What the Greek's Money Can't Buy

He turned back. ‘What is it, Moneypenny?’ His tone was harsh but couldn’t stop the disturbing edginess creeping over him.

She held out a large yellow jumpsuit. ‘You can’t get on the boat without wearing this. The health and safety guidelines require it.’

Despite the grim situation, Sakis wanted to laugh at her implacable expression as she held him to account.

‘Then by all means...if the guidelines require it.’

He took the plastic garment, shook it out and stepped into it under her watchful eye. He glanced at her as he zipped the jumpsuit and once again saw her lower lip caught between her teeth.

With more force than was necessary, he shoved the small digital camera into the waterproof pocket and trudged through the oil-slicked water.

An hour later, the words of his lead investigator made his heart sink.

‘I retired from piloting tankers like these ten years ago, and even then the navigation systems were state-of-the-art. Your vessel has the best one I’ve ever seen. There’s no way this was systems failure. Too many fail-safes in place for the vessel to veer this far off course.’

Sakis gave a grim nod and pulled his phone from his pocket. ‘Moneypenny, get me the head of security. I want to know everything about Morgan Lowell... Yes, the captain of my tanker. And prepare a press release. Unfortunately, the investigators are almost certain this was pilot error.’

* * *

Brianna perused the electronic page for typos. Once she was satisfied, she approached where Sakis stood with the environment minister. His yellow jumpsuit was unzipped to the waist, displaying the dark-green T-shirt that moulded his lean, sleekly muscular torso. She’d never thought she’d find the sight of a man slipping on a hideous yellow jumpsuit so...hot and unsettling.

He turned, and she held her breath as his gaze swept over her. The crackle of electricity she’d felt earlier when their fingers had touched returned.

Abruptly she pushed it away. They were caught in a severely fraught set of circumstances. What she was experiencing was just residual adrenaline that came with these unfortunate events.

‘Is it ready?’ he asked.

She nodded and passed the press release over, along with the list of names he’d requested. He skimmed the words then passed the tablet back to her. Brianna knew he’d memorised every single word.

‘I’ll go and prep the media.’

She headed for the group of journalists poised behind the white cordon. As she walked, she practised the breathing exercises she’d mastered long before she’d come to work for Sakis Pantelides.

By the time she reached the group, she’d calmed her roiling emotions.

‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. This is how it’s going to work. Mr Pantelides will give his statement. Then he’ll invite questions—one from each of you.’ She held out a hand at the immediate protests. ‘I’m sure you’ll understand that it’ll take hours for every question you’ve jotted down to be answered and frankly we don’t have time for that. Right now the priority is the salvage operation. So, one question each.’ Control settled over her as her steely gaze held the group’s and received their cooperation.

Yes, that was more like it. Not for her the searing, jittery feelings of the last few hours, ever since she’d looked up on the plane and caught Sakis’s gaze on her ankle tattoo; since he’d touched her on the beach, told her not to worry that she’d missed the pirates angle. Those few minutes had been intensely...rattling.

The momentary heat she’d seen in his eyes had thrown her off-balance. At the start of her employment she’d taken pains to hide the tattoo but, after realising Sakis took no notice of what she wore or anything about her, she’d relaxed. The sensation of his eyes on her tattoo had smashed a fist through her tight control.

It had taken hours to restore it but, now she had, she was determined not to lose it again.

There was too much at stake.

Feeling utterly composed, she glanced over to where Sakis waited at the assembled podium. At his nod, she signalled security to let the media through.

She stood next to the podium and tried not to let his deep voice affect her as he started speaking. His authority and confidence as he outlined the plans for the salvage mission and the search for the missing crew belied the tension in his body. From her position, she could see the rigid outline of his washboard stomach and the braced tension in his legs. Even though his hands remained loose at his sides, his shoulders barely moved as he spoke.

A camera flashed nearby and she saw his tiniest flinch.

‘What’s going to happen to the remaining oil on board?’ a reporter asked.

His gaze swung to where the minister stood. ‘For their very generous assistance, we’re donating the contents on board the distressed vessel to the coast guard and army. The minister has kindly offered to co-ordinate the distribution.’

‘So you’re just going to give away oil worth millions of dollars, out of the goodness of your heart? Are you trying to bribe your way out of your company’s responsibilities, Mr Pantelides?’

Brianna’s breath stalled but Sakis barely blinked at the caustic remark from a particularly vile tabloid reporter. That he didn’t visibly react was a testament to his unshakeable control.

‘On the contrary, as I said at the start, my company assumes one hundred per cent liability for this incident and are working with the government in making reparations. No price is too high to pay for ensuring that the clean-up process is speedy and causes minimum damage to the sea life. This means the remaining crude oil has to be removed as quickly as possible and the vessel secured and towed away. Rather than transfer it to another Pantelides tanker, a process that’ll take time, I’ve decided to donate it to the government. I’m sure you’ll agree it makes perfect sense.’ His tone remained even but the tic in his jaw belied his simmering anger. ‘Next question.’

‘Can you confirm what caused the accident? According to your sources, this is one of your newest tankers, equipped with state-of-the-art navigation systems, so what went wrong?’

‘That is a question for our investigators to answer once they’d finished their work.’

‘What does your gut feeling say?’

‘I choose to rely on hard facts when stakes are this high, not gut feelings,’ Sakis responded, his tone clipped.

‘You haven’t made a secret of your dislike for the media. Are you going to use that to try and stop the media from reporting on this accident, Mr Pantelides?’

‘You wouldn’t be here if I felt that way. In fact—’ he stopped and flicked a glance at Brianna before facing the crowd, but not before she caught a glimpse of the banked unease in his eyes ‘—I’ve hand-picked five journalists who will be given exclusive access to the salvage process.’

He read out the names. While the chosen few preened, the rest of the media erupted with shouted questions.

One in particular filtered through. ‘If your father were alive and in your place, how would he react to this incident? Would he try and buy his way out of it, like he did with everything else?’

The distressed sound slipped from Brianna’s throat before she could stop it. Silence fell over the gathered group as the words froze in the air. Beneath the podium, out of sight of the media’s glare, Sakis’s hands clenched into white-knuckled fists.

The urge to protect him surged out of nowhere and swept over her in an overwhelming wave. Her heart lurched, bringing with it a light-headedness that made her sway where she stood. Sakis’s quick sideways glance told her he’d noticed.

Facing the media, he inhaled slowly. ‘You have to go to the afterlife to ask my father that question. I do not speak for the dead.’

He stepped from the podium and stood directly in front of her. The breadth of his broad shoulders blocked out the sun.

‘What’s wrong?’ he demanded in a fierce whisper.

‘N...nothing. Everything is fine.... Going according to plan.’ She fought to maintain her steady breathing even as she flailed inside. Needing desperately to claw back her control, she searched blindly for the solid reassurance of her mini-tablet.

Sakis plucked it out of her hands, his piercing gaze unwavering as it remained trained on her. ‘According to plan would be these damned vultures finding another carcass to pick on and leaving us to get on with the work that needs to be done.’ From his tone, there was no sign that the last question had had a lasting effect on him, but this close she saw his pinched lips and the ruthlessly suppressed pain in his eyes. Another wave of protectiveness rushed over her.

Purpose. That was what she needed. Purpose and focus.

Swallowing hard, she held out her hand for her tablet. ‘I’ll take care of it. You’ve chosen the journalists you want to cover the salvage operation. There’s no need for the rest to hang around.’

He didn’t relinquish it. ‘Are you sure you’re all right? You look pale. I hope you’re not succumbing to the heat. Have you had anything to eat since we got here?’

‘I’m fine, Mr Pantelides.’ He kept staring at her, dark brows clamped in a frown. ‘I assure you, there’s nothing wrong.’ She deliberately made her voice crisp. ‘The sooner I get rid of the media, the sooner we can get on with things.’