What the Greek Can't Resist

She frowned at the unexpected question. ‘No, I’m returning to Bath this evening.’

‘Then don’t let me stop you. Someone will be in touch soon.’

Something in the way he said that made suspicion rise higher. ‘And just how soon is soon?’

Another careless shrug. ‘I can get my brother to email his head of HR and get them to look into it but he’s somewhere in the South Pacific. In a state of wedded bliss, who knows how often he checks his emails.’ A shadow crossed his face, a tiny hint of what she’d glimpsed that night in the Macdonald Hall car park. Despite the need for self-preservation, her heart twisted.

‘Arion...’ He immediately stiffened and she bit her lip. Wrong move, Perla! Keep on point. ‘Mr Pantelides, I don’t have the sort of time you’re offering. Could you...would you be willing to look into this yourself for me? Please?’ she added when he remained frozen.

His eyes hardened. ‘Is this where you trot out the for old time’s sake?’

A heated flush crawled up her neck. ‘No, I wouldn’t be so crass as to refer to an occasion we’d both prefer to forget...but of course you won’t believe that about me so I don’t even know why I’m bothering. Look, I’m not sure whether you know about my circumstances, but Morgan and I lived with his parents after we got married. We were always going to move out and get a place of our own but that never happened. Two years ago, his mother was in a bad accident. Terry, Morgan’s father, had to give up his job to look after her. Times have been hard for them. Without Morgan’s insurance payment, they could lose their house. I know I’m nothing but a piece of trash in your eyes but they don’t deserve to lose their home so soon after losing their son.’

She sucked in a breath and risked a glance at him. His expression remained stone-cold. For several minutes he didn’t speak. Then he reached into his desk and slid across a small black triangular piece of gleaming plastic.

There were no markings on it. It could’ve been one of those if-you-had-to-apply-for-it-you-couldn’t-afford-it credit cards reserved for multi-billionaires she’d read about in a magazine once. Or it could’ve been a loyalty card for die-hard coffee addicts. Perla had no way of telling. She looked from the card to Arion’s face.

‘What’s that for?’ she asked suspiciously.

‘That card lets you into that lift.’ He nodded towards the small lift to one side of his office, across from the one she’d come up in. ‘The lift will take you straight to my penthouse. You’ll wait for me there—’

‘No way.’ Perla stopped what was coming before he could finish.

His nostrils flared. ‘Excuse me?’

‘I won’t do...whatever it is you have in mind. I know you think I’m nothing but some common whore but you’re wrong. What happened between us that night wasn’t cheap and it wasn’t tawdry. Not for me at least. And I despise you for thinking I’d stoop that low to get you to help me—’

‘Shut the hell up for one second and listen.’ His rough command dried her words.

Her fist clenched. ‘How dare you speak to me like—?’

‘You said you have nowhere to stay. I have a meeting in...exactly eight minutes which will last for five hours. Minimum. Unless you intend to wander the streets in the rain until I’m finished, my offer is the best you’re going to get.’

Surprise stamped through her. ‘Oh, you mean you want me to go up and just...wait for you?’ she asked.

‘Why, Mrs Lowell, you sound disappointed.’

Severely taken aback, it took her a minute to regroup. ‘I assure you, I’m not.’

He held out the card. ‘Good.’

With a hand she cursed for trembling, she took it and headed slowly for the lift, trepidation in her every step.

‘Oh, and Perla?’ he murmured mockingly.

She stopped and turned back to him. ‘What?’

‘Don’t look so frightened. You’re not going up to a den of iniquity. There’s more to my apartment than a bed and a pole for you to perform on.’

Her hand tightened on the card. ‘Wow, I’m shocked you even have those. The way you’ve been acting, I’d imagine a torture rack and thumb screws would be more accurate furnishings for the women you send up there.’

His eyes darkened and the hand lying on the table clenched into a fist. She’d scored a point in their battle of wills. Finally. But the victory felt hollow. With every word and every gesture, Arion tainted their one night together, letting bitterness fill the space where she’d known a few hours of joy. If only she could forget. But forgetting was impossible. Not when he sat there, so vital, so impossibly gorgeous.