Ruthless Revenge: Priceless Proposal. Margaret Way

Ruthless Revenge: Priceless Proposal - Margaret Way


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you not care at all about how I feel, Jackson?” The pitiful question left her mouth before Clio knew she was asking it. The desperation in her tone tied with the almost hopeful note made bile rise in her throat.

      It was like watching an alternate version of herself talking to Jackson, hoping he would give an answer that would fix everything she had heard last night, as if it could magically erase the ugliness of their relationship.

      That infinitesimal sliver of hope was the most pathetic thing she had ever seen in her life.

       I don’t trust you to not crawl back to him while I’m gone.

      Stefan’s word pricked her and she turned away from Jackson.

      Everything inside her shook, everything inside her wanted to fall apart and give in to the maelstrom of grief swirling within. But she couldn’t. Not yet.

      Squaring her shoulders, she turned around and let the years of breeding that she had turned back on slide into place. She had been taught by the best nannies in England about holding her own even when the world around her was in chaos.

      “I can’t call Jane today. I don’t have time.”

      “Why the hell not?”

      “I’m leaving for Athens. I have a hundred things to do before that.”

      “Athens, Greece?”

      A brittle smile curved her mouth. “Yes, Athens, Greece. Christian Markos’s wedding won’t happen in any other place, I’m thinking.”

      “Christian Markos? The Christian Markos? You’re invited to his wedding?” The light that came on in Jackson’s face was unlike anything she had ever seen. His suddenly positive energy and the smile that he flashed at her added another layer of ice around her heart.

      She meant nothing to him. Even though she had known it, the truth left her shaking.

      “Why have you never mentioned that you were acquainted with him?”

      “I’m not just acquainted with him. Christian is a very close friend.”

      “That’s even more fantastic.” He grabbed the phone and dialed a number, Ashley’s she was sure.

      Clio grabbed the phone from him just as Ashley said hello and clicked it off. “You’re not invited, Jackson.”

      What had she ever seen in him, Clio wondered. How had she fooled herself so thoroughly when everything about him was so much artifice?

      “You will need a plus one. And who else will you bring but me? It’s not like you have a whole lot of friends other than mine.”

      Because she had built her entire life around him.

      “I’m bringing no one. Christian and my other friends are—”

      “What other friends?”

      “Rocco Mondelli, Zayed Al Afzal and—” her throat clenched “—Stefan Bianco. The media is fond of calling them—”

      “The Columbia Four,” he finished with a hungry gleam in his eyes.

      Clio could almost hear his mental gears clicking, could see her pitiful place in his life extend for a few more months while Ashley gave birth to his child.

      “Do you know all of them really well? Even that arrogant Sicilian, Bianco?”

      “Yes,” Clio said, every nerve in her stretched tight. “Stefan is a friend, too.” She forced a smile to her lips and crossed her arms. “All four of them are insanely protective of their private lives and I don’t want to impose on them.”

      He ran a blunt-tipped finger over his brow, his gaze assessing her. “It’s not the right time for you to be leaving New York, Clio. Cancel this trip. I need you here to finish signing on as Jane’s financier and then there’s...”

      Clio shook her head, her gut twisting at the way he instantly changed tactics. “It’s what you said when Rocco got married, too. I let you browbeat me into missing the most important day in the life of one of my oldest friends. I have a life, too, Jackson.”

      “Do you?”

      “Yes,” she whispered, not liking the look in his eyes. “One that I have forgotten exists these past years.”

      “Fine. Go to Athens. Do your socializing and networking. And when you come back, we’ll have a little chat about Stefan Bianco. That man’s been in a thorn in my side for too long.”

      The minute Jackson left, Clio’s legs gave out from under her. She sank to the thick carpet, the pristine white walls closing in on her.

      Telling herself that she had gotten through the hardest part, she took a deep breath.

      She turned on his laptop, then picked herself up and wandered into Jackson’s study, looking in his cabinets and drawers. Her heart thudded in her chest but she knew he wouldn’t come back tonight.

      There was nothing to salvage in her relationship with Jackson. He had trampled her heart and shattered her trust.

      Clio shuddered and typed in the password to their company’s database, wondering if she would ever be whole again.

       CHAPTER FIVE

      CLIO LOOKED AROUND the ancient structure of the Parthenon and felt a measure of peace she hadn’t felt in a long time.

      Christian’s wedding last night had been the most beautiful ceremony she had seen in a while.

      Deciding to walk the short distance from the luxury hotel to view the ancient ruins up close was the best decision she had made.

      The lunch on the terrace this afternoon with Rocco and Olivia, Zayed, Christian and his new bride Alessandra, and Stefan, had begun so well. She had felt like she was among friends.

      Olivia had asked so many questions about when the four men and she had been at Columbia together over a decade ago, and Clio had regaled them with stories, glad to fill the brooding silence with chatter.

      Until the discussion had turned to Clio’s own life.

       What had Clio been up to all these years? Was Clio involved with anyone?

      They had all been only polite questions from people who were interested in her life. But what did she have to tell them?

      Turning around, she clicked a couple more pictures with her digital camera, marveled anew.

      Her raised hand stilled as she saw the tall, wide frame of Stefan coming close. June sun shone behind him, leaving his defined face in shadows. His paper-thin white cotton shirt was buffeted against his broad frame, tapering against his waist. Even though he couldn’t see her, Clio dragged her gaze away from following down. She didn’t need to see his powerful thighs encased in jeans.

      The whipcord tightness of his muscles, the tensile strength of his legs, the wide swathe of his shoulders and the way they narrowed down her world to him, she had noticed far too much of him already on their flight to Athens. The sheer luxury and scale of his private jet, which she’d learned was the closest thing to a home for him, had rendered her mute. But it was the man himself who had occupied her mind all through the flight.

      All the while she had been packing for the trip, all through the limo ride to the private airstrip where he had been waiting, it had been easy to tell herself that she would see this through.

      She still wanted to. Because what Jackson had done had poisoned her so much that she couldn’t look at her own reflection in the mirror without wanting to shatter it into a million shards.

      It was the man she had gone to, to accomplish her revenge who continually disconcerted her.

      Stefan had been nothing but courteous and concerned on the flight, if a bit preoccupied.


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