What the Greek's Money Can't Buy. Maya Blake
Читать онлайн книгу.
attract from her boss, or anyone for that matter. Her past needed to stay firmly, irretrievably buried.
‘I’m not sure I know what you mean, Mr Pantelides.’
He glanced down at the laptop. ‘Your plan is ingenious but, while I commend you for its inception, I’m also aware that keeping track of all the information flowing in will be a monumental task. How do you propose to do that?’
‘If you give me the go-ahead, I can brief a small team back at the head office to take over. Any relevant information or genuine volunteer will be put through to me and I can take it from there.’
The decisive shake of his head made her want to clench her fist in disappointment. ‘I need you with me once we get on site. I can’t have you running off to check your emails every few minutes.’
‘I can ask for three-hourly email updates.’ When his gaze remained sceptical, she rushed on. ‘You said so yourself—it’s a great idea. At least let me have a go at trying to execute it. We need the flow of information now more than ever and getting the public on our side can’t hurt. What do we have to lose?’
After a minute, he nodded. ‘Four-hourly updates. But we make cleaning up the spill our top priority.’
‘Of course.’ She reached for the laptop but he leaned forward, took it from her and set it down beside his plate.
‘Leave that for now. You haven’t finished your meal.’
Surprised, she glanced down at her half-finished plate. ‘Um...I sort of had.’
He pushed her plate towards her. ‘You’ll need your strength for what’s ahead. Eat.’
Her gaze slid to his own unfinished meal as she picked up her fork. ‘What about you?’
‘My stamina is much more robust than yours—no offence.’
‘None taken at all.’ Her voice emerged a little stiffer than she intended.
Sakis quirked one eyebrow. ‘Your response is at variance with your tone, Miss Moneypenny. I’m sure some die-hard feminist would accuse me of being sexist, but you really need it more than I do. You barely eat enough as it is.’
She gripped her fork harder. ‘I wasn’t aware my diet was under scrutiny.’
‘It’s hard to miss that you watch what you eat with almost military precision. If it wasn’t absurd, I’d think you were rationing yourself.’ His eyes were narrowed in that unnervingly probing way.
Her pulse skittered in alarm at the observation. ‘Maybe I am.’
His lips tightened. ‘Well, going without food for the sake of vanity is dangerous. You’re risking your health, and thereby your ability to function properly. It’s your duty to ensure you’re in the right shape so you can fulfil your duties.’
The vehemence in his tone made her alarm escalate. ‘Why do I get the feeling we’re talking about more than my abandoned salad?’
He didn’t answer immediately. His lowered lids and closed expression told her the memory wasn’t a pleasant one.
He settled back in his seat, outwardly calm. But Brianna saw the hand still wrapped around his water glass wasn’t quite so steady. ‘Watching someone wilfully waste away despite being surrounded by abundance isn’t exactly a forgettable experience.’
Her grip went slack. ‘I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to dredge up bad memories for you. Who do you...?’
He shook his head once and indicated her plate. ‘It doesn’t matter. Don’t let your food go to waste, Moneypenny.’
Brianna glanced down at the remnants of her meal, trying to reconcile the outwardly confident man sitting across from her with the man whose hands trembled at a deeply disturbing memory. Not that she’d even been foolish enough to think Sakis Pantelides was one-faceted.
She recalled that one moment during her interview when he’d looked up from her file, his green eyes granite-hard and merciless.
‘If you are to survive this job, I’d strongly urge you to take one piece of advice, Miss Moneypenny. Don’t fall in love with me.’
Her response had been quick, painful memory making her tongue acid-sharp. ‘With respect, Mr Pantelides, I’m here for the salary. The benefits package isn’t too bad either, but most of all I’m here for the top-notch experience. To my knowledge, love never has and never will pay the bills.’
What she’d wanted to add then was that she’d been there, done her time and had the tattoo to prove it.
What she wanted tell him now was that she’d endured far, far worse than a hungry stomach. That she’d known the complete desolation of coming a poor second to her mother’s love for drugs. She’d slept rougher than any child deserved to and had fought every day to survive in a concrete jungle, surrounded by the drug-addled bullies with vicious fists.
She held her tongue because to speak would be to reveal far more than she could ever afford to reveal.
Curiosity gnawed at her but she refused to probe further. Probing would invite reciprocity. Her past was under lock and key, tucked behind a titanium vault and sealed in concrete. And that was exactly where she intended to keep it.
In silence, she finished her meal and looked up with relief as the attendant arrived to clear away their plates.
When the phone rang, she pounced on it, grabbing the familiarity that came with work in an effort to banish the brief moments of unguarded intimacy.
‘The captain of the coast guard is on the line for you.’
Sakis’s gaze swept over her face, a speculative gleam in his eyes that slowly disappeared as he took the phone.
With an inward sigh of relief, Brianna reached for her laptop and fired it up.
* * *
Sakis’s first glimpse of the troubled tanker made his gut clench hard. He tapped the helicopter pilot on the shoulder.
‘Circle the vessel, would you? I want to assess the damage from the air before we land.’
The pilot obliged. Sakis’s jaw tightened as he grasped the full impact of the damage of the tanker bearing the black and gold Pantelides colours.
He signalled for the pilot to land and alighted the moment the chopper touched down. A group of scandal-hungry journalists stood behind the cordoned-off area. From painful experience, Moneypenny’s suggestion to bring them on-side rankled, but Sakis didn’t dismiss the fact that in this instance she was right.
Ignoring them for now, he strode to where the crew waited, dressed in yellow, high-visibility jumpsuits.
‘What’s the situation?’ he asked.
The head of the salvage crew—a thickset, middle-aged man with greying hair—stepped forward. ‘We’ve managed to get inside the tanker and assessed the damage with the investigation team—we have three breached compartments. The other compartments haven’t been affected but, the longer the vessel stays askew, the more likely we are to have another breach. We’re working as fast as we can to set up the pumps to drain the compartment and the spillage.’
‘How long will it take?’
‘Thirty-six to forty-eight hours. Once the last of the crew get here, we’ll work around the clock.’
Sakis nodded and turned to see Brianna emerge from the hastily set-up tents on the far side of the beach. For a moment he couldn’t reconcile the woman heading towards him with his usual impeccably dressed assistant. Not that she had a hair out of place, of course. But she’d changed into cargo pants and a white T-shirt which was neatly tucked in and belted tight, emphasising her trim waist. Her shining hair made even more vivid by the fierce African sun was still caught in an immaculate knot, but on her feet she wore weathered combat boots.
For