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What The Greek Wants Most(20)

By:Maya Blake


'It's part of the reason why I didn't tell him, yes. But he denies his favela upbringing because he's … ashamed.'

'And yet he doesn't mind anyone knowing about his mother?'

'He thinks it gives him a little leverage with the common man to be indirectly associated with the favelas.'

'So he likes to rewrite his history as he goes along?'

'Perhaps. I don't delude myself for one second that my father doesn't bend the rules and the truth at times.'

His harsh laugh made her start. 'Right. Are you talking about, oh, let's   see … doing ninety on a sixty miles per hour road, or are we talking   about something with a little more … teeth?'

That note she'd heard before. The one that sent a foreboding chill along   her spine, that warned her that something else was going on here.   Something she should be running far and fast from. 'I … I'm not sure what   you're implying.'

'Then let me spell it out for you. Are we talking about harmless   anecdotes or are we talking about actual deeds? You know-broken   kneecaps? Ruptured spleens. Kidnap for ransom?'

Her hand flew to her mouth. 'What the hell are you talking about?'

'Come on, you know what your father is capable of. Do I need to remind you of what he did to you when you displeased him?'

She followed his gaze to the marks on her arm and slowly shook her head.   'I don't excuse this but I refuse to believe he's the monster you   describe.'

His mouth twisted. 'I'll let you enjoy your rosy outlook for now, querida. I, too, felt like that once about my own father.'

'Is that what you're going to do to my father? Make him accountable for the things he's done?'

For several heartbeats she was sure he wouldn't answer her, or would   change the subject the way he'd done in the past. But finally he nodded.

'Yes. I intend to make him pay for what he took from me twelve years ago.'

Her breath froze in her lungs. 'What did he take from you?'

He turned abruptly and faced the water, his stance rigid and forbidding.   But Inez found herself moving towards him anyway, a visceral need   driving her. She reached out and touched his shoulder. He tensed harder   and she was reminded of his reaction to her touch on his boat. 'Theo?'

'I don't like being touched when my back's turned, anjo.'

She frowned. 'Why not?'

'Part of my demons.'

Her gut clenched hard at the rough note in his voice. 'Did … did my father do that to you?'

'Not personally. After all, he's an upright citizen now, isn't he? A man the people should trust.' He whipped about to face her.

'But he had something to do with your claustrophobia. And this?'

'Yes.'

'Theo-'

'Enough with the questions! You're forgetting why you're here. Do you need a reminder?'                       
       
           



       

She swallowed at the arctic look in his eyes. All signs of the raw,   vulnerable pain she'd glimpsed minutes ago were wiped clean. Theo   Pantelides was once again a man in control, bent on revenge. Slowly, she   shook her head. 'No. No, I don't.'





CHAPTER EIGHT

THEIR CONVERSATION AT the beach set a frigid benchmark for the beginning of her stay at Theo's glass mansion.

The next two weeks passed in an icy blur of hectic days and even more   hectic evenings. They'd quickly fallen into a routine where Theo left   after a quick cup of coffee and a brief outline of when and where they   would be dining that evening.

On the second morning when she'd told him she was heading for the   charity, he'd raised an eyebrow. 'What sort of work do you do there?'

'Whatever I'm needed to do.' She'd been reluctant to tell him any   specifics in case he disparaged her efforts as a rich girl's means of   passing the time till the next party.

He'd returned to his coffee. 'Your time is your own when I'm not around.   As long you're back here when I return, I see no problem.'

That had been the end of the subject.

After repeating his warning not to mention anything to her father he'd   walked away. The man who'd shown her his pain and devastation had   completely retreated.

His demeanour during their time indoors was icily courteous. However,   when they went out, which they did most evenings, he was the attentive   host, touching her, threading his fingers through her hair and gazing   adoringly at her.

It was after the fifth night out that she realised he was pandering to   the paparazzi. Without fail, a picture of them in a compromising   position appeared in the newspapers the very next morning.

But while she cringed with every exposing photo, he shrugged it off. It   wasn't until her third weekend with him, when the newspapers posted the   first poll results of the mayoral race, that she finally had her   suspicions confirmed.

He was swimming in the pool, his lean and stunning body cutting through   the water like the sleekest shark. The byline explaining the reasons   behind the voters' reaction had her surging to her feet and storming to   the edge of the pool.

'Is this why you've been taking me out every night since I moved in? So   I'd be labelled the slut daughter of a man not fit to be mayor?' She   raised her voice loud enough to be heard above his powerful strokes.

He stopped mid-stroke, straightened and slicked back his wet hair. With   smooth breaststrokes he swam to where she stood barefoot. Looking down   at his wet, sun-kissed face, she momentarily lost her train of thought.

He soon set her straight. 'Your father isn't worthy to lead a chain   gang, never mind a city,' he replied in succinct, condemning tones. 'And   before I'm done with him, the whole world will know it.'

Despite seeing the evidence for herself two weeks ago at the beach,   despite knowing that whatever her father had done to him had been   devastating, she staggered back a step at that solid, implacable oath.

He planted his hands on the tiles and heaved himself out of the water.   It took every ounce of her self-control not to devour him with hungry   eyes. But not looking didn't mean not feeling. Her insides clenched with   the ever-growing hunger she'd been unable to stem since the first  night  he'd walked into her life. And, with each passing day, she was  finding  it harder and harder to remain unaffected.

It seemed not even knowing why she was here, or the full extent of how   Theo intended to use her to hurt her father, could cause her intense   emotional reaction to his proximity to abate.

Which made her ten kinds of a fool, who needed to pull her thoughts together or risk getting hurt all over again.

'So you don't deny that you used me as bait to derail my father's campaign?'

Hazel eyes, devoid of emotion, narrowed on her face. 'That was one   course of action. But you haven't been labelled a slut. I'll sue any   newspaper that dares to call you that,' he rasped.

Her laughter scraped her throat. 'There are several ways to describe someone without using the actual derogatory word, Theo.'

He paused in drying his hair and looked at her. Slowly, he held out his hand. 'Show me.'                       
       
           



       

She handed the paper over. He read it tight-jawed. 'I'll have them print a retraction.'

Dismay roiled through her stomach, along with a heavy dose of rebellious anger.

'That's not the point, though, is it? The harm's already done. You know   this means I'll have to stop volunteering, don't you? I can't bring  this  sort of attention to the charity.'

He frowned and she caught a look of unease on his face. 'I'll take care of this.'

'Forget it; it's too late. And congratulations; you've achieved your   aim. But I won't be paraded about and pawed in public any more, so if   you're planning on another night on the town you'll have to do it   without me.'

His gaze slowly rose to hers and he resumed rubbing the towel through   his hair. 'Fine. We'll do something else.' He threw the paper on the   table.

She regarded him suspiciously. 'Something like what?'

'I promised you a trip on the yacht. We'll sail this evening and spend tomorrow aboard. Would you like that?'

At times like these, when he was being a courteous host, she found it   hard to believe he was the same man who was hell-bent on seeking revenge   on her father for past wrongs.

She'd given in to her gnawing curiosity after his revelations on the   beach and searched the Internet for a clue as to what had happened to   him. All she'd come up with were scant snippets of his late father's   dirty dealings before Alexandrou Pantelides had died in prison. As far   as she knew, there was no connection between Theo's family and hers. The   Pantelides brothers, one of whom was married and recently a parent,  and  the other engaged to be married, were a huge success in the oil,   shipping and luxury hotel world. Theo's job as a troubleshooter   extraordinaire for the billion-dollar conglomerate meant he never   settled in one place for very long. An ideal job for a man whose   personal relationships were fleeting at best.