What The Greek Wants Most. Maya Blake
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right time to end this game would present itself. Soon.
A sleek designer-clad blonde dripping in diamonds clocked him and glided forward on sky-high stilettos, her strawberry-tinted mouth widening in a smile that spelled out a very feminine welcome. And more.
‘Good evening, Mr Pantelides. We are so very honoured you could make it.’
The well-practised smile he’d learnt to flash on and off since he was eighteen slid into place. It had got him out of trouble more times than he could count and also helped him hide what he did not want the world to see.
‘Of course. As the guest of honour, it would’ve been crass not to show up, no?’
She gave a little laugh. ‘No, er, I mean yes. Most of the guests are already here and taking pre-dinner drinks in the ballroom. If there’s anything you need, anything at all, my name is Carolina.’ She sent him a look from beneath heavily mascaraed eyelashes that hinted that she would be willing to go above and beyond her hostess duties to accommodate him.
He flashed another smile. ‘Obrigado,’ he replied in perfect Portuguese. He’d spent a lot of time studying the nuances of the language.
Just as he’d spent a lot of time setting up the events set to culminate in the very near future. For what he planned, there could be no room for misunderstanding. Or failure.
About to head towards the double doors that led to the ballroom, he paused. ‘You said most of the guests are here. Benedicto da Costa and his family. Are they here?’ he asked sharply.
The blonde’s smile slipped a little. Theo didn’t need to guess why. The da Costa family had a certain reputation. Benedicto especially had one that struck fear into the hearts of common men.
It was a good thing Theo wasn’t a common man.
The blonde nodded. ‘Yes, the whole family arrived half an hour ago.’
He smiled at her, effectively hiding the emotions bubbling beneath his skin. ‘You’ve been very helpful.’
Her seductive smile slid back into place. Before she could grow bolder and attempt to ingratiate herself further, he turned and walked away.
Anticipation thrummed through his veins, as it had ever since he’d received concrete evidence that Benedicto da Costa was the man he sought. The road to discovery had been long and hard, fraught with pitfalls and the danger of letting his emotions override his clear thinking.
But Theo was nothing if not meticulous in his planning. It was the reason he was chief troubleshooter and risk-assessor for his family’s global conglomerate, Pantelides Inc.
He didn’t believe in fate but even he couldn’t dismiss the soul-deep certainty that his chosen profession had led him to Rio, and to the man who’d shattered what had remained of his tattered childhood twelve years ago.
Every instinct in his body yearned to take this to the ultimate level. To rip away the veneer of sophistication and urbanity he’d been forced to operate behind.
To claim his revenge. Here. Now.
Soon…
He grimaced as he thought of his phone call with his brother.
Ari was beginning to suspect Theo’s motives for remaining in Rio.
But, despite the pressure from his family, neither Ari nor Sakis, his older brothers, would dare to stop him. He was very much his own man, in complete control of his destiny.
But that didn’t mean Ari wouldn’t try to dissuade him from his objective if he’d known what was going on. His oldest brother took his role as the family patriarch extremely seriously. After all, he’d had to step up after the secure family unit he’d known for his formative years had suddenly and viciously detonated from the inside out. After his father had betrayed them in the worst possible way.
Theo only thanked God that Ari’s radar had been momentarily dulled by his newfound happiness with his fiancé, Perla, and the anticipated arrival of their first child.
No, he wouldn’t be able to stop him. But Ari…was Ari.
Theo shrugged off thoughts of his family as he neared the ballroom doors. He deliberately relaxed his tense shoulders and breathed out.
She was the first thing he saw when he walked in. His lips started to curl at his clichéd thought but then he realised she’d done it deliberately.
The dress code for this event had been strictly black and white.
She wore red. And not just any red. Her gown was blood-red, provocatively cut, and it lovingly melded to her figure in a way that made red-blooded males stop and stare.
Inez da Costa.
Youngest child of Benedicto. Twenty-four, socialite…seductress.
Against his will, Theo’s breath caught as his gaze followed the supple curve of a breast, a trim waist and the flare of her hips.
He knew each and every last detail of the da Costas. For his plan to succeed, he’d had to do what he did best. Dig deep and extract every last ounce of information until he could recite every line in the six-inch dossier in his sleep.
Inez da Costa was no better than her father and brother. But where they used brute force, blackmail and thuggery, she used her body.
He wasn’t surprised lesser men fell for her Marilyn Monroe figure. A true hourglass shape was rare to find these days. But Inez da Costa owned her voluptuousness and confidently wielded it to her advantage. Theo’s gaze lingered on her hips until she moved again, dropping into conversation with the consummate ease of a practised socialite. She had guests eating out of her hands, leaning in close to catch her words, following her avidly when she moved away.
As he advanced further into the room, she turned to speak to another male guest. The curve of her bottom swung into Theo’s eye line, and he cursed under his breath as heat raced up through his groin.
Hell, no.
His fists curled, willing his body’s unwanted reaction away. It had been a while since he’d indulged in a mindless, no-holds-barred liaison. But this was most definitely not the time for a physical reminder, and the instigator of that reminder was most definitely not the woman he would choose to end his short dry spell with.
He exhaled in a slow, even stream, letting the roiling in his gut abate and his equilibrium return.
As he made his way down the stairs to join the guests, the deep-seated certainty that he was meant to be here—in the right place at the right time—flared high.
If Pietro da Costa’s love of excess hadn’t led him down the path of biting off more than he could chew, this time in the form of commissioning a top-of-the-line Pantelides super-yacht he could ill afford, Theo wouldn’t have flown down to Rio to look into the da Costas’ finances three years ago.
He wouldn’t have become privy to the carefully hidden financial paper trail that had led right back to Athens and to his own father’s shady dealings almost a decade and a half ago.
He wouldn’t have dug deeper and discovered the consequences of those dealings for his family. And for him personally.
Memory stirred the unwanted threads of anxiety until it threatened to push its way under his control like Japanese knotweed. Gritting his jaw, he smashed down on the poisonous emotion that had taken too much from him already. He was no longer that frightened boy unable to stem his fears or chase away the screaming nightmares that plagued him.
He’d learned to accept them as part of his life, had woven them into the fabric of his existence and in doing so had triumphed over them. Which wasn’t to say he wasn’t determined to make those who’d temporarily taken power from him pay dearly for that error. No, that mission he was very much looking forward to.
Focusing his gaze across the room to where Benedicto and his son held court among Rio’s