The Mediterranean Tycoon. Margaret Mayo
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to be the same, heaping work on her that would surely have waited until the next day. She’d heard that some mornings he was at his desk by six.
She had no idea whether he was married or not. He didn’t wear a ring and he protected his privacy fiercely, although all sorts of rumours floated around the company. Rumours of strings of attractive girlfriends, of a wife in Greece and a mistress in England, of properties in New York and the Bahamas, as well as in Europe and his homeland. How he had time for all this Peta wasn’t sure.
When she arrived for work at ten minutes to nine the next morning he was waiting for her. ‘I wondered when you were going to show up,’ he muttered tersely, brown eyes glaring. His tie was hanging loose, top button undone, and his thick, straight hair looked as though he’d constantly raked agitated fingers through it. In fact he looked as though he’d spent the night in the office wrestling with insurmountable problems.
‘I need coffee, strong and black, and half a dozen muffins. Blueberry. See to it, will you?’
The day had begun! Peta nodded. ‘I could order you a proper breakfast if you’d—’
‘Just do as I ask,’ he cut in impatiently. ‘And bring in your notebook. There’s lots of work to get through.’
He was in a foul mood for the whole day but Peta stubbornly refused to give in, remaining pleasant, polite and helpful, no matter what harsh thoughts she entertained beneath the surface, and there were plenty of those.
By the end of the week she began to feel complacent; she felt that she now totally understood her employer and hopefully he was happy with her. His moods were legendary but Peta chose to ignore them—and on the whole it worked. It was not until he once more asked her to work late that it all began to go wrong.
‘I’m sorry, I can’t,’ she said firmly. Why did he have to choose today of all days?
The famous frown dragged his brows together, beetling them over glittering chestnut eyes. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘It’s impossible for me to stay on today.’
‘I presume you have a good reason?’ he barked.
‘Yes, I do as a matter of fact,’ she announced, her chin just that little bit higher. ‘It’s my son’s birthday.’
He looked thunderstruck. ‘You have a son? Why the hell wasn’t I told? You’re no good to me if you’re constantly taking time off.’
Peta’s eyes flashed a deep, defensive blue. ‘What do you mean, constantly? This is a special occasion, Mr Papadakis. Ben’s eight today and he’s having a party at McDonald’s; I refuse to let him down. The only other occasion I couldn’t work was when he had appendicitis. And even then I counted it as my holiday.’
She saw the flicker in his eyes, the faint doubt, then the grim nod. ‘Very well. Can you manage a few hours in the morning?’
He was asking, not telling! A faint victory! It was Saturday tomorrow, and Ben’s football practice. But under the circumstances Peta felt that it would be unwise to refuse him again. Marnie would take Ben; she’d love it. ‘Yes, I can do that.’
‘Good.’ With a nod he dismissed her.
It never ceased to amaze Peta how good Andreas Papadakis’s English was. He had scarcely the trace of an accent. If it hadn’t been for his dark Hellenic looks she would have taken him for an Englishman any day. She could see why most girls in the office fancied him. What they hadn’t experienced were his flashes of temper, his holier-than-thou attitude. It made you instantly forget how good-looking he was, how sexily he moved.
He was without a doubt a lethally attractive man—she had felt his physical presence many times; she’d have had to be made of ice not to—but in the main all she ever saw was the face of a tyrant. And she disliked him as much now as she had in the beginning. She found it hard to believe that he’d backed down over her working this evening.
‘Mum, this is the best party ever,’ Ben announced, munching his way through his second burger.
Peta grinned. The noise was deafening, every one of his eight friends talking at once, all happy and excited. To them this was a million times better than having a party at home with jelly and ice cream.
‘And which one of you lucky young fellows is Ben?’ asked a deep voice behind her. A familiar voice! Peta twisted in her chair, gasping in amazement when she saw Andreas Papadakis just a couple of feet away, a huge parcel tucked under one arm and an amazing twinkle in his eyes. He looked a very different man from the one she had left a couple of short hours ago.
‘Mr Papadakis,’ she gasped. ‘What are you doing here?’ She stood up then, felt her heart hammering a thousand beats a minute.
‘I’ve brought a present for the birthday boy. Which one is he?’
By this time all eyes were on Ben, whose face had flushed with embarrassment. ‘Who are you?’ he asked, his chin jutting in the same way as his mother’s. There was no mistaking their relationship. Although his hair was darker, he had the same wide-spaced blue eyes and an identical jawline.
‘I’m your mother’s employer. She told me it was your birthday. I thought you might like this.’ And he handed Ben the giant parcel.
Peta was too shocked for words. This wasn’t the same man. The Andreas Papadakis she worked for would never have thought about buying a birthday present for an employee’s child, let alone personally delivering it.
‘You’re—very kind,’ she murmured. ‘You didn’t have to do that.’ There came the faint notion that perhaps he was checking on her, finding out for himself whether she’d been telling the truth when she said it was Ben’s birthday, but no sooner had the thought flitted into her mind than she dismissed it as disloyal. She really didn’t know the first thing about this man—except that he was the devil incarnate to work with.
‘I can’t stay,’ he said now, ‘I have other things to do. Enjoy the party. I’ll expect you at nine in the morning, Miss James.’
‘Yes,’ said Peta faintly. ‘And thank you again.’
No one else noticed him leave, everyone was watching Ben open his parcel, and there was a collective ‘Oooh!’ when the colourful wrapping fell to the floor revealing a magnificent Scalextric set. And when the lid came off the box there was so much track and so many cars that Peta felt sure it would take up the whole floor area of Ben’s bedroom and spill out onto the landing as well. It was every boy’s dream.
Her first instinct was to say that he couldn’t accept such an expensive gift and that he must give it back, but seeing the look of sheer pleasure and amazement on Ben’s face made her think again. It wasn’t as if Andreas Papadakis couldn’t afford it.
Maybe it was a thank-you for all the hard work she’d put in. Or—her mouth twisted wryly—maybe it was a sweetener so that she wouldn’t say no to him again when he asked her to work late! She couldn’t really believe that her boss had a big enough heart to buy her son a present when he hadn’t even met him. She wasn’t even sure he had a heart. But whatever his reasons it had pleased Ben, and he was her main concern.
When she went in to work on Saturday morning she fully intended thanking Mr Papadakis again, but gone was the man of yesterday evening. He was in his head-of-the-firm mode and it brooked no personal conversation. Nevertheless when he stood over her, one hand on the back of her chair, one on the desk, watching the screen as she typed a letter he was waiting for, she was aware now that a warm human being existed behind that harsh exterior. And because of that she began to feel his primal sexuality, the sheer physical dynamics of the man.
‘You’ve missed out a word.’
Peta silently groaned. She’d do more than that if he didn’t move. He was wearing a musky sandalwood cologne that was essentially male and would remind her of him for evermore. It took a supreme amount of will-power to carry on typing the letter and she made more mistakes in that one