What The Greek Wants Most. Maya Blake

see the rumours were false after all,’ the man who loomed, large and imposing, in front of her drawled in that deep voice of his, capturing her attention so effortlessly.

      She pushed down the bitterness that swirled through her at the thought of what she’d allowed to happen with Constantine. How low she’d sunk in her need for love and a desire for a connection.

      ‘What rumours?’ She infused a carelessness in her voice she was far from feeling.

      ‘The ones that said you exhibit grace and charm with each bat of your eyelids. At the moment all I can see is a hellcat intent on scoring grooves into my skin.’

      ‘Then I suggest you stay away from me. I wouldn’t want to ruin your unbelievably handsome face now, would I?’

      She hurried away from his magnetic presence towards where the tables had been set out with highly polished sterling silver cutlery and exquisitely cut crystal. At twenty thousand dollars a plate, the event was ostensibly to raise money for the children trapped within Rio’s favelas, a cause dear to her heart.

      Shame it had to be tainted with power-hungry sharks, mild threats to secure votes and…devastatingly handsome rogues with piercing hazel eyes who made her breath catch in a frighteningly exciting way…

      The direction of her thoughts made her stumble lightly. Catching herself, she smiled at a guest who slid her a concerned glance.

      Each table was set for eight. Her father had insisted their table was placed in the centre, where all eyes would be on them.

      With Alfonso’s unexpected departure, the empty seat would stick out like the proverbial sore thumb once the Secretary of State and his wife and the other power couple had taken their places.

      She had no choice but to bump someone to the high table. All she needed to figure out was who—

      ‘Staring at the empty seat will not make your departed guest suddenly reappear, senhorita,’ the deep voice uttered from behind her.

      That hot shiver swept up her spine again.

      Before she could summon an appropriately scathing retort, her chair and the one bearing Alfonso’s name were pulled back.

      ‘What are you doing?’ she demanded heatedly under her breath. She continued to stare down at the place setting, unwilling to look up into those hazel eyes. Something in their light depths made her hyperaware of her body, of her increased heartbeat. As if she was prey and he was the merciless predator.

      It was preposterous. She didn’t like it. But it was undeniable.

      ‘Saving your skin. Now, smile and play along.’

      ‘I’m not a puppet. I don’t smile on command.’

      ‘Try. Unless you want to spend the rest of the evening sitting next to the equivalent of an elephant in the ballroom?’

      Something in his voice made her forget her vow not to look into his eyes. Something…peculiar. Her head snapped up before she could stop herself.

      Their eyes clashed. And she found herself in that hyperaware state again. She forced herself to breathe through it. ‘You created the very situation you now seem intent on fixing. Why don’t you save us both time and state what your agenda is?’

      A look passed over his face. Too quickly for her to decipher but whatever it was made her breath catch in a totally different way from before. Warning spiked the hairs on her nape.

      ‘I merely want to redress the situation a little. And, as talented as you seem to think you are at hiding it, I can see my actions caused you distress. Let me help make it better.’

      ‘So you cause me grief then swoop in to save me like a knight in shining armour?’

      ‘I’m no one’s knight, senhorita. And I prefer Armani to armour.’

      He pointedly held out her seat.

      Casting a swift glance around, Inez saw that they were attracting attention. Short of causing a scene, there was nothing she could do. Willing her facial muscles to relax into a cordial smile, she slowly sat down and watched as Theo Pantelides folded himself into the seat next to her.

      He reached for his champagne at the same time as she reached for her water glass. The brush of his knuckle against her wrist made her jump.

      ‘Relax, anjo. I’ve got this,’ came the smooth, deep reassurance.

      A hysterical laugh bubbled up her throat, curbed at the last minute by a cough. ‘Pardon me if that assurance brings me very little comfort.’

      He lifted the glass she’d abandoned and held it out to her. ‘Tell me, what’s the worst that could happen?’

      She took the glass and stared into the sparkling water. The need to moisten her dry throat had receded. ‘Believe me, the worst already has happened.’

      For a long time she’d hidden from the truth—that her father had his heir, and she was a useless spare part.

      Pain writhed through her and her breath grew shaky as her throat clogged with anger and bitterness.

      ‘Get yourself together. Now isn’t the time to fall apart. Trust me, Delgado may be a good friend but he has a wandering eye.’ The hard bite to his tone cut a path through her emotions.

      Setting the glass down, she faced him. ‘I have been toyed with enough to last me a century, and I know your business here tonight has nothing to do with me, so do me a favour, senhor, and tell me straight—what do you want?’ she whispered fiercely. She noted vaguely that her heartbeat was once again on rapid acceleration to sky-high. Her fingers shook and her belly churned with emotions she couldn’t have named to save her life.

      ‘First of all, cut out the senhor bit. If you want to address me in any way, call me Theo.’

      ‘I will address you how I see fit, Mr Pantelides. And I see that once again you have failed to give me a straight answer.’

      ‘No, I’ve failed to jump when you say. You need to be taught a little patience, anjo.’

      She lifted a deliberately mocking brow. ‘And you propose to be the one to teach me?’

      That wide, breathtaking smile appeared again. Just like that, her pulse leapt then galloped with a speed even the finest racehorse would’ve strained to match.

       What was going on here?

      ‘Only if you ask nicely.’

      She was searching for an appropriately cutting response when her father reached the table with the rest of the guests.

      He cast her a narrow-eyed glance before his gaze slid to Theo Pantelides.

      ‘Mr Pantelides, I had hoped for a few minutes of your time before the evening started properly,’ her father said as he took his seat across the table.

      Inez wasn’t sure whether she imagined the slight stiffening in the posture of the man beside her. Her senses were too highly strung for her to trust their accuracy. Searching his profile as he stared at her father, nothing in his face gave any indication as to his true feelings.

      ‘I’m all for mixing business with pleasure. However, I draw the line at mixing business with the plight of the poor. Let the favela kids have their cause heard. Then we will attend to business.’

      The firm put-down sent an arctic chill around the table. The Secretary’s wife gave a visible gasp and her skin blanched beneath her overdone make-up. Pietro, who’d just approached the table as Theo replied, gripped the back of his chair, anger embedded in his face.

      Silence reigned for several fraught seconds. Her father flicked a glance at Pietro, who yanked back his seat and sat down. The hands her brother placed on the table were curled into fists and for a moment Inez wondered if his famous temper was about to be let loose on their guests.

      Benedicto