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Sakis thought of the countless women who would jump at the chance to share ‘personal space’ with him.
He thought of all the women who would kill to share a double bed with him.
Then he thought of why he was here, in this place: with his oil contaminating a once incredibly beautiful beach; his crew missing; and the tabloid press just waiting for him to slip up, to show them that the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree.
The sick feeling that he’d forced down but never quite suppressed enough threatened to rise again. It was the same mingled despair and anger he’d felt when Theo had been taken. The same sense of helplessness when he’d been unable to do anything to stop his mother fading away before his eyes, her pain raw and wrenching after what his father and the media had done to her.
‘I don’t give a damn about your personal space. What I do give a damn about is your ability to fire on all cylinders. We discussed this—you being up to standing by me in this situation we find ourselves in. You assured me you were up to the task. And yet, for the last ten minutes, you’ve shown a certain...mutiny that makes me wonder whether you’re equipped to handle what’s coming.’
Her outrage made her breathing erratic. ‘I don’t think that’s a fair observation, sir. I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me, and I’m more than capable of handling whatever comes. Just because I disagree with you on one small issue doesn’t make me mutinous. I’m thinking about you.’
‘Then prove it. Stop arguing with me and get in the jeep.’
She opened her mouth; closed it again. When she looked at him, her eyes held a hint of fire he’d seen more than once today. The fire he’d tried—and failed—to bank fired up deep in his groin.
‘I’ll go and get my things,’ she said.
‘No need.’ He exchanged glances with the driver and the young man headed towards the row of tents. Sakis leaned against the jeep’s hood. ‘You can fill me in on the results of your social media campaign while we wait.’
He saw how eagerly she snatched at her tablet and suppressed another bout of irritation. Whatever was causing this abnormal behaviour, he needed to nip it in the bud pretty darned quick. The crisis on his hands needed all his attention.
‘I’ve found six individuals who I think will be useful to us. One’s a professor of marine biology based in Guinea Bissau. Another, a husband and wife team who are experts in wildlife rescue. They specialise in disaster rescue such as this. The other three have no specialities but they have a huge social media following and are known for volunteering on humanitarian missions. I’m having all six vetted by our security team. If they pass the security test, I’ll arrange for them to be flown over tomorrow.’
‘I’m still not convinced bringing even more focus on this crisis is the best way to go, Moneypenny.’ His insides tightened as he thought of his mother. ‘Sometimes you don’t see the harm until it’s too late.’ He thought of her devastation and misery, the incessant sobbing, and finally the substitution of food with alcohol when it’d hit home that the husband she’d thought was a god amongst men, the man she’d thought was true to her and only her, had had a string of affairs with mistresses around the globe, some of whom had dated back to before he’d put his wedding ring on her finger.
The year he’d turned fifteen had been the bleakest year of his life. It was the year he’d had every child’s basest fear confirmed—that his father did not love him, did not love anyone or anything but himself. It was also the start of Sakis’s hatred of the media, who’d not only exposed his worst fears but trumpeted it to the world.
Ari had withstood the invasion of their lives with his usual unflappable demeanour, although Sakis had a feeling his brother had been just as devastated, if not more so, than he had been. Theo, thirteen at that time, with fresh teenage hormones battering him, had gone off the rails. To this day, their mother had never found out how many times Theo had run away from home because Ari, seventeen going on seventy, had found him every single time and brought him back.
In all that chaos, Sakis had watched his mother deteriorate before his eyes, culminating in her seeking a solution so horrific, he still shuddered at the memory.
He pushed the events of decades past out of his mind and focused on the woman in front of him, who watched him with barely veiled curiosity.
Silently, he held her gaze until hers fell away. That he immediately wished it back made him suppress a frustrated growl.
‘The journalists we hand-picked know this could be the opportunity of a lifetime for them as long as they play ball. I’ll make sure they portray an open and honest account of what we’re doing to remedy the situation, while infusing the appropriate rhetoric to protect the company’s reputation.’
A smile tugged at his mouth. ‘You should’ve been a diplomat, Moneypenny.’
Her shoulder lifted in a shrug that drew his attention to where it had no business being, specifically the pulse beating beneath her flawless skin.
‘We all have something we desire more than anything. Wasting the opportunity when it presents itself is plain foolishness.’
The temptation to look inside the tin was too much to pass up. ‘And what is it you want?’
Her startled gaze flew to his. ‘Excuse me?’
‘What do you want more than anything?’
She shook her head and looked away, a hint of desperation in the movement. He saw her relieved expression as his driver approached, her small carry-all in his hand.
Striding forward, she took the case from the surprised driver and stowed it in the boot. Then she opened the back door and got in.
Sakis took his time to walk to the other door. He ignored her nervous glance and waited until they were both buckled in and the jeep was moving along the dusty road running alongside the beach. The moment she relaxed, he pounced. ‘Well?’
‘Well what?’
‘I’m waiting for an answer.’
‘About what I want?’ she asked.
Her stall tactics didn’t go unnoticed. ‘Yes,’ he pressed.
‘I...want the chance to prove that I can do a good job and be recognised for it.’
He exhaled impatiently. ‘You already do an exemplary job, and you’re highly paid and highly valued for it.’
He battled the disappointment rising inside. He’d wanted personal. From the assistant he’d warned against getting personal. So what? Finding out a little bit about what went on behind that professional façade didn’t mean either of them risked losing their highly functional relationship. Besides, Moneypenny knew of his liaisons; she arranged the lunches, dinners and the odd, discreet parting gift.
The balance needed adjusting, just a little. ‘Do you have a boyfriend?’
Her head whipped round, perfect eyebrows arching. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘It’s a very simple question, Moneypenny. One that demands a simple yes or no answer.’
‘I know it is, but I fail to see how that’s relevant within the realms of our working relationship.’
He noted the agitated cadence of her breathing and hid a smile. ‘I believe it’s company policy to have a yearly appraisal. You’ve been working for me for almost eighteen months and you’re yet to have your first appraisal.’
‘HR gave me my appraisal six months ago. They sent you the results, I believe.’
‘Probably, but I haven’t read it yet.’
‘So you want to do your own evaluation...now?’
He shrugged, a little irritated with himself now that he was pushing the subject. But, now the question was out there, it niggled and, yes, he wanted to know if Brianna Moneypenny had urges just like the rest of the human race. She wasn’t a robot. She’d felt warm and most definitely feminine when her body had brushed against his on the boat. Her comment about restoring the beach for the local inhabitants had also uncovered a hitherto hidden soft side he hadn’t expected.
Moneypenny was human. And compassionate. And he was curious about her.
He shifted to ease the sudden restless throb in his body. ‘Call it a mini-appraisal. I just want to know if anything on your CV has changed since you joined me. You listed your marital status as single when I employed you. I merely want to know if that’s changed in any significant way.’
‘So you want to know, purely from a professional point of view, whether I’m sleeping with anyone or not?’ Her tone dripped cynicism. ‘Do you want to know which brand of underwear I prefer and what I like for breakfast as well?
Sakis felt no shame. Redressing the balance. Plus he needed something to take his mind off what had been a hellish day...if only for a moment. ‘Yes to my first question; the other two are optional.’
Brianna’s chin lifted. ‘In that case, since it’s for purely professional purposes, no, I don’t have a lover, my underwear is my own business and I have an unhealthy weakness for pancakes. Are you satisfied?’
The thrill of gratification that arrowed through him made his pulse race dangerously. Disturbingly.
He glanced at the tight coil of golden hair that gleamed as they passed under bright streetlights, at her pert nose and generously wide and full mouth; the dimple that winked in her cheek when she pursed her lips in irritation, like she was doing now...
The thrill escalated, rushing through his blood.
Theos...
He rubbed at his tired eyes with the heels of his palms. What the hell was wrong with him? Strong coffee; that was what he needed. Or a stiff drink to knock everything back into perspective.
Because there was no way in hell he planned on following through with this insane attraction to Moneypenny. No damned way...
The streets were deserted as they approached the leafy centre of Pointe Noire. Their hotel was pleasant enough with a sweeping circular driveway that ended in front of the white three-storey, shutter-windowed pre-colonial building.
The manager waited in the foyer to greet them personally, although his gaze widened when it lit on Brianna.
‘Welcome to the Noire, Monsieur Pantelides. Your suite is ready, although I was told you would be the sole occupant?’
‘You were misinformed.’
‘Ah, well, my apologies for the lack of more prestigious suites but the rooms were all booked up the moment the crash...er...the moment the unfortunate event happened.’ He couldn’t quite keep the gloating pride from his voice.
As the manager called the lift and they entered the small space, he sensed Brianna’s tension mount. The moment they were let into the suite, he understood why.
The ‘suite’ label had clearly been a lofty idea in someone’s deluded mind. The room was only marginally larger than a double room with the sleeping area separated from the double sofa by a TV and drinks unit.
He only half-listened as the manager expounded on the many features of the room. His attention was caught on Brianna, who stood staring at the bed as if it was her mortal enemy, her shoulders stiff and her face even stiffer. Had their whole reason for being here not so dire, he’d have been amused.
He dismissed the manager. He’d barely left when a knock came at the door.
Brianna jumped.
‘Relax, it’s only our bags,’ he reassured her with a frown.
‘Oh, yes, of course.’
The porters entered and Sakis made sure they left just as quickly.
Silence reigned, thick and heavy, permeating the air with a sexual atmosphere he recognised but was determined to ignore. It had no business here.
And yet, it refused to be stemmed.
He watched as she came towards him and reached for the bag the porter had left beside him.
‘You take the shower first,’ he said. The image that slammed into his mind sent a dark tremor through him but he forced himself to breathe through it.
She straightened and her gaze darted to the bathroom door in the so-called suite. ‘If you’re sure.’
‘Yes, I’m sure.’ Then, unable to stop himself, even while every sense screamed at him to step away, he reached out and rubbed the smudge on her cheek.
Her breath caught on a strangled gasp, sending another punch of heat through him. His senses screamed harder, but his fingers stayed put, stroking her soft, warm skin.
‘You have an oil streak right there.’ He rubbed again.
With a sharply drawn breath, she moved away, but her eyes stayed on him, and in their depths Sakis saw the clear evidence of lust...and another emotion he’d never seen in a woman’s eyes when it came to him: fear.
What the hell?
Before he could question her, she swung away. ‘I...I’ll try not to take too long.’
With quick strides, she disappeared into the bathroom and slammed the door, leaving him standing there staring at the door with a growing erection and an ever-rising pulse rate that made him certain he risked serious health problems if he didn’t get it under control.
Thee mou... Of all the times and places—and sheer idiocy, bearing in mind the recipient—it seemed his libido had taken this moment to run rampant and to focus its attention on the one person he should absolutely not focus on.
Crisis heightened the senses and made men and women succumb to inappropriate urges, leading to serious errors of judgment that later came back to bite them in the ass.
Whatever was happening here, he needed to kill it with a swift, merciless death. And he certainly needed not to think of Moneypenny behind that door, removing her clothes, stepping naked, beneath the warm shower...
Moving the drinks cabinet, he poured himself a shot of whiskey. As he downed it, his gaze strayed to the bathroom door.
Nothing was going to happen. He refused to let it.
As if hammering home the point, he heard the distinct sound of the lock sliding home.
And poured himself another drink.
* * *
Brianna sagged against the door, unable to catch her breath. The bag slid uselessly from her fingers and she didn’t need to look down to see evidence of her body’s reaction to Sakis Pantelides. She could feel every inch of her skin tightening, burning, reacting to his touch as if he was still rubbing her cheek.
No. No. No!
Anger lent her strength, enough to tug her boots off and fling them away with distressed disgust. Her oil-smudged cargo pants went the same way, followed by her once white T-shirt. About to reach for the bra clasp, she glanced up and caught the reflection of her tattoo in the wide bathroom mirror.
Sucking in a deep breath, she stepped forward, clutched the sink and struggled to regulate her breathing.
She stared hard at the tattoo on her shoulder. I refuse to sink. It was the mantra she’d recited second by second in her darkest days. And one she’d tapped from whenever she needed strength or self-belief...anything to get her through a tough day. It was a reminder of what she’d survived as a child and as an adult. A reminder that depending on anyone for her happiness or wellbeing was asking to be devastated. She’d made that mistake once and look where she’d ended up.
The tattoo was a reminder never to forget. To keep swimming. Never to sink.
And yet it was exactly what she was doing; sinking into Sakis’s eyes, into the miasma of erotic sensations that had reduced her control to nothing. Sensation that had grown with each look, each careless touch, and was now threatening to choke all common sense out of her.
Her hand settled over her heart as if she could stem its chaotic beating. Then she slowly traced it down, past the scar on her hip to the top of her panties and the heat pooling just below.
The urge to touch herself was strong, almost supernatural. The urge to have stronger, more powerful hands touch her there was even more visceral.
Gritting her teeth, she traced her fingers back up to the scar.
Slowly, strength and purpose returned.
Between the tattoo and the scar, she had vivid reminders of why she could never let her guard down again, never trust another human being again. She intended to cling to them with everything she had. Because the purpose she’d seen in Sakis’s eyes had scared her.
A determined Sakis was a formidable Sakis.
She would need all the strength she could muster. Because she had a feeling this crisis was far from over; that Sakis would demand more from her than he ever had.
She whirled from the sink and entered the shower. By the time she’d washed the grime off her body, a semblance of calm had returned.
She dried herself and dressed quickly in a T-shirt and the short leggings she used for the gym that—thank God—she’d had the forethought to pack. If she’d been alone, the T-shirt would’ve sufficed but there was no way she was going out there, sharing a room with Sakis Pantelides, with a thigh-skimming T-shirt and bare legs.
The fiery sensation she’d managed to bank threatened to rise again. Quickly, she brushed her teeth, pulled her hair into its no-nonsense bun and left the bathroom.
Sakis stood outside on the tiny balcony that served the room, a drink in his hand, staring out into the sultry, humid night. His other hand was braced on the iron railing.
She paused and stared as he turned his head. His commanding profile caught and held her attention. His full lower lip was now drawn in a tight line as he stared into the contents of his glass. A wave of bleakness passed over his face and she wondered if he was replaying the journalist’s question about his father.
Sakis didn’t often display emotion, but she’d seen the way he’d reacted to that personal question. And his answer had been a revelation in itself. He bore no loving memories of his father but he certainly bore scars from his father’s legacy.
Unbidden, the earlier wave of protectiveness resurged.
He lifted his glass and swallowed half its contents. Mesmerised, she watched his throat as he swallowed, then her gaze moved to his well-defined chest as he heaved in a huge breath.
Move! But she couldn’t heed the silent command pounding in her brain. Her feet refused to move. She was still immobilised when he swung towards the room.
He stilled, dark-green eyes zeroing in on her in that fiercely focused, extremely unnerving way.
After several seconds, his gaze travelled over her, head to bare toes, and back again. Slowly, without taking his gaze off her, he downed the rest of his drink. His tongue glided out to lick a drop from his lower lip.
The inferno stormed through her, ravaging her senses with merciless force.
No. Hell, no! This could not be happening.
Her fingers tightened around her bag until pain shot up her arms. With brutal force, she wrenched her gaze away, walked towards the sofa and dropped her bag beside it.
‘I’m done with the bathroom. It’s all yours.’ She cringed at the quiver in her voice, a telling barometer of her inner turmoil. Her tablet lay where she’d left it on the table. Itching for something to do with her dangerously restless hands, she grabbed it.
He came towards her and passed within touching distance to set his glass down on the cabinet. Brianna decided breathing could wait until he was out of scenting range.
‘Thanks.’ He grabbed his bag and walked to the door. ‘And Moneypenny?’
The need to breathe became dangerously imperative but not yet; a few more seconds, until she didn’t have to breathe the same air as him. ‘Yes?’ she managed.
‘It’s time to clock off.’
The tightness in her chest grew. ‘I just wanted to—’
‘Turn that tablet off and put it away. That’s an order.’
It was either argue with him, or breathe. The need for oxygen won out. She placed the tablet back on the table and stuffed her hands under her thighs.
Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes as he opened the bathroom door. ‘Good.’ His gaze darted to the bed. ‘You take the bed, I’ll take the sofa,’ he said. Then he entered the bathroom and shut the door behind him.
Brianna sucked in a long, sustaining breath, trying desperately to ignore the traces of Sakis’s scent that lingered in the air. She eyed the bed, then the sofa.
The logic was irrefutable. She pulled out and made up the sofa bed in record time. And she made damned sure she was in it and turned away from the bathroom door by the time she heard the shower go off.
The consequences of giving lust any room was much too great to contemplate. Because giving in to her emotions, trusting it would turn to more—perhaps even the love she’d been blindingly desperate for—was what had landed her in prison.
Being in prison had nearly killed her.
Brianna had no intention of failing. No intention of sinking again.
CHAPTER FOUR
SHE WOKE TO the smell of strong coffee and an empty room. Relief punched through her as she tossed the light sheet aside and rose from the sofa bed. A quick glance at the ruffled bed showed evidence of Sakis’s presence but, apart from that, every last trace of him had been wiped from the room, including his bag.
Before she could investigate further, her tablet pinged with an incoming message.
Grasping it, she tried to get into the zone—business as usual. Just the way she wanted her life to run. Turning the tablet on, she went through the messages as she poured her coffee.
Two of them were from Sakis, who’d taken up residence in the conference room downstairs. Several of them were from people interested in joining the salvage process or blogging about it. But there was still no word about the missing crew.
After answering Sakis’s message to join him downstairs as soon as she was ready, she tackled the most important emails, took a quick shower and dressed in a clean pair of khaki combat trousers and a cream T-shirt.
By the time she’d tied her hair into its usual French knot, the events of last night had been consigned a ‘temporary aberration’ status. Thankfully, she’d been asleep by the time he emerged from the bathroom and, even though she’d woken once and heard his light, even breathing, she’d managed to go back to sleep with no trouble.
Which meant she really didn’t have to fear that the rhythm of their relationship had changed.
It hadn’t. After this crisis was over, they would return to London and everything would go back to machine-smooth efficiency.
She shrugged on her dark-green jacket, grabbed her case and went downstairs to find Sakis on the phone in the conference room.
He indicated the extensive breakfast tray; she’d just bitten into a piece of honeyed toast when he hung up.
‘The salvage crew have contained the leak in the last compartment and the transport tanker for the undamaged oil will arrive in the next few hours.’
‘So the damaged tanker can be moved in the next few days?’
He nodded. ‘After the International Maritime Investigation Board has completed its investigation it will be tugged back to the ship-building facility in Piraeus. And, now we have a full salvage team in place, there’s no need for any remaining crew to stay. They can go home.’
Brianna nodded and brushed crumbs off her fingers. ‘I’ll arrange it.’
Even though she powered up her tablet ready to action his request, she felt the heat of his gaze on her face.
‘You do my bidding without question when it comes to matters of the boardroom. And yet you blatantly disobeyed me last night,’ he said in a low voice.
She paused mid-swallow and looked up. Arresting green eyes caught and locked onto hers. ‘I’m sorry?’
He twirled a pen in his hand. ‘I asked you to take the bed last night. You didn’t.’
She forced herself to swallow and tried to look away. She really tried. But it seemed as if he’d charged the very air with a magnetic field that held her captive. ‘I didn’t think your jump-when-I-say edict extended beyond the boardroom to the bedroom, Mr Pantelides.’
Too late, she realised the indelicacy of her words. His eyes gleamed with lazy green fire. But she wasn’t fooled for a second that it was harmless.
‘It doesn’t. When it comes to the bedroom, I like control, but I’m not averse to relinquishing it...on occasion.’