He kind of understood why his grandfather was hopeful he would make a baby with Calli, but still felt the kind of empire-building his grandfather had in mind wasn't for him. Stavros was the outlier, the strain of the bloodline that shouldn't be replicated.
He had promised Calli a son, but it was the one she already had.
Calli woke to cold hands pulling her into chilled, naked skin. She reflexively squirmed to get away. "Stav-What?"
"Warm me up." He dragged her into a tight spoon against his damp body. "I asked Sebastien what he wanted for a bottle of sauterne and he threw it in the pool. Bastard." He pressed cold lips to her neck. His hair was wet.
"There's a bottle of wine in that basket," she reminded, wriggling her backside into him, hoping the friction would take the sting out of contact with his cold skin.
"It's not a Château d'Yquem 1921. I need that vintage for a vertical I'm compiling. One more and I could auction it for a million. Do you want to make love?" His hand slid to cup her breast, cool fingers fondling gently.
"Do you?" She rolled to face him and ran her hand down to where he was hardening. Growing warm and ready.
His response was wonderfully reassuring when she had spent an evening growing more and more aware of how completely she didn't belong in his world. The people here weren't just business contacts, but friends. People he liked.
"Always." He climbed her nightgown up her body, hands caressing along the way.
She moaned approval, slithering against him to help expose her naked skin, opening her legs so he could nestle into place between them.
In this way, at least, she felt confident and cherished. She felt like this was exactly where she belonged.
They fell asleep still joined. He woke when she disentangled herself some hours later and pinned her in place with a heavy arm.
"Where are you going?" His voice was muffled in the pillow.
"Breakfast."
He grunted a noise of dismay. "I can't think about food right now." He let her go and rolled away.
She smirked, showered, then tentatively made her way to the appointed room. She had taken care with her appearance and wore one of her prettiest day dresses. It had a floral pattern suited to a weekend brunch, but she hadn't realized how much she had begun to rely on Stavros's presence at her side until she didn't have him to lean on.
Sadie was already there. When Calli had met her yesterday, with Antonio, she had thought them an intimidating couple, utterly beautiful in the way Italians managed without effort, then she had realized Sadie was English, but still very poised and elegant.
Cecily arrived. She was a firecracker who was obviously deeply in love with her fiancé. It made Calli feel even more of an outsider to be the only one in a loveless relationship. The women were incredibly warm and welcoming, though. They were the kind of women she would have very much enjoyed developing long-term friendships with, but she held back, knowing there was no point.
She kept the conversation light, mentioning Stavros's midnight swim for lack of other topics.
Monika chuckled. "That's the sort of thing they do. They thrive on challenging each other. Of course, this most recent challenge takes the cake."
Calli realized all three of their men had been set up to go without credit cards for two weeks. Antonio had posed as a mechanic in Sadie's garage and Alejandro had gone to work as a groom at Cecily's stable.
Calli exchanged looks with the other two women, who both seemed shocked, especially Cecily.
"This is something they do a lot?" Sadie asked, astonished.
"For years," Monika told them. "Sebastien's first real venture was a zip line in Costa Rica. He was in his last year of university. In order to get the company off the ground-pun intended-he sent out invitations to specific students at different universities here and in the US. He chose the risk takers, but the ones with money. He comes across as impulsive, but he's shrewd. He dared them to try it, knowing full well most young men can't resist something like that. He made some excellent connections as well as enough profit to start his next business. That original zip line expanded into the extreme sports club they all belong to today."
"What were the stakes in the bet?" Cecily asked Monika, clearly still dumbfounded.
"If Sebastien won, the men would give up one of their most prized possessions. Alejandro's private island, for instance. If Sebastien lost, he promised to donate half his fortune to charity."
"And all three men completed their challenges?"
Monika nodded. "Sebastien will be making the announcement of the donation in a few weeks' time. He plans to set up a global search and rescue team with it, something that's close to his heart given his near-miss last year."
He'd been caught in an avalanche, Calli learned, and his friends had saved his life by digging him out.
The conversation moved along to the horse trials that would be run today.
"Will you ride today?" Sadie asked Cecily.
Cecily was a show jumper, but she dismissed the idea, saying something about preferring to spend her time getting to know the three of them, but she looked out the tall windows at the dew-laden grass and bright blue sky like a prisoner longing for freedom.
Pregnant, Calli suspected, and experienced a pang, then turned her attention to Sadie's question about what she and Stavros would do today.
"I promised his sister I would take some photos of the grounds, but I imagine we'll wind up joining the crowd watching the show."
Calli was still thinking about the club and the bet and whether Stavros was a horseman when she returned to the room.
He was sitting on the love seat, feet propped on the ottoman. He was showered and had pants on, but was barefoot and his shirt was open. He had a cup of coffee steaming on the side table and was flicking through messages on his phone.
"Sunglasses?" she teased. "Feeling poorly?"
"Just a headache. Sebastien wanted us to try some port after we'd been drinking whiskey all night. I know better." He set aside his phone and motioned her to come to him. "How was breakfast?"
"Fine." She let him draw her down to straddle his thighs and splayed her hands across the fresh-washed planes of his chest as she kissed him. He tasted faintly of mint and more strongly of coffee. "Monika told us how the club was started. I didn't realize your swim was the latest in a long line of stunts. What else have you done?"
He let his head relax onto the back of the sofa, expression rueful behind his sunglasses. "Swimming after a bottle is nothing. We're usually rock climbing without gear or scaling vertical ice slopes. Cave diving. Whatever tests of intestinal fortitude Sebastien can dream up. This past winter was a paragliding ski event. I expect wing suits will be next."
"And you'll do it? Why? Wait, let me guess. Peer pressure. Listen, if all of your friends jumped off a bridge, would you?" She took on her best nanny voice, fists on her hips, elbows akimbo.
"Too late. We have," he drawled, sidling his hands up her thighs under the skirt of her dress. He lightly traced the edges of her thong. "Blindfolded."
She laughed, wriggling with pleasure at his touch, but astounded at his audacity. "Ophelia wanted me to go on a ride with her at an amusement park once. It went upside down so I refused. I can't even jump off the diving board into our pool."
His pool, she recalled.
"You have a healthy sense of self-preservation. Me, I've never had a reason to live, so I push the limits every time."
They both sobered.
"I hope that was a joke." She lifted his sunglasses and saw something dark move behind his eyes. Ghosts? He was looking past her, wearing the agonized look from that day on the spit. He was such a devilish, assertive man, it was easy to forget he had his own demons.
She cupped his jaw in her two hands, waited until his gaze met hers. "You have very good friends and a family who loves you. Please don't say you have nothing to live for."
"I'm not suicidal, if that's how it sounded." His hands tightened on her hips and she thought he might try to set her aside.
"Stavros." She let her weight settle onto him, signaling her intention to stay exactly where she was. "What happened in Greece? The first time."
His jaw hardened.
"I told you my secret," she reminded softly. "I know your father died. How?"
His hands came out from beneath her dress. "I wanted to go fishing and he made me wear a life vest, but didn't put one on himself. The wind came up, we went over and he told me to swim for shore. I did. He didn't make it."
She drew a breath, one of the heavy, aching kind filled with empathy for his terrible loss. Very carefully she let it out. It moved like powdered glass in her windpipe, straining her voice when she spoke.