The Greek Boss's Demand. Trish Morey
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raced fast and loud as adrenalin kicked in once again.
‘Alexandra,’ he said, half demanding, yet half imploring. She closed her eyes briefly and willed herself not to be affected by the mere sound of her name.
‘Let me go.’ Her voice sounded amazingly calm and level and she took strength from that.
But he didn’t let go. His grip changed. Instead of just holding her, it was tugging her, forcing her closer to him. They were close enough now that she could catch the tang of his subtle cologne, the faint remnants of his coffee, all infused with the scent of man—angry man.
‘Alexandra?’
Her elbow was still locked, her arm held firm, as she looked up into his eyes. Breath caught in her throat as anger was replaced by something else. Something darker and far more dangerous.
In that instant he relaxed his hold, and with the pressure off she immediately lost balance, swaying on her heels, only to be pulled unceremoniously back into him in the next moment.
Impacting against his chest was like colliding with solid rock—only warm and smooth and, oh, so familiar. She sucked in a deep breath, her senses reeling from so much male so close. Something in the back of her mind registered that Nick hadn’t changed that much. Somehow this was just the way she remembered he’d felt back then. Maybe just a little broader and more developed, but just the way she’d imagined, late at night when she couldn’t sleep, thinking how he’d feel now.
Only this was all wrong!
‘Let me go!’ she urged, trying to push him away. But his arms snaked around her, holding her tight.
She pulled her head back to look up at him. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? This is harassment. You can’t try these caveman tactics here.’
‘Harassment?’ His tone mocked and his eyes held a teasing glint.
An unkind, teasing glint she registered. Life had apparently left Nick bitter.
Then she realised he was moving, swaying ever so gently, the fingers of his hands stroking her back while his arms still kept their vice-like grip. The motion was disarming, gently soothing and strangely sensual.
‘Hardly harassment,’ he went on. ‘Don’t you remember how it was between us? We’re simply sharing an embrace, and perhaps a kiss for old times’ sake.’
Alarm bells went off in her head. No way. No way would she kiss him. He couldn’t be serious.
Firmly she pressed her hands against Nick’s chest and pushed for all she was worth. ‘I have no intention of sharing anything with you.’
He must have seen something in her face because he looked down at her strangely, stopped swaying and abruptly let her go. Alex wheeled away before he had a chance to change his mind, her breath coming thick and fast. She grabbed hold of the door handle and screwed it round, yanking open the door for him.
He stood for a moment, taking a couple of deep breaths. He strode to the door, came so close to her she was afraid he might just kiss her anyway. ‘There was once a time you would beg me to kiss you, again and again.’
She pushed back her shoulders, tried as best as she could to look him in the eye—even though he had a head start of six inches on her.
‘Times have changed.’
He reached out a hand and she flinched, but his fingers moved to the side of her face to tuck behind her ear a strand that had come loose from her twisted up hair. She swallowed, otherwise motionless, as they traced a path down her cheek before he gently but firmly pinched her chin between his thumb and fore-finger.
‘Not for the better, it seems.’
He flicked off his fingers and she fumbled for something to say.
‘I…I’ll get some financial statements ready for you. I guess you’ll want to get things organised quickly, to allow you to get back to Greece as soon as you can.’
She could swear he almost smiled then. A smile that didn’t touch anywhere near his eyes.
‘Who said anything about going home to Greece? I may just decide to stay the full six months Aristos’s will requires.’
Then he was finally gone. Alex shut the door and let herself collapse against it. It was barely eleven in the morning and she felt as if she’d just run a marathon.
How in the world would she survive six months?
CHAPTER FOUR
ALEX stood on the sidelines, clutching her thirty-eight-millimetre camera and waiting while the coach said a few final words to the team, grateful that Sofia had chosen this particular afternoon to show Nick around some of their properties, allowing her to slip off half an hour early unnoticed.
After an emotionally draining day Alex was more anxious than ever to be with her son. This was their night—hers and Jason’s—with no study or classes to intrude. Just for now she’d rather not have to explain that to Nick.
She took a couple of deep breaths and rolled her shoulders, easing away some of the strain of the day, before putting the cap back on the camera lens. She’d taken enough shots today to fill another page in the album she was keeping—the albums and video recordings she was using to record every event and growth phase in Jason’s life.
The albums and videos she was one day intending to show his father.
Only his father was here. Now.
How the hell was she supposed to deal with that? Somehow she had to work out a way of coping with Nick’s presence in the office. It was only day one, but from the tension evident between them today it was difficult to believe they could ever work together comfortably as colleagues. It certainly wasn’t going to happen with this huge secret hanging over them.
If he was ever going to see these pictures and videos, eventually—inevitably—she’d have to tell him the truth. Only things were so complicated. Now she couldn’t just tell him about their son. Now she’d also have to explain why she had never told him at the start. Never told him she was pregnant with his child. Never told him he was a father.
And there was no easy way to do it.
Yet the longer Nick stayed, the more inevitable it would become that he would find out she had a son. Once he knew she had a son…how long would it take before he worked out the rest and know she had kept the truth from him?
Her heart kicked up a beat. Just maybe there was a chance Nick wouldn’t see the resemblance. Close relatives didn’t always notice such things, did they? After all, people were always telling her that in spite of Jason’s dark hair and eyes he was still unmistakably hers, even though she couldn’t see it herself. Maybe Nick would be the same?
She looked closer at the huddle of players. Jason had his head cocked to one side, listening intently to the coach’s words, concentrating hard, his eyes dark and intense, and as she looked at him a chill whipped up her spine.
Her son stood there focused and determined—every part a miniature version of Nick. Alex took a deep breath and tried to steady her heartbeat back into a normal rhythm.
She’d been kidding herself. There was no way Nick could deny the resemblance. She sighed. That left only one course of action. It wasn’t going to be easy, but she’d have to do it—and the sooner the better.
The team huddle broke up and Jason turned and waved, smiling as he ran towards her until he collided at force into her chest, swinging her with his momentum. She breathed in the happy, warm smell of him, mingled with grass and earth, and caught his laughter as he clutched on tightly around her neck and they spun each other round.
‘Pizza!’ he squealed.
She laughed and stood up, catching his hand in hers as she turned to the car. ‘I hope you spent some time out there thinking about soccer, and not just what you wanted for dinner.’