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What The Greek Wants Most(4)

By:Maya Blake


'Staring at the empty seat will not make your departed guest suddenly   reappear, senhorita,' the deep voice uttered from behind her.                       
       
           



       

That hot shiver swept up her spine again.

Before she could summon an appropriately scathing retort, her chair and the one bearing Alfonso's name were pulled back.

'What are you doing?' she demanded heatedly under her breath. She   continued to stare down at the place setting, unwilling to look up into   those hazel eyes. Something in their light depths made her hyperaware  of  her body, of her increased heartbeat. As if she was prey and he was  the  merciless predator.

It was preposterous. She didn't like it. But it was undeniable.

'Saving your skin. Now, smile and play along.'

'I'm not a puppet. I don't smile on command.'

'Try. Unless you want to spend the rest of the evening sitting next to the equivalent of an elephant in the ballroom?'

Something in his voice made her forget her vow not to look into his   eyes. Something … peculiar. Her head snapped up before she could stop   herself.

Their eyes clashed. And she found herself in that hyperaware state   again. She forced herself to breathe through it. 'You created the very   situation you now seem intent on fixing. Why don't you save us both time   and state what your agenda is?'

A look passed over his face. Too quickly for her to decipher but   whatever it was made her breath catch in a totally different way from   before. Warning spiked the hairs on her nape.

'I merely want to redress the situation a little. And, as talented as   you seem to think you are at hiding it, I can see my actions caused you   distress. Let me help make it better.'

'So you cause me grief then swoop in to save me like a knight in shining armour?'

'I'm no one's knight, senhorita. And I prefer Armani to armour.'

He pointedly held out her seat.

Casting a swift glance around, Inez saw that they were attracting   attention. Short of causing a scene, there was nothing she could do.   Willing her facial muscles to relax into a cordial smile, she slowly sat   down and watched as Theo Pantelides folded himself into the seat next   to her.

He reached for his champagne at the same time as she reached for her   water glass. The brush of his knuckle against her wrist made her jump.

'Relax, anjo. I've got this,' came the smooth, deep reassurance.

A hysterical laugh bubbled up her throat, curbed at the last minute by a   cough. 'Pardon me if that assurance brings me very little comfort.'

He lifted the glass she'd abandoned and held it out to her. 'Tell me, what's the worst that could happen?'

She took the glass and stared into the sparkling water. The need to   moisten her dry throat had receded. 'Believe me, the worst already has   happened.'

For a long time she'd hidden from the truth-that her father had his heir, and she was a useless spare part.

Pain writhed through her and her breath grew shaky as her throat clogged with anger and bitterness.

'Get yourself together. Now isn't the time to fall apart. Trust me,   Delgado may be a good friend but he has a wandering eye.' The hard bite   to his tone cut a path through her emotions.

Setting the glass down, she faced him. 'I have been toyed with enough to   last me a century, and I know your business here tonight has nothing  to  do with me, so do me a favour, senhor, and tell me straight-what do  you  want?' she whispered fiercely. She noted vaguely that her heartbeat  was  once again on rapid acceleration to sky-high. Her fingers shook  and her  belly churned with emotions she couldn't have named to save her  life.

'First of all, cut out the senhor bit. If you want to address me in any way, call me Theo.'

'I will address you how I see fit, Mr Pantelides. And I see that once again you have failed to give me a straight answer.'

'No, I've failed to jump when you say. You need to be taught a little patience, anjo.'

She lifted a deliberately mocking brow. 'And you propose to be the one to teach me?'

That wide, breathtaking smile appeared again. Just like that, her pulse   leapt then galloped with a speed even the finest racehorse would've   strained to match.

What was going on here?

'Only if you ask nicely.'

She was searching for an appropriately cutting response when her father reached the table with the rest of the guests.                       
       
           



       

He cast her a narrow-eyed glance before his gaze slid to Theo Pantelides.

'Mr Pantelides, I had hoped for a few minutes of your time before the   evening started properly,' her father said as he took his seat across   the table.

Inez wasn't sure whether she imagined the slight stiffening in the   posture of the man beside her. Her senses were too highly strung for her   to trust their accuracy. Searching his profile as he stared at her   father, nothing in his face gave any indication as to his true feelings.

'I'm all for mixing business with pleasure. However, I draw the line at   mixing business with the plight of the poor. Let the favela kids have   their cause heard. Then we will attend to business.'

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.