The Greek's Forbidden Princess

The sensible thing would be to admit defeat, start the car and drive back to the nearest village, looking for accommodation. She’d do that. Soon.

But her hands shook too much to drive down that winding, slick road. Infuriated, with him and herself, she hauled open the rear door and moved to get in.

Instantly a vice clamped on her shoulder. A hot vice with fingers that dug into her flesh through her thin sweater. His heat after the stinging cold surely explained the rush of energy raying out from the spot.

Amelie turned, meeting that gunmetal stare head-on.

‘Don’t touch me.’

‘Or?’ This time both jet-black eyebrows rose.

‘Or I’ll bring a case of assault so fast your head will spin. And, in case you think I’m bluffing, let me warn you I’ve reached my limit.’

‘Even if it means inviting media attention?’

Because he knew—how could he not?—that she’d only made it this far by avoiding the media.

Carefully Amelie closed the door and turned fully to face him. He was so close he ate up her personal space. He was so big she’d feel crowded and intimidated if she weren’t past caring.

‘That’s one thing about reaching the end of your options. I don’t give a damn.’ She smiled and this time actually felt pleasure, for she saw the shadow of doubt in his stern face. He’d thought she’d be easier to bully.

‘I could call a reporter now. By nightfall we’d have a posse of them here, eager for developments.’ Amelie rested her hands on her hips, enjoying the fleeting sense of power that flooded her freezing body.

Yet still he didn’t take the bait.

She waited as the seconds ticked into a full minute and more. Still he didn’t move or give in.

Even if she followed through and made a formal complaint, or brought in the press, she’d be the one to lose. She and Seb.

They had lost.

She’d gambled against the odds with Seb’s future and failed. Now time was running out.

The enormity of it was a body slam, jarring her from head to toe. She had to stiffen her knees to stop from crumpling as she unravelled inside. All her hopes shattered and little Seb... No, she couldn’t think about it now, with this man watching her like a bird of prey spying on a mouse. She needed privacy when she finally crashed.

Whiplash fast, she shoved his hand off her shoulder and moved towards the driver’s door.

‘Where are you going?’

Amelie didn’t answer. This was probably the first time in her life she’d ignored a direct question. It should have felt liberating, but all she registered was choking misery.

She ripped open the driver’s door. They couldn’t stay here. If she was to get them safely back down the mountain they had to go now.

The sound of swearing stopped her. Low and soft, his rich voice turned even the tumble of foreign swear words into a stream of velvet heat.

‘Just tell me what you want, Princess.’

Amelie didn’t let herself flinch at his bitter use of her title. He said it as if they were strangers. Nor did she turn.

She didn’t want to see the steely face of Lambis Evangelos, the man who’d shattered her dreams and now held her hopes for little Seb in his brutally hard palm.

‘You.’ Her throat closed so it came out as a whisper. She swallowed and tried again. ‘I want you.’

CHAPTER TWO (#u4661a4f3-8bac-5adc-a446-3bf9d690a0ca)

I WANT YOU.

Hell and damnation.

Her words shouldn’t have any effect.

They didn’t. She’d just taken him by surprise. How had she managed it? Where was her retinue of officials and paparazzi?

More important—why did she want him?

There was nothing here for her. He’d made that plain three years ago. Besides, Amelie had pride; she wouldn’t come after him again.

Lambis scowled. The past was a place he refused to visit.

‘You’ll need to be more specific. What do you want me for?’

Lambis stared down at her slim form as she slowly turned, her hand white-knuckled on the door, her upswept blonde hair and stunning green eyes the only colour in the scene before him. Her whole body trembled from the wintry blast she refused to acknowledge. She wore pale trousers and a matching sweater that clung elegantly and expensively to her lithe frame but did nothing to keep out the cold.

His instinct on seeing her had been to tear off his coat and wrap it around her slender shoulders. But he’d resisted. Better to kill her hopes so she left immediately than let her believe she had a chance of staying.

‘Seb needs you. As you’d know if you bothered to check my messages.’

Messages he’d left unopened. Returning to St Galla for the funeral had been tougher than even he had imagined. He didn’t want reminders of the tragedy and his own guilt. Or of her.

‘Seb?’ How could the boy possibly need him?

Amelie’s mouth flattened. Her eyes had lost their brilliance. They looked opaque with pain, even though her body language was almost aggressive as she leaned into his space. That in itself was remarkable. Amelie was always poised, graceful and polite, the least aggressive person he knew.

Lambis was horrified to realise her eyes looked even more lifeless than on the day they’d buried her brother and sister-in-law. He hated that blankness.

‘You haven’t forgotten your godson, surely?’

As if on cue Lambis registered movement in the car. A hand palmed the rear window. A pale, tiny hand. Beside it was a sombre young face, golden hair tufted from sleep.

There was no smile of recognition. It was the numbed look of someone who didn’t expect a welcome and it cut like a blade to Lambis’s belly.

He hunkered beside the door, putting his face on a level with the boy’s. Those big eyes regarded him, unblinking. They looked even more desolate than his aunt’s, as if they’d never glowed with mischief or delight.

No four-year-old should look that way. But in the circumstances maybe it was inevitable.

Lambis forced his stiff lips into something like a smile. ‘Hey, Sébastien. How are you?’

Haunted eyes stared back through the glass. Sébastien said nothing. Nor did his face register emotion. Just that terrible blankness that stirred the frigid waters of Lambis’s soul.