She started to walk towards the fleet of four-wheelers a short distance away. Their driver stood next to the first one.
‘I reserved a suite for you at the Noire. Your case was taken there a few hours ago and your laptop and phones are in the jeep. I’ll see you in the morning, Mr Pantelides,’ she tagged on.
Sakis froze. ‘You’ll see me in the morning? Aren’t you coming with me?’
‘No,’ she said.
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’m not staying at the hotel.’
‘Where exactly are you staying?’
She indicated the double row of yellow tents set up further up on the beach, away from the bustle of the clean-up work.
‘I’ve secured a tent and put my stuff in there.’
‘What’s wrong with staying at the same hotel I’m staying in?’
‘Nothing, except they didn’t have any more rooms. The suite I reserved for you was the last one. The other hotels are too far away to make the commute efficient.’
Sakis shook his head. ‘You’ve been on your feet all day with barely a break— Don’t argue with me, Moneypenny,’ He raised a hand when she started to speak. ‘You’re not sleeping in a flimsy tent on the beach with machines blasting away all around you. Go and get your things.’
‘I assure you, it’s more than adequate.’
‘No. You say I have a suite?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then there is no reason why we can’t share it.’
‘I would rather not, Mr Pantelides.’
The outright refusal shocked and annoyed him in equal measures. Also another first from Brianna Moneypenny was the fact that she wasn’t quite meeting his gaze. ‘Why would you rather not?’
She hesitated.
‘Look at me, Moneypenny,’ he commanded.
Blue eyes... No, they weren’t quite blue. They were a shade of aquamarine, wide, lushly lashed and beautiful...and they met his in frank challenge. ‘Your room is a single suite with one double bed. It’s not suitable for two, um, professionals, and I’d rather not have to share my personal space.’
Sakis thought of the countless women who would jump at the chance to share ‘personal space’ with him.
He thought of all the women who would kill to share a double bed with him.
Then he thought of why he was here, in this place: with his oil contaminating a once incredibly beautiful beach; his crew missing; and the tabloid press just waiting for him to slip up, to show them that the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree.
The sick feeling that he’d forced down but never quite suppressed enough threatened to rise again. It was the same mingled despair and anger he’d felt when Theo had been taken. The same sense of helplessness when he’d been unable to do anything to stop his mother fading away before his eyes, her pain raw and wrenching after what his father and the media had done to her.
‘I don’t give a damn about your personal space. What I do give a damn about is your ability to fire on all cylinders. We discussed this—you being up to standing by me in this situation we find ourselves in. You assured me you were up to the task. And yet, for the last ten minutes, you’ve shown a certain...mutiny that makes me wonder whether you’re equipped to handle what’s coming.’