Misery flashed through her, misery so strong it nearly made her stagger. Just moments before in his arms, she’d been so happy. She’d been filled with joy that he loved her. She’d felt she finally had her place in the world—in his arms. As his wife. Carrying his child.
Now, all she felt was loss a thousand times. It was even worse than when she was fourteen, when she’d lost her father, her home and her mother in space of a few months. Because of him.
Because she’d failed.
She’d spent the last eleven years plotting to get revenge. To do whatever it took to take him down. Before he could ever hurt anyone again as he’d hurt her.
Instead, she’d betrayed her family’s memory. She’d failed everyone she loved.
She’d always promised herself that she would be a better daughter to John Craig as soon as her revenge was complete. Then, in Istanbul, while hiding from Talos’s goons, she’d been shocked—horrified—to hear news of his death. Her stepfather had died without knowing how she loved him.
And now it was too late. She swallowed, blinking back tears. A pity she hadn’t been driving faster when her hands had slipped on the steering wheel of her Aston Martin. A pity she hadn’t crashed into a speeding train instead of the postbox.#p#分页标题#e#
She’d wasted eleven years of her life for nothing.
Talos had managed to keep his company in spite of her stolen documents. He’d tricked her into marrying him. And worst of all, she was pregnant with his child.
Her enemy’s victory was complete.
She touched her belly in shock. “I can’t believe it,” she whispered. “Of all the men in the world—to be pregnant by the one I hate the most. The one I swore to destroy.”
He winced, then reached for her. “Eve, please—”
“No!” She jerked away from him. “Don’t touch me!” She turned away, heading for the door, desperate to get out of the bedroom, away from the soft, mussed sheets that were still warm from the tender passion of their bodies, away from the scent of him that still clung to her. Away from the happiness of the innocent, explosive joy she’d experienced but moments before.
“I don’t blame you,” he said quietly behind her, causing her to halt. “When I found out you were Dalton’s daughter, I already knew I was falling in love with you. So I brought you here to the island.” He took a deep breath. “I thought if I kept you safe and hidden from the world, you wouldn’t remember. I prayed you never would.”
She whirled around with a gasp, the breath suddenly knocked out of her.
“To punish me?” she said, wanting to cry. She lifted her chin. “To claim your victory?”
Talos bowed his head. “To be your husband,” he whispered. “To love you for the rest of my life.”
His words crept into her soul like mist, whispering echoes of past tenderness and love.
No! She wouldn’t let him trick her ever again!
Wiping away her tears angrily, she lifted her chin. “Don’t talk to me of love,” she spat out scornfully. “My father gave you everything, and you ruined him without mercy. For your own gain.”
“That’s not true!”
“You never named your source. Who was it?”
“I gave my word I wouldn’t reveal that,” he said quietly.
“Because you forged those documents yourself!” She gave him a last, contemptuous glance. “My father should have left you in the gutters of Athens to die. And that’s what I’m doing now. Leaving you—”
He grabbed her shoulders desperately. “He was guilty, Eve. I can only imagine what lies Dalton told you, but he was guilty. He stole almost ten million dollars from his shareholders. When I found out about it, I had no choice. The man deserved justice!”
“Justice!” Gasping, she slapped him across the face. “He deserved your loyalty,” she cried, drawing herself up in a fury. “Instead, you betrayed him. You lied!”
“No!”
“After you ruined him, he drank himself to oblivion then crashed his car. My mother’s death was slower. She went back to England to marry and make sure I’d be looked after. But within months of marrying my stepfather, she took a whole bottle of pills to bed!”
Releasing her, he stared down at her in shock. “I heard she died of heart trouble.”
She gave a scornful laugh. “Heart trouble. My stepfather loved her. He wasn’t going to let anyone speak ill of her or of the way she died. So he and Dr. Bartlett cooked that little fiction for the press. She was only thirty-five years old.” She narrowed her eyes. “But you’re right. She did die of a broken heart. Because of you.”