PROLOGUE: In Which She Gets What’s Hers

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“She can have the house in St. Tropez. I don’t have much use for it,” Konstantin said to my lawyer, in a move he imagined to be philanthropic generosity.

I scowled at him. “And neither do I. What use could I possibly have for a whorehouse?”

Penny, my lawyer and friend gently patted my arm and whispered in my ear, “Don’t let him get under your skin and make you say something you’ll regret, Francesca.”

Konstantin shot me a warning look before his face became impassive, stone. “How many times do I have to tell you that I’ve never been unfaithful to you, Frankie?” His words were slow, measured and each one nipped at my skin.

“When it becomes the truth,” I spat, then took a deep breath, collecting myself. “I don’t want the stupid beach house.” I paused. “I want the manor.”

I watched as my soon-to-be ex-husband’s face clouded over and his granite-grey eyes blazed with cold fury. “Absolutely not.”

How many times had those eyes raked over my naked body in heated passion? How many times had they scorched me with fiery desire? And how many times had they been the last things I saw at night and the first I saw each morning?

Now they looked at me with open distaste.

“I’m not asking for half your money, or any shares in your company, or anything, Konstantin,” I said defiantly, wanting to leap across the table and wring his neck at his obstinacy. “The manor is special to me. It’s where I was happiest.”

Konstantin’s lawyer, a scrawny bald-headed man called Chester Winston, quickly murmured into his client’s ear but Konstantin was never one for discreetness.

“Whose side are you on, Winston?” he growled loudly, glaring at the smaller man. “I am not releasing that house.”

“Against my advice, my client is willing to walk away from this marriage with nothing but Abernathy Manor,” Penny said quietly but firmly. “Your client, Mr. Winston, would do kindly to consider her generous gesture by the close of business tomorrow.”

“I’ve considered it,” Konstantin said furiously, his eyes trained on me, “and my answer is no.”

“Mr. Kouriakis –” Chester began.

“Francesca,” said Konstantin, using my full name, “may we speak outside?”

“I highly advise against it,” Penny chided, receiving yet another dirty look from Konstantin.

“And I highly advise you keep that motor mouth of yours shut, Ms. Patterson.”

I knew exactly what would happen if Konstantin Kouriakis took me to “speak outside” but I found myself shakily getting to my feet and leading the way out the stuffy boardroom of Penny’s law firm and into the empty carpeted hallway. Closing the door behind us and effectively shutting our respective lawyers inside, Konstantin fixed his stare on me.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His voice was hard and menacing, just like his stance.

“I refuse to be intimidated by you,” I replied, stepping away from him and contradicting those very words. The smell of his Old Spice was already beginning to make me lightheaded and weak-hearted.

“Intimidated?” he said in disbelief, closing the space between us in one step. He tilted my chin upwards with one finger. “Are we enemies, agapi mou?”

I wasn’t about to react to one finger on my skin. Or the way he spoke his sexy Greek to me. “You did this, Konstantin. And don’t you dare call me that.” He had no right to call me his love; no right to even think the word.

Retracting his hand as if he’d been scalded, Konstantin said quietly, “Nothing I can say will change your mind. I see that now. I’m done.” He ran a hand through the blue-black hair I’d clung to during countless orgasms before and straightened the navy-blue tie I’d removed during hours of hot, wild sex in his office. Why were such erotic images flashing through my mind when this whole thing was supposed to be over and done with?

Because you still love him. Because it’s been a month since you’ve seen him, since you’ve been with him.

“You can have the manor,” he went on gently, “and you can have the money.”

I shook my head. “Don’t you understand? I don’t want your money.”

“No, you need it.”

I’m going to slap this man. “I’ve got my bookstore, remember? I’ll be fine.”

“Why are you so damn stubborn, Frankie?” His lips – pink and full and luscious to the taste – became a thin line. “It’s that Spanish pride. It always has been.”

I scowled but, despite my disappointment in him, I didn’t pull away when his arm snaked around my waist and pulled me to him. Instead, I offered my lips to him as eagerly as ever, welcoming the way he possessed me with his. His other arm tightened its grip around me, pressing me into him and turning me into a quivering mass of need. No matter how much I despised Konstantin for what he had done to us, I knew that he would always have a sexual hold over me. Always.

“What are you doing?” I asked breathlessly, trying to push away the hand that was attempting to slide up the black A-line skirt I’d chosen today for modesty.

“I want something to remember you by,” he rumbled, his hand firmly on the inside of my thigh. “And I know you want it, too.”

I could’ve fought him off me, had some pride, made a snarky comment – but Konstantin was right, of course. Despite everything, I did want one for the road. He was my first love and this was over. After this was done, would he have any reason to hang around this small town? I would never see him again.

 “Mmmm,” I murmured, when his fingers began to trace the lining of my underwear. I quickly came to my senses. “Not here.”

It took all my willpower to resolutely push his hands away and drag him into the unisex toilet three doors away from the boardroom. “Am I still intimidating?” Konstantin teased, slamming me against one ceramic-tiled wall and popping open the only two buttons of my smart white blouse.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I told him, sucking in a gulp of breath when he teased my nipples through the lace of my bra. “No foreplay, Kon. I don’t want that.”

His eyes met mine. “Why not? Don’t you want this to be good? I want this to be good.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “I want it to be fast. I want you out of my system.” My eyes flew open as his fingers lightly grazed my stomach, just in time to catch the annoyed expression on his face.

“Ah, a quick fúck before we sign the divorce papers. Got it, Frankie.”

I reached out and unbuckled his leather belt. “Stop it. Don’t act so affronted. You’ve always liked quickies.”

He grunted his assent, raising the hem of my skirt and pushing my knickers aside. “I still do.”

My heart stopped for a moment, wondering about the women during, the women after…the women. I shook my head.

It doesn’t matter. We’re over.

Konstantin scooped me up, his forearms beneath my ass, pushing my back into the wall. Sighing, I gripped his broad shoulders for support, panting for air at the feel of his c0ck at my entrance. His eyes were solely focused on his hand guiding himself into me, and then he pushed into me, surprising a gasp of pleasure from my mouth.

His thrusts were furious, his c0ck relentless. I could only cling to him as he took and gave in equal measure. It was torture to have him inside me and not have him. This wasn’t making love, or even just sex. It was fúcking, plain and simple, and it was what I wanted.  Needed. Craved.

“Is this what you wanted, Frankie?” he grunted between thrusts, capturing my eyes with his stormy ones. “My c0ck in your pússy one last time?”

It never failed to turn me on that someone who appeared as stiff and proper as Konstantin Kouriakis, with his charcoal-black suits and business-like demeanor, could say the most sinful things to me. Konstantin’s filthy mouth… I would miss it.

I moaned at his words, finally writhing against him as I neared my release. There was nothing I could say to that and stupidly, I could feel tears at the back of my lids. But I didn’t have to respond. Pressing his face into the valley of my breasts and murmuring in Greek, Konstantin brought me to a sweet orgasm, my hands digging into his back as he joined me, emptying himself deep, deep inside me.

When we were both finished, the only thing I could manage was a sigh, pressing my lips against Kon’s forehead. Gently, he withdrew and set me on the ground, zipping his pants up. I fixed myself up as best as I could, ignoring the warm liquid trailing down my inner thigh. My final reminder of him.

Why did I let him come inside me? I asked myself, wordlessly going to the mirror over the sink and retying my hair. The French braid I’d carefully done earlier this morning had come undone.

“Don’t braid it,” Konstantin said from behind me, grabbing my wrists and gently bringing my arms down.

Goosebumps peppered my skin from his touch. “Because you say so?”

He released me. “We should return. Your lovely lawyer will think I’ve strangled you.”

“It’s probably crossed your mind.” I glared at his reflection. This feeling – loathing – was better to cling to than the other one: Regret.

Kon turned me around to face him. “I meant what I said. Abernathy Manor is yours, no further discussion.”

“Your generosity is overwhelming,” I remarked dryly.

His face instantly hardened. “Fine, Frankie. Be that way. Thanks for the fúck.” He turned away from me and wrenched open the door, leaving me to trail behind him back into the boardroom.

Maybe you’re making a mistake, Frankie, said the tiny voice in my head as I stared at Konstantin;s broad back.

“Maybe,” I said softly.

“Francesca,” Penny began when I walked through the door, “I was beginning to worry.” She gave Konstantin – who was already seated – a pointed look.

I smiled at her, avoiding my soon-to-be ex’s knowing eyes. “There’s nothing to fret about. I just needed a minute for myself.”

“Good.” Penny fixed her eyes on the two men sitting opposite us. “As discussed, I hope your client considers my client’s proposition. Or has your client come to a decision already, Mr. Winston?”

Konstantin gave me a long look, then turned his attention to Chester, their voices lowered and too gruff to catch what was being said. I crossed one leg over another, the feel of Konstantin still imprinted between my thighs.

Chester cleared his throat. “Mr. Kouriakis has made his decision. Mrs. Kouriakis may have Abernathy Manor,” he stated clearly. “However, she must agree to a clause that states that no man shall reside at the residence while it is under her ownership and/or residency.”

“And what does he mean by that?” I blurted out.

“No lovers, boyfriends, husbands – no males,” Chester loudly reiterated as if I were stupid or hard of hearing.

Penny tapped my arm expectantly. “Well?”

“Fine. That’s fine.” I scowled at Konstantin. “I hope you’re happy.”

He looked anything but. “Ecstatic.”

I tore my eyes away from him. “I’m satisfied, Penny. You may draw up the divorce papers. I bought a lovely fountain pen I can’t wait to use to sign them.”

Konstantin let out a bitter laugh, grabbing my attention once more. “Of course you’re satisfied. I aim to please. Just like in the bathroom five minutes ago.”

Penny jumped in her seat as if she’d been shot. “Excuse me?”

“Your client certainly knows how to negotiate,” Konstantin said darkly, a sneer tugging at his lips.

“You’re a prick, do you know that?” I snarled, heat creeping up my neck. My hands were fisted at my side and it was all I could do not to wipe that smirk off Konstantin’s face with them.

Penny grabbed her papers and got to her feet. “Mr. Kouriakis, I’d prefer not to discuss your sex life, thank you very much.” Glancing at me, she said, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

She couldn’t get out of the room fast enough. Chester swiftly followed at Konstantin’s request, leaving the two of us alone. Like in the bathroom five minutes ago.

“That was childish of you,” I remarked, picking up my handbag and standing up.

“This whole thing is childish, Francesca. The fact that you refuse to see reason is beyond childish.” His hollow words were punctuated by a half-hearted shrug that cut me deep. “I can’t force you to believe me and I don’t want to have to. I hope you can be happy.”

For a minute, I yearned to feel his arms around me, hugging me tightly, our heartbeats fusing as one. For only a minute.

“Where will you stay?” The question was out of my mouth before I could stop it.

Abernathy Manor was our paradise. Located out of London, just past Surrey Hills, it was on our own patch of land in a vaguely-known town called Parishville, famous for its beautiful forests. I had discovered it during one visit to my gran’s place and Konstantin had bought it for my birthday the following month. We’d been staying there ever since, with Konstantin commuting to London whenever his presence was needed at his main offices.

“London, Tokyo, New York, Cape Town, Milan… anywhere,” Konstantin replied, straightening his tie. He didn’t meet my eye. “Anywhere but here.”

The idea of not seeing him again was a reality now. I shouldn’t have been hurting inside but I was. He was mine. But now he wasn’t.

“Good,” I croaked.

A wry smile was on his face. “Goodbye, Francesca. And good luck. You just might need it,” he said, ignoring my question.

“I highly doubt it…but thank you.”

We stared at each other for a long moment before he broke eye contact and left the room, leaving it ajar. If I was lucky, I would never have to see his arrogant face again.

I didn’t want to be lucky.