Greek Affairs. Кейт Хьюит
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… I was just … going over the latest mail from the Parnassus Corporation.’
She mentally crossed her fingers and breathed a sigh of relief, because that was exactly what she had been doing—before she’d been looking at a blank document for minutes on end like some moon-eyed idiot.
Aristotle emerged from his office and prowled towards Lucy. Her blood-rate shot up.
‘Liar,’ he said softly.
Her back straightened. ‘Excuse me?’
He came to her desk and rested on his hands over it, looming over her. She fought against shrinking back as his eyes bored into hers. It was making her dizzy after days of only the most cursory eye contact.
He arched one slashing dark brow. ‘If that’s the case, tell me what Parnassus proposes we do in the final stages of sealing the merger?’
Lucy looked up, spellbound. As if from a long way away her more rational and professional self, the one that wasn’t melting into a puddle in her chair, came back. Miraculously, information came into her brain, and she clung onto it like a life-raft.
Unable to break eye contact, and feeling as if her voice had been dipped in rust, Lucy said, ‘He … he suggests that the final stages take place in Athens, as that’s where the two companies originated one hundred years ago. He thinks it should be there that the merger is finally revealed. He wants it to be a triumphant homecoming to the country he and his family fled from when he was young, and for Athens to be the symbolic and actual birthplace of the greatest merger in Greek shipping and industrial history.’
Silence lengthened and tautened between them. Electric awareness quivered in the air until finally Aristotle just said quietly, ‘Good. And I presume you have everything in order for you to travel to Athens for three weeks?’
Lucy just blinked stupidly for a moment as numerous things impacted her brain. Primarily the fact that she hadn’t actually considered the fact that of course she’d be expected to go to Athens too, in little over a week from now.
All she could say was, ‘Yes, I do,’ when in actual fact for some reason—even though it had been talked about for weeks—she’d never considered for a moment that she’d be accompanying Aristotle on such a prestigious engagement.
Her lack of foresight mocked her; of course it had to be her, no one else had had access to all the vital and top secret information—information so secret that she’d had to sign a contract the day she’d been hired, forbidding her to divulge any information to anyone. If she committed such an offence it could see her being fired on the spot, and certainly ruined for any future employment within these circles …
The full enormity of the size of this merger and the importance of the man in front of her started to sink in very belatedly. Mortifyingly, Lucy knew that a large part of her distraction had to do with finding herself working for someone who had reached into a secret part of her and shaken her up so much that she had to spend an inordinate amount of time just denying it to herself. Even now, as he still loomed over her, she denied it to herself.
She reassured herself desperately that she was just reacting to Aristotle Levakis’ undeniable charisma, like any other red-blooded human being.
With that in mind she took a sheaf of papers that needed filing off her desk and stood up, clutching them to her chest.
It was a blatant attempt to put some distance between them. Aristotle straightened too, and with arms folded surveyed her closely. That treacherous heat pooled within her again, but now she knew what it was she could deflect her own reaction to it.
She hitched up her chin. ‘Was there anything else?’
He shook his head slowly and a lazy smile curved his lips. Lucy felt like clinging onto something.
‘No, that’s all for now.’ He turned to go back to his office, but just when Lucy was about to let out a sigh of relief he turned back. With his forearm resting high on the doorjamb, drawing her eye to his long and hard muscled body, he said, ‘Don’t forget we have that engagement tonight. Be ready to leave at six-thirty. I’ll get dressed in my office; you can use the dressing room.’
He disappeared into his own office then, shutting the door behind him, and Lucy all but sagged onto the floor in a heap. She had forgotten all about the function they were to attend that night. She cursed herself as she sank down heavily into her chair. What was wrong with her? Forgetting the function, not realising she would have to go to Athens … Her brain was turning to mush. And in this job that was not a luxury she could afford.
How could she have forgotten that terse conversation just days ago, when he’d said to her with a grimace on his face, ‘You’re going to have to come to the Black and White Ball with me.’
Lucy’s belly had clenched. She’d expected that she might have to accompany her boss to some functions, but with Aristotle’s extremely healthy social life she hadn’t considered it would become a reality so soon. And did he have to look so reluctant at the prospect?
She’d ignored the ridiculous feeling of hurt and asked hopefully, ‘But surely there must be someone else …’ anyone else ‘… you could call?’
After all, as she’d restrained herself from pointing out, last-minute dates were not something he shied away from. He’d had more than a few since the Honourable Augustine Archer and then the even more Honourable Mirabella Ashton, each one well-documented in the press that gloried in his playboy exploits. And yet the morning after each date he’d appeared taciturn and as irritable as she’d ever seen him.
He’d curtly instructed her to send each night’s delectation a disgustingly expensive bunch of flowers. Lucy had cynically assumed that none of the women were performing well enough to hold his interest and merit a piece of jewellery.
It was then that she’d realised that she hadn’t arranged a date for him in at least a week. The thought had unsettled her more than she’d liked to admit.
He’d looked at her with narrowed eyes. ‘As I am currently partnerless, not that it’s any of your business, I’ve decided that you will accompany me. Do you have a problem with that?’
Feeling sick, Lucy had shaken her head rapidly. She had to stop reacting to this man and provoking him. ‘No. Not at all. I’ll put it in the diary now.’
Lucy came back to the present moment. She was still holding the sheaf of papers clutched to her chest like some kind of shield. She looked at the open diary beside her and there in stark letters was written ‘Black and White Ball, Park Lane Hotel. Seven p.m.’ The thought of spending any more time than was absolutely necessary with this man was causing nothing short of sheer panic inside her.
She put down the papers and picked up the phone to make a call to the home where her mother was resident. She asked them to pass on the message that she wouldn’t be able to visit that evening.
The matron on the other end said gently, ‘I’ll pass on the message, Lucy love, but you do know that it won’t make any difference, don’t you?’
Lucy felt very alone all of a sudden. She swallowed back the ever-present guilt, pain and grief, and nodded even though the other woman couldn’t see her. Her voice was thick with emotion. ‘I know … but I’d appreciate it all the same, if you don’t mind.’
Lucy could hear Aristotle moving around in his own office as she changed in the dressing room. This was a formal event, so she had to wear a long dress, and the one she looked at now in the mirror was perfectly respectable—if completely boring. It was black, which meant it was slimming, and it had a high neck which covered her breasts adequately. Anything that did that was fine with her. And anyway, she told herself stoutly, she wasn’t dressing to impress, she was dressing to accompany her boss in a work capacity.
She left her hair up and put on some make-up: mascara and a little blusher. Then, slipping her feet into a pair of plain black high heels, she picked up her weekend