The Greek's Nine-Month Redemption. Maisey Yates

remember.”

      “I’m not a...brand,” she sputtered, “I’m a woman. Where are you going?” He had walked past her, heading for the door.

      “I thought I might go and speak to some of the staff.”

      “No,” she said, hurrying after him. “I do not wish to unleash you on them. I don’t want you talking about how their jobs may be in jeopardy when you make final decisions.”

      “Their jobs may well not be in jeopardy if you don’t fight me every step of the way. People like a public face. You can provide that. You can be strongly associated with the brand, and in effect, become a brand yourself. A young, professional woman. Brilliant, fashionable. You can be that woman.”

      She rolled her eyes. “That does not sound like—”

      “It isn’t a negotiation. Either you comply with my plan, or you are subject to Plan B, which is making sweeping cuts and doing my best to lift profit margins that way.”

      She made an exasperated sound, following him down the hall. “I wish you wouldn’t keep walking away from me.”

      “I have places to be. I want to take a look at the different departments. Get a body count. So to speak.”

      “We are talking.” She scampered after him. “Of course I will agree to go.”

      He pushed the button for the elevator. “I’m glad to hear that. I get the feeling sometimes you’re just opposing me for the sake of it.”

      “And I get the feeling that you’re an ass to me just because you enjoy it.”

      He chuckled and she stepped in just as the doors began to close. “Well, you are possibly correct in that assessment. Anyway, you spent a great many years being an ass to me simply because you enjoyed it.”

      She let out a harsh breath and watched the numbers on the elevator as it moved. Suddenly, she was very aware of the fact that she and Apollo were alone again. She looked at him, just a quick glance out of the corner of her eye. She tried to ignore the restless feeling between her thighs. Tried to ignore the restless feeling in her body.

      After what seemed like an eternity, the doors opened again, and they were on the floor that housed the marketing department. He stepped out of the elevator and began to sweep his way through the space like a destructive wind. As he whipped by, heads turned, expressions went from relaxed to terrified.

      “See that? Your mere presence lowers morale. I hope you’re happy.”

      “I don’t care about morale.” He paused by one of the desks. “Hello,” he said, clearly attempting to be charming. “My name is Apollo Savas. I’m the owner of this company. What is it you do?”

      The girl, a blonde who could barely be twenty-five, blinked rather owlishly. She seemed to be struck dumb by his presence. Either by the fact that he was the owner of the company, or by the fact that he was just so damn good-looking. Truly, it was a problem. Elle felt a moment of sympathy for her.

      “I’m on the marketing team for the makeup line,” she said, looking a little bit thunderstruck.

      “Have you been satisfied with the performance of those products?”

      “Well,” she said, shuffling the papers on her desk around, “we have seen an increase in revenue this past quarter. And our relationships with vendors—”

      “How do you plan to continue the increase? What do you think attracts consumers to this product? Why should they buy this instead of say...any other brand of lipstick? I am a man, I know, but I’m not certain why one sort of cosmetic might be more attractive than another.”

      “I... I...”

      “Enough,” Elle said. “You do not need to prod at my staff.”

      He turned toward her, an amused expression on his face, and suddenly she felt like they were the only two people in the room. That little blonde might as well have evaporated into thin air.

      There was no question, she was not remotely as immune to Apollo and she would like to be.

      * * *

      Apollo would question the purity of his motives if his motives were—in fact—ever pure. They weren’t, so he was certain there was something self-serving and wretched behind them now. Even if he didn’t know precisely what.

      He had wanted to impress upon Elle the importance of her complying with his plan. When he had left her after... After the appalling lack of control that had occurred in his hotel room, he had formulated a plan to try to improve things for her company. A foolish thing, perhaps. He didn’t know why he should care about the fate of her magazine. Beyond the fact that it was a potential profit machine for him.

      Perhaps it was the fact that she had become collateral damage in a war he’d never intended to bring her into. But David had placed her in direct line of the firing squad.

      Apollo wasn’t a kind man. At least, no one ever accused him of being so. And he had never made it a goal to be seen that way. He had cared about very few people growing up, and it had turned out those he had cared about most had betrayed him long ago.

      And so he had stolen his stepfather’s empire, started dismantling it. But he had left Elle at Matte. God knew why. He’d known in the end he would destroy it, destroy her.

      Perhaps it was because he knew what it was to be caught in the consequences of the sins of the father. Hers and his. Perhaps because he knew that—whether or not Elle had been kind to him when they were younger—she was innocent here.

      But now...now it was as though a veil had been stripped away from his eyes. He would have to use her. There was no other choice. There was no preserving her. That much had been made clear when he’d taken her against the wall.

      It had been symbolic in many ways of that protection being destroyed. That desire to keep her safe from himself being completely and utterly ripped away.

      He could no longer ignore Elle. Could no longer dance around the fact that he would have to destroy her along with her father.

      He would use her. And he would discard her.

      It had nothing to do with his desire to strip her naked again. To watch her pale skin flush with pleasure once more. It had nothing at all to do with that, because he was not going to allow himself the indulgence.

      Indulgence was unacceptable. But revenge? That was sweet.

      “Perhaps you would like to give me a tour of the rest of the department, Elle?” he asked, ruthlessly cutting off his train of thought.

      “Of course.”

      They moved away from where they had been standing, and she continued on down the role of desks. “Just don’t talk to anyone,” she said, her voice hushed.

      “Why is it that you think you can tell me what to do when I am in my own company?”

      “Because I am the boss,” she said, her tone sounding slightly petulant. “That has to count for something somewhere.”

      “Sadly for you, I am your boss. Being boss of a lot of other people doesn’t give you extra clout. I am the final word. So let it be written, et cetera.”

      She swept through the little space quickly. “There you have it. And now, I expect you want to be going.”

      “No,” he said, crossing his arms across his chest. “I’ll head back up to your office floor and set up for a few hours, get a few things done. I do like to familiarize myself with my acquisitions.”

      Elle looked livid. Her jaw set, her lips in a flat line. “Can’t you do that in your hotel room?”

      The mention of his hotel room brought back illicit memories. “I could. But I want to get a greater sense for how things are running here. It is in your best interest to keep me around. I might grow attached. I might yet see the importance