“Six million dollars is a lot of money.”

“Not to you.”

“Things have changed. Your father lost over four hundred million dollars of what I gave him.”

“It wasn’t his fault.” She met his gaze and held it, knowing that if she didn’t stand up to him now, he’d crush her. Just as he’d crushed her all those years ago.

Drakon, like her father, played by no rules but his own.

A Greek shipping tycoon, Drakon Sebastian Xanthis was a man obsessed with control and power. A man obsessed with amassing wealth and growing his empire. A man obsessed with a woman who wasn’t his wife. Bronwyn. The stunning Australian who ran his Southeast Asia business.

Her eyes burned and her jaw ached.

But no. She wouldn’t think of Bronwyn now. Wouldn’t wonder if the willowy blonde still worked for him. It wasn’t important. Morgan wasn’t part of Drakon’s life anymore. She didn’t care whom Drakon employed or how he interacted with his female vice presidents or where they stayed on their business trips or what they discussed over their long dinners together.

“Is that what you really believe?” he asked now, voice almost silky. “That your father is blameless?”

“Absolutely. He was completely misled—”

“As you have been. Your father is one of the biggest players in one of the biggest Ponzi schemes ever. Twenty-five billion dollars is missing, and your father funneled five billion of that to Michael Amery, earning himself ten percent interest.”

“He never saw that kind of money—”

“For God’s sake, Morgan, you’re talking to me, Drakon, your husband. I know your father. I know exactly who and what he is. Do not play me for a fool!”

Morgan ground her teeth together harder, holding back the words, the tears, the anger, the shame. Her father wasn’t a monster. He didn’t steal from his clients. He was just as deceived as they were and yet no one would give him an opportunity to explain, or defend himself. The media had tried and convicted him and everyone believed the press. Everyone believed the wild accusations. “He’s innocent, Drakon. He had no idea Michael Amery was running a pyramid scheme. Had no idea all those numbers and profits were a lie.”

“Then if he’s so innocent, why did he flee the country? Why didn’t he stay, like Amery’s sons and cousins, and fight instead of setting sail to avoid prosecution?”

“He panicked. He was frightened—”

“Absolute rubbish. If that’s the case, your father is a coward and deserves his fate.”

She shook her head in silent protest, her gaze pinned to Drakon’s features. He might not look like Drakon, but it was definitely him. She knew his deep, smooth voice. And those eyes. His eyes. She’d fallen in love with his eyes first. She’d met him at the annual Life ball in Vienna, and they hadn’t danced—Drakon didn’t dance—but he’d watched her all evening and at first she’d been discomfited by the intensity of his gaze, and then she’d come to like it. Want it. Crave it.