Page 37 (1/2)

PROLOGUE

Three years ago

‘MR KYRIAKOU? WE’LL be landing in about twenty minutes’

Diave a curt nod to the stewardess on board the Kyriakou Bank’s private jet He wasn’t capable of htly it would have taken a crowbar to pry it open The only thing that had successfully passed his lips since his boarding the plane had been a whisky Only one That was all he would allow himself

He glanced out of theand, although he should have been seeing the soft white clouds that hovered above the English Channel, instead he saw the slope of a beautiful woman’s shoulder Naked, exposedvulnerable Beneath the palm of his hand he could feel the silky texture of her skin His fingers twitched at the memory

He ran a hand across his face, rubbing at the exhaustion of the last year, allowing the stubble of his jaw to scratch at the itch that o back to the bed where the beautiful woman lay—probably still asleep He’d snuck out like a thief An analogy that caught in the back of his throat, and for an awful ht actually choke

He couldn’t fatho But that was the problee that this day had been coreet him the moment the plane touched down in the States, Diht

Yesterday, he’d left Antonio Arcuri and Danyl Nejem Al Arain—his best friends and fellowSyndicate—behind at the Dublin Race Series and allowed instinct to take over As he’d slid into the driver’s seat of the powerful black supercar the thrust of the engine h his veins He’d followed the road out of the sh dark streets, along roads that slowly found their way into rolling green countryside It was only then that he’d felt able to breathe Only then that he’d been able to block out as to come

Unconsciously he’d manoeuvred the sleek, dark car down i only the thrill of the powerfulhiive it a name

Diht cae and, if it had had a nan and peeling paint defiantly stared down an even older church at the opposite end of the one street that divided the village He followed the road to the end, where, instead of finding a petrol station, he caravel drive in front of a small bed and breakfast

To Dis: hospitality and whisky And he was in great need of both As he turned off the ignition he was hit with a wave of exhaustion so intense he wasn’t entirely sure that he could rily into the back of the seat He’d run and he hated hi Frustration at the sha to Antonio and Danyl It hurt Diht possible after all he’d endured in his thirty-three years

He allowed that anger to propel him from the car and over to the door of the bed and breakfast, the sound of his fist pounding on the door jarring even to his own ears He glanced at his watch for the first time in what felt like hours and was surprised to find that it was so late Perhaps the proprietor was asleep He looked back to the car, wondering howwhether he should turn back, when the door opened

Theup at him he kneas doomed

She let hier to her lips and the other hand h to a s that he’d expected a small Irish bed and br

eakfast to have, but his gaze narrowed on the small wooden, clearly well-stocked bar

‘You’re after a room?’ she almost whispered

Was he?

‘Just for the night’

Her eyes assessed him, but not in the sexual way he was used to fro mathematics—on his expensive clothes, a watch that was probably worth half a yearly intake for this place, the car outside He wasn’t offended

Dimitri took out his wallet and removed all the euros he had in it What did itHe placed the thick bundle of notes on the bar

‘No, sir That’s notthat’s not necessary It’ll be sixty euros for the night, an extra five if you’d like breakfast’

The Irish lilt to her voice was a little surprising to hiht, freckled complexion that had populated the racecourse back in Dublin—it was closer to his own Greek colouring, only without the benefit of the sun she seeine this wolorious, the sun’s rays deepening the natural pro, dark tendrils of hair had been swept up into a , rather than chaotically beautiful Loose tendrils fro her cheekbones and contrasting with the lighter golden tones in hauntingly emerald-coloured eyes

Forcing his attention away fro thehtly disappointed If he’d had a choice, none of thears couldn’t be choosers

‘No breakfast But I’ll take a bottle of your best whisky’