He stared intently at the picture as memories unfolded...
*****
Spain. Eighteen years ago...
He usually didn’t walk home, preferring the luxury of his limousine, but he’d wanted time by himself to dwell on his most recent success. Taking over the small Spanish import-export business gave him another toe-hold in the country. It was part of his master plan to get his hands on the parent company--a large conglomerate with connections in several European nations. If done carefully enough, with little fanfare, no one would realize that he had a controlling interest in the voting stock until it was too late to stop him.
The streets were mostly deserted which wasn’t surprising given the late hour. His driver was tailing him, a respectful two blocks away, ready to pick him up when he tired of his solitary stroll. Noise drifted out of small establishments as people laughed and sang, enjoying friendship and frivolity. He firmed his jaw. What a waste of time. So what if it’s New Year’s Eve? Transactions needed to be done, fortunes built; commerce waited for no one. A small voice insisted that commerce also made a cold friend, but Greyson pushed the thought aside. If he needed companionship, he could find it. The flash of diamonds and a bottle of champagne would have women hanging off of him, should he so desire.
Shoving his hands in his pocket, he hunched his shoulder against the cool wind and walked on. A scuffling sound from an alley caught his attention and he turned to stare into the murky depths. Nothing moved and he turned to go when a soft cry sounded. He wasn’t usually one to get involved, so he had no idea what inspired him to walk down the alleyway.
His steps echoed off the pavement; the stench of garbage causing him to curl his lip. He searched the shadows and then he saw it. A face, pale and battered, blood smeared across the cheek, one eye swollen shut, the other filled with fear. It was a young girl and she shrank back as he approached.
Greyson stared around, looking for signs of her attackers, suspicious that this could be a set up. What better way to distract a wealthy victim, than to present him with a helpless female and then attack when he was otherwise occupied. However, there were no signs of movement, no sounds except the girl’s laboured breathing.
He crouched beside her, murmuring reassurances in Spanish while assessing the damage. Her arm hung limply at her side and her leg was twisted grotesquely, both obviously broken. Greyson considered himself a hard man, the suffering of others didn’t bother him, but when he observed the girl protectively clutch her good arm around the swelling at her waist, even he was moved. What kind of bastard would beat up a pregnant woman?
“Who did this to you?” His voice was harsher than he intended and she cringed. With effort, he forced himself to speak in a gentler tone. “Who hurt you? I’ll call the police and ensure the villains are dealt with.”
Panic flared in her eyes. “No! No police! Please, tell no one. Just help me up.” She struggled to move and he firmly held her in place.
“Don’t be ridiculous girl. Your leg’s broken. You can’t move.”
She raised her chin. “Yes, I can. I got myself this far—”
“Then you’re a fool. You’ve probably damaged your leg irreparably and will limp when it heals.”
“I might be a fool, but I’m also a survivor. I will live for the sake of this little one.” She rubbed her stomach and glared at him defiantly.
Greyson suppressed the flicker of pride that arose within in him. Damn, but she was a fighter. He liked that. “Fine. You want to live for the child. Well then, give it a chance. Let me help you.” Holding out his hand, he kept his gaze steady as he stared into her liquid brown eyes. The girl hesitated and then placed her hand in his. As his fingers closed around her fine bones, he knew he was lost. Somehow, in a matter of minutes, the girl had done what others had spent years trying to do. She’d slipped past his protective shield and made him remember that he did have a heart.
Things happened quickly after that. He called for his car to be brought around and they drove to his house. She refused a hospital and barely agreed to have a private physician look at her. Amazingly enough, the doctor stated she was bruised, but otherwise fine. Greyson declared the man a fool, whipping back the covers—much to the girl’s embarrassment—and demanding that he look at her broken leg. The doctor raised his eyebrows and Greyson managed to muffle a cry of surprise when he realized that the broken leg was no longer broken.
For probably the first and only time in his life, he’d gaped like a fish, only the silent plea in the girl’s eyes keeping him from commenting on the startling phenomenon. The leg had been broken, he knew it. And her arm was fine, too! As he stared at her face, he noted that even the cuts and bruises seemed less severe, some barely noticeably. Once the physician had left, he demanded an explanation. Shouts, tears, even threats ensued before she finally crumpled under the force of his personality and explained.