What The Greek Wants Most Read online

A thread of satisfaction oozed through him as he tracked his friend to the ballroom doors. Scanning the room, he saw Pietro da Costa’s thunderous look in his sister’s direction.

  Theo lifted his glass to his lips and took a lazy sip then turned his attention to Inez da Costa.

  Her large brown eyes were filled with anger as she glared at him.

  ‘Who the devil are you and what did you say to Alfonso?’

  CHAPTER TWO

  THEO DIDN’T LIKE the idea that he’d been less than one hundred per cent thorough in covering every angle in his investigations.

  His surveillance of Inez da Costa had been from afar simply because until recently he’d deemed her involvement in his investigation peripheral at best.

  The extent of her role in her father’s organisation had only come to light a few days ago. But even then he should’ve recognised her power.

  Now, at the first proper sight of what was turning out to be the jewel in Benedicto da Costa’s crown, the essential cog in the sinister wheel that his enemy was intent on using to his full advantage, he experienced a pulse of heat so strong, so powerful, he sucked in a quick breath.

  Up close, Inez da Costa’s heart-shaped face was flawless…breathtaking, her skin a silky, vibrant complexion even the best cosmetics couldn’t hope to produce.

  Not that she hadn’t attempted to enhance her beauty even further. Her make-up was impeccable, her lids smoky in a way that drew attention to her wide, doe-like stare.

  Long-lashed eyes that bored into him with unwavering demand and a healthy dose of suspicion. Her nose flared with pure Latin ire and her full lips parted as she released another agitated breath.

  The pictures in his dossier did her no justice at all. Flesh and blood wrapped in red silk from cleavage to toe, she made his senses ignite in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. The earlier pull deep in his groin returned. Harder.

  ‘I asked you a question.’ Her voice held a hint of dark sultriness that reminded him of a warm Santorini evening spent drinking ouzo on a deserted beach. And the mouth that framed her words, painted a deep matt red, reminded him of what happened on the beach after the ouzo had been consumed and inhibitions were at their loosest.

  She glanced over his shoulder and Theo’s jaw clenched at the thought that she was more concerned with the departing Alfonso than she was with him.

  ‘Why is one of my guests walking out the door right this moment?’

  ‘I told him that if he didn’t want a noose slipped around his neck before he was ready to be hog-tied, he needed to stay away from you.’

  Her parted mouth gaped wider, showing a row of perfect white teeth. ‘Excuse me—?’

  ‘You’re excused.’

  Eyes the colour of dark caramel flashed. ‘How dare you refer to me as such—?’

  ‘Careful, anjo, you’re causing a scene. Pai would not be happy to see his event ruined by a tantrum now, would he?’

  Her eyes didn’t stray from his, her stare direct and cutting in a way that made it difficult for him to look away. Or maybe it was because, despite the boldly challenging stare, he spied a quickly hidden vulnerability that tweaked his radar?

  ‘I don’t know who you think you are but perhaps you need to be educated in the etiquette of social gatherings. You don’t deliberately set out to insult your host or—’

  ‘My intention was quite simple. I wanted to get rid of the competition.’

  ‘The competition?’

  The doors to the larger ballroom where the dinner fund-raiser was to be held were thrown open. Theo turned to her. ‘Yes. And now Alfonso’s gone, I have you all to myself. And, as to who I am, I’m Theo Pantelides, your VIP guest of honour. Maybe you should add another bullet point to your rules of etiquette. That the hostess should know who her most important guests are?’

  Her mouth started to drop open but she caught her reaction and pursed her lips.

  ‘You’re Theo Pantelides?’ she muttered.

  ‘Yes, so I suggest you make nice with me to stop me from leaving. One high net worth guest departing before dinner may be excusable. Barely. Two will certainly not go down well with your crowd. Now, smile and take my arm.’

  * * *

  Inez reeled under the steely punch packed behind the suave, sophisticated exterior and charming smile.

  Theo Pantelides.

  This was the man her father and Pietro had talked about. The one who would be taking over majority shares in Da Costa Holdings until after the elections. The one her brother Pietro had referred to as an arrogant bastard.

  Well, he certainly was arrogant all right. The swiftness with which he’d dispatched Alfonso and assumed he could control her confirmed that assertion. As to whether he was a true bastard…well, that was something to be determined. But so far all signs pointed in that direction.

  What she hadn’t been aware of was that the man spoken of with such scorn would be so…visually breathtaking.

  ‘I thought you would be older.’ The words tripped from her tongue before she could stop herself.

  ‘As opposed to young, virile and unbelievably handsome?’ he drawled.

  Shock jolted though her at his unapologetic, irritatingly justified confidence. Because he undeniably was. A full head of vibrant jet-black hair was common enough among her countrymen. Even his hazel eyes, sculpted cheekbones and square jaw were conventional in the polo-loving jet set crowd her father and brother encouraged her to associate with.

  On this man, though, the whole combination had been elevated several hundred notches to an entirely different level of magnetism that demanded attention and got it. There was a quality about the way he carried himself, his broad shoulders unyielding, that spelled a tough inner core anyone would be foolish to mess with.

  And yet that danger Inez could feel rising off him was…compelling. Alluring.

  She found her gaze drifting over his face, past the tiny dimple in his chin to the dark bronze throat as he lazily swallowed a mouthful of champagne.

  She inhaled a sharp dart of air as she watched his Adam’s apple move. Then jerked back when her fingers flexed suddenly with the urge to touch him there.

  Santa Maria!

  She fought to remember her anger at this stranger. As much as she detested her role in tonight’s events—the blatant begging for campaign funds disguised as a charity event—she couldn’t let opportunities slip through her fingers.

  It was the deal she’d made with her father.

  An education in return for serving her time. In six short weeks she would be free to pursue her dreams. Free of her father’s influence, of the sleazy, horrifying rumours that had been part of her childhood and what had driven her mother to quiet despair when she thought she wasn’t being observed.

  She needed to focus, not moon over how coarse this arrogant stranger’s faintly stubbled jaw would feel against her skin.

  ‘Make nice? After you rudely interrupted my conversation and sent my guest for the evening running without so much as a goodbye?’

  ‘Think about that for a minute. Do you really want a man who would abandon you so easily on the strength of a few whispered words?’

  Genuine anger replaced the momentary sensory aberration. ‘That you needed to whisper those words instead of state them in my hearing makes me wonder just how confident you are of your manhood.’

  Inez was used to being the butt of male jokes. Pietro and her father had mocked and dismissed her career ambitions until the day she’d picked up her suitcase and threatened to leave home for good.

  But she was still shocked when the man in front of her threw back his head and laughed. Even more so when the sight of his strong white teeth and the genuine twinkling merriment in his eyes sent her pulse racing. An alien tingling started in her belly and spread outward like fractured lightning.

  ‘Did I say something funny?’

  Light hazel eyes speared hers. ‘I’ve been challenged on a lot of things, querida, but never over my manhood.’

  T
he political career her father so desperately craved produced men who could fake confidence with the best of them. She’d seen political candidates on a clear losing streak fake bravado until they were on the verge of looking totally ridiculous.

  This man oozed confidence and power so very effortlessly it was like a second skin. Couple those two elements with the dangerous magnetism she could feel and Theo Pantelides was positively lethal.

  Over her thundering heartbeat, she heard the master of ceremonies announce that the fund-raiser she’d so carefully orchestrated—the platform that would see her achieve her freedom—was about to begin.

  Beyond one broad shoulder of the man who seemed to have sucked the air from the large ballroom, she saw her father and Pietro heading towards her.

  Her father would want to know what had happened to Alfonso. The Brazilian businessman had promised to host a polo match on his large ranch where he bred the finest thoroughbreds. Securing a time and a date and a campaign donation had been her job tonight.

  A much needed win this man had cost her.

  Frustrated anger flared anew.

  ‘This can be resolved very easily, Inez,’ Theo Pantelides murmured in her ear. His voice was deep. Alluring. To hear him use her given name, the version her half-American mother had so lovingly bestowed on her, made her momentarily lose her bearings. A state that worsened when his hot breath washed over her neck.

  Barely managing to suppress a shiver, she snapped herself back into focus. ‘Don’t say my name. In fact, don’t speak to me. Just…just go away!’

  Inez knew she was on the verge of displaying childish behaviour but she needed to regroup quickly, find a solution to a situation that had been so cut and dried fifteen minutes ago.

  She watched her father and brother approach and the dart of pain that resided beneath her breastbone twisted. For a long time she’d yearned for a connection with them, especially after Mãe had been so cruelly ripped from their lives following a fall from a racehorse a week before Inez’s eighteenth birthday. But she’d soon realised that she was alone in the pain and loneliness brought on by the loss of the mother who’d been her everything. Pietro had been given no time to grieve before their father had stepped up his grooming campaign. As for Benedicto himself, he’d barely finished burying his wife before resuming his relentless pursuit of political power.

  The only other male she’d foolishly thought was honourable had turned out to be just as ruthlessly power-hungry as the men in her family.

  Constantine Blanco—one lesson well and truly learned.

  ‘I 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 smiled at Theo. ‘Of course. This cause is extremely dear to my heart. My own mother was brought up in the favelas.’

  ‘As indeed you were, no?’ Theo queried silkily.