‘Speak,’ Nikos commanded.
Mia blinked, elaborately long soot-black eyelashes a trembling framework around the startling rich blue of her eyes. ‘He—he claimed I was m-making the big eyes at him, then made a—a personal remark about you and me,’ she enlightened. ‘It’s your own fault, Nikos!’ she then flared up before he could react. ‘You make me follow you about like a pet dog on a leash! You glare at me if I move. You glare at me if I smile. You touch my hair, my arm, my fingers if I rest them on the table. You slide your hand around my waist when we walk! Look at you now,’ Mia charged up heatedly. ‘You are holding me here in front of you as if you have some special right to do so! That horrible man must have misread the signals you were giving, and dared to tell me he would like to enjoy a little slice of what y-you were getting from me!’
Nikos snapped his fingers from her arms as if she’d burned him. Mia almost staggered off the heels of her shoes in shock. The stunned expression on his face made her wring out a little laugh. ‘You don’t know you do it, do you?’ she choked out unsteadily. ‘You have no clue at all that you do any of the things I said! Well, you do, and he assumed from your behaviour towards me that we are—intimate.’ The word struggled to leave her throat. ‘And—and he asked me if I would like to meet with him one afternoon when you were unavailable.’
Nikos turned to stone in front of her. Shaken up by what she had just said to him, Mia tried to tug in a strained breath. In the two weeks she’d been working with him, Nikos had been treating her more like his lowly slave than his personal assistant. He’d dragged her out to every business luncheon he had attended. He’d brought her tumbling out of bed at ungodly hours of the morning to accompany him to working breakfasts too. If she spoke he didn’t like it; if she smiled he didn’t like it. If she let her attention drift to take in her surroundings he touched her hand to bring her gaze back to him, then frowned at her as if she had committed a mortal sin. Then he dumped her back at her apartment in the evenings and left her there alone—to recover, she presumed, while he went out and—did whatever it was he did in the evenings with whoever it was he did it with!
‘So we drop the Lassiter-Brunel deal.’
Tuning in too late to catch what he’d said, Mia saw that he’d moved back round his desk and lowered himself back into his chair again.
‘See to it,’ he instructed, pushing the now-closed folder back across the desk.
‘S-see to wh-what?’ she stammered out warily.
He lifted eyes to look at her. It was like being pinned to the wall by shards of black glass. Whatever it was that had exploded inside of him was gone now and the cold hard ruthlessly controlled animal was back.
‘I’m s-sorry,’ she felt compelled to apologise. ‘But I did not catch w-what you s-said to me.’
‘My command of the English language is that poor?’ he mocked.
‘N-no.’ She hated him. ‘I l-lost concentration f-for a m-moment…’
Nikos wondered what she’d do if he asked her to use that delightfully husky stammer she’d just developed, tonight while lying naked beneath him in his bed?
Theos! The silent curse burned its way around his head in protest for letting his imagination go in that direction. Two damn long weeks of this and she was still here driving him crazy.
Did he really do all of those things she had listed or was she just out to pull his strings—?
A curse locked in his throat. His new PA might not like him, but she lusted after him with a fever she was too inept to keep hidden, though he was equally certain that she was not aware that she was so transparent.
And that was the reason Anton Brunel had picked up on the sexual vibrations at the lunch table, he determined. Her fault, not his fault. And as for all that touching stuff she’d accused him of—it only happened inside her overimaginative head.
She made him think of a living, breathing sexual grenade with the pin dangling halfway out—half precocious woman, half infuriating child—and she might heat him up like no women had ever done, but he did not want her in his bed!
Oscar would never forgive him.
On that final sense-cooling reminder, Nikos made a grab at the thread of this discussion. ‘Call John Lassiter,’ he instructed. ‘Tell him I’m no longer interested in doing business with them.’
‘Me—?’ Mia gasped. ‘But I don’t want—’
‘And bring me some coffee,’ he cut over her scared protest and sat forward to pick up his pen.
If this didn’t teach her to keep her provocative ways in check, then nothing would. The Lassiter-Brunel deal was worth several million on paper. The innately frugal Mia Bianchi-Balfour was going to gag at the loss of such a lucrative deal. ‘And remind Fiona I will be out for two hours at lunch.’
‘But…Nikos please,’ Mia murmured painfully. ‘I don’t know how to do what you said!’
‘Make coffee?’ he incised with a cruelty he actually enjoyed inflicting.
‘Tell somebody a deal is to be broken!’
‘Then you are about to ride yet another steep learning curve,’ he relayed without a hint of care. ‘And just for the record, I don’t approve of office affairs, romances or even friendships. So stop taking swipes at me by the way you dress, or the way you look at me, or the way you put that Lassiter-Brunel file in front of me, expecting me to find that article and question your motives so you could tell me what Brunel presumed about us. It was irritating and juvenile. There is no us. The rest of what you said lives only in your head. Now I have some calls to make.’
Dismissed, appalled, devastated—whipped by his cold assassination—Mia spun away and walked across his office on legs that shook.
Irritating and juvenile….
‘I hate him,’ Mia whispered once she was on the other side of the door.
‘Did you say something?’ Fiona glanced up from her work.
Wishing she was dead or at least far, far away from this place, Mia stumbled across the room to sink down in the chair behind her desk before her trembling legs crumbled altogether. ‘He’s in a very bad mood today and I hate him.’
‘Don’t we all, darlin’,’ Fiona responded dryly. ‘Our gorgeous boss is pure sex on legs but as cold as ice. It’s such a waste of good male flesh.’ Sitting back from her computer console, Fiona’s floppy blonde curls bounced on her head as she gave Mia’s pale face the once-over. ‘Bit your head off, did he?’
More than just my head, Mia thought tragically. ‘I don’t know how you have put up with him for as long as you have.’
‘I’m immune.’ Fiona waggled her left hand at Mia, showing off the three sparkling rings she wore on her marriage finger. ‘I’ve got my own sexy brute to go home to each evening, and he’s never cold.’
‘He wants me to cancel the Lassiter-Brunel deal.’
Fiona went still. ‘So you told him.’
Mia pressed her trembling lips together and nodded. ‘He didn’t believe me.’
‘Then why is he pulling out of the deal?’ the secretary quizzed with a frown.
‘To—to punish me,’ Mia answered. ‘He knows I don’t know how to do such a thing so he’s making me do it to teach me a lesson about the consequences of making up stories.’
‘Nikos Theakis is throwing away a lucrative deal just to teach you a lesson?’ Fiona laughed. ‘I don’t believe it. There has to be more to his reasoning than that.’
There was, Mia thought bleakly. She had told him some other things he had not wanted to hear about. ‘And he’s not taking me with him to his lunch today…’
And that harsh rebuff was striking her as hard as everything else. It was like being cut off from the main lifeline which kept her functioning. She might hate him but she revelled in being around him.
Why had she told him he constantly touched her? Why hadn’t she kept her big mouth shut?
‘Perhaps that’s a good thing,’ Fiona said gently.
Blinking her ridiculously long eyelashes Mia brought her gaze into focus on the other w
oman, read her sympathetic expression and went hot.
‘He wants coffee.’ Looking away she stood and walked across the office to the coffee machine to prepare a small tray, then on impulse she begged Fiona, ‘Will you take it in? I don’t think I can stand another visit in there right now.’
‘Sure…’ Always relaxed, always sunny, Fiona came to take the tray from her, then paused. ‘Mia…’ she posed gently, ‘take a bit of advice from someone older and wiser than you are…get yourself a man.’
Glancing up, she groaned, ‘Oh, Dio. Am I so obvious?’
Fiona’s sympathetic smile said it all. ‘You know, when you first arrived here everyone in the building was more than ready to dislike you for who you are and how you came by this job. It took you just a week to win us all over. You’re hardworking, sweet and nice, but he isn’t nice—to women.’
Mia started despising herself for bringing this lecture on.
‘He uses them, Mia,’ Fiona pressed on her. ‘He does not respect them.’
‘As they use him.’ She felt some crazy need to defend Nikos Theakis even though he did not deserve it.
‘Yes.’ Fiona couldn’t argue with that. ‘Especially Miss Supermodel Lucy Clayton who received her farewell gift by special messenger last week. By next week another woman just like her will have been put in her place. It’s the way he works. The way he likes to keep it,’ Fiona stressed. ‘He’s an amazing risk taker in the business arena. An absolute financial genius everybody admires and respects, and he’s commendably honest and committed to any promises he makes—in business—but in his personal life?’ Fiona shook her head. ‘He’s a smooth, cool, bone-meltingly gorgeous sexual predator. He does not connect sex with his emotions—if he has any—the jury is still out on that. So take my advice and don’t go there. Don’t even want to go there because if he decides to take you he will spoil you for ever. So get yourself a man,’ she repeated, ‘and wean yourself off him while you still can.’
‘Where is my coffee?’ the sexual predator demanded.
CHAPTER THREE
BOTH women jumped guiltily and turned to see Nikos Theakis standing in his office doorway. By his closed expression there was no way they could tell if he’d overheard them talking about him, but for the first time since she’d started working here, Mia saw two hot coins of guilt hit Fiona’s creamy cheekbones and knew her own cheeks wore the same hot sting.
Good, Nikos thought, tamping down hard on his anger for the second time this morning as he strode across the room to take the tray from his blushing secretary, then strode back into his office with it without uttering another word.
Get yourself a man… His lips compressed into a tight line as he set down the tray. Why had he not thought of offering his PA the same piece of advice?
The answer to that question was not a nice one. But then, as his secretary had just pointed out to Mia, he wasn’t nice.
It rankled—the not-nice part and the man part.
Throwing himself down in his chair Nikos swung it around to face the window. So I don’t respect women. A flash of irritation shot across his face. He did respect them or why the hell did he restrict himself to the kind that preferred to play the game the way he liked to play it? He wasn’t looking for love. He was not looking for marriage, so he steered well clear of the kind of women looking for either or both.
And that was respecting them, he determined. It would have been nice if Fiona had recognised that.
Vaguely surprised that there was a dose of hurt rolling round inside him, Nikos frowned. He was good to his staff, fair—generous, as Fiona had pointed out. He’d believed he had their respect. His secretary had shocked him with her view of him. It angered him that she’d felt it necessary to warn Mia off.
He rested a long forefinger along the line of his mouth where the smooth skin covering his lips felt tightly stretched, his eyes narrowed by an unwanted feeling of distaste at the idea of Mia turning all of that untapped passion on for some other man.
What if she took Fiona’s advice—?
‘Damn,’ he muttered, not liking what was rattling around inside him. Where was the guy who focused purely on business? The guy who barely noticed a woman unless she was stretched out naked on a bed?
Perhaps that was it. He needed a woman. Sex, he named it. A long night of seething hot passion with the kind of woman who could appreciate what he could do for her without expecting the whole heavy emotional bit by return. He was not possessive. He was not even mildly demonstrative like Mia had dared to suggest. If he touched her like she said he did, it was done with attention to polite good manners and respect. She was the one who’d misread the signals.
John Lassiter was at first stunned by Nikos Theakis’s decision to pull out of negotiations, then he grew increasingly more angry by Mia’s apologetic inability to give him answers as to why they were being dumped. Within minutes of her finally managing to put the phone down on the uncomfortable conversation, Fiona’s telephone was ringing and Anton Brunel was demanding to speak to Nikos.
With a telling glance at each other, Fiona put the call through to their boss. Ten minutes later he was striding out of his office with his too-handsome face locked into an iron-hard mask of contempt. He did not speak as he crossed their office; he did not cast them a glance. The dismissive tension he left behind him cloyed on Mia.
In the end, she couldn’t stand it, and she took herself off to the café around the corner to buy herself some lunch. While she sat at one of the small tables trying to eat a sandwich her tense throat did not want to swallow, a man from the accounts department came in to the café. Seeing her sitting on her own he brought his sandwich to her table and joined her.
After a shy start to her unexpected company Mia surprised herself by warming to his easy-going brand of friendly humour and began to relax and enjoy herself. They walked back to the office building together and lingered to finish their conversation in the foyer for a minute or two. It was all warm and nice and friendly and fun.
Striding into his plush grey-and-black marble foyer, Nikos caught sight of his PA standing there, talking with someone from his accounts team.
Shock almost brought him to a halt.
She looked young and beautiful and relaxed and alive. Something hard and hot grabbed hold of his chest and hung on. Without knowing he was about to do it, he parted his grim lips to snap out her name, only to clamp them shut again when her ‘pet dog on a leash’ accusation leapt into his head.
He kept himself moving towards the bank of lifts and refused to look at the cosy duo again. Once he’d gained the privacy of his luxurious office, he went straight on the offensive and took out his mobile phone to start flicking through his address book. Five minutes later he had arranged dinner for that evening with the beautiful and very eager Lois Mansell and was feeling much better about himself. Lois was just what he needed. She was a cool smooth banking executive practiced in the art of sex just for sex. Young and irritatingly naive brunettes with more than a hint of Italian fire in their bellies, and with virgin territory stamped all over them, did not and never would do it for him.
Get yourself a man… Mia considered this as she sat alone in her flat that same evening, reworking a designer suit to look less high fashion and more office friendly so she could wear it to work next week.
Weaning herself off Nikos Theakis was making good sense the more she thought about it. He did not want her. Dio, he had gone into great detail to make it clear how much he did not want her!
Irritating and juvenile…
Putting her sewing aside she stood with a tense jerk and paced restlessly over to the window to look out. It was dark outside, the London night skyline twinkling with lights. It was Friday night and most people of her age would be out there enjoying themselves, but here was she alone in her flat with her hair stuck in a ponytail, wearing a pair of faded jeans and an old top, and no plans to go anywhere, or anyone to call upon if she did want to go out!
Right now she would k
ill to have a man ring her doorbell, or to be getting ready to go out to meet with him.
Fiona was right. It was time she weaned herself off this infatuation she suffered for Nikos Theakis. It was time for her to throw off the shy little country girl and make good use of the opportunity her father had given her to grow into herself.
A man…a man… How did one go about attracting a man?
Well, not by standing alone here in her flat, that was certain. Could she have enticed the man she’d shared lunch with today to ask her out, if she’d put her mind to it?
Her isolated life in Tuscany had not taught her anything about being a young independent woman living on her own in a big city. She’d lived all of her life with her aunt on a small hill farm five kilometres from the nearest village. She’d attended a tiny convent school for girls, and money had been so tight that even meeting her school friends in the nearest town on a Saturday to go shopping together had been beyond her meagre cash reserves.
In her life to date, she’d had just two abiding influences. A wonderfully caring but ageing aunt she adored, and an even older man she kept house and cooked for who lived very much in a world of his own. And the worst part was that no matter how hard Oscar and his daughters had tried to bring her out of herself, she was still that quiet, shy and isolated country girl on the inside.
She sighed, turning to face the room again with its bland walls and bland modern furniture and its television playing softly in the corner for company.
I’m going to go out.
The decision sparked out of nothing. It just hit her like a fever in her head and, before she knew it, Mia was striding out of the sitting room and into the bedroom. Ten minutes later she returned, dressed in a short dusky-lilac silk dress with a dipping neckline and tiny lace-cap sleeves. A hunt along the rail of hand-me-downs had uncovered a fashionably complicated fitted black satin jacket she pulled on over the dress as she walked.
Mia and the Powerful Greek Page 4