Kostas's Convenient Bride. Кейт Хьюит
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burst out laughing. “You are one clueless bastard, aren’t you?”
“I am a brilliant businessman.” The bewildered offense in Andreas’s tone was almost funny.
Jacob pulled Kayla to him and laid a screen-worthy lip-lock on her. “It really was a pleasure meeting you, Kayla Jones. If you can get away from your boss while you’re in town, call and we’ll do something.”
She grinned. “I will.”
Andreas glowered at Jacob the entire time Kayla collected her things, giving the actor one-word answers to his conversational forays, if the Greek deigned to answer at all.
Andreas put his hand out imperiously for her bags. “Let me help you.”
“I’m fine.”
He didn’t bother to argue, just waited for her to pass the packages over. Andreas had an innate sense of courtesy that her own sense of independence had never been able to win against.
He somehow managed to get between her and Jacob so the other man could not kiss her again before they left either, all the while avoiding shaking the actor’s hand in farewell because of the packages Andreas had taken from Kayla.
“You think you’re a slick operator, don’t you?” she demanded as they rode the elevator downward.
“I know what I want.”
“Really? What part of what you want has you in New York right now, Andreas? Because I really don’t understand. You want to sell the company? I can’t stop you. You want the bride pimp to find you a wife? I’m pretty sure that’s not going to happen while you’re here. So, what purpose is you being here going to serve?”
“I’m here for you,” he said, like it should be obvious.
“But why?”
He didn’t answer. Not in the elevator, not when they walked out onto the crowded New York streets, not when they got into the cab he hailed. In fact, Andreas remained stubbornly mute until the cab stopped in front of their hotel, where instead of letting her out, he imperiously waved at the doorman.
The man came over and Andreas handed over Kayla’s packages with instructions for taking them up to the suite along with a generous tip.
“Where are we going?” she asked when Andreas got back in the cab.
“You were going to dinner. I would not deprive you of nourishment.”
“We could have ordered room service.”
“You were looking forward to a night out on the town.”
Was he kidding? “Not with you.”
“We are still friends, Kayla.”
“I’m not sure we are, Andreas.” It hurt to say.
The tightening of his jaw said he didn’t like hearing it either. “Do no say that.”
“Don’t pretend like it matters to you.”
“Of course it matters!” he roared.
Kayla jumped, shocked. Andreas did no lose his temper. Not with her. Not like this.
“Six years ago, you told me how much I mattered to you. I was just too desperate to believe something else.”
“What? What are you talking about six years ago?” He turned to face her in the back seat of the cab, green gazed laser-like focus entirely on Kayla. “I thought you were angry about the meeting yesterday.”
Kayla could feel the tears at the back of her throat, burning in her eyes. “I did too, but it’s all part of the same thing, isn’t it? I’ve never been more than a means to an end to you. What I don’t understand is why you’re here, why you tracked me down to Jacob’s apartment, why you had to ruin my night with him. I guess I’ve never really known you, have I? I never thought you were petty.”
“Petty?” Andreas demanded in a near roar. “The only reason that damn playboy still has his coveted role on Broadway is because he tried to protect a woman I care about very much.”
“You don’t care about me. You have never cared about me.” Of that one fact Kayla was absolutely certain.
She’d been the piece of the puzzle Andreas needed to get his business off the ground. The brain behind the software to make the dream a reality so he could thumb his nose at Barnabas Georgas and prove that Andreas Kostas didn’t need his father’s money or his name, or anything else from the family that had hurt him so much.
“Turn this cab around!” Andreas sounded as out of control as she’d ever heard him, his big body fairly vibrating with stress.
“What do you mean?” The cabbie’s hand gestured wildly. “I can’t do no U-turn. This is a one-way street, buddy.”
“Take us back to the hotel,” Andreas demanded in only slightly lower decibels.
Kayla crossed her arms over her chest and glared. “I thought we were going out to dinner.”
“We are not having this conversation in front of a room full of strangers.”
“Sounds more like a fight from where I’m sitting,” the cabbie piped in.
Andreas ignored him and shook his head at Kayla. “You don’t understand.”
“On that we agree.”
He didn’t look calmed by that acknowledgment. The silence between them on the ride back to the hotel seethed with resentment and things left unsaid.
Kayla was terrified that after tonight the only person she’d considered family wouldn’t be anything but a bad memory. But if she was right, if her place in his life was what she thought it was, that was all he’d been for six years and she’d been fooling herself all along.
ANDREAS HADN’T BEEN this out of control since his father had come storming into Andreas’s life, demanding he move to Greece, forcing him to use the Georgas name, pretending it meant something that they were blood.
When it hadn’t meant anything at all. He’d hated being a Georgas. Hated living in that mausoleum mansion that had been the family home for generations.
Formally recognized as heir to the Georgas shipping empire, Andreas had been trained to his father’s likeness, all the while planning his escape.
He’d wanted nothing of the man who could so callously discard the woman who had loved him with her whole heart. Melia Kostas had been an amazing mother who had not allowed a broken heart or the rejection of her family to stop her from raising her son to believe he had value and that he was worth every sacrifice she’d had to make to give him a different life.
She’d immigrated to America, only to die when Andreas was a teen, leaving the door open for Barnabas, that bastard, to come swooping in. That was the one time in Andreas’s life that he’d felt completely helpless. He’d done a lot of yelling before settling down to plan.
Not until today had he felt so completely at the whim of another again. He had not felt such fear since the day his father had him physically carried onto the Georgas private jet and forced to fly to Greece against his will. Kayla leaving Portland, leaving Andreas, had paralyzed him. They were a team. Didn’t she realize that?
Clearly not.
Never was his temper so close to the surface, so beyond his control.
But seeing that playboy actor’s lips on his Kayla’s face? That had made Andreas see red. She deserved better.
Kayla Jones deserved the best.
Maybe once Andreas