Greek's Last Redemption Read Online Free PDF Page A

Theo
looked at her like that. Not when he thought such things of her. But at least
distance could minimize the damage.
    Or so she hoped. The way she felt at the moment, it could go
either way.
    â€œFine,” he bit out after a long, simmering pause. It took
everything Holly had to sit still, to keep her expression impassive, to keep up
the sickening pretense. “You want to meet with me in person? I’ll subject myself
to it, though I should warn you, you may find this reunion significantly less
pleasant than you imagine.”
    â€œLess pleasant than four years of insulting calls about credit
card bills to remind me whose leash I’m on or today’s charming philosophical
exploration of the meaning of the word
whore
?” she asked drily, her
impassive demeanor cracking more than she’d intended. She could feel the way her
own eyes filled with a furious heat. Nothing so simple as tears, but telling all
the same. “I find that hard to believe.”
    Something lit his gaze then, and she felt it like fingers down
the length of her back, as if she’d unwittingly made herself his prey.
Whatever works
, she told herself resolutely.
Either you’ll find
a way back to him or you’ll finally be free to move on with your life, such
as it is. It doesn’t matter how that happens, as long as one of them
does.
    But of course it mattered. Nothing else mattered at all.
    â€œI’ll choose the venue,” he continued, that odd tension in him
making him seem bigger again, and far more dangerous.
    â€œIf you feel like that makes you in charge of this, then by all
means,” she began, deliberately patronizing him, purely because she knew it
would get under his skin.
    â€œBarcelona,” he said softly, cutting her off. And something of
what she felt must have showed on her face then, as surely as if he’d kicked her
in the stomach. Because he had. And she could see by the glint in his dark eyes
and the harsh curve of his mouth that he knew it. That she wasn’t the only one
who could play these nasty little games. “The Chatsfield Hotel in three days’
time. I believe you know it well.”
    He knew she did. He’d taken her there four and a half years ago
for the best month of their marriage. Of her entire life, before or since.
    â€œYou want to discuss our divorce in the same place we had our
honeymoon?” she asked, stunned out of her usual careful iciness, too taken aback
to guard her tone or her expression. And for a hectic moment, she didn’t care
what he saw. Their weeks in Barcelona were the last, best memories she had of
those long-ago days with him. Of the only real happiness they’d ever had, she’d
often thought, and she’d held on to the silly idea he’d felt the same.
“Theo...”
    â€œBarcelona in three days’ time, Holly, or not at all,” he said
with evident satisfaction, and then he finally ended the call with a single
harsh sweep of his hand.
    Leaving Holly to sit and stew in the mess she’d made.
    Again.
    * * *
    Theo strode into his suite at The Chatsfield, Barcelona,
behind the efficient porter, frowning down at his mobile as he swept through his
endless stream of messages and email, only to come to a swift stop when he
recognized where he was.
    He knew this suite. He’d spent an entire month here, and more
than he cared to remember of that time without stepping outside. He knew every
goddamned inch of it.
    The same soaring ceilings. The same view over the fashionable
Passeig de Gràcia, the Spanish answer to the Champs-Élysées, with the gleaming
Mediterranean Sea in the distance. The same delicately luxurious furnishings
that made the whole space sparkle with the restrained elegance The Chatsfield
was known for all over the world. The small hallway adorned with bold local art
leading to what he knew would be a master suite dominated by a wide, suggestive
bed and a private balcony he’d