Horace lifted his chin but didn’t say anything.
“Why are you being so abrasive to Uncle Horace lately?” Kostas asked him, tilting his head to the side.
“Are you serious? After everything he’s done? Just because we don’t have proof doesn’t mean I’m blind,” Theo said. He’d had it with the unaccounted for spending, the constant cut in employee benefits or even overall customer experience. While he encouraged all these cuts, Horace’s personal wealth continued to grow—without any explanation.
Kostas squeezed his shoulder, speaking in a low voice. “I know, brother. Soon you’ll marry Talia and all this will be behind you. But until then, there’s no need for bad blood.”
Theo looked at his brother, internally applauding his sense of diplomacy. Kostas was four years younger than he, but times like this he acted more mature and collected. Maybe because Kostas had always lived with their parents—and been always around more mature folks. The years when Theo had lived with their grandparents, Kostas had to mature fast to keep up with the adult conversations around him.
Also, their mother loved meddling. Which only meant the weight of responsibility lay heavy on Theo’s shoulders. Lead by example, his grandfather had always said.
Maybe Kostas had a point, though. Theo had been visibly abrasive to his uncle lately—and it’d only cause more attrition when he became the president and majority stock holder of Rhodes Enterprises.
Theo said goodbye to his brother, and a few minutes later, got on the elevator and headed to the top floor.
“Mr. Rhodes.” His uncle’s assistant Maria rose at his arrival. She reached for the phone. “I’ll tell Mr. Horace you’re here.”
“No need.” Theo lifted his hand in disagreement. Hell, hadn’t his uncle surprised him and walked into his office countless times before without announcement? Maybe giving the prick a taste of his own medicine would show him how inconvenient he was. “I’ll surprise him.”
She nodded. “Of course.”
Theo opened the heavy door and walked inside, quietly, as his uncle spoke quickly into the phone. “Amaya Lopez. Yes, that’s her name. Find out everything about her.”
Theo’s blood ran cold.
His uncle kept staring at the glass wall, his shoulders tense. “I don’t care. Go to Nevada if you have to. I want to know why in the world this woman is in Greece with my nephew—”
This woman? Theo’s fingers curled into fists. He’d never told his uncle she was from Nevada. How did he know Amaya? The familiarity with which he called her name brought a nauseating sensation to his gut.
“I thought I’d paid you enough to take care of my problems,” his uncle huffed, waving his hands in the air, obviously annoyed. “Don’t you think I fucking know? I’m not going down because of a damn accident with some no-names.”
What the hell had his uncle gotten involved with this time?
Theo ran his fingers down his face, temples throbbing. His uncle began to move around, holding the phone and gesticulating as if whomever he talked to on the phone was in front of him.
“No, I won’t calm down. Not when—”
At last, Horace turned around and saw Theo. He stopped in his tracks, his face paling. Swiftly, he turned off his phone and sat it on the desk.
Tension charged in the room.
“Hello, Uncle,” Theo said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “You want to tell me what business you have with Amaya?” What if his uncle had found out about the virgin auction? Theo popped his knuckles. Nah. That wouldn’t be enough to get his usually cool uncle in knots.
A bob made its way down Horace’s throat. Horace opened his mouth, hesitated, then ran his fingers through his thinning hair. “What business do you have with her, my dear nephew?” Horace asked. “Don’t you think it’s a tremendous coincidence you brought her into your house? A woman you think can ruin me? When I heard you and Kostas talking, I paid attention to her name. Amaya Lopez. The first name didn’t ring a bell, but the surname has been haunting me for a year. What are the odds of a woman from Vegas conveniently coming to Greece with you? A woman who tragically lost her parents.”
A woman…
Wheels moved in Theo’s mind.
The conversation he’d overheard echoed in his ears, and as he glared at his uncle, he drew in a breath. Think man, think. Why would Horace be so mad at Amaya’s presence in Athens? If anything, he could use her against Theo—to show Talia Theo was living his last months of freedom in full-on debauchery.
Theo winced. Talia wouldn’t care.
A damn accident with some no-names.
A tremendous coincidence you brought her into your house.
Theo’s heart stopped working for a second. “You killed Amaya’s parents,” he said, each word bringing him more clarity. His uncle had decided not to travel anymore to Vegas to meet with business partners since a year ago—around the same time Amaya had told him her parents had died. Theo had taken turns with his father, but ever since his father began having health scares and began to lay low, Theo had gone in his place.
Horace’s color dissipated from his face. His eyes widened. “It was an accident!”
“You were drunk,” Theo said, remembering Amaya’s words.
Horace fumbled with his tie. “Tipsy. Not drunk. And those people jaywalked. They committed a minor infraction of their own by ignoring the crosswalk.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He launched at Horace, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him against the wall. His uncle gasped, beads of sweat forming under his nose. The only sound filling the space were their own labored breaths—his uncle’s because of fear, and Theo’s because of frustration. His body pounded with rage, blood about to pop from his temples. “Is that why you fled the scene and never waited for help? Because of their minor infraction?”
“Theo, stop this.” Horace squirmed under his grasp, coughing. “I…I can’t breathe.”
Theo loosened the hold of his collar without letting him go. “It’s a hit-and-run. You killed them and walked free.”
“I see that’s how it looks—”
Theo groaned. “How it looks? You’re a murderer.” Hell, what else could he add to his uncle’s unknown resume? What other wrongdoings did he hide from most people?
“It was an accident,” his uncle squealed. “I’m sorry. I…thought about reaching out to the girl, to help her financially, but I was scared something would happen.”
Something would happen to him, no doubt. Theo let go of his uncle, who fell to the floor like a heavy sack. “Like justice.”
Horace loosened his collar, then touched his neck, rubbing the reddening area. “I’m the villain here. I get it. Let’s not pretend I don’t know what you’re doing.”
Theo glanced down at his uncle sitting on the floor. Pity for the man he could have been stabbed at him. Horace could have been an honorable businessman, admired by his peers. Instead, he became a sleazeball who prioritized his own interests at all times—even at the cost of people’s lives. Theo swallowed the lump of pity, and cleared his throat twice.
No. Horace didn’t deserve his pity—he’d been irresponsible and ended up killing Amaya’s parents.
“You brought that woman here to slander me in front of the board. You’ve been waiting for the right moment, am I correct? Perhaps the annual company party?”
“You’re done.”
“No.” Horace stood. “I’ll explain it to the members of the board. Trust me, maybe not all but the majority will be on my side when I come to them and say an unfortunate accident happened.”
“An accident? That’s rich. I’ll call the authorities,” Theo said. Because the offense happened overseas, he’d have to find out exactly how. If his uncle had hurt anyone in Greece, that’d be easier.
“Please. You’d have to go to Vegas and look into it, and I’ll have my lawyer make sure I don’t get extradited. There were no witnesses, no evidence. It’s hearsay,” his uncle said, his voice steady.
&n
bsp; “I’m a witness. I heard you talking to someone.” Someone he could contact, if only he knew his name.
“A highly motivated one, aren’t you? Let me burst your bubble. If I go to jail, I won’t automatically lose my stocks. I can simply sell them to a couple of board members to make sure you never become president.”
“This isn’t about me.”
“Then why else did you bring Miss Lopez to Athens in such a timely manner? To get rid of me so you don’t have to marry Talia.”
Theo pinched the bridge of his nose. If he told his uncle the truth, he’d lose leverage. And, if he accused him publicly right now, he’d have no evidence. To get him arrested for what he’d done, Theo needed to act strategically. He needed time.
“I don’t want your detective or whatever slimy bastard you hired on her tail. Now that all cards are out, you’re dealing with me about this from now on. Not her.”
“Will do.” His uncle stretched out his hand with a triumphant smile on his lips.
Theo stared at his hand, but shook his head. “Just because I’m keeping quiet, don’t think you get a pass. You were responsible, Horace.”
“You’re so much like your father. Never admit when you’re wrong. When you settle down and think about it, you’ll see my proposal is fair. You forget about the accident, marry sweet Talia, and get your laurels in a couple months.”
…
Amaya inhaled the inviting aroma of the beef empanadas she’d just removed from the oven. Placing them in a nice serving dish, she contemplated the table filled with dishes from her childhood her mother used to make. A selection of enchiladas, with Mexican rice and beans, accompanied by salsas and a zesty tortilla soup crowded the linens.
Hopefully, he’ll like one of these.
She’d sent Valda home early and enjoyed every bit of the pretend homemaking experience. Maybe one day, much in the future, she’d have someone in her life for good. A man who understood her, her brother, and his demands. Even with him living in a group home, Diego still needed assistance.
Besides, he was all she had.
The sound of footsteps made her remove her apron and bunch it in her hand. Quickly, she tossed it on the counter and hurried to the door. Excitement crept under her skin. Silly, she knew, but this would be a small way to share some of her past, her home life, herself with him. Why was it so important? She finger-combed her hair, willing any rationalization away. This was just a meal—one she’d been happy to prepare to fill her free time. Yep.
“Hey,” she said, greeting him at the door.
Theo gave her a close-lipped smile, and she kissed his cheek. The light brush of her lips on his skin sent a current of anticipation through her.
“Hi.”
“I hope you don’t mind, I cooked dinner for us tonight.”
He placed his leather briefcase on the tufted chair in the hallway and followed her into the kitchen. “You did,” he said, without any particular emotion in his voice.
“Tah dah.” She pointed at the table she’d set—she could have used the long one at the formal dining area, but she preferred the smaller, cozier table in the kitchen where they ate breakfast on weekends. She didn’t want them to be on opposite sides of the table and in different zip codes. “I cooked you some food my mother used to make for me.”
He frowned. “Your mother?”
She chewed her lower lip. “I just thought, why not? I sent your driver for the ingredients and sent the housekeeper home early. I love cooking and wanted to show you.”
He lifted his eyebrow. “I’ve eaten Mexican before.”
“Of course. Still. Not my Mexican.” She forced a smile to dispel the tension squeezing her shoulders like a jacket three times smaller than her size.
“I’ll need to take a shower and then eat,” he said, heading out of the kitchen. He stopped, glanced at her, and said, “You can get started if you’d like.”
Get started? She crossed her arms and plopped on a chair, and soon, he vanished. She heard him going up the stairs and imagined him marching into his bedroom. What just happened?
She blew the small candles she’d lit half an hour prior, one by one. Shit. Sadness quickened her pulse. He obviously hated the surprise…and didn’t even try to hide it. Of course a man like Theo had tried all different cuisines in the world. She’d wanted to show a bit of hers.
Her cheeks warmed, and a single tear rolled down her face. Why did she think they shared a connection, some sort of twisted relationship? Maybe they’d talked before, pure simple pillow talk. And she’d been stupid to cook that dinner and wait for him like some fifties housewife from a black-and-white movie.
He’s pushing me away because we got too close. Too close for him.
Because that’s all she’d ever be for him—a piece of meat. And she’d do well by remembering it instead of trying for a ridiculous friendship, which would end the moment she left his country. The moment their contract came to an end.
Remember why you’re here.
She wiped the tear from her face and stood. If she allowed herself to cry over a dinner he’d underappreciated, that meant she was developing feelings for him. That meant she was foolish to forget the rules. The contract. His upcoming marriage to someone else.
She ran her fingers through her hair. She marched through the house, going up the stairs until she reached his bedroom. Clouds of vapor swirled out of his bathroom, the door half opened.
A part of her wanted to smack him, to make him appreciate her. And quickly, the rational part of her wanted to smack herself for even falling into the pretend trap. She swallowed the lump in her throat, clearing her mind of any doubts about what she was about to do.
She found him in the marbled shower box, standing with his head facing down as if worry weighed on his shoulders. He splayed his hands on the smooth surface, and the side jets sprayed on his hot, muscular figure.
She removed her clothes, dropping them to the floor. When she was down to her bra and panties, he turned around, all wet and delicious. A hint of surprise gleamed in his eyes. Probably he’d thought his attempt to distance himself from her failed dinner idea would make her mad.
Well, it had. But she’d been able to pick herself up, and if she wanted to survive the rest of their month together, she had to show it to him—and to herself.
She tapped the clear glass door. “You’ve been a naughty, naughty boy, Theo Rhodes.”
The sternness in his face dissipated, his expression softening. “Have I?”
“Yes. Your expensive virgin cooked you dinner and you didn’t even thank her. Instead, you acted like a spoiled brat.”
A devilish energy oozed from him, his pupils dilating. He opened the door and pulled her to him, his hands clutching her wrists. “Maybe I was waiting for the right opportunity to thank her properly.”
He pushed her against the slick wall, and soon water fell down her body, drenching her hair, underwear, everything. She gasped, adjusting to the warmth from the water to a much hotter temperature inside her. He placed her wrists above her head, holding them in place with one hand. Then he captured her lips with his.
He stroked her tongue with his, relentlessly, kissing her into submission. She squirmed and tried to move her hand, to touch him, make him ache for her as she ached for him—but he kept her restrained, tightening his hold on her. This whole scenario aroused her more than she could have imagined.
There she was, pinned for his pleasure. Her breasts threatened to spill from the bra, and an achy tingle formed behind her puckering nipples. He nudged her thighs apart, and she felt her cream soaking her panties, the evidence of her lust coating her folds.
“Theo.”
He nipped her neck, and her shoulders dropped a notch. She’d have slid down the wall and fallen on her ass if he hadn’t been holding her. “God, Amaya. Do you know what you do to me?” he said in a pained voice.
Breathless, she stared at him. The blend of regret and affection she found in the depths of his eyes al
most melted whatever bones hadn’t yet melted. Her stomach sank, and she wriggled her wrists free from his hold until she was able to circle her hands around his neck and kiss him. Kiss him with all she had, using the silent language to show him just how much she’d foolishly begun to care for him.
Chapter Eleven
Theo reached behind her to unclasp her bra, and with deft fingers, he unhooked it and dropped it to the wet floor. The water spraying on them didn’t dampen the fire consuming him.
He’d been an ass to her, and he’d known it the moment a twinkle of disappointment hit her pretty eyes. Yet, when she’d mentioned she cooked dishes her mother used to make, guilt had iced his heart. How could he, in clear conscience, pretend nothing had happened when he’d found out who stole her parents from Amaya’s life?
She should be mad at him, but no, she’d forgiven his bad behavior and even made fun of it—she’d considered the big picture. Why can’t I do the same? Telling her about his discovery wouldn’t do her any favors. She’d be mad, frustrated, and until they found a plan to work to their advantage, no official accusation could be made.
“Theo,” she called his name in that sexy voice, yanking him from any rational thoughts. With a smile that dimmed the hottest sun, she wriggled her way out of her panties, placing them on the small handle.
Droplets of water drenched her hair, traveling down her smooth mocha skin, making her deliciously wet and ready. He wouldn’t wait to go back to the bedroom—he’d take her right here, in the middle of the steam cloud, with jets splashing them.
She stroked his cheek, the gentle touch sending vibrations of awareness through him. He didn’t move an inch, staring into her rich cocoa depths, letting her take the lead this time. Not that it was easy—his cock hardened, pressure already building in his core. He drew a long breath and willed himself to behave. “You’re so handsome,” she said with a pang of sadness in her voice.
He exhaled without breaking eye contact with her. A warmth he wasn’t used to spread across his cheeks. What the fuck? Was he, a grown man, blushing? The idea disarmed him a bit, and he rubbed his forehead, fidgeting.
Auctioned to the Greek Billionaire (The Highest Bidder Book 1) Page 9