CHAPTER FOUR
ILONAWASEXHAUSTEDfrom a day of sustained stress made worse by pretending she was overjoyed about a marriage she had deep reservations about agreeing to.
By the time she was dressing for dinner, all she wanted to do was crawl into a bath and go to bed early. She wanted to lock the door of her flat and stay here forever, rather than march forward on the path she’d charted.
She still couldn’t tell if she had exercised agency or pushed the self-destruct button on her life. It had been enormously satisfying to get the better of Midas—for about three seconds. Which was about how long her actions would impact him. He would retaliate and the dread of waiting to learn what form it would take was agonizing.
She might have withstood his attack, might have been able to take every precaution and feel protected against him, but she had this other unprotected flank—the one she’d exposed to Leander.
If she had wanted to finally take on Midas, she really ought to have chosen a partner she could trust. Instead, she’d made a bargain with a complete stranger—one who was equally powerful and dangerous and had a grudge against her.
In fact, he was more dangerous to her. Rather than intimidate her into doing things she didn’t want to do, he had enticed her. He had inspired her with his complete lack of fear where Midas was concerned, making her believe in his strength. In her own.
But her mind kept wanting to go back to that moment at the restaurant when she had stood and grasped his hand. If only she could push Undo. Nothing about this felt safe. It felt like the longest long shot and she had never been a gambler.
There was no going back, though. The scene at the restaurant had turned the paparazzi’s interest on to them. Her PR department was already fielding calls asking if their association was business or romantic.
Whatever happened from now on would play out under a relentless spotlight of media attention so she took extra care with her appearance, expecting to be photographed with Leander tonight. Her midlength dress was a figure-hugging satin slip with an emerald-green lace overlay. An onyx clip over her left ear held her hair off her face, but she left the rest loose. She added drama to her eyes and lips and slipped on shoes that were an inch taller than her typical day wear.
The doorman called up as she was moving her things into her evening clutch, informing her that Hercules had arrived to see her.
Right on time, she thought dourly.
“I’ll meet him in the lobby.” In the past, she had let Hercules up, but not today. Not for the foreseeable future.
Hercules was two years younger than she was and had once been a wellspring of affection toward her, back when they’d been small enough to snuggle while watching cartoons. Eventually, he had been forced to choose, though. His mother didn’t care for rivals, especially when it came to the men in her life. Ilona didn’t blame Hercules for taking the less painful route of allowing Ilona to be the target of censure so he didn’t have to be, but it still hurt.
She felt for him, though. He hadn’t had the chance to prove himself to their father before Apollo Pagonis had died. It had been an uphill battle anyway. Apollo had fostered an atmosphere of competition among his children, promising the most successful would run the corporation he’d inherited from his own father. Midas had been several years ahead of them and had stolen Leander’s technology to win that race. Ilona had come a close second with her honestly earned cosmetic enterprise—even if that had always been seen as a folly of little consequence.
Hercules had the soul of an artist. He had struggled with economics and spreadsheets, compromising by turning his talents to marketing, but his heart wasn’t in it. He suffered in lonely silence on the inside of the wall that separated her from being a “real” Pagonis.
Tonight, he was more melancholy than usual. His shoulders were a sloped line, his mop of Technicolor hair mussed by his own hand. His eyes flashed wide with persecution as he spotted her coming off the elevator and he rushed forward.
“Ilona. What are you doing?”
“I have a date,” she said, deliberately misunderstanding him.
Hercules dipped his head to speak in a low voice. “He’ll make your life a living hell. You know that, don’t you?” He was speaking about Midas and shot a look to the doorman behind his desk, as if that man would report him for speaking ill of his brother. “I can’t protect you this time.”
“How is that different from the status quo?” she asked with a blink.
His features tightened. “That’s not fair. You don’t know what I do.”
No, she didn’t. She experienced another pang that he might have tried in the past to help her and yet his efforts remained invisible. Ineffectual. How demoralizing for both of them.
“Now you don’t have to put yourself out,” she said gently. “My car is here,” she noted as Dino halted outside and Leander stepped out.
“Ilona.” Hercules grabbed her arm as she started to brush by. “Not him. Not like this. Midas was incensed. So was Mother,” he added abstractly.
Because marriage meant children. Ilona should get pregnant with Leander’s baby. There would be a macabre delight in tormenting Odessa with that nightmare scenario.
“Ask Midas why not Leander,” she advised. “Excuse me. I don’t want to keep my fiancé waiting.”
Hercules tightened his grip while Leander yanked open the door into the lobby and asked in a lethal voice, “Do you need help, Ilona?”
“No,” she said mildly while his tone caused her heart to crash around in her chest like a loose cannonball.
“You don’t even know him,” Hercules accused as he released her. “What makes you think you’ll be better off with him? Ask him why you.”