Page 17 of Sweet Release
Chapter Nine
Iris
This can’t be happening.Seriously, it can’t be happening.
I stare morosely across the wide hall, where glittering couples laugh and dance. I don’t want to dance, though…and I certainly can’t laugh. All I want to do is cry at the idea that tonight, I’ll meet the man who will take me away from Kristo. My champagne flute wobbles in my right hand, and I take another long sip of the bubbly liquid, wishing it could lighten my mood even a little. Kristo is off doing something official…probably checking the exits for my likely escape routes, if he’s smart.
He should be. It’s my second gala in as many evenings, and this one is far more poorly managed—at least from an audience containment standpoint. I’ve spotted three possibilities for me to slip away from the crowd, the most likely being an outside patio door that’s tucked into the hallway that leads to the ladies’ restroom. No guard is stationed at that door, and people have been going in and out of it all night, either seeking a breath of fresh air, a hit of nicotine, or simply a quiet moment. I could very easily slip out, cross the patio, and—
And what?
Another wave of misery rolls through me, taking my breath away as I acknowledge the truth. Uncle Falcone has had the right of it all along. No matter how many intricate escape plans I create, I can’t ever truly run away from my family obligations. Not because I’m more cunning than the Siccario operatives they’d send after me, either…though I’m probably smarter than some of them. But because in the end, I wish to honor my family. I know how lucky I am, and I’m deeply grateful for my life. I don’t want to live as the outcast daughter, shaming the family. I want to be loved and accepted, and not live alone.
For just a second, I imagine what my life would be like if I wasn’t alone, if somehow Kristo came with me. After these past two days, I can’t imagine going a single hour without seeing him, touching him…loving him, as crazy as it is for me to have fallen so quickly for anyone. So, what if the two of us ran far away and found some corner of the world where we could live in peace? I think he’d do that for me. A part of my heart, the part that beats faster every second Kristo is with me, knows he’d do that for me.
But could I do that to him?
As if my very thoughts summon my beautiful Greek bodyguard to life, I catch sight of him by a far-away food table, talking to another tall, striking Greek I don’t recognize. Beside them is a petite, sharp-eyed blonde, stunning in a form-fitting black dress and high heels. She holds herself like an athlete, and I wonder if she and the tall Greek are more security guards of my great uncle’s. Probably. Still, my heart lifts a little, and I move toward them, grateful to focus on anything but—
“Iris, Iris. Here you are.”
I turn in surprise at Uncle Falcone’s rich, rolling voice, but my gaze barely takes him in before leaping to the stranger beside him. Tall—taller even than Kristo, with frank green eyes, a broad, American grin and wavy blond hair that falls over his face like a movie star’s, this newcomer is a big, rangy man in a ten-thousand-dollar suit. The material stretches easily over his well-muscled body, and I get the impression he works out a lot—though maybe not in a gym. His face is a little too weathered, a little too sun-kissed.
The man’s grin twitches as I stare at him, and instantly, I know who he is. Or at least what he is.
My great uncle confirms it. “I’d like you to meet Dirk Driver, Iris. Your fiancé, I’m happy to say. He’s already heard so much about you from a very proud uncle.”
“Why, Miss Siccario, it’s my absolute pleasure to meet you.”
The man’s voice is nothing at all like the rest of him—it’s a lazy, indolent drawl that smells faintly of whiskey, and speaks of old money and older entitlement. His face changes too as he reaches his hand out to me. Gone is the flash of humor and sunshine, and in its place is a quick, bored assessment, like he’s already looked me over and decided I’ll be a fine addition to his collection.
I fight not to recoil as he takes my hand, the roughness of his palm at odds with his limp grasp. This is a man who works out enough to earn his fit body, I think…but he doesn’t have a clue how to use it. This is a man who will go to fat as soon as he feels like he’s achieved whatever set of predictably stupid milestones he’s set for himself, drinking too much and laughing too little.
Forcing a bright smile, I pump his hand. “It’s my pleasure as well, Mr. Driver. I suppose we should get to know each other?”
“Oh, there’ll be plenty of time for us to do that later,” he counters, quickly pulling back his hand. “I assume you’ve received my pre-nuptial agreement?”
I blink, and swing my gaze to my great uncle. “His what?”
“Of course, of course,” Uncle Falcone beams, smiling at the man as if he hangs the moon. He pounds Dirk on the shoulder, then sends me a delighted glance. “I haven’t wanted to bother you with it, but it’s all arranged. You’ll be very happy.”
“I’m sure I will,” I manage. I look around a little desperately, but Kristo and his Greek friend are nowhere to be seen, and I suddenly feel all alone. Refocusing on Dirk, I try again. “Well, how lovely. Where do you live?”
“On a farm in Louisiana,” he says, accepting a glass of amber liquid from a cocktail waitress before giving her the same lazy once-over he just gave me. He downs the drink in one gulp, then signals for another, confirming my initial impression. He’ll drink hard the moment he thinks he can get soft, I know it my bones.
He continues on in the same grating drawl. “We’ve got about five hundred head on the farm, and business is booming, if I do say so. You’ll love it there. It’s beautiful and remote and—”
“Five hundred head of cattle?” I blurt, desperate to do anything to interrupt him.
“Hardly,” he scoffs, a flash of irritation in his eyes. “Alligators. Can’t have cattle in a swamp.”
Alligators?Can he be serious? From the smug look on his face, he has to be. A swamp? My future is to live in a swamp? “Oh…” I say faintly. “Of course.”
“You’ll be spending most of your time on the farm, managing the family business while I travel, but you’ll be safe.” He grins. “Three hundred acres of alligator-infested swamp, totally cut off from the rest of civilization, will keep anyone from causing you any trouble. I guarantee it.”
“I’m sure—ah, please excuse me,” I stammer, feeling the panic rise inside me. I fix on the hallway where the bathroom is, the patio door to freedom. “I need to powder my nose.”
“Women,” chuckles Uncle Falcone, and Dirk joins him in a bout of lazy, indolent laughter that rings in my ears as I swing away, moving fast. I almost crash into the sharp-eyed blonde woman as I reach the door, and she blocks my grab for the handle easily.
“I’m sorry, miss, there’s been an accident outside. You can’t—”
“No!” I gasp, my world dwindling down to pinpricks of light. My great uncle knew! He knew I’d try to escape, would try to run away from his big, laughing billionaire with his big, stupid laugh and his big, horrible farm. This woman is a security guard. I can’t get out this way!
I swing around—and Kristo is there. My beautiful, strong, Greek hero Kristo, who makes me feel loved and cherished without ever wanting to trap me, ever wanting to hem me in, ever wanting to drop me in the middle of five hundred head of snapping, thrashing lizards, and—
“Iris!” Kristo exclaims, his voice harsh with worry. “Iris mou—what is it?”
I burst into a torrent of hot, desperate tears. “Kristo, I can’t!” I cry miserably. “I can’t!”