What The Greek Wants Most

The firm put-down sent an arctic chill around the table. The Secretary’s wife gave a visible gasp and her skin blanched beneath her overdone make-up. Pietro, who’d just approached the table as Theo replied, gripped the back of his chair, anger embedded in his face.

Silence reigned for several fraught seconds. Her father flicked a glance at Pietro, who yanked back his seat and sat down. The hands her brother placed on the table were curled into fists and for a moment Inez wondered if his famous temper was about to be let loose on their guests.

Benedicto smiled at Theo. ‘Of course. This cause is extremely dear to my heart. My own mother was brought up in the favelas.’

‘As indeed you were, no?’ Theo queried silkily.

Again, the Secretary’s wife gasped. She reached for her wine glass and took a quick gulp. When she went to take another, her husband surreptitiously stayed her hand and sent her a stern disapproving look.

Her father nodded to the waiter, who stood poised with a bottle of the finest red wine. He took his time to savour his first sip before he answered.

‘You are quite mistaken, Mr Pantelides. My mother managed to escape the fate most of her lot failed to and bettered her life long before she bore me. But I inherited her fighting spirit and her determination to do what I can for the bleak place she once called home.’

Theo’s eyebrow quirked. ‘Right. I may have been misinformed, then,’ he said, although his dry tone suggested otherwise.

‘I assure you misinformation is rife when it comes to the ploys of political opponents. And I have been told more than once that only a foolish man believes everything he reads in the papers.’

Theo slashed a smile that had a definite edge to it across the table. ‘Trust me, I know a thing or two about what lengths newspapers will go to achieve a headline.’

‘We seem to have lost Alfonso. Would you care to explain his absence, Inez?’ Pietro’s voice slid through the conversation.

Anger still rippled off him and Inez was acutely aware that he hadn’t directly addressed Theo Pantelides.

Before she could speak, the man in question turned to her brother. ‘He was called away suddenly. Emergency business elsewhere. Couldn’t be helped. Since I was there when he took his leave, your sister offered me his seat and I graciously accepted, didn’t you, anjo?’

She saw Pietro’s eyes visibly widen at the blatant endearment. Just as swiftly, they narrowed and she could almost see the wheels spinning in a different direction as his gaze swung between her and Theo Pantelides.

No! Never! Her fingers curled into fists and she glared at him until he looked away.

‘Well, perhaps Delgado’s loss is our gain, sim?’ her father prompted.

Again Theo smiled. Again her heart thudded hard at the sheer magnetism of his smile, even though it sorely lacked any humour.

The man was an enigma. He’d inveigled his way onto the top table, then proceeded to insult his host, just as he’d insulted her.

Inez had little doubt her father would unleash his anger at the slight later.

But right now she was more puzzled by the man next to her. What was his game plan? If he was in a position to acquire a controlling share of their company then clearly he was a man of considerable means. But he wasn’t Brazilian. That much she knew. So why was he interested in her father’s political ambitions?

She realised she was staring when that proud head turned and gold-flecked hazel eyes captured hers, one eyebrow quirked in amusement.

Hastily averting her gaze, she picked up her glass and took another sip.

Thankfully, the master of ceremonies chose that moment to climb onto the podium to announce the first course and the first speaker.

Inez barely tasted the salmon mousse and the wine that accompanied it. Nor did she absorb the speech given by the health minister about what was being done to help the poor.

Her hyperawareness of the man beside her interfered with her ability to think straight. The last time she’d felt anything remotely like this, she’d wandered down a path she’d hated herself for ever since. She’d almost given herself to a man who had no use for her besides using her as a pawn.

Never again!

Six more weeks. She needed to focus on that. Once her father was on his campaign trail, she could start her new life.

She’d heard the rumours about her father’s ruthless beginnings when she was growing up; a couple of her school friends had whispered about unsavoury dealings her father had been involved in. Inez had never found concrete proof. The one time she’d asked her mother, she’d been quickly admonished not to believe lies about her family.

At the time, she’d assured herself that they weren’t true. But the passage of time had whittled away that assurance. Now, with each day that passed, she suspected differently.

‘You look as if the world is coming to an end, anjo,’ the man she was desperately trying to ignore murmured. Again the endearment rolled off his tongue in a deep, seductive murmur that sent shivery awareness cascading over her skin.

‘I hope you’re not going to ask me to smile again, because—’ She gasped as he took her hand and lifted it to his mouth.

Firm, warm lips brushed her skin and Inez’s stomach dipped in sensual free fall that took her breath away. Desperately, she tried to snatch her hand back.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ she snapped.

‘Helping you. Relax. If you continue to look at me like you want to claw my eyes out, this won’t work.’

‘What exactly is this? And why on earth should I play along?’

‘Your brother and father are still wondering why Delgado left so abruptly. Do you want to suffer the third degree later or will you let me help you make it all go away?’

She eyed him suspiciously. The notion that there was something going on behind that smooth, charismatic façade didn’t dissipate. In fact, it escalated as he stared down at her, his features enigmatic save for that smile that lingered on his wide, sexy mouth.

‘Why do you want to help me?’ Again she tried to take back her hand but he held on, one thumb smoothing over her inner wrist. Blood surged through her veins at his touch, her pulse racing at the spot that he so expertly explored.

‘Because I’m hoping it would persuade you to have lunch with me tomorrow,’ he replied.

His gaze flicked across the table. Although his expression didn’t change, she again sensed the tension that hovered on the edge of his civility. This man didn’t like her family. Which begged the question: what was he doing here investing in their company?

He swung that intense stare back to her and she lost her train of thought. Grabbing it back, she shook her head.

‘I’ll have to refuse the lunch offer, I’m afraid. I have other plans.’

‘Dinner, then?’

‘I have plans then, too. Besides, don’t you have business with my father tomorrow?’

‘Our business won’t take longer than me signing on a dotted line.’

‘A dotted line that gives you a permanent controlling share in my family’s company?’

His eyes gleamed. ‘Not permanent. Only until I have what I want.’

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_484a09e5-d3a5-51a1-92c4-4449ecc83680)

‘AND WHAT IS IT you want?’

‘For now? Lunch. Tomorrow. With you.’ Another pass of his thumb over her pulse.