What the Greek Can't Resist

‘I appreciate it, Mr Pantelides. Have a safe journey back to London.’

She turned away, grateful for the distraction that Morgan’s wheelchair-bound mother brought to stop her wondering just what Sakis Pantelides knew about her carnal activities with his brother.

And she certainly couldn’t think about Arion Pantelides and the heat that rushed under her skin every time she relived what had happened in his hotel room three days ago.

What had happened between them was now firmly in the past. Never to be repeated. What she needed to concentrate on now was picking up the shattered pieces and commencing the uphill battle that was the rest of her life.

CHAPTER FOUR

Three months later.

PERLA LOOKED UP for the umpteenth time as the Pantelides Inc. reception phone rang. The superbly groomed receptionist answered in dulcet tones and sliced another cool look at Perla before turning away.

Her teeth gritted and for a second she fought the urge to march over to the desk and demand she call upstairs again and get her the meeting she’d come here for.

Instead, she smoothed her hand down the black pencil skirt she’d spent her dwindling funds on and forced herself to remain seated. She’d turned up with no prior appointment, but only because her phone calls and emails had gone unanswered. And, truth be told, she’d only been waiting an hour and a half.

But being in the architecturally imposing building that bore the Pantelides name made her nerves jangle with each heartbeat, despite chastising herself that the likelihood that Arion Pantelides was in residence was negligible.

As the head of Pantelides Luxe, the branch of the conglomerate that ran its luxury hotels and casinos around the world—yes, she’d researched him in a moment of madness—Arion Pantelides spent very little time in England. And even if he were here, she’d asked for an appointment with the head of HR in Sakis’s absence, not his brother.

So, really, there was no need for her to feel as if she were playing dare in an electric lightning storm.

Nevertheless, when the phone rang again, she held her breath. Expertly waxed eyebrows arched her way and a manicured hand motioned her forward.

Sighing her relief, Perla approached the desk as the receptionist hung up.

With another glance, which was now tinged with heavy speculation, the receptionist slid a visitor’s badge along with a short silver key across the sleek glass counter.

‘Please wear this at all times. Take the last lift on the right. Turn the key and press the button.’

Perla wanted to ask which floor she needed but she didn’t want to look a fool, so she nodded her thanks and walked on shaky feet to the lift.

As it turned out, there was only one button to press. After inserting the key, she stabbed the green button that simply read AP and held her breath as the doors slid smoothly shut.

Her trepidation rose along with her meagre breakfast as she was whisked up at warp speed.

She barely had time to swallow the sudden nausea that assailed her before the lift doors were sliding open again. She started to step out, then froze as ice washed over her.

Arion Pantelides stood before her, tall, breathtaking, imposing...and as granite-faced as he’d been on the day she’d buried Morgan.

Perla swallowed. And swallowed again before she could speak. ‘I think there’s been some sort of misunderstanding. I’m not here to see you. I came to see your brother, my late husband’s employer. Or, in his absence, I asked for the head of HR.’

‘Sakis isn’t here.’ He confirmed what she already knew. ‘He’s on an extended honeymoon.’ That voice, deep, husky, tinged with a haunting quality that she’d found intriguing since their first meeting, feathered along her nerves, sending her insides quaking with emotion so strong she wanted to take a step back from it.

Perla bit her lip. ‘Yes, I know he got married last month but I didn’t know he was still away... I was hoping he was back...’ She drifted to a stop, her gaze trying desperately not to stray over his hauntingly beautiful face. A face that had featured in her dreams more times than she cared to acknowledge even to herself.

‘He would’ve got married sooner. He delayed it because your husband’s involvement in the Pantelides oil tanker crash was still under investigation. It would’ve been in bad taste to celebrate what is supposed to be the happiest day of any man’s life with events like that hanging over everyone’s head.’

The veiled mockery in his tone made her hackles rise, but it was the memory of his blistering anger the last time they’d met that made her insides quake.