Christos couldn’t drag his gaze from the body encased in a pair of dark blue jeans, a shimmery navy sleeveless top and waist-length leather jacket. Her hair was caught up in its usual style, but the transformation was disconcertingly visceral enough to knock the breath out of him while firing spikes of heat to parts of his body he preferred not to call attention to in public.

He’d never bothered to categorise which female body part he most favoured, but, seeing Alexis’s denim-clad behind as she turned to shut the door, he was slammed with a need so acute his fist clenched on his thigh. He knew how those luscious twin globes would feel in his hands. He wanted to knead them again, leverage their delicious weight as he dragged her into his body until those breasts were pressed into his chest. He wanted to drag his nose along her sleek neck, investigate whether she’d worn that rose-scented perfume tonight or the one that made her smell like the lightest ocean breeze.

His gaze traced her skin to her wrist, the memory of her frantic pulse beating beneath her silky flesh gliding to centre stage in his mind. Now, like then, the stirring in his groin announced a new dimension to his relationship with his assistant. Because she didn’t look at him with stars in her eyes, with bated breath and false promises that could never be realistically fulfilled? Because she didn’t throw around words he didn’t want to hear, like companionship and relationship and, heaven forbid, love?

Ne, perhaps that was it. His parents had uttered words like that once upon a time and look where they’d ended up. Look where he’d ended up, a pawn between two merciless predators, uncaring that they were tearing him to shreds.

He drew his gaze from the curve of her hip, past the slim watch and silver bracelet that circled her wrists. By the time she stopped in front of him, he’d smashed down hard on the unwanted physical reactions.

‘Is there any news about Demitri’s case?’ She was the epitome of professionalism, with her tablet and the electronic pen and perfectly coiffed hair.

The need to see that thick, rich hair unfettered flared through him. But a moment later, the reminder of his friend’s plight caused his jaw to clench. He nodded at the chair. She sat down and crossed her shapely legs.

‘I just spoke to the lawyers. They’re on their way to court. We’ll know in the next hour if we need to change course to Athens instead of Drakonisos.’

‘Have you heard from Demitri? Is your godson all right?’

Her enquiry, though it strayed far too much into personal territory, pleased him, nonetheless. But the tightness in his chest as he answered didn’t. ‘The mother is refusing to let Demitri see him. Same goes for the mother of his older son. She’s refusing to let him see his other son, too.’ No matter how clinically he recited the facts, a part of him bristled with rage.

Alexis nodded. ‘So we might be staging custody battles on two fronts instead of one?’

‘Potentially, yes. But securing the return of my godson is paramount. He cannot remain in that toxic environment.’

Her lashes lifted, her eyes searching his for the reason for his caustic tone. ‘When was the last time you saw him?’ she asked.

A twinge of guilt snagged his gut. ‘Why does it matter?’

‘I have a fair grasp on your daily schedule. For all intents and purposes, we’re joined at the hip. I don’t recall you mentioning Demitri’s son.’

A different sort of sensation attacked his lower abdomen, arrowing into his groin, the image of being attached to Alexis making his temperature rise. ‘I haven’t seen the boy in a...while,’ he confessed, ignoring the bite of shame.

‘So you didn’t know that their marriage was in trouble? That all the things listed as the reason for their divorce...’ She stared down at the tablet to refresh her memory, but Christos knew everything by heart.

‘The infidelity? Neglect of both her husband and her child? Verbal abuse and the as yet unproved physical abuse of her child? All the usual reasons two people who shouldn’t marry ignore reality and end up in these types of situations. I’m not the morality police, Alexis. My only task is to ensure the right people are saved from anguish in the fallout.’

Again, her lashes flew up, questions flitting across her expression. ‘I didn’t mean...of course I don’t think you’re the morality police...’

His teeth gritted, the knowledge that he’d revealed too much biting him hard. Alexis opened her mouth to speak but he waylaid her questions by sliding a sheet of paper across his desk. ‘Contact these clients, let them know we’ll be out of town for a while but that I’ll let them know if there are any developments.’

She nodded, her teeth trapping her lower lip as she glanced down at the page. The sight of the plump curves glistening with the peach gloss she favoured renewed the pounding in his groin.

Her gaze darted up, caught him watching her, and her breath hitched. She raised her tablet to her chest, holding it close like armour.

Christos suppressed a grim smile, even as he clenched his fist to stop himself from tracing his knuckles across her smooth cheek. He momentarily lost track of time, his senses absorbed by the pulse racing at her throat, the susurration of her breathing and the intensifying temptation of her perfume.

His gaze dropped once again to her lips. They parted as if by command and she slicked her lower lip with the tip of her pink tongue.

The mobile phone beeped. She jumped, sending the gadget a startled look before taking a hurried step back. ‘I... I’ll get this done.’

He didn’t answer as she rushed out. He wasn’t sure he had adequate words to describe what the hell was happening. No explanations for his sudden wish to throw caution to the wind, go against his better judgement and test the depths of the blazing awareness between himself and Alexis.

Despite the rumours circulated by gossipmongers, he’d never been interested in mixing business with pleasure. It was the reason he’d sent his previous assistants packing the moment they exhibited signs of unprofessional interest.

But Alexis was different. And not because he’d struck a deal with her twelve months ago and placed a ring on her finger. Although that know

ledge seemed to beat a curiously persistent drum in his blood. The kind that reeked of possession.

Her revelation about Hope House had thrown him. Granted, the first time she’d mentioned it, he’d been too preoccupied with sealing the terms of their agreement to pay attention to why a children’s home meant that much to her. None of the women he’d dated in the past would’ve spared a thought for an orphanage past the need to look magnanimous at a fundraiser. But Alexis had reached back into her past with a helping hand. Whereas the only association he wanted with his childhood was the grim and relentless drive it gave him never to return to that helpless state.

Tags: Maya Blake Billionaire Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net