Something settled inside her. Rafe might have hurt her more than any other human on earth, but she believed him. He’d protect the boys with his life. “So they are only hurting emotionally, right?”

  “Um, right.” He shifted on his feet and swung his gaze to the ocean.

  “You tracked me down and flew here in person to tell me this?” The anger, the rage she’d felt the last time she’d seen this man, rose inside her like a flaming volcano. Without thinking, she took a step toward him and whacked him hard on his chest. “You scared me to death merely because the boys are hurting? Because they’re unhappy?”

  His hands snatched her close, stopping her from whacking him again. “They’re not the only ones who are unhappy back in Greece.”

  Did he dare to insinuate he was unhappy? After everything he’d done to her? The rage inside her made her brave enough to meet his wary gaze without flinching. “Do you think I care?”

  Another flash of surprise blanked his eyes before she wrenched herself from his grip. Turning, she strode down the path once more. Confusion replaced the panic inside her. His reason for being here made less and less sense. No sense at all, really.

  But there was one last gift she had for her boys. She stopped and turned to glare at him. “You need to know one thing.”

  “Only one?” He attempted a tentative grin, trying to lighten the mood.

  Tam wasn’t having any of it. She kept her words flat. “Haimon is a threat to them.”

  Rafe’s hands fisted. “What are you talking about?”

  “He threatened them. Physically.” She swiveled back around, aiming for her new home. “Be aware of that.”

  “Gamṓ,” he cursed. “That’s how he got you to cooperate.”

  He’d finally figured one thing out, yet it was too late. Too late for him. Too late for them. Sticking her hands in her pockets, she kept walking away, shivering as cold reality seeped back in, freezing the fire of her rage into a block of ice.

  “You might not care about me, but you care about the boys.”

  Without stopping, she scowled at him over her shoulder. “Of course I care about Aarōn and Isaák. I’ll always love them.”

  Rafe’s mouth twisted, acknowledging the unspoken hit. But he started walking toward her, following her again. “You said you’d never leave them. Not for any amount of money in the world.”

  The injustice of the accusation burned her blood. She whipped around to confront him. “You dare to—”

  “I’m sorry.” His lips tightened. “I shouldn’t have thrown that at you. I was wrong.”

  I’m sorry and I was wrong were not words she heard from this man’s mouth on a regular basis. Hell, she’d never heard them. She stared at him in astonishment. This clearly wasn’t about getting her arrested. So what else could this be?

  He grimaced. “I just needed you to stop. To listen.”

  The bid. Maybe the bid had come through, he’d won and he wanted to find out what had really happened. Still, it was too late, way too late. There was no more listening or explaining in her. Not after a month of spending all her minutes making sure Raphael Vounó was banished from her memory. She wanted this done. She wanted him gone.

  “Tam—”

  “The boys are almost fourteen.” Turning back, she noted she was close to her flat and hastened her stride. Close to safety. If he tried to follow her in, she’d call the police. Let him feel the fear of being detained for once. “They’re fine without me.”

  The drizzle turned to a soaking rain, dripping down on her eyelashes, interweaving with the stupid tears welling in her eyes once more.

  “It’s not only the boys who are unhappy.” His dark voice came again. “It’s Rhouth.”

  Surprise made her pause, her pace slowing. She shouldn’t take the bait. Whatever Rafe was doing here, she shouldn’t care. But she couldn’t block the question before blurting it out. “What do you mean by that? Rhouth hates me.”

  “No, she doesn’t.” His firm grip came again on Tam’s elbow and this time she allowed him to turn her to face him because she’d managed to control her emotions and tears. She didn’t want to show him any weakness or fear.

  His black eyes shone with purpose, a purpose she couldn’t understand.

  “You came here to Ireland to tell me Rhouth’s unhappy?” The anger flickered and fought against her unwanted curiosity.

  He ignored her question. “She read your letters.”

  “My…letters.” She yanked her arm from his grip, not wanting his touch. She didn’t leave, though. Not yet. Curiosity ate away at her resolve to get away from him once and for all. “What letters?”

  “The letters you wrote ten years ago.”

  The memories came back with searing pain. The time and effort she’d put into each missive, hoping Rhouth would understand what she was saying between the words. That she’d done what she had to. That she’d needed to be with the boys. That she’d taken the only road she could at the time. Haimon had made her promise not to contact Rafe and not to tell anyone about their deal, but writing to Rafe’s sister had been her one attempt at keeping her dreams alive. She remembered the endless days waiting for a reply and the sorrow she’d felt when there’d never been a response.

  “She just read them now?” Her laugh choked out, hoarse and mocking. “And what? I’m supposed to be grateful she’s feeling a bit guilty because of them?”

  “I read them, too.” His skin appeared white in contrast to the grey of the clouds and sea. There was something in his eyes she couldn’t define. Something wild and out-of-control. “Every single one.”

  “Really?” Another choked laugh escaped her. “I can’t think why.”

  Rafe glanced away, as if unable to meet her gaze any longer. The silence between them grew, only filled with the rage of the building storm swirling around them.

  She shouldn’t be standing here, getting drenched, giving this man an iota of her attention. He didn’t deserve anything from her, not anymore. The rage returned, storming inside her, overwhelming the unwanted curiosity. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Wait.” He jerked his head around to meet her withering stare. The wild look had turned into a determined one. “I have something for you.”

  “An arrest warrant?” she spat.

  “No.” He frowned, a look of frustration crossing his face. “Of course not. Don’t be crazy.”

  The memory of their last confrontation swept through her. He’d accused her of being crazy then too. The rage boiled inside her. “I’m being crazy? The last time I saw you, you threatened exactly that. An arrest warrant. Now I’m being—”

  “That was the past.” His hand slashed in front of him as his eyes grew dark with aggravation. “Not now.”

  Now was even worse than the past.

  Now meant she had more memories of him. More memories of how his hair curled around his ears and his mouth firmed when he was troubled and his eyes shone with—

  “Tamsin.” He rammed his hands back into his pockets. His gaze zeroed in on hers and what she saw…she couldn’t, wouldn’t define what she saw. “Listen to me.”

  She’d had more than a month. A month away from his heat and touch. A month where, damn him, she’d begun to heal. Now she’d have to start all over.

  More nights crying into her pillow before falling into an exhausted sleep.

  More time staring blankly down at the bread as she kneaded, remembering.

  More pain and anguish.

  “No.” She jerked around and marched across the street and up the steps to the front door of her building.

  “Please, Tammy.” His voice was choked and hoarse. “Please.”

  Chapter 23

  The plea stopped her.

  A rush of memories, ten-year-old memories, flooded her mind and heart. He’d said the exact same thing before she’d walked away the last time. He’d said the words in the exact same way too. Low and guttural and anguished. And the words made her do the exact same thing.

  She burst into tears.

  But this time, this time she wasn’t far enough away from him.

  This time he heard her.

  “Tammy.” Strong arms came around her to hug her, her back to his front.

  She felt the rough graze of his unshaven chin by her ear and his breath, warm and moist, hit her wet cheek. His strength surrounded her; his long, masculine fingers tightening around her waist as he held her. “Let me go,” she managed to gasp through her tears.

  “Never.” He stated the word with precision, every vowel elongated as if he needed to examine each sound to make sure it was correct.

  The word shocked her tears from her eyes. She stiffened in his arms. “I don’t know what game you’re playing and I don’t care.”

  “Tam—”

  “Let me go.”

  Her landlady banged open the front door to peer into the gloom. “Is that you, Tamsin?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Needham.” Her elbow poked at his hard stomach, but the arrogant man didn’t budge.

  “Oh, you have a young man.” The old lady grinned, her glasses flashing in the street’s light. “How delightful.”

  Rafe huffed a quiet laugh behind her.

  The rage threatened to contaminate her heart forever. “No, he’s not—”

  “Well, you’d best get out of this rain.” Mrs. Needham opened the door wide and waved at them. “Best not to get any wetter than you both are now.”

  “Good idea,” he murmured.

  She could make a scene. She could call the police.

  She could tell her landlady she wanted nothing to do with this man.

  Turning in his arms, she pushed on his chest, placing some distance between them. Tam chanced a glance at his face. The black eyes sparkled with lingering amusement, but they also sparked with a resolute resolve.

  Raphael Vounó wasn’t going to leave until he’d had his say.

  “Please.” His one word was quiet yet insistent.

  She didn’t want this man in her place. However, she had a chance to grab something she’d mourned about for the last month. “All right,” she said, in a low voice. “I’ll give you five minutes.”

  A gleam of immediate joy danced in his eyes. “I’ll need more—”

  “Five minutes.” She poked once more and got her release from his grasp. “In return—”

  “Tam.” Joy leeched away, turning the black into muddy despair. “You don’t have to bargain with me. Ever again.”

  “In return, you let me keep in touch with the boys.” She ignored his sad sigh. “I want it in writing in front of a notary.”

  “Iēsoús.” Once upon a time, the look he shot her would have made her crumble into a hopeless heap of compassion. Now she wouldn’t be moved.

  “Are you coming inside then?” Her landlady rattled the door. “It’s getting awfully cold in here.”

  “That’s the deal.” Tamsin turned towards the building. “Take it or leave it.”

  “Okay,” he muttered from behind.

  Mrs. Needham flapped around them as they stepped into the foyer. The blue-padded steps led to the second floor where Tam’s studio flat fronted the street.

  “Have some hot tea,” the old lady chimed in from the bottom of the stairs.

  “Have a good night, Mrs. Needham.” Tamsin unlocked the solid wooden door.

  Rafe walked in, filling the small flat with his presence. Her heart sank. This was far worse than what she’d imagined moments ago. Now her memories would be filled with him standing here, in her new home, poisoning every attempt she’d make to forget him. This would be so hard. Still, in compensation, she’d be able to write to the boys. That was worth enduring this man’s presence in her home for five minutes.

  “Say what you have to say and then leave.” The door slammed behind her.

  He turned from his contemplation of her living quarters, his hands, again, in his pockets. “Your place is small.”

  “So what?” Pulling her wool hat off, she plunked it onto the heater. “I don’t need a grand mansion to be happy. This works for me.”

  Striding to the bay window, he gazed down on the rain-drenched street. “Nice view.”

  “Rafe.” Just saying his name hurt. The realization only fueled her temper. “You didn’t come to Ireland to comment on my flat.”

  “No, I didn’t.” He glanced at her and then away. For the first time, she really noticed the action. Noted how unsure he seemed. He didn’t hold himself with his usual confidence. Instead, his shoulders were hunched, his head down. Raphael Vounó had never found it difficult to look her straight in the eye before.

  Curious.

  And troubling at the same time.

  She might hate this man, she might want him to hurt, yet she still cared, too. The mix of emotions inside nauseated her.

  She wanted this over. “Your five minutes are almost done.”

  “How about some tea?”

  She couldn’t believe what she saw in front of her. Rafe didn’t like tea. Rafe always got straight to the point. Rafe didn’t shuffle his feet as if uncertain of where he stood.

  “You hate tea.” She jerked off her coat, trying to distract herself from her returning curiosity. Slinging it on the hook by the door, she stomped into the tiny kitchen. All right. She’d make some tea. It didn’t matter what he wanted; she wanted some. The pot slammed onto the stove.

  “You have a right to be angry.” His pensive words drifted across the room.

  A quick glance told her he wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he continued to gaze at the blustery sea.

  “I don’t need you to tell me what my rights are or not.” Scowling at the teapot, waiting for it to whistle, Tam focused on getting him to spit out whatever was inside him so she could get him outside. Outside of her flat and outside of herself. “You told me you have something for me.”

  From the corner of her eye, she watched as he turned from the window. Opening his coat, he plucked out a small, silk bag. The silk was new and shiny, a blue-grey shimmering in the pale light of the overhead fixture.

  “I forgot to give this to you.” He looked at her finally, his mouth tight. “That night.”

  The teapot’s sharp whistle broke the silence that followed.

  That night. The night he’d destroyed her. She focused on getting two cups down from the upper shelf and dropping the tea bags into them. The hot water steamed over her face as she poured, making the heat of her remembered rage even hotter.

  Gazing across at him, she asked, “Do you want cream or sugar?”

  His eyes widened and she realized she’d said it in her usual way. Her pleasant, friendly, aiming-to-please way. Not because she felt any of those emotions toward this man, but because of her stupid habit of trying to make everyone around her happy. The realization made her angry at herself as well as him.

  Grabbing her cup, she marched to her futon and sat. “The milk’s in the fridge if you want it.”

  He ignored the curt invite and his tea. Instead, he walked over and placed the small bag on the cheap plywood coffee table she’d found in the garbage when she’d first moved in. “It’s yours.”

  Her unwanted curiosity rose inside. Figuring if she opened the bag, he’d be one step closer to leaving, she plunked her cup onto the table and picked the bag up. The blue stones and pearls twinkled as they fell into her hand. Her father’s only gift to her. An unwelcome tear slid down her cheek, so she didn’t look at him. “You came all this way to deliver this?”

  “I, ah…” He coughed.

  “You could have just as easily mailed it to me.”

  Silence met her words. Since she now had her tears under control, she raised her head and frowned at him.

  His hands were fisted in his pockets, his long frame taut. The expression on his face was one she’d never seen before on him; a mix of indecision and fear. Those black eyes were filled with the wild look she’d noticed only minutes before outside.

  “I have something more for you,” he croaked.

  Leaning back on the futon, she waited. She didn’t know how to handle this version of Raphael Vounó. So she waited.

  He jerked his hands from his pockets and opened his coat again. Withdrawing a large envelope, he placed it carefully on the table in front of her. A sudden spark of amusement lit inside her. An absurd reaction to the circumstances, still, the way he placed both items before her as if he were a supplicant was hard to take in.

  Raphael Vounó. A supplicant.

  Beware of a Greek bearing gifts.

  The old motto rang with truth, yet her curiosity welled inside once more.

  “Open it.” There was a thread of arrogance in his words: an order, a command.

  She straightened her spine, anger roaring back. “Your time is—”

  “Please.”

  The hoarse plea was too much for her damn tender heart. Tam grabbed the envelope. Inside was a sheaf of papers with tons of legalese filling the pages.

  “I don’t understand.” She met his intent gaze with her confused one. “What are these?”

  “Read the bottom of the first page.”

  She read and read again. Her mind reeled at what the words said. The words made no sense. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m signing Viper Enterprises over to you. You’re the new owner.”

  His claims crashed into the room and filled it with a fire of stark disbelief. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise as if she were in an electric storm. A boom of thunder outside reinforced the sense the world had been thrown into chaos.

  Or this man in front of her had gone mad. “Are you nuts?”

  “No.” His mouth’s edge turned down in a wry turn. “I figure your money started the whole thing, so you’re the rightful owner.”

  “How?” Shock blasted her disbelief into a thousand pieces. Her hands tightened on the papers. “How do you know—?”

  “Why didn’t you throw this in my face when we met again?” He frowned, a quizzical look crossing his face. “I would have.”

  “I’m not you.” Sometimes, she wished she did have a heart as hard as steel. She could have stuck this knowledge into him like an infected dart right at the very beginning and let it eat away inside of him.