What The Greek Wants Most(3)

           



       

Her mouth started to drop open but she caught her reaction and pursed her lips.

'You're Theo Pantelides?' she muttered.

'Yes, so I suggest you make nice with me to stop me from leaving. One   high net worth guest departing before dinner may be excusable. Barely.   Two will certainly not go down well with your crowd. Now, smile and take   my arm.'

* * *

Inez reeled under the steely punch packed behind the suave, sophisticated exterior and charming smile.

Theo Pantelides.

This was the man her father and Pietro had talked about. The one who   would be taking over majority shares in Da Costa Holdings until after   the elections. The one her brother Pietro had referred to as an arrogant   bastard.

Well, he certainly was arrogant all right. The swiftness with which he'd   dispatched Alfonso and assumed he could control her confirmed that   assertion. As to whether he was a true bastard … well, that was something   to be determined. But so far all signs pointed in that direction.

What she hadn't been aware of was that the man spoken of with such scorn would be so … visually breathtaking.

'I thought you would be older.' The words tripped from her tongue before she could stop herself.

'As opposed to young, virile and unbelievably handsome?' he drawled.

Shock jolted though her at his unapologetic, irritatingly justified   confidence. Because he undeniably was. A full head of vibrant jet-black   hair was common enough among her countrymen. Even his hazel eyes,   sculpted cheekbones and square jaw were conventional in the polo-loving   jet set crowd her father and brother encouraged her to associate with.

On this man, though, the whole combination had been elevated several   hundred notches to an entirely different level of magnetism that   demanded attention and got it. There was a quality about the way he   carried himself, his broad shoulders unyielding, that spelled a tough   inner core anyone would be foolish to mess with.

And yet that danger Inez could feel rising off him was … compelling. Alluring.

She found her gaze drifting over his face, past the tiny dimple in his   chin to the dark bronze throat as he lazily swallowed a mouthful of   champagne.

She inhaled a sharp dart of air as she watched his Adam's apple move.   Then jerked back when her fingers flexed suddenly with the urge to touch   him there.

Santa Maria!

She fought to remember her anger at this stranger. As much as she   detested her role in tonight's events-the blatant begging for campaign   funds disguised as a charity event-she couldn't let opportunities slip   through her fingers.

It was the deal she'd made with her father.

An education in return for serving her time. In six short weeks she   would be free to pursue her dreams. Free of her father's influence, of   the sleazy, horrifying rumours that had been part of her childhood and   what had driven her mother to quiet despair when she thought she wasn't   being observed.

She needed to focus, not moon over how coarse this arrogant stranger's faintly stubbled jaw would feel against her skin.

'Make nice? After you rudely interrupted my conversation and sent my   guest for the evening running without so much as a goodbye?'

'Think about that for a minute. Do you really want a man who would   abandon you so easily on the strength of a few whispered words?'

Genuine anger replaced the momentary sensory aberration. 'That you   needed to whisper those words instead of state them in my hearing makes   me wonder just how confident you are of your manhood.'

Inez was used to being the butt of male jokes. Pietro and her father had   mocked and dismissed her career ambitions until the day she'd picked  up  her suitcase and threatened to leave home for good.

But she was still shocked when the man in front of her threw back his   head and laughed. Even more so when the sight of his strong white teeth   and the genuine twinkling merriment in his eyes sent her pulse racing.   An alien tingling started in her belly and spread outward like  fractured  lightning.

'Did I say something funny?'

Light hazel eyes speared hers. 'I've been challenged on a lot of things, querida, but never over my manhood.'

The political career her father so desperately craved produced men who   could fake confidence with the best of them. She'd seen political   candidates on a clear losing streak fake bravado until they were on the   verge of looking totally ridiculous.                       
       
           



       

This man oozed confidence and power so very effortlessly it was like a   second skin. Couple those two elements with the dangerous magnetism she   could feel and Theo Pantelides was positively lethal.

Over her thundering heartbeat, she heard the master of ceremonies   announce that the fund-raiser she'd so carefully orchestrated-the   platform that would see her achieve her freedom-was about to begin.

Beyond one broad shoulder of the man who seemed to have sucked the air   from the large ballroom, she saw her father and Pietro heading towards   her.

Her father would want to know what had happened to Alfonso. The   Brazilian businessman had promised to host a polo match on his large   ranch where he bred the finest thoroughbreds. Securing a time and a date   and a campaign donation had been her job tonight.

A much needed win this man had cost her.

Frustrated anger flared anew.

'This can be resolved very easily, Inez,' Theo Pantelides murmured in   her ear. His voice was deep. Alluring. To hear him use her given name,   the version her half-American mother had so lovingly bestowed on her,   made her momentarily lose her bearings. A state that worsened when his   hot breath washed over her neck.

Barely managing to suppress a shiver, she snapped herself back into   focus. 'Don't say my name. In fact, don't speak to me. Just … just go   away!'

Inez knew she was on the verge of displaying childish behaviour but she   needed to regroup quickly, find a solution to a situation that had been   so cut and dried fifteen minutes ago.

She watched her father and brother approach and the dart of pain that   resided beneath her breastbone twisted. For a long time she'd yearned   for a connection with them, especially after Mãe had been so cruelly   ripped from their lives following a fall from a racehorse a week before   Inez's eighteenth birthday. But she'd soon realised that she was alone   in the pain and loneliness brought on by the loss of the mother who'd   been her everything. Pietro had been given no time to grieve before   their father had stepped up his grooming campaign. As for Benedicto   himself, he'd barely finished burying his wife before resuming his   relentless pursuit of political power.

The only other male she'd foolishly thought was honourable had turned   out to be just as ruthlessly power-hungry as the men in her family.

Constantine Blanco-one lesson well and truly learned.

'I see the rumours were false after all,' the man who loomed, large and   imposing, in front of her drawled in that deep voice of his, capturing   her attention so effortlessly.

She pushed down the bitterness that swirled through her at the thought   of what she'd allowed to happen with Constantine. How low she'd sunk in   her need for love and a desire for a connection.

'What rumours?' She infused a carelessness in her voice she was far from feeling.

'The ones that said you exhibit grace and charm with each bat of your   eyelids. At the moment all I can see is a hellcat intent on scoring   grooves into my skin.'

'Then I suggest you stay away from me. I wouldn't want to ruin your unbelievably handsome face now, would I?'

She hurried away from his magnetic presence towards where the tables had   been set out with highly polished sterling silver cutlery and   exquisitely cut crystal. At twenty thousand dollars a plate, the event   was ostensibly to raise money for the children trapped within Rio's   favelas, a cause dear to her heart.

Shame it had to be tainted with power-hungry sharks, mild threats to   secure votes and … devastatingly handsome rogues with piercing hazel eyes   who made her breath catch in a frighteningly exciting way …

The direction of her thoughts made her stumble lightly. Catching herself, she smiled at a guest who slid her a concerned glance.

Each table was set for eight. Her father had insisted their table was placed in the centre, where all eyes would be on them.

With Alfonso's unexpected departure, the empty seat would stick out like   the proverbial sore thumb once the Secretary of State and his wife and   the other power couple had taken their places.

She had no choice but to bump someone to the high table. All she needed to figure out was who-