The Greek’s Hidden Vows by Maya Blake

CHAPTER THREE

THEYWORKEDLONGinto the night. By the time the last, shattered-looking lawyer shuffled out of the conference room, it was almost midnight.

Alexis suppressed a sigh and just managed to stop herself from crumpling into a relieved, exhausted heap. She resisted the urge because, in contrast, Christos looked as if he could go another twenty-four hours without respite.

She rose from her seat and gathered her files. ‘I’ll go and type up the notes for you,’ she said.

He strolled to where she stood. ‘I won’t be looking at them tonight. They can wait till tomorrow.’

Her eyes flicked to him, then immediately returned to the files. ‘It’ll only take half an hour or so. Besides, you look like...’ She faltered, wondering if she should voice the observation.

‘I look like what?’ he drawled.

Was his voice deeper, smokier because he’d spent all day barking at his associates or was it something else? Something...sensual? Earthy? The same something that was triggering tiny fireworks beneath her skin?

‘You look...the opposite of what every one of your lawyers looked like when they left the room. Whatever vitamins you take clearly work for you.’

One corner of his mouth twitched then stilled almost immediately. ‘It’s not vitamins that keep me going.’

‘What, then?’ she asked curiously. ‘And don’t say you like winning because this feels like something...more.’

Christos’s public biography only briefly touched on a childhood spent in Southern Greece. There was hardly any mention of his parents, and Alexis had worked for him for two years before discovering his grandfather was alive, albeit living a reclusive life on a sprawling island in the Aegean. And that grandfather was Costas Drakakis, the retired shipping mogul.

‘Perhaps it is,’ he answered cryptically, his gaze fixed on her face.

When she realised he wasn’t going to elaborate, she pursed her lips.

‘Whatever it is, if you could bottle it, you’d make an absolute killing.’

‘I believe it’s been labelled as my pathological aversion to failure.’ He shrugged. ‘But if you wish to compliment me on my stamina, then by all means, have at it.’

Alexis glanced at him in time to catch him looking at her hair. She was acutely aware her bun was in the last stages of slipping its knot, and wayward tendrils had escaped about an hour ago. As for her lipstick, it had been rubbed off when they’d stopped for a hurried supper four hours ago.

Again his lips twitched.

She found she was staring at his sculpted mouth and forcibly dragged her gaze away. ‘Well, this lesser human will take you up on your offer to type up the notes in the morning, if you’re sure?’

‘Don’t put yourself down. Your fire burned almost as brightly as mine.’ The compliment was countered with a slightly mocking gleam in his eye as he continued, ‘Until I caught your yawn about an hour ago.’

She suppressed a grimace. She’d thought she’d hidden it well. ‘Well... I—’

‘I’m not going to hold it against you if that’s a worry. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen you less than immaculately put together,’ he mused.

Alexis reached up to tidy her hair, but suddenly, his fingers were there, beating her to it.

Their fingers grazed, then tangled. Her breath caught, the sharp sizzle dancing through her blood making her drop her hand as the sensation raced up her arm. With a slow, unhurried movement, he captured a tendril between his fingers and slowly caressed it. Stepping forward, he wound the strand behind her ear, then trailed his fingers down her cheek.

Her breath stalled as she stood frozen, caught between the electrifying spell and the need to flee.

Christos regarded her with an almost detached interest, his piercing grey eyes scouring every expression she attempted to hide. As if he was conducting an experiment.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Testing your performance levels like we talked about,’ he confirmed, ‘since you insist you’re not tired.’

Alarmed by the excitement leaping inside her, she jerked back. ‘That won’t be necessary. You’ve given me your feedback. Allow me the courtesy of letting me work on it.’

‘But how will you learn without practical experience?’ he drawled.

She shrugged, a little perturbed by how quickly they’d landed in this quagmire again.

‘I’m not going to discuss this with you any further. Either you trust me to do everything in my power to honour our agreement or you don’t.’

His nostrils flared but he remained silent, those eyes still fixed on her.

Until his scrutiny forced her into speech. ‘If that’s all, goodnight—’

‘It’s pointless going back home tonight when I need you back here by six. You should stay in the executive suite,’ he tossed out, before heading back to his seat.

The executive suite. Separated from his own private suite by a twelve-foot-long marble hallway. It wasn’t a big deal under normal circumstances. She’d stayed over before when their workload had pushed their working hours deep into the night.

But somehow this felt...different. Perhaps it was all this talk of sharpening her performance. Perhaps it was the recurring recollection of what happened the last time they were near a sofa.

‘It’s fine. I’ll get the car service to drive me home.’

‘All the drivers are busy delivering the associates home.’

He picked up his phone and showed her the app that displayed their vehicle availability. Every car displayed the in use sign.

‘I can get a cab—’

‘No, I’d prefer not to spend the next hour wondering if you’ve become the latest victim of crime. Not when you have a perfectly adequate apartment waiting for you ten floors above.’

‘Black cabs are perfectly safe,’ she replied. In twenty-five minutes, she could be in her North London flat, safely away from this churning atmosphere.

A hint of steel entered his eyes, his sculpted jaw clenching for a moment before he spoke. ‘I’ll spare us both the tedium of throwing out crime stats when it comes to a woman travelling alone at night. I’d prefer it if you would just do as I say and stay upstairs where I can be reassured that the term perfectly safe will be true in this instance.’

Except she wouldn’t be safe. Not when she knew temptation lay right across the hall. ‘Christos—’

‘Alexis?’ The steel was now in his voice, a tone he usually reserved for decimating his opponents.

Their stand-off probably lasted less than a minute. It felt like an hour. ‘Fine, I’ll stay upstairs.’ She sounded less than gracious in defeat.

The gleam in his eyes told her so as he came towards her once more, plucked up the first stack of files from the table and put them in her arms. Then he reached for the second, taller pile.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked, suspicious.

‘Helping you out so you can go to bed quicker,’ he replied blandly, settling the heavy stack against his torso as if it weighed nothing.

Her jaw dropped for a nonplussed second before she caught herself. ‘Why?’

‘Excuse me?’

She took a moment to absorb his mild shock at her question, then asked, ‘Why are you helping me? I can easily get the file trolley to wheel them all back to the office.’

He frowned. ‘You’re now objecting to my assistance?’

‘I’m observing you acting out of character. You’ve never helped me before.’

‘It’s been a long day for both of us, so I’ll help you out. The correct response you’re looking for is a smile and maybe a thank you? In whichever order you prefer to submit them.’

She opened her mouth. Then closed it.

As he’d said, the day had been long and completely out of sorts. So what if he was acting out of character by performing a menial task that was usually her remit?

‘I...thanks,’ she capitulated.

‘You’re welcome. Shall we get on with it? I need a nightcap badly to wash this regrettable day away.’ The tightness to the words resonated in the room.

She nodded, and followed him out of the room, averting her eyes to keep from ogling the tightness of his buttocks as he strode purposefully for the lift.

In the office, he deposited the files on her cabinet and went into his office. She barely had five minutes to text Sophie to tell her she was staying in the executive suite and then answer her flatmate’s flurry of questions before Christos returned. His eyes landed briefly on her phone as she sent the last I’m-fine-I-promise message, but said nothing as he waited for her to gather her handbag and shut down her computer.

In silence, they took the lift upstairs. The double doors to his penthouse were directly opposite the ones to the executive suite.

Swallowing around the sudden tightness in her throat, Alexis placed her hand on the handle. ‘Goodnight—’

‘Not yet. Come and have a drink with me.’ It sounded like an order but his raised eyebrow implied it was a request.

Say no. Say. No.

‘You’ve worked hard today. You deserve a drink too,’ he added when she hesitated. ‘Or are you concerned your inhibitions will be affected again?’ he taunted lightly.

‘I’m confident they won’t,’ she replied boldly, although her insides quivered.

Her last drink with him had led her down a precarious, if enthralling, path. Even without a sip of alcohol she knew he was intoxicating to her senses.

Christos’s gaze grew sharper. ‘So I’m assuming the company is the issue?’

She sighed. ‘No, I don’t have a problem with the company.’ Liar. ‘I just...’ Want a moment to regroup.

She stared at him, noted the lines around his mouth had deepened even more. Her gaze dropped to the column of his muscular throat, the hard-packed body and the strong hand wrapped around the door handle.

Had she been given to flights of fancy, she would’ve concluded that he didn’t want to drink alone. But he was Christos Drakakis, the man who conquered opponents with a few lethal words. Even high court judges scrambled to preside over his cases because he was a breathtaking marvel in the courtroom.

She couldn’t remain standing there like a mannequin. She opened her mouth to utter a definitive refusal but he threw the door open abruptly, and strode into his penthouse, leaving her staring slack-jawed at the open doorway.

Knowing he’d effectively tossed the ball in her court should’ve made her mad and go straight to her own suite.

Instead she moved towards his door. One foot inside, she paused to watch him discard his suit jacket on the velvet sofa, then fold back the sleeves of his shirt while staring out of the window.

Without acknowledging her presence, he strolled with lithe grace to the sleek cabinet that held a collection of expensive hard liquor, wine and champagne on the far side of the large living room and pulled the stopper from a Waterford crystal decanter. For a handful of seconds, the only sound was the drink hitting the glass and ice cubes plopping into the cognac.

Done, he opened the wine cooler, grabbed a bottle of chilled Chablis and fixed a white wine spritzer for her. Drinks in hand, he headed to the sofa, set the wine glass on the low coffee table, took a seat and propped one ankle over his knee.

All without looking at her.

Alexis fought several emotions. Fascination. Irritation. Envy at the effortless sophistication he exuded and the animalistic presence that captured her attention. Back to irritation at the arrogance that implied he’d known she would follow him in.

On feet that had developed a mind of their own, she crossed the living room and chose a seat at the far end of the sofa. After another throb of silence, he picked up the glass and held it out to her.

‘Are you always this arrogant with the people you invite for drinks?’ she said, unable to help the bite of irritation in her voice.

One corner of his lips quirked. ‘Is it arrogance if I’m good at anticipating a person’s needs?’

‘Don’t presume to know me, Christos. I may just shock you one of these days.’

His eyes darkened a shade, his gaze dropping to linger on her mouth before rising again. ‘Pick another day. I’ve had my fill of surprises for today.’

The reminder of his loss mellowed out her irritation. Reaching out, she accepted the drink. ‘Thank you,’ she muttered.

He raised his glass after a beat. ‘To ensuring a day like this never happens again.’

She sipped the refreshing spritzer. Then nearly choked on it when he angled his body towards her. ‘This obstinate side to you is a revelation,’ he observed dryly.

Why that observation pleased her, Alexis refused to contemplate. ‘Like you said, it’s been a challenging day.’

‘Who were you texting downstairs?’ he enquired suddenly.

‘What?’

‘When I came out of my office you were on the phone. It seemed...frantic. Who were you contacting at one o’clock in the morning?’ he asked, a definite edge in his voice.

‘My flatmate, Sophie. If she wakes up and I’m not there, she’ll worry.’

‘Just your flatmate?’ he pressed. ‘You weren’t attached when we struck our agreement last year. That hasn’t changed, has it?’

Alexis shifted in her seat, both at the directness of the question but also at the unrelenting probe of his gaze. ‘I was texting Sophie. She can be a mama bear when she puts her mind to it. I have to report in on a regular basis or she worries. You probably know what I’m talking about, right?’ she asked, acutely aware she was straying into prying territory.

He tensed. ‘What?’

‘Parents? Siblings?’ Goodness, Alexis. Just stop. ‘Special friends who harangue and make you feel as if you’ve committed a cardinal sin if they don’t hear from you for a few days?’

The expression that flashed through his eyes was mostly bitterness but with a trace of perplexity, as if she was describing an alien concept to him.

In the long stretch of silence while her question hung between them, Alexis told herself she should’ve stuck to neutral topics. But then with a bite of irritation she reminded herself that he’d made it personal.

She was just following his lead. She sipped her drink, then cradled her glass. ‘It’s fine. You don’t have to answer—’

‘No, I don’t know what it’s like to have parents who worry about me, constantly or even occasionally.’ The tight non-smile he tagged onto his answer was sharp enough to shatter glass.

‘Oh.’ Why not? She swallowed the question, knowing she’d stepped into unfamiliar territory the moment she’d accepted his invitation for a nightcap.

‘And before you ask, no, they’re not dead. They are both very much alive.’

Her breath caught at the acid-soaked tone. Looking closer, she saw that the eyes staring into his glass had darkened with shadows, and the fingers clutching his drink were white-knuckled with tension.

‘I guess being estranged from one’s parents isn’t entirely uncommon. I’m sorry if—’

His head snapped up, cutting off her words. ‘We’ve strayed a little from where I intended this conversation to go. This is why I’m not fond of what you English call chit-chat.’

She slicked her tongue over her lower lip, feeling a little at sea herself. ‘Fine. Was there something specific you wanted to ask me?’

‘Yes, but I see I should’ve been more direct. Are you still unattached or do you have a lover?’

For the second time in half an hour, her jaw threatened to hit the floor.

If this Christos Drakakis was the version that emerged when a case didn’t go his way, she was thankful she’d been spared it so far.

Nevertheless, she wasn’t about to accommodate this risky whim. ‘You may dislike idle chit-chat but you haven’t considered that your alternative might not suit me. Our agreement is on paper only. What makes you think I wish to discuss my private life with you?’ She suppressed the inward cringe that accompanied her mild hypocrisy.

He slowly drained his drink and rolled the glass between his fingers. ‘You know enough about mine. And in light of what we’ll face when we go to Drakonisos, I think it’s time we redressed the balance.’

‘I don’t agree. I think we’re fine the way we are. And I only know about yours because you’ve made it part of my job. If you think I like dealing with the fallout from your...affairs, think again.’

A searching light flared in his eyes, chasing the shadows from the grey depths as he regarded her. ‘The incident from last year hasn’t happened again.’ It was a statement rather than a question. She wondered whether he already knew the answer to it before she shook her head.

‘No, I’m not sure how you did it, but there have been no calls since the delightful Delilah.’

‘Was it that much of a problem dealing with them before?’ he enquired.

Alexis wasn’t sure whether to laugh or lose her temper. ‘Are you serious?’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Do I seem anything but?’

He didn’t, which should’ve been astonishing but was weirdly, reassuringly not. ‘Do you have any idea how disruptive it is to spend an hour, sometimes more, listening to an inconsolable stranger pour her heart out to you, while divulging personal details I really wish they’d keep to themselves?’

His head drew back and laser eyes speared into her. ‘I’m fairly certain a huge percentage of those details are made-up. I’m selective as to who I share that kind of thing with.’

‘Right, and the women you date don’t fall into that bracket?’

‘No, they don’t.’ The response was so weighted with certainty, Alexis experienced a twinge of pity for the women who cycled through his life, hoping to make an impression that would grant them more than the six weeks he chose to date them before losing interest.

‘Be that as it may, I don’t welcome whatever it is they feel I need to know about the state of their devastation.’

He remained silent for a stretch of time, digesting the information. ‘I find it surprising that this task is difficult for you. You excel in every other area of your work.’

‘Thank you... I think.’

‘You’re welcome. But I think an hour’s too long to waste on those sorts of calls.’

Anger. Definitely. ‘Or you can spare me the unpleasant ordeal entirely and just console your exes yourself?’

He caught the sharpness in her tone. ‘It bothered you that much?’ A peculiar contemplation in his gaze raised the hairs on her nape.

Alexis raised her chin. ‘Frankly? Yes.’

‘You should’ve spoken up then.’

‘I considered it some sort of rite of passage. Do I take it it’s over now?’ she asked, a weird little bubble of hope in her chest.

He rose without answering, went to the cabinet and poured another shot of cognac. Nursing it, he returned to the sofa but chose the seat next to her instead of the farthest.

Alexis tensed, her breath shortening as she caught a whiff of his unique aftershave. ‘Consider that part of your brief nullified.’

Relief shot through her, slowly followed by another mildly damning sensation that forced her to avert her gaze from him before his sharp eyes divined it.

While playing agony aunt to his jilted lovers had been less than palatable, she’d also gained insight into how he treated his women when they were flavour of the month. She hadn’t been interested in the expensive dinners and endless benefits his wealth had exposed them to. But Alexis had found herself hooked on his ex-lovers’ recounts of how it had felt to dance in his arms, how they’d felt when he’d smiled at them or run his fingers through their hair. Every single one of them had confessed that being the centre of Christos Drakakis’s attention had been a singularly thrilling experience. Alexis had gleaned that a large percentage of them missed that more than the red-carpet, first-class benefits of dating the world’s most eligible bachelor.

‘What does that mean, exactly?’ she asked now. Being out of the loop was one...welcome...thing. Not knowing whether he was still dating...

Alexis wasn’t sure how she felt about that. How she wanted to feel about it.

‘You don’t seem pleased,’ Christos replied dryly.

‘Of course I’m pleased.’ She set her glass down, wisely deciding against indulging in any more alcohol. She stood, slung her handbag onto her shoulder. ‘I think it’s time to call it a night. Thanks for the—’

The words died in her throat when he captured her wrist. Heat from his fingers branded her skin and a gasp slipped free before Alexis could stop it.

‘I never received an answer to my question.’

It took a second for her to pull her attention from the sensations dragging through her. ‘What question...? Oh.’ Her gaze dropped to where he held her, then to the intensity of his eyes. No. She definitely didn’t like this version of Christos Drakakis. She had a feeling he was going to be lethal to her senses. ‘Why do you want to know whether I have a boyfriend or not?’

‘Because I want to know if there’s anyone standing in my way.’

‘Standing in your way of what?’ she asked, her voice not as firm as she would’ve preferred.

‘In the way of achieving my goals, of course. What else?’

‘I’m not sure I follow.’

‘Sit down and I’ll tell you,’ he said.

Slowly, Alexis reclaimed her seat, her brows knitting as mingled sensations of alarm and intrigue twisted through her.

‘Costas is unwell. He’s in denial about it but his condition has deteriorated over the past few weeks. Enough to necessitate a doctor’s visit.’

Sympathy welled inside her. ‘I’m sorry.’

He nodded, taking a moment to sip his drink, as if distancing himself from her emotions. ‘I spoke to his doctor this morning.’ He didn’t add anything else, leaving Alexis to wonder if that had contributed to the unusual outcome in court today.

Because while Christos could be coldly ruthless in litigation, she’d been stunned at the interaction between him and his grandfather. There’d been a...guarded warmth, albeit a disgruntled one from Costas, reciprocated by his grandson.

While Christos hadn’t given her the full details of why he’d needed a convenient wife to secure his birthright, Alexis had surmised it had something to do with safeguarding his relationship with his grandfather and the island he lived on. That the man who’d coldly announced that he didn’t have to have a family to take that step meant that beneath his formidable exterior, Christos felt...something for his grandfather.

His words filtered through. ‘The doctor told you what’s wrong with your grandfather? Is he allowed to do that?’

He sent a sharp smile, then went back to contemplating the depths of his drink. ‘He didn’t give me the full details and Costas refused to tell me over the phone. When I insisted, he invited me to come and find out for myself if I cared enough.’ His smile disappeared, a hard light entering his eyes. ‘Amongst other things.’

Alexis suspected it was those other things that required her presence, not that his grandfather’s health was a trivial matter. ‘What other things?’ He remained silent for an age, enough to raise her hackles higher. ‘Christos?’

His name emerged far huskier than she’d intended, reminding her far too vividly of another night on a similar sofa a handful of miles away.

She’d used his name profusely that night. She’d moaned it. Screamed it as she unravelled.

He raised his head and their gazes clashed. The flagrant knowledge that he was recalling the same incident rendered her breathless, her blood thundering through her veins as she returned his compelling stare. It took a monumental effort to drag her gaze from his, to suck in a pulse-calming breath, her relief spiking as he spoke.

‘Costas is a difficult man, as you’ve probably learnt from our visits.’

‘I remember,’ she replied. The old man had zero filter and, while she was thankful most of his views were expressed in Greek, there’d been a few times when he’d addressed her in perfect English, quizzing her about the personal history she kept close to her chest. ‘When he’s not terrifying me, he’s deliberately baffling me by conversing with me in Greek.’

His lips quirked but his eyes remained serious. ‘We’ve had a few...disagreements recently.’

She nodded. ‘The last time we visited, he mentioned that he’d hoped you would take over his company some day.’

‘I wasn’t aware he’d shared that with you,’ he said, a touch tersely.

‘I didn’t pry, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

‘Rest easy, Alexis. It’s not a secret that my decision to pursue a career in law instead of shipping isn’t one he was pleased with. But the one thing we shared was a love of Drakonisos. A place he promised I would inherit. Until recently.’

Her heart kicked both at the news and the fact that he was finally choosing to share personal details with her. ‘What happened?’

‘My cousin, Georgios, happened.’ She waited for elaboration and, after a tense moment, he continued, ‘He’s not satisfied with running Costas’s company or the substantial benefits that come with it. He has now turned his attention towards Drakonisos.’

‘He wants the island?’

Christos gave a terse nod. ‘Yes.’

‘Why? I mean, I imagine he’s in a position to buy himself an island or three?’

He shrugged but his expression grew grimmer. ‘There’s been a certain resentment and rivalry—one-sided, I might add—on his part.’

‘Because he was second choice?’ she hazarded and received a twisted smile in confirmation.

‘Exactly so. My grandfather believed I would take over his company when he stepped down. Even after I made it clear I would follow a different path, he pursued the matter. He still hasn’t given up, which is why I hold voting power on his board of directors and substantial shares in Drakakis Enterprises.’

Alexis had been quietly awed to learn Drakakis Enterprises was a Fortune 500 company worth in excess of ten billion euros. ‘But Costas must know you’ll never just give up being a lawyer?’ Christos was too good at what he did. Was driven by an inner compulsion Alexis suspected was locked in his past. A compulsion she couldn’t see him walking away from to pursue a career in shipping. But if any man on earth could straddle multiple careers, it was Christos Drakakis.

‘He lives in hope, one I haven’t been able to sway him from. It’s also why he holds Drakonisos over my head. I had hoped that would change after you and I married, but it seems Georgios is playing an entirely different hand. One I’ll need to respond to.’

‘Why do you want the island so badly?’

His features shuttered, the grip of his glass tightening a fraction before he eased it. ‘My reasons are my own, Alexis.’

The mild warning that she was straying too far into personal territory echoed in the room. ‘You ask me whether I have a lover but I can’t ask you why you want a mostly uninhabited piece of land the size of Hyde Park?’

‘A question you still haven’t answered. Is there a lover standing in the way of me achieving my goals?’

Alexis wasn’t sure whether it was the way he said the word lover that sparked the sudden fire in her belly or if it was the effect of the churning in her stomach. Either way, she needed a few seconds to brush aside the tingling in her veins before she answered. ‘No, I don’t have a lover.’

He absorbed that with an unblinking stare for several seconds before giving an imperious nod. ‘Good to know.’

She nodded in return. ‘And since we’re taking liberties, is there anything standing in my way of being able to pull off an acceptable performance as your wife?’

His eyes narrowed, glinting with a wickedly thrilling fire before his expression turned bracingly enigmatic once more. ‘I haven’t taken a lover since I put a ring on your finger, Alexis.’

Before she could stop herself, a gasp left her throat. His declaration was thick, firm and low, the timbre of his voice reaching into a deep, secret place inside her and wrapping tight. It was almost as if he’d modulated his voice purely for that devastating effect. Struggling to clear her throat, she answered. ‘Then I foresee nothing but success,’ she said with a sangfroid she didn’t feel.

‘Good. With regard to the island, the only thing you need to concern yourself about is that, according to my sources, Georgios has stepped up his visits to Drakonisos. Which is a sure sign that he’s attempting to encroach on what’s mine.’ The implacable steel in his voice suggested that would happen over his dead body. ‘And Costas is allowing it.’

‘That’s the other reason you want to bring forward the visit?’

He nodded briskly. ‘Yes. So not only will you have Costas to convince, there’s a strong possibility that Georgios will be there, as well.’

Apprehension snaked through her. Pretending to be dwelling in wedded bliss under Costas’s shrewd gaze was a challenge, but now there was the possibility of another audience?

Think of Hope House. Of every child you’ll be helping.

‘How long do you think we’ll be there?’

‘Prepare yourself for a few weeks, maybe a couple of months.’

She gasped. ‘Months?’

His gaze turned hard. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were thinking of reneging on our agreement.’

Alexis was aware she had no choice. Not if she wanted to continue providing for Hope House. She’d read through the contract, knew he had a certain leeway she couldn’t object to. And really, what would she be protesting against? There was no fear that this would evolve into anything beyond the clinical requirement Christos sought from her. And she...she’d given up on love or companionship long ago. It was why she’d been thankful for the black and white safety of a legal agreement. She had nothing to fear, least of all from her emotions. And yet...

She rose, ignoring the quivering in her belly as Christos watched her. ‘I... I need to think about it.’

For the longest time, he stared at her, one long finger caressing the rim of his crystal glass. Then, with the litheness of a predatory cat, he rose, sauntered to the door and held it open for her. And as she passed him, he leaned in and whispered in her ear, ‘Think about it if you insist. But know that anything but a yes will be unacceptable.’