‘Why did you switch the cellphone off? What were you up to all that time?’ He thrust his head close to hers. She could see the tic of a rapid pulse at the base of his clenched jaw; smell the natural, masculine scent of him in her nostrils.
And feel the traitorous weakness of her reaction to him. The recognition of it was like a betrayal. How could she?
‘We went into the mountains this afternoon, Kyrie Palamidis,’ Yiorgos said from inside the car. ‘We lost the signal.’
‘And you could always have left a message,’ she interrupted, ‘if it was anything important.’
Costas flicked her a momentary glance then said something curtly dismissive to Yiorgos and slammed the car door shut. He still held her arm in a tight grip as the engine purred into life and the car headed round the corner of the house towards the garages.
‘Did you know that Yiorgos is engaged to be married?’ he said in a lethally quiet voice.
She frowned. What had that to do with anything?
‘Did you know?’ His fingers bit into her flesh and she winced. Immediately he loosened his grip. But he didn’t release her.
‘No, I didn’t.’ She glared up at him, wondering what the hell was going on.
He nodded once. ‘Then perhaps I should tell you that his fiancée is a very possessive, very jealous young woman.’
For a couple of seconds Sophie stared at him, her jaw sagging as the implications of his words permeated her brain. He was warning her off? What did he think she was, some sort of seductress who’d gone straight from the boss to the chauffeur?
Nausea churned her stomach, welled in her throat. His tone was as icy as his eyes were hot, and she felt as if he’d just slapped her, hard.
In that instant she realised just what sort of woman Costas thought her.
‘Get your hand
s off me!’ she hissed.
Surprisingly, this time he complied, leaving her free to escape up the stairs, almost stumbling in her haste to seek sanctuary.
Well done, Palamidis. Costas watched her scramble inside as if the hound of Hades himself were after her.
Sto Diavolo! He couldn’t have done worse if he’d tried!
He planted his feet wide, refusing to give in to the instinct that told him to race after her and gather her close. The last thing she needed was him invading her space. Not when he’d hurt her again, insulted her out of sheer, bloody, dog-in-the-manger jealousy.
It had taken just one glance at her smiling face, the carefree laughter in her eyes as she responded to Yiorgos, and the look on his driver’s face as he watched her, and Costas had lost it.
Jealous of his driver!
She was so beautiful when she smiled like that, all vestige of strain disappearing from her face, that it had struck him like a blow, deep and devastating in his chest. It hurt, knowing she’d never look at him in that way, smile so freely and approvingly. He’d sacrificed that last night when he’d behaved like a thug.
But no man could fail to recognise the male appreciation in Yiorgos’ eyes as he turned on the charm for her. More than appreciation. There’d been speculation. And it was that look that had drawn Costas’ simmering anger to the surface, making him lash out indiscriminately.
He shook his head. He should have saved his anger for Yiorgos. Hell, the guy was a practised womaniser with a reputation envied by half the local men.
Costas would have a few choice words with him soon.
And in future he, Costas, would drive Sophie wherever she wanted to go.
He straightened his shoulders and started up the steps. In the meantime he had an apology to make.
Eventually he located her, emerging from a downstairs powder room. Her shoulders were hunched and her eyes skittered from his. Her mouth was a taut line of pain in her overly pale face.
He’d done that. Damn his possessive masculine ego!
‘Sophie …’ He reached for her hand but she jerked away, retreating a step till she’d backed up to a wall.