The King's Captive Virgin. Natalie Anderson
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‘I can’t do it, Giorgos.’
‘Can’t do what?’ His impatience almost got the better of him.
There was another moment. Giorgos listened closely to the unnatural silence, sensing a new level of danger.
‘I’m pregnant,’ she said softly.
He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t bear to think.
Pregnant.
With one word he was transported back to another time—to another woman. The split-second recollection of the devastation that had ensued slammed into him as if it had been yesterday.
‘Prince Xander isn’t the father,’ she added.
It was his worst nightmare—he’d longed to protect her from exactly this kind of mistake.
‘Who?’ he finally whispered. ‘Who?’ That ferocious anger was unleashed.
‘It doesn’t matter—’
‘I’ll kill him. I’ll bloody—Tell me his name.’
‘No.’
His rage ran unrestrained and he shouted into the phone. ‘Tell me his name, Eleni. I’ll have him—’
‘Call off the hounds, Giorgos. Or I swear I’ll never return. I will disappear.’
His jaw dropped and he was stunned into silence by her interruption. Eleni never interrupted him. Never swore or answered back. And she sure as hell never made threats. What had happened to his sister?
Again a reprise echoed in his head—of his own headstrong argument with his father, his own defiance that had led to such destruction. Recklessness and impulsive action like this led to chaos and calamity. The last thing he wanted was for her to suffer a lifetime of guilt and regret. He knew too well how heavy that burden was.
‘It doesn’t matter who it was,’ she followed up firmly. ‘He didn’t seduce me. I was a fully willing participant. I made the mistake, Giorgos. And I need to fix it. Tell Prince Xander I’m sick. Tell him I ran away. Tell him anything you like. But I’m not marrying him. I’m not coming back. Not yet. Not till I’ve sorted it out.’
Shock at her rebellion almost made him stagger. ‘Are you with him now?’
‘I’m not marrying him either,’ Eleni said.
Giorgos muttered a series of swearwords through gritted teeth. She was so damn naive.
‘This child is mine. Pure Nicolaides,’ she said. But then her tone softened to include the gentle plea he’d rarely been able to resist. ‘And please don’t blame Tony for losing track of me. It wasn’t his fault.’
‘Your protection officer has no idea where you’ve gone. He’s clearly incompetent. He has been dismissed.’
‘But it’s not his fault.’ Eleni’s voice rose, returning to that uncharacteristic tone of opposition. ‘I told him—’
‘Lies,’ Giorgos snapped. ‘But it is his fault that he lost track of you. His employment is not your concern.’
‘But—’
‘You should have thought through the consequences of your actions, Eleni. There are ramifications for all the people of Palisades.’
He closed his eyes again. This hurt so much. He needed to make her see sense and stop this foolishness before even more damage was done.
‘How do I stop a scandal here, Eleni?’ he asked as gently as he was able, making himself focus on her and not his own tortured past.
The past he could not change. But the future? That he could help to forge. He would care for his sister however he could. He owed her that, given it was his fault she had no father.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said dully. ‘I take full responsibility. I’ll be in touch when I can.’
Giorgos kept his back to the man in the room long after she’d ended the call, realising how close he was to losing her. That simply was not an option. His sister was all that remained of his family and he’d vowed to protect her—and their family name.
‘His name is Damon Gale...’ his head of security ventured quietly.
Giorgos drew in a deep breath before turning to take on the battle.
‘Everything,’ he said firmly. ‘I need to know every last thing about him. I want all records of him entering and exiting the country. I want to know who he is and what he does—down to what he has for breakfast and what detergent he uses. I want everything. Nothing is too small or too trivial to know.’
‘We’re already putting together a dossier.’
‘I want it in less than an hour.’ He wanted it now.
‘Yes, sir.’
Alone once more, Giorgos paced the room as he waited for the vital information to arrive. How had this man got to Eleni? When had he had the chance to seduce her? He’d arranged a perfectly suitable engagement. She would be going from this palace to another nearby. And she’d been pleased—hadn’t she? She’d always understood the expectations of her.
He turned as his security chief finally re-entered the room fifteen minutes later.
‘We’ve been running all palace footage through facial recognition software,’ he started.
‘And?’ Giorgos prompted him curtly.
‘It seems Mr Gale was a guest at last month’s hospital ball.’
‘The hospital ball?’
Giorgos was so surprised he dumbly repeated the man’s statement. But then he looked at the open laptop the man had carried in. There, frozen on the screen, was proof that this Damon Gale had breached the gates of Giorgos’s own damn palace.
A series of four images had been captured from the security footage. The ball—a masquerade—was an annual fundraiser for the hospital, and yet Damon Gale hadn’t bothered with a mask even then. He’d walked in with one woman, but had then been caught on camera promenading in the ballroom with another. A tall, slender woman in blue—and even with the mask and the wig she wore Giorgos knew it was his sister.
So the arrogant jerk had seduced Eleni in her own home, under Giorgos’s very nose. He’d had the gall to ditch his date while he went princess-hunting.
Giorgos looked back at the first image and could hardly focus for the fury rising through