The Greek Tycoon's Secret Child. Cathy Williams

She attended her courses during the day but did none of the student socialising that most of the others did and talking to the customers at the nightclub was strictly out of the question. There had just been Frankie. And she and Frankie no longer conversed on any meaningful level.

      ‘So you don’t live here, then, I take it?’ She reluctantly looked at him and, for one crazy moment, wondered what he looked like underneath the expensive suit and that crisp striped shirt he was wearing under it. Then she blinked and she was back in the taxi, a nightclub waitress with a boyfriend, sitting next to someone important in the City.

      ‘Why do you say that?’

      ‘Well, if you did, then why would you go to a hotel when you happened to be working late?’

      ‘I have an apartment in Chelsea. But this particular hotel does very late suppers and occasionally we might come across here to wind up a deal and eat at the same time.’

      ‘We?’

      ‘My people.’

      ‘Your people.’

      ‘Accountants, lawyers, whoever happens to be needed. Sometimes, I come here on my own to have a late meal and finish business without the distraction of telephones and fax machines.’ No point telling her that he had been responsible for buying and renovating this particular building and, as a stipulation, had a penthouse suite on the top floor which he sometimes used if he simply couldn’t be bothered to get George to drive him back to his own apartment. That little titbit would have her running for cover.

      And he was discovering that the last thing he wanted was to have her running for cover.

      For someone who had always had total control over every aspect of his life, this in itself puzzled the hell out of him. It also energised him in equal measure.

      ‘And what about your wife? Does she enjoy your late suppers at expensive hotels when you’re working late with your people?’ Whether he was married or not was immaterial to her. She had no intention of doing anything with him. But she still found that she was curious.

      Was he married?

      ‘If I were married, I wouldn’t be here.’ There was a flat coolness to his voice that made her want to retract the question. ‘Don’t you find it impossible to work somewhere where your opinion of your customers is so low?’

      She was spared the difficulty of finding an answer to that one by the taxi slowing down in front of an elegant building sandwiched between an expensive men’s clothing shop and a furniture shop that sported chic, very modern, unpriced handmade furniture.

      But somehow she got the feeling that the question would be repeated the minute they were on their own.

      In the meantime, she would take some time to get her thoughts together and try to still the fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach that definitely should not be there.

      ‘Not the sort of place for a girl in jeans,’ she whispered with a nervous laugh as they walked into the foyer. Stark colours, one or two abstract paintings on the walls, plants that seemed to make a statement.

      And he had been right. There were people even in the foyer, even at this hour of the night. Expensive, sophisticated, arty-looking people.

      The man behind the desk smiled at him, which just made Mattie feel even more nervous. She clenched her fists in the pockets of her jacket and trudged alongside him as he strode towards some stairs and down into the basement bar.

      What was she doing here? she wondered a little wildly.

      ‘People come here dressed in anything they choose,’ Dominic murmured down to her. ‘No need to feel out of place.’

      ‘I wasn’t feeling out of place.’

      ‘No?’ He paused to raise one eyebrow at her, and she smiled reluctantly.

      ‘Well, a little.’

      It was the smile, he thought. Something about it gave the lie to her air of cynicism, revealed a wealth of vulnerability and spoke volumes about the wit, the humour, the intelligence lying there just below the surface. Waiting.

      Waiting, he thought, for me to unearth it.

      ‘Grab a table,’ he said. ‘I’ll get drinks. What will you have?’

      ‘Not champagne. I see enough of that at work to be immune to its charm. Not that I’ve ever been a champagne girl anyway,’ she added quickly, just in case he thought that she was going to take advantage of his wealth to order herself the most expensive drink on the menu. ‘I’ll have some coffee, please. Decaffeinated, if they do it.’

      ‘They do everything here.’

      Mattie took a seat at one of the smooth circular granite tables. The chairs were oddly shaped, very comfortable even though they didn’t look it, and, as in the foyer, there were people here. A whole world of night birds, exotic, young night birds, drinking and having a good time.

      ‘So,’ he deposited her cup on the table and sat down, ‘feeling a little less…rattled?’

      ‘I wasn’t rattled,’ Mattie returned with vigour. ‘I was angry because you manipulated me into leaving with you.’

      ‘You could have said no and walked away. No one forced you to get into the taxi and come here.’ He crossed his legs and proceeded to look at her with such thoroughness that she felt a steady blush invade her face until she was taking refuge in the cup of coffee and wishing she had ordered something a little more substantial.

      ‘And you never answered my question. Why do you work in a place where the customers obviously repulse you?’

      ‘They don’t repulse me. Some of them are really quite nice. Or at least they seem to be.’

      ‘You just dislike the sort of men you think frequent those places.’

      ‘Wouldn’t you?’ Mattie shrugged, determined not to let him see how nervously aware of him he made her feel.

      ‘Funnily enough, I feel exactly the same as you do. I just happened to find myself there at the request of my clients.’

      ‘Oh, and you weren’t enjoying…having a look around?’

      ‘Not particularly. Until, that is, I saw you.’

      There was something shockingly direct about the statement, something that made her body stir slickly into life. She couldn’t think of a thing to say and nor did he seem in any hurry to break the silence that thickened around them.

      ‘I…I… As I said, I work there because the money is very good… I…’

      Dominic watched as she lowered her eyes and busied herself with the cup, staring at it for a few seconds, toying with the handle before raising it to her lips. She was probably as experienced as they came, but she was making him feel like a big, bad wolf all of a sudden and he didn’t like the feeling.

      ‘Why don’t you get a day job?’ he asked, allowing the change of subject even though he wanted to ask her how she could possibly do what she did and still shy away like a frightened rabbit when a man paid her a compliment. He hadn’t even tried to touch her, for heaven’s sake!

      ‘Why is it that you aren’t married?’ She tilted her chin up and looked him squarely in the face, leaving him in no doubt as to her intention. If he felt at liberty to quiz her about her private life then she felt at liberty to do the same to him.

      ‘Should I be?’ Dominic hedged. Personal confidences had never figured high on his conversational agenda. Had never figured at all, in point of fact. He felt his face darken slightly and he knocked back the remainder of his drink in one long swallow.

      ‘Well, you’re not too old, you’re…you’re…’ Her vantage point was quickly relinquished as Mattie saw the road she was heading down. A list of all his credentials, and when she looked at him there was a wicked gleam in his eyes that did something else to her wall of cynicism