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faded.
    “Do you think I will be pleased to know that you are the kind of man who does not spare a thought for his victims?”
    Cleon gulped. “I didn’t mean it that way. I just—”
    “Shut up,” Damen snapped. He hauled the hefty man away from the windows, his rage lending him strength, enabling him to easily toss Cleon over his desk.
    The heavy man fell to the floor in a loud thump as pens and papers from his desk rained everywhere.
    Cleon heard something drop next to him with a clattering sound. When he opened his eyes, he saw that it was a sharp knife, sharp enough to cut through flesh.
    “Take it,” Damen said coldly. “I want you to fight me with the knife. It is the only way I will have any satisfaction beating you into a pulp.”
    Cleon did not hesitate. He grabbed the knife and, pushing himself to his feet, he lunged wildly at Damen. Panic made him move faster than usual, allowing him to slice the flesh of Damen’s left thigh open. He laughed maniacally, thinking he had won, but his laughter died when he saw not a flicker of expression pass through Damen’s face.
    He realized then that Damen Leventis really did mean every word he’d said.
    The other man started for him.
    Cleon’s hold on the knife shook. “Don’t come near me or I’m going to kill you.”
    Damen was just a step away from him now.
    Again, panic struck and he lunged forward, going for Damen’s throat, but Damen met Cleon’s thrust with his own hand.  
    Pain didn’t seem to register with the other man as he held Cleon’s knife by its blade, its sharp side pressing hard into his palm. Blood started to flow, endlessly, but Damen didn’t seem to feel a thing.
    Cleon whitened. “S-stop—”
    Damen’s bleeding hand moved again, so fast that the next thing Cleon knew, Damen managed to pull the knife out of his hold and throw it away.
    He looked at his attacker wildly. “No! Please! I’m begging you—”
    A fist smashed into his face, hard enough to throw Cleon back to the floor. Before he could gasp out in pain, the same fist drove into his face. Again. And again. And again.
    ****
    The next day, shock rippled through Greece’s high society as they read the headlines emblazoned in every newspaper.  
    A certain middle-aged professor named Cleon Frangos had been arrested for subjecting women ranging from ages 13 to 34 to sexual harassment and, in some of the worse cases, repeated incidents of rape. His last victim, the only one who had managed to fight him off, was allegedly Mairi Tanner, the woman believed to be Damen Leventis’ fiancée once.
    When asked why he had thought he could get away with attacking someone connected to such a high-profiled individual, Cleon, whose face was badly beaten and nearly unrecognizable, had given a short answer. “I thought no one would help her since everyone in Athens knows doing so would make them an enemy of the Kokinos and Esther Leventis.”

Damen
    ~ Six ~
     
    News of Cleon Frangos’ arrest and the story behind it spread like wildfire, and before the day was over the entire country knew about it. The masses were in love with the story. They thought it romantic that a Greek billionaire like Damen Leventis would do everything to protect the woman he loved.
    Those who belonged to Greece’s wealthier classes were, however, divided. Half were quietly dismayed at the results of the black propaganda that Esther Leventis and the Kokinos clan had launched against an American nobody. The entire incident was very bad business, as they knew how patriotic American businesses could be. In public, they swore about having nothing to do with the conspiracy and nepotism implied in the article. But in private, they simply washed their hands of the matter. They would not take sides. They would not be involved. They would simply wait and see which of the two warring parties would win.
    The other half, however, were acutely appalled. These families did not hesitate to offer Damen Leventis their support as