Five years. Five long years of working eighteen-hour days to keep the new company afloat. Not until he’d been able to breathe financially, had he found the time and the contacts to figure out what this worthless man had done to his father. “I’m not the one answering questions here. You are.”

  “You haven’t made it worth my while to answer your questions, Vounó.”

  Rafe’s hand tightened on the shirt. For a moment, he wanted his hands around this man’s throat. Still, he didn’t have all the answers. Not yet. “What did you do to Tamsin?”

  “She let you go. I gave her some money.”

  His heart thumped in his chest. A hard beat of deep understanding. “She set up the account for me.”

  “She was in love with you. Stupid girl.” A dry, heaving cough came the man. “She’s still in love with you if she could betray me like this. I never would have thought she’d be devious enough to change the amount of the bid.”

  Dropping the man on the bed, Rafe stood. He stared down at his enemy and felt nothing. Nothing except disgust. “You’ll have your money, old man.”

  “What?” Haimon’s startled gaze swerved to meet his.

  “I’ll give you back exactly what you gave to Tamsin ten years ago.” Rafe walked to the door. Opening it, he turned around to stare at the man one last time. “Then I never want to see you near me or mine again.”

  Chapter 22

  “Are you all done then, Tamsin?”

  “Yes, Molly.” She pulled her wool cap over her head as she turned to smile at her new employer and friend. “The bread for tomorrow’s breakfast is cooling on the counter. I’ll be in by seven a.m.”

  The older woman tsked, her grey brows lowering. “Now I told you to take tomorrow and sleep in. You’ve been working like a dog since the day I hired you.”

  “I like to work.” Keeping the smile on her face, she pulled open the back door. A brisk, Irish wind picked up the flap of her coat, whisking her chin with its itchy wool. “See you at seven.”

  The door slammed behind her before her friend could object once more. Tam let out a sigh of relief. She liked Molly’s concern. She just didn’t like Molly’s recommendations. The woman didn’t understand work was the only thing that stood between sanity and deep depression.

  The wind turned colder as she walked out of the alley behind the B&B and onto Quay Street. When she’d arrived in Galway a month ago, she’d been overwhelmed by culture shock. Gone were the quiet, sunny days of the Greek mountains. In its place were rowdy, laughing crowds, the last of the summer’s tourists walking in and out of the shops and pubs.

  Thank goodness she’d stumbled upon Molly and her inn within the first day of applying for a job. She didn’t know if she would have been able to handle being a barmaid, forced to laugh and talk with all these happy people. Thankfully, her job only entailed making beds and bread, silent witnesses to her pain. Little interaction with the guests right now was for the best.

  Molly wanted that situation to change.

  “You’re a people person,” the older woman had stated more than once. “Anyone can see that.”

  Another one of her recommendations Tamsin studiously ignored.

  She needed time alone. She needed time to heal.

  In typical Irish fashion, a drizzle began to fall. Tam shuddered in her coat, still not used to the cold.

  But she’d get used to it. She had to. This was her new life.

  “Tamsin.” A deep, booming voice called from the doorway of the pub across the street. “Come on, now. You’ve worked hard and it’s time for a pint.”

  A fiddle and flute, mixing together in a spirited folk song, spilled from the bar’s doorway. The music and call brought a reluctant smile to her face. “No, Mick. Not tonight.”

  The red-haired, grizzled giant who owned the pub and knew Molly well, had become another concerned friend. She should go over and hang out with the always friendly crowd at Mick’s, yet her heart wasn’t in it.

  She’d tried it once.

  Once had been enough.

  There was no happy in her right now. And being around happy people only made her sadness more acute.

  “Ah, now, why am I not surprised?” He looked at the skies. “You’re going to get wet on your daily walk.”

  Tam shrugged. “I’ll be okay.”

  He tsked, exactly like Molly.

  Ignoring the unspoken commentary on her choices, she turned and trudged down the cobbled street, past the rows of gaily painted shops with their smoking chimneys, along the lane to the old, crumbling Spanish Arch.

  The wind picked up, as well as the rain. The biting cold was precisely what she needed. By the time she got back to her little flat off Salthill Road, she’d be good and tired. A bit of toast and some hot tea and it would be time for bed.

  Time to climb under the covers and close her eyes.

  Time to forget everything.

  Lifting her head, she breathed in the salted air. The grey clouds tumbled above her, a warning the night would be stormy. Galway Bay lay before her: the waves rolling with the wind, the call of the seagulls echoing off the water, the bulky outline of the Aran Islands rising on the misty horizon.

  Her new home.

  Her real father’s home.

  When she’d stepped off the plane in London, all her righteous anger—the anger that had carried her through her argument with Rafe, through her writing to the boys, through her embarrassing escort off his property—all the anger slid out of her spine and onto the tarmac.

  Going to Ireland hadn’t been a plan.

  The action had been one of impulse. An act of desperation.

  Standing in the center of Heathrow, surrounded by surging crowds trailing luggage behind them, a tidal wave of misery and exhaustion had threatened to overwhelm her. She’d slumped down on a plastic chair and closed her eyes.

  “Why not Ireland?” The piping voice of a teenager had broken through Tam’s sorrow.

  With a jerk, she’d straightened and opened her eyes. The boy had been laughing at his mum and pointing a finger at the departure board. Following his direction, like a clarion call, she’d seen the flight to Galway.

  Galway.

  The home of the Cleary clan. The last name she’d lost when her mother had married Haimon Drakos. Maybe she hadn’t left all her family behind. Maybe there was someone who remembered her father and would want to know her.

  Frowning at her meager belongings, she’d made a snap decision.

  She’d been smart in Athens. After being unceremoniously dropped off at the airport, she’d gone right to the counter and turned in the first-class ticket for a seat in coach. Pocketing the difference meant she’d had enough cash to survive for a few weeks. Still, London was a costly town to live in. She’d be better off spending a bit on a plane ticket to get somewhere cheaper.

  Within a few minutes, she had another ticket. To her past and to her future.

  Her real father had died in a car crash at the age of twenty-three. Her mother had always said he was a drunk and deserved to die, but Tam noted a resigned sadness whenever Skylla talked about him. Perhaps her parents had been star-crossed lovers, just like she and Rafe.

  Sucking in a deep breath of salty air, she turned away from her troubled memories and thoughts.

  She wasn’t going to live her life like her mother, sad and broken and damaged.

  She wasn’t going to allow Rafe to do that to her.

  She had plans. Plans involving college and a new life, new goals. Plans to contact any remaining Cleary relatives. Plans of living a full, happy life with people who trusted and believed in her. People who didn’t lash out and cause her pain.

  She’d forget. At some point, she’d forget.

  But never, ever would she forgive.

  “Tamsin.”

  The voice came from behind her, as familiar as her own. Sharp and deadly.

  A threat.

  Her heart clattered in her chest. Rafe couldn’t be here. Not here in her new home. She swung around, sure she’d imagined the voice that echoed in her head and heart every night.

  He stood a few yards from her as real as the scenery surrounding him. A black trench coat hugged the broad length of his shoulders. His black hair whipped in the wind. Those black eyes of his stared. Sharp. Deadly.

  A threat.

  Pivoting away from him, she paced down the pavement lining the bay. Why had he invaded this place where she was trying to find some peace? The low stone wall running along the road turned into a blur of browns and grays. With an impatient sweep, she brushed the tears off her cheeks.

  Raphael Vounó didn’t deserve her tears.

  How had he found her? However, as soon as the question blew into her mind, Tam knew. His all-knowing security team must have tracked her here.

  But why? Why would he have any interest in tracking down a lying, thieving Drakos?

  Her heartbeat picked up, dread replacing disbelief. Perhaps he’d changed his mind about pressing charges. He’d signed a contract, yet she couldn’t actually enforce it. She had been stupid, very stupid to trust his word on a mere signature.

  Raphael Vounó didn’t deserve her trust.

  The seagulls called again, the waves crashed on the shore to the left of her. The wind and rain lashed the skin of her cheek and neck. The sounds drowned out his footsteps.

  But he followed. She knew it. She felt him.

  The dread morphed into fear. Where were all the people who usually roamed this promenade? The mothers with their strollers and the joggers and the tourists. Every morning and night, she walked this path and never had she been alone. It was as if there was some grand conspiracy to leave her deserted with this man. This man who hated her while she struggled to kill the love for him she held deep inside.

  Raphael Vounó didn’t deserve her love.

  “Tamsin. Stop.”

  She quickened her steps, fear sliding into panic. That last terrible night, the last time she’d looked into his eyes, the only thing she’d seen was hostility. Not once in this last month, had she thought Rafe would be thinking about her for a moment. Still, perhaps his company directors had convinced him he must press charges.

  “Tam.” A long-fingered hand grabbed her elbow.

  Yanking herself out of his grasp, she began to run down the walkway. Horror rushed through her blood, pushing her to go faster and faster. The police might be right behind him. Rafe would want to tell her of the arrest, deliver the final blow, but eventually there would have to be law enforcement involved.

  She had no money to fight the charges. She’d have no hope.

  “Tam.” His voice came from right behind her. “It’s the boys.”

  The clattering of her heart stopped cold in her chest and her mad dash came to a stumbling halt. All thoughts of her own horrible situation dropped out of her mind. Whirling around, she met his dark gaze with her own terrified one. She’d forgotten in the turmoil during the last month. She should have warned Rafe about Haimon. She should have made sure they were safe before she left for good. “What?” Her heart suddenly raced. “What’s happened to the boys?”

  He came to a halt, too, and stuck his hands in his pockets. Glancing away, his mouth tightened. “They’re unhappy.”

  “Unhappy?” The chug of her heartbeat stilled once more. “That’s all? I thought they’d been attacked. I thought they’d been hurt.”

  “They are hurt.”

  “Are they in the hospital?” A wall of guilt crashed inside her.

  “No.” A flash of black eyes met her gaze, and then slid away again. “It’s not that kind of hurt.”

  “Not a physical hurt.” Her hands shook, adrenaline racing through her system. “Haimon hasn’t hurt them?”

  “Haimon?” His surprised gaze locked on hers. “I wouldn’t let him near them, you can be sure of that.”