The Secrets She Carried

‘Make it Cristo. I’m not a big fan of formality,’ Cristo murmured levelly and even the air around him seemed cool as frost.

Just as suddenly Erin was angry, craving the power to knock him into the middle of next week for not being surprised by her appearance. Evidently he had known in advance that she worked for Sam and he was not prepared to own up to their previous relationship, which suited Erin perfectly. Indeed she was grateful that he had pretended she was a stranger, for she cringed at the idea of Sam and her colleagues learning what an idiot she had once been. One of Cristo Donakis’ ex-girlfriends, what? That guy who changed women as he changed socks? Really? Inside her head she could already imagine the jeers and scornful amusement that that revelation would unleash, for Erin already knew that she had the reputation of being standoffish with the staff for keeping her private life private while others happily told all. Was Cristo the prospective buyer of Sam’s hotels? For what other reason would he be visiting the Stanwick hotel? Cristo owned an international hotel and leisure empire.

‘Erin … I’d like you to give Cristo a tour of our facilities here and at the other spas. His particular interest lies with them,’ Sam told her equably. ‘You can give him the most recent breakdown of figures. Believe me when I tell you that this girl has a mind like a computer for the important details.’

Erin went pink in receipt of that compliment.

‘Looks and brains—I’m impressed,’ Cristo pronounced with a slow smile that somehow contrived to freeze her to the marrow.

‘You own the Donakis group,’ Erin remarked tightly, trying to combat the shocked blankness of her mind with a shrewd take on what Cristo’s source of interest could be in a trio of comparatively small hotels, which while luxurious could not seriously compare to the opulence of the elite Donakis hotel standards. ‘I thought you specialised in city hotels.’

‘My client base also enjoy country breaks. In any business there’s always room for expansion in a new direction. I want to provide my clients with a choice of custom-made outlets so that they no longer have to patronise my competitors,’ Cristo drawled smoothly.

‘The beauty market is up-and-coming. What was once a treat for special occasions is now seen as a necessity by many women and by men as well,’ Erin commented, earning an appreciative glance from her boss.

‘You surprise me. I’ve never used a spa in my life,’ Cristo proclaimed without hesitation.

‘But your nails are filed and your brows are phenomenally well groomed,’ Erin commented softly, earning a startled appraisal from Sam, who clearly feared that she was getting much too personal about his guest’s grooming habits.

‘You’re very observant,’ Cristo remarked silkily.

‘Well, I have to be. One third of our customer base is male,’ Erin fielded smoothly.

CHAPTER TWO

ERIN escorted Cristo to the fitness suite that connected with the spa.

‘You can’t buy Sam’s hotels,’ she said tightly in an undertone, the words framed by gritted teeth. ‘I don’t want to work for you again.’

‘Believe me, I don’t want you on my payroll either,’ Cristo declared with succinct bite.

Well, she knew how she could take that. If he took over, she would be out in the cold as soon as the law allowed such a move and, appalling as the prospect of unemployment was, it was a welcome warning at a moment when she was feeling far too hot and bothered to think straight. What was it about Cristophe Donakis? That insidious power of his that got to her every time? Sheathed in a charcoal grey pinstripe suit, fitted to his lean powerful body with the flare that only perfect tailoring could offer, Cristo looked spectacular and, although she very much wanted to be, she was not indifferent to his high-voltage sexual charge. Cristo was a very beautiful man with the sleek dark good looks of a Greek god. As she turned to look at him, eyes as blank as she could make them, there was a lowdown buzz already feeding through her every limb like poison. She knew what that buzz was and feared it deeply. It was the burn of excitement, gut-deep, breathtaking excitement.

‘I wasn’t expecting to find a gym here,’ Cristo remarked, eying the banks of machines and their sweating occupants, swivelling his handsome head to glance through the glass partition to where a couple of men were training with heavy weights. He returned his attention to her just as Erin slicked her tongue across her white teeth as if she was seeking to eradicate a stray smudge of lipstick. She wasn’t wearing very much, just a hint of pale pearlised gloss that added unnecessary voluptuousness to the full swell of that sultry mouth, which he was working very hard not to imagine moving against his … Don’t go there, his cool intelligence cautioned him, acting to suppress the kind of promptings that would interfere with his concentration.

‘An exercise suite dovetails perfectly with the spa. The customers come here to train and attend classes, treat themselves to a massage or a beauty treatment and go home feeling spoiled and refreshed.’ As Erin talked she led the way into the spa and gave him a brief look at those facilities that were free for his appraisal. ‘People have less free time these days. It makes sense to offer a complete package at the right price. The profits speak for themselves.’

‘So, how much are you creaming off in reward for your great moneymaking ideas?’ Cristo enquired smoothly.

Her brow furrowed, amethyst eyes flickering in confusion across his strong bronzed face. ‘I don’t get commission for bringing in more business,’ she responded uncertainly.

‘That wasn’t what I meant and you know it. I’ve seen enough of the premises here. We’ll move on to Blacks now and fit in the last place before dinner,’ he told her arrogantly.

Cristo strode out to the front of the hotel and the silver Bugatti Veyron sports car that was his pride and joy. Erin followed more slowly, her agile brain struggling to work out what he had meant. ‘I’ll take my own car,’ she called in his wake, crossing to the BMW. ‘Then I can go home without needing a lift.’

Cristo wheeled back in his tracks, brilliant dark eyes gleaming between lush curling lashes. He was quick to note the premium model that she drove and he wondered with derision just how she afforded such a vehicle. ‘No, I’ll take you. We have business to discuss.’

Erin could think of nothing she wanted to discuss with him and she wanted him nowhere near the home she shared with her mother but, as Sam’s right-hand woman, keeping Cristo happy was paramount. She wanted Cristo to vanish in a puff of black smoke like the fallen angel he resembled but she did not want Sam to lose out because she hadn’t done her job right: she owed the older man too much for his faith in her and could not have looked him in the eye again if she scared off Cristo to suit her own personal preferences. Yet was she capable of scaring him off? There was an air of purpose about Cristo that said otherwise. To be fair, Sam’s busy hotels would make a good investment. She pulled out her phone to ring Owen, the manager at Black’s, to give him notice of their intended visit.

With pronounced reluctance she climbed into Cristo’s boy-toy car, trying not to recall the time she had attended the Motor Show with him where the beautiful models draped over the latest l

uxury cars had salivated every time Cristo came within touching distance. Women always always noticed Cristo, ensnared by his six-foot-four-inch height and breadth and the intensity of dark eyes that could glitter like black diamonds.

Out of the corner of his gaze, Cristo watched her clasp her hands on her lap and instantly he knew she was on edge, composing herself into the little concentrated pool of calm and silence she invariably embraced when she was upset. She was so damn small, a perfect little package at five feet two inches calculated to appeal to the average testosterone-driven male as a vulnerable female in need of masculine protection. His shapely mouth took on a sardonic slant as he accelerated down the drive. She could look after herself. He had once enjoyed her independent streak, the fact she didn’t always come when he called. Like most men he preferred a challenge to a clinging vine but he knew how tricky she could be and had no intention of forgetting it.

Erin wanted to keep her tongue pinned to the roof of her mouth but she couldn’t. ‘What you said back there—that phrase you used, “creaming off,” —I didn’t like the connotations—’

‘I didn’t think you would,’ Cristo fielded softly, his dark accented drawl vibrating low in his throat.