One Night with a Gorgeous Greek

And there was no point in telling him, was there? He’d made up his mind about her based on that episode in her teens and the state of her father’s company.

The whole situation was made a thousand times worse by the fact that a small part of her knew she was deserving of his contempt. It was because of her that Arianna had been excluded from school. It didn’t surprise her that he had such a low opinion of her. What surprised her was how much she cared. It shouldn’t matter what he thought of her. All that mattered now were the jobs of the innocent people who worked for her father.

‘The headlines on the one o’clock news were pretty brutal. They’re calling you the hatchet man.’

‘Good. Perhaps it will bring your father out of hiding.’ His sensuous mouth curved into a grim smile as he hit a button on the panel and sent the lift gliding upwards.

Transfixed by his mouth, Polly felt her stomach drop. His features were boldly masculine, from the hard lines of his bone structure to the subtle shadow that darkened his jaw. Desperate, she looked for evidence of weakness but found none. ‘My father isn’t hiding.’

‘Miss Prince—’ his voice was a soft, dangerous purr ‘—unless you want to experience first-hand experience of the impact of my temper in an enclosed space, I suggest you don’t force me to think about what your father might currently be doing.’

Polly instinctively retreated against the glass. ‘I’m just saying he isn’t hiding, that’s all. My father isn’t a coward.’ London slowly grew smaller and smaller until it lay beneath them like a miniature toy town. By contrast, the tension in the capsule rocketed.

‘He’s allowed his business to decline rather than make the difficult decisions that should have been made. He needed to make serious cuts but he chose not to do it. If that isn’t cowardice, I don’t know what is.’

‘You shouldn’t make judgements on something you know nothing about.’

‘I run a multinational corporation. I make difficult decisions every day of my life.’ His innate superiority infuriated her almost as much as the fact that he was right. Her father should have made some difficult decisions. But the fact that it was Damon Doukakis who was now pointing that out somehow made it more difficult to hear.

‘I’m sure it gives you a real feeling of power to fire people.’

It happened so fast she didn’t see him move, but one moment she was standing with an aerial view of London and the next she was staring at wide shoulders and a pair of fiercely angry eyes. ‘Never before have I had to restrain myself around a woman, but with you—’ He drew in a shaky breath, clearly struggling with the intensity of his own emotions. ‘You are enough to provoke a saint. Trust me when I say you do not want a demonstration of my power.’

Polly stared at him in appalled fascination, wondering why everyone thought he was Mr Cool. He was the most volatile man she’d met. He simmered like a pan of water kept permanently on the boil. And he smelt incredible … ‘I was just making the point that you really work this whole I’m-the-boss-and-you’re-going-to-do-it-my-way routine.’ Please let him step away from her before she gave into the temptation to bury her face in his neck and just breathe. ‘We’re used to a more relaxed approach when we work. Frankly I’m not sure how well we’ll do under a reign of terror.’

Outrage rippled across his shoulders and his jaw clenched. ‘That relaxed approach has sent your company plunging towards bankruptcy. If any redundancies come from this disaster then you and your father will be responsible.’

Brain-dead with exhaustion, Polly felt a perverse sense of satisfaction at seeing him so angry. She wanted him to suffer too. Not just for giving her the most hellish week of her life, but also because she had a desperate urge to crush her mouth to his and feeling that way aggravated her in the extreme. ‘You’re obviously not enjoying having us as part of your business,’ she said sweetly. ‘Next time perhaps you should check out your prey before you swallow it. We’re obviously giving you indigestion.’

He released her as suddenly as he’d trapped her, stepping back with an exclamation in Greek that she was sure wasn’t complimentary.

‘The press have somehow guessed that your father and my sister are together.’ Lifting a hand, he yanked down the zip of his jacket as if it were strangling him. ‘Unless you enjoy fuelling gossip, I suggest you don’t talk to them. I’ve instructed my people to put out a statement on the takeover, concentrating on our corporate vision and goals. I’m trying to focus attention on the fact that your company fits logically within my current business.’

‘You mean you don’t want to admit publicly you’re a megalomaniac who bought a company just so that you could threaten the man having a relationship with your sister.’ But she was horrified by the news that the press now had the story. She knew it wouldn’t be long before they were digging for reasons and she didn’t even want to think about what that would mean. She’d been there before and she loathed it. Everyone wanting to know how it felt to have a stepmother the same age as her. Everyone appalled and fascinated by the ridiculous antics of her father.

‘Take a tip from me, Miss Prince.’ Those thick dark lashes descended until the look in his eyes was virtually obscured ‘even in this age of sexual equality, no real man wants to spend time with a bitch or a ball breaker. Try and cultivate a softer, more feminine side and who knows? You might find yourself a boyfriend. Possibly even one who owns a company that you can play in.’

Polly was so shocked she couldn’t speak. She didn’t know what appalled her most. The fact that he had this entrenched image of her as a lazy waste of space, the fact that he’d clearly asked someone about her sex-life, or the fact that part of her was wondering how he kissed.

Putting it down to tiredness, she promised herself a really early night. ‘I’d never be interested in a man who couldn’t cope with a strong woman.’

‘There’s strong and then there’s strident, which is presumably why you’re still single.’

Only the knowledge that she’d be confirming his less than flattering assessment of her prevented her from launching herself at him. Instead she smarted furiously and kept her eyes fixed on the streets shrinking beneath their feet. This is good, she told herself. If he keeps this up all I’m going to want to do to him is kill him and that feels better than sizzling chemistry. ‘If the doors opened to the outside, I’d push you.’

His laugh lacked humour. ‘If I thought we’d be working together for long, I’d jump.’

Boiling inside, Polly was saved from thinking up a response by the muted ‘ping’ of the doors as they glided silently apart, revealing a cavernous, light-filled office space.

Damon propelled her forward and she stepped into an open-plan office area like nothing she’d ever seen before.

Taken aback, momentarily forgetting their heated exchange, she stopped walking and just stared.

Despite everything she’d heard and read about Damon Doukakis, nothing had prepared her for the bustling efficiency of the Doukakis corporate headquarters. ‘Oh …’ She looked at the bank of desks, each with a video phone, a laptop plug-in and a printer. Most were occupied and there was no questioning the industry of those working. Barely anyone looked up from what they were doing. ‘Where—?’ Puzzled, she turned her head and looked around her at the clean, uncluttered workspace. ‘Where’s their stuff? Where do they keep books, magazines, family pictures—personal things. It’s all very Spartan.’

‘We operate a hot desk system.’

Her mind preoccupied, Polly suddenly had an image of everyone burning themselves when they sat down to work. ‘Hot desk?’

‘Employees don’t have their own fixed office space. They come in and sit at whichever work station is free. Office space is our most expensive asset and most offices only use fifty percent of their capacity at any one time. We lease the lower ten floors of this building. It’s a highly profitable way of maximising the space.’

‘So people don’t actually have their own desks? That’s awful.’ Genuinely appalled, Polly tried to envisage her friends and colleagues existing in such a sterile environment. ‘But what if someone wants to put up a photograph of their baby or something?’

‘When they’re at work they should be working. They can stare at the real live baby on their own time.’ Damon Doukakis urged her through the floor, occasionally pausing to exchange a word with someone.

Polly examined the faces of the people, wondering what it must be like working in such soulless surroundings. Granted, you could have sold tickets to look at the view from the windows, but nothing about the office space was cosy. ‘There’s nothing personal anywhere.’

‘People are here to do a job. They have everything they need to do that job. People who work for me are adaptable. Technology allows for workforce mobility. Commuting is time-consuming and expensive. I’d rather my people worked an extra two hours than spent those hours sitting in traffic. Some people work flexible hours—start late, finish late. They’ll be sitting down at a desk when another person is leaving it. If they’re out of the country for a meeting, then the desk is used by someone else. This is the office template of the future.’

Except that Damon Doukakis had brought the future into the present.

Polly thought about the office she’d just left. Until they’d been forced to strip it bare, the walls had been covered in framed copies of their advertising campaigns, photographs and pictures of past office parties. On her desk she’d kept numerous objects that cheered her up and made her smile. And she had Romeo and Juliet.

Here, there were no walls on which to put photographs. No cosy staffroom with soft armchairs and a gurgling coffee machine. Everywhere she looked there was chrome, glass and an industrious silence.

Hoping fish weren’t afraid of heights, she stared around her. ‘So is this going to be our floor?’

‘No. I’m showing you an example of efficiency in action. Take a good look around, Miss Prince. This is how a successful company looks. To you it probably feels like landing on an alien planet.’ His sensuous mouth curved into a sardonic smile. ‘In order to cause minimum disruption to the rest of my operation I’ve allocated a separate floor to your operation.’ Without waiting for her response, he pushed open a door and took the stairs two at a time. Polly poked her tongue out at his back and followed more slowly, envying his athleticism.

Following him through another set of doors, she found herself on another floor, completely circled in glass.

All the boxes and equipment had already been transferred from her old offices and the staff of Prince Advertising were laughing and joking together as they unpacked.

As they waved to her, Polly felt her eyes sting. They were so optimistic and excited. They had no idea how fragile their future was.

The responsibility almost flattened her.

‘This is yours.’ Damon gestured across the floor with his hand. ‘There are meeting rooms over there, all of which can be used for sensitive phone calls that can’t be made in open plan.’ As he finished speaking the lift doors opened and Polly saw Debbie and Jen stagger out of the lift carrying boxes. After a series of ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ as they saw the view, they put down the boxes.

‘This is the last of it. Now we can start settling in. Won’t take us long to make the place home. Not that my home looks anything like this,’ Debbie said cheerfully. ‘Where’s the kettle?’

Polly caught sight of the shock in Damon Doukakis’s eyes and realised that the only way she was going to stand a chance of preserving jobs was if she kept everyone as far away from the boss as possible. She had to protect them. ‘Mr Doukakis, I haven’t had a chance to send that presentation through to you. I copied it onto a flash drive so you can open it up on your own computer. Debs, if you could supervise the unpacking, that would be great.’

‘Sure thing. I’ll have to work out which of the plants like sunlight because there’s a lot of sunlight in this building.’ Deb tugged off her shoes and prepared to get stuck into the work. ‘This place is epic.’

‘Whatever you need to do.’ Deciding that the reason the staff appeared to have no internal radar warning them of danger was because they’d worked for her father for so long, Polly frantically tried to distract their new boss. ‘Perhaps we should have the meeting in your office as there is going to be some disruption on this floor.’

‘Disruption appears to be a comfortable working environment for you. Are those—’ he did a double take as Debbie reached into another box and, together with Jen, lifted out a huge bucket ‘—fish?’

Oh, God…

‘You gave us four hours’ notice of an office move,’ Polly muttered. ‘There wasn’t time to negotiate relocation. We’ll have the tank set up in no time and no one is even going to know they’re here.’

‘Tank?!’

‘You’re the one who insisted the whole company move here. The fish are part of the company.’

‘You keep fish?’

‘Look at it this way. They’re not going to bother anyone and you don’t have to pay them. They’re motivational without being costly.’

Her feeble attempt to lighten the situation fell flat. Damon Doukakis didn’t smile. Instead he turned his gaze on Polly. Silence spread across the room and Polly was hideously aware that everyone was listening.

The atmosphere changed from one of carnival to one of consternation.

Pinned by that intense, dark stare Polly felt his disapproval slam into her with lethal force.

‘My office,’ he growled. ‘Right now.’

CHAPTER THREE

‘TAKE my calls, Janey.’ Dropping his phone onto his PA’s desk, Damon strode into his office with Polly following close behind.

The moment he heard the door close, he turned, intending to launch a blistering attack on the sloppy, unprofessional attitude of her staff, but the sight of her swaying in the centre of his enormous office killed the words before they left his mouth.

He’d never seen anyone more miserable or more ex hausted.

Whatever else was going on, he could see Polly Prince had had one hell of a week. It couldn’t have been easy watching her cushy life slip through her fingers. A few more strands of that shiny blonde hair had escaped from the restraining clip on top of her head, there were black smudges under her violet eyes, and her cheeks were the same pristine white as his shirt.

Standing in the centre of his enormous office, she reminded him of a lone gazelle that had lost the rest of its herd.

‘What?’ She was watching him warily. ‘Do you think you could stop frowning at everyone? It’s really hard to operate in an atmosphere of terror.’

‘I do not create an atmosphere of terror.’

‘How do you know? You’re not the one on the receiving end.’

‘We do three-hundred-and-sixty-degree reviews here. If staff feel afraid, they have the opportunity to say so.’

‘Unless they’re too afraid to say so.’ Tiredness laced itself through her voice and suddenly her shoulders drooped slightly, as if the effort of maintaining all that attitude was just too much. ‘Look, I know you think I’m a complete waste of space and actually …’ She paused and pushed her hair away from her face. ‘Actually, I don’t completely blame you for that because all the evidence points in that direction, but sometimes things aren’t entirely as they seem.’

‘Your company is a circus. What exactly isn’t as it seems?’

‘We may look chaotic to you, but we work well in a relax, informal atmosphere. It helps us be creative.’

‘If that’s your way of asking if you can keep the fish, the answer is no. I don’t allow pets in my offices.’

‘Romeo and Juliet aren’t pets, exactly. They’re an integral part of the workforce. They cheer people up and staff motivation is hugely important. I’m asking you to relax your rigid principles for five minutes. You might be surprised what a bit of work enjoyment does.’

‘What I think,’ Damon said slowly, ‘is that the way you do business is sloppy and unprofessional.’ And the irony was, he wasn’t even interested in the business. He’d taken control in a desperate attempt to flush Peter Prince out of hiding but so far it hadn’t worked. There had been no contact.

The knowledge that Analisa could have called him and hadn’t added layers of pain and anxiety to his anger. She always accused him of being over-protective, and maybe he was, but was it really being over-protective to want to prevent someone you loved from being hurt?

The affair was doomed, and the thought of having to deal with a heartbroken Arianna sent a cold chill through his body.

Once before he’d held her as she’d sobbed and he never wanted to do that again. Never wanted to see his sister that sad.

Polly was frowning at him. ‘Look, I know this whole thing is a mess, but give me a chance.’ There was a desperate note to her voice. ‘Now that you’ve got rid of the board, I know I can turn this company around.’

‘You?’ Her astonishing claim momentarily distracted him from thoughts of his sister.

‘Yes, me. At least let me try.’

For the first time since he’d walked into the Prince headquarters, Damon felt like laughing. ‘You’re asking me to give you free rein to do more of what you’ve been doing?’

‘I know you won’t believe me but I do know what our business needs to make it successful.’

‘It needs someone at the helm who isn’t afraid to take tough decisions. The fish have to go. I’m not running an aquarium. All you need to do your job is a laptop and an internet connection. I assume you have heard of both those things?’

But he had to admit he was surprised by her vigorous and ongoing defence of the staff. She appeared to care passionately whether they lost their jobs or not.

Presumably it had finally come home to her that if the company crashed, she’d be out of a job and an inheritance.

So pale she looked as though she might pass out, she walked towards him and put a flash drive on his desk. ‘The file you want is on there. Look at the numbers. Ninety percent of our expenses were attributed to one percent of the staff. You just got rid of that one percent. Those same people were on the highest salaries but made the smallest contribution to the company. You just made a massive saving on our operating costs.’

Damon found himself distracted by the tempting curve of her lower lip. ‘I’m surprised you even know what an operating cost is.’

‘Please open the file.’

Ruthlessly deleting thoughts of sex, Damon slid the flash drive into his computer and opened the document. ‘Do I read from the beginning of this fairy story?’

‘It isn’t a fairy story. You’ll see from this that we’ve pitched for six new pieces of business in the last three months. We won all six accounts. One of those was against your own advertising team. We beat them. The client said our pitch was the most creative and exciting he’d seen.’ There was an energy and confidence about her that was at odds with his impression of her and Damon was genuinely surprised.

‘Creative and exciting doesn’t send a company bankrupt.’

‘No, but high overheads can. And so can bad management. We suffered from both.’

‘Your father was in charge. Who exactly are you blaming?’

‘Blame is a waste of time. I’m just asking you to look at the facts and help us move forward.’ She hesitated. ‘I know you’re good at what you do, but we’re good too. Together we could be incredible. I’ll be downstairs helping the staff settle in if you want to talk about this. Start by looking at these figures.’ She leaned across his desk and pressed a key on his computer and a strand of that rebellious hair floated against his cheek, soft as down.

Damon lifted a hand to brush it away at the same time she did and her fingers tangled with his. Scarlet-faced, she jumped back, clearly as horrified by the contact as he was.

‘You don’t need my help with this—just—it’s self-explanatory.’ She tucked the offending strand behind her ear and Damon watched, transfixed by those delicate fingers tipped with painted nails.

‘Is that—?’ His attention caught, he narrowed his eyes and squinted at her nails but she quickly whipped her hands behind her back.

‘Just take a look at that presentation.’

‘Show me your hands.’

There was a mutinous flash in her eyes but she stuck out her hands. ‘There.’

‘You have a skull and crossbones painted on your nails.’

‘It’s called nail art. I use different stencils.’

‘And you chose a skull and crossbones for today?’

She gave a tiny shrug. ‘It seemed appropriate. Look, I know you think this is all frivolous but one of our clients owns a major brand in nail colour. We did a fantastic cover mount on one of the big women’s glossies last summer, and—Never mind—it’s all in the figures. What are you doing?’ The stream of nervous chatter died as he took her hands firmly in his.

Making a sound in her throat, she gave a little pull but Damon tightened his grip. Her hands were smooth and delicate and he was blinded by a sudden image of those slim fingers closing around a certain part of him.

Raw sexual awareness burned through his body, brutal in its intensity. He felt her hands tremble in his. The confidence and assurance melted away from her, leaving confusion in its place.

Damon wondered if the air-conditioning in his office had broken. The atmosphere had suddenly become heavy and oppressive.

Even as he was in the process of reminding himself that this girl’s father was the source of his current problems, she snatched her hands away and stepped back. ‘I’ll leave you to read the presentation.’

Damon felt mildly disorientated.

What the hell was he doing?

‘Yes. Go.’ If she hadn’t already been leaving of her own free will he would have ejected her from his office with supersonic speed. Not wanting to examine his own behaviour too closely, he dragged his gaze back to the document on the screen but all he saw was golden hair and long nails.

Forcing himself to focus, he concentrated on the first slide. One glance told him that it had been prepared by someone computer literate and numerate. In fact it was the first sign of professionalism he’d seen since he walked through the doors of Prince Advertising.

He stopped thinking about Analisa and analysed the data in front of him.

‘Wait—’ He stopped her as she reached the door. ‘Who did this?’ His rough demand was met by a long, pulsing silence and then she turned to face him.

‘I did.’

‘You mean Mr Anderson gave you the information and you collated it.’

‘No, I mean I put together the information I thought you’d need to be able to make an informed decision about the future of the company.’

Damon glanced at the complexity of the data on the screen and then back at her. ‘I consider it a serious offence to take credit for someone else’s work.’

A wry smile tilted the corners of her mouth. ‘Really? It makes a refreshing change to hear that from someone in authority. Maybe we’ll work well together after all.’

Damon stared at the spreadsheet, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. ‘What exactly was your official role in the company?’

‘I was my father’s executive assistant, which basically means I did a bit of everything.’

A bit of everything. ‘So this isn’t Mr Anderson’s spreadsheet?’

‘Mr Anderson couldn’t switch the laptop on, let alone create a spreadsheet.’

Damon leaned back in his chair. ‘So you’re good with computers?’

‘I’m good with a lot of things, Mr Doukakis. Just because I wear pink tights and have fun with my nails it doesn’t make me stupid any more than wearing jeans would make you approachable.’ She still had her hand on the door handle, as if she was ready to run at a moment’s notice. ‘I need to get back downstairs. Having your future in someone else’s hands is very traumatic for everyone. It would mean a lot if next time you go down there you could maybe smile or say an encouraging word.’