At the Greek Tycoon's Bidding

by Cathy Williams

  Strains of classical music wafted through the door, a beautiful sound that was incongruous with what she was feeling. Deed done, she assumed that he was now relaxing.

  She didn’t look in his direction when she walked past towards her old room and the suitcase lying under the bed. She had come with very little and she was leaving with far less. She didn’t much care whether her clothes disappeared in a puff of smoke. She hated them, but she made herself pack them. The few that were in her old bedroom and then the rest.

  Somewhere along the line he had disappeared, although the CD player was still softly playing Vivaldi. She assumed he would be in the office. Away from her. After so long with him, he was happy to let her leave his apartment without even bothering to say goodbye.

  In a daze, and with her suitcase, her portfolio and some assorted bags at her feet, Heather stood by the front door, not knowing whether to try and find him or not.

  In the end there seemed no point. He had said what he had to say and he would never believe that she wasn’t an opportunist.

  Instead, she hastily scribbled a note, thanking him for the job he had given her, which had enabled her to fund her course, and leaving him the key to his apartment.

  From the sanctuary of his office Theo heard the click of the door being shut, and scowled at the laptop winking in front of him. She would have wondered whether to disturb him to say goodbye and would have hesitated. He knew that because he seemed to know her so well. Not surprising, considering they had shared the same space for such a long time. Big mistake now, in retrospect.

  He pushed himself away from the desk and walked through to the kitchen. Of course this was the natural and only conclusion. It needn’t have been, if she had agreed to continue their dalliance, but, no, like all women she had wanted him to pay lip service to the non-existent significance of what they had shared. He felt a wall of frustration slam into him. Why she couldn’t have accepted what was on offer was a mystery to him, but she hadn’t, and so she had to go. He neither needed nor wanted the clutter of a woman in his life—a woman nurturing thoughts of permanence.

  Give it a couple of weeks, he told himself, and his head would be clear of her. Until then he would work his guts out and paper over the rough patch with a few dinner dates. Everything back to normal. The way it should be.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SHE had to get out of the flat. Beth had given Heather this piece of advice in a tone of voice that brooked no argument. It had been three weeks, she had pointed out, and three weeks was plenty long enough to pine for a man who had used her.

  ‘I am getting out of the flat,’ Heather replied, choosing to go with the literal interpretation of her friend’s statement. ‘I’m toting my portfolio to every publisher and advertising agency in the city. In fact, I’m hardly ever in. Actually—’ she dangled a carrot tantalisingly in front of Beth, hoping to play the Distraction Card ‘—I have a second interview with the MacBride agency on Monday. Maybe you could help me shop for a successful interview outfit on the weekend…?’

  Beth’s response to that was to announce to her friend that she had found her a date. As if, Heather had thought wildly, she was a charitable organisation in need of government aid.

  ‘My counterpart in Dublin, as a matter of fact,’ she continued, pleased with herself. ‘I’ve met him a couple of times and he’s perfect. Tall, blond, going places…’

  Heather would have to wear something stunning, something along the lines of what she had worn for the office party with the GTB, which was Beth’s abbreviation for Theo—the Greek Tycoon Bastard. And why not do something with her hair? Some highlights, maybe?

  And, as always, Heather found herself half protesting, half glumly acknowledging the sense behind what her friend was saying. And, as always, the half she didn’t want to win invariably won.

  Which was why she was now, on a Saturday night, standing in front of Beth’s floor-to-ceiling mirror in her bedroom, being inspected by her friend like a microbe under a magnifying glass.

  And a very satisfying specimen at that, Beth considered with satisfaction. She stood back and gave a low whistle of appreciation. Heather might think that she had been dragged, kicking and screaming, into a date with someone she wasn’t interested in meeting, but she needed to get out. Three and a half weeks had seen her drop weight and her normally sunny nature had become worryingly flat. Yes, she had dutifully gone from agency to agency in search of work, just as she had dutifully moved into the vacant flat next to Beth’s, and she had obligingly summoned up a pretence of light-heartedness. But underneath she was as empty as a shell.

  Whether she appreciated it or not, as far as Beth was concerned, her friend needed to go out and have a good time.

  Beth did not believe in letting the grass grow under her feet. Yes, time was a great healer, but with a bit of careful forward planning the healing process could be brought forward in leaps and bounds, and she had approached the problem of her friend with the same logical precision that she applied to her work.

  The odd meal out and nights in with girlie chats hadn’t worked. Heather had listened whenever Beth broached the subject of Theo, but had stubbornly refused to participate in the cleansing process of conversation. She had listened and resolutely changed the subject.

  So step one was to get her friend out in the company of a man. And step two was to show her that there was life beyond Theo Miquel, that he wasn’t worth pining over. And what better way to demonstrate that inescapable truth than to manoeuvre her into a position from which she could glean all the evidence with her own eyes?

  With breathtaking ease, Beth had arranged the evening out with military precision.

  London, for the energetic networker, was a village. It had been relatively easy to find out where Theo Miquel would be on a given Saturday evening. It was prime time and already, with his relationship with Heather not even cold, he was back on the playing field. Beth had even met his latest acquisition—a tall, languid brunette—at a legal do a few months previously, dripping diamonds and hanging on to the arm of one of the law partners in a rival company. Although she wouldn’t have dreamt of telling Heather that.

  And his weekends with women were not private, romantic one-on-ones for Theo. He would be going to a very expensive, very elite, smoky little jazz club in Notting Hill.

  And so would Heather and her hunky dinner date. Beth had arranged it.

  ‘You look wonderful,’ she said truthfully. ‘Very glamorous. Scott’s going to be knocked for six.’

  ‘Is he desperate?’ Heather demanded.

  ‘Far from it. He’s quite a catch.’

  ‘Then how is it he hasn’t been caught yet?’ Not that Heather had any intention of catching anyone, but neither was she thrilled to be going out with a rampant serial womaniser just for the sake of it. She thought of Theo, felt her lips wobble and pulled herself together.

  ‘Hasn’t found the right woman,’ Beth said patiently. ‘But he’s good company, and a very kind person.’

  ‘Theo could be very kind, you know.’

  Beth ignored that. ‘The highlights look good on you. Blonde and copper. I’d never have thought of that combination, but it suits you. And your eyes look enormous with that make-up.’

  Heather gave herself a desultory glance in the mirror. Three months ago she wouldn’t have recognised the woman staring back at her. Gone was the background blob in dark colours with frazzled hair permanently tied up. In its place stood an attractive, now curvaceous woman—thanks to the shedding of nearly half a stone because misery had no appetite. Her outfit was unrevealing, but very clingy. A black dress, pinched in at the waist with a belt, and high black shoes. Beth had lent her a coat, a faux fur affair that looked wickedly luxurious.

  At her insistence, Scott would be meeting her at the club: some place she had never heard of in Notting Hill, which, aside from the open-air market, was not somewhere she frequented. But she hadn’t wanted Scott in her own personal space.

  Beth wal
ked her to the door like a clucking, fussy mother hen, leaving her with strict instructions to phone first thing in the morning with an update.

  It was a relief to be in the back of a taxi and no longer obliged to try and show excitement. She didn’t feel excited. Nothing excited her much nowadays. Not even the prospect of a very good job which she had been given to understand was hers but for the formalities. She thought of Theo constantly, wondering what he was up to and whether he thought of her.

  The prospect of spending hours in the company of someone she didn’t know, who would expect her to be brimming over with good cheer, seemed like an exhausting uphill struggle.

  It would almost not be such a bad thing if she was stood up. But she arrived to find Scott there, waiting as promised in the outside lobby, and exactly as Beth had described him.

  A little over six foot, fair wavy hair, and a warm, pleasant face. He smiled at Heather, and she relaxed and smiled back because there was nothing insolent or threatening in the blue eyes that ran appreciatively over her.

  ‘I thought I might wear a white carnation,’ he said, helping her with her coat, ‘just in case you missed me. But it seemed a bit corny.’

  His voice was as pleasant as his looks, and up close he smelled of some clean, male fragrance.

  ‘Beth gave me quite a detailed description.’ Heather smiled again. ‘I think she almost wished she’d had a photograph—just in case…’

  ‘I can imagine.’ He laughed good-humouredly. ‘Beth leaves nothing to chance. It’s why she’s so good at what she does. Been here before?’

  ‘The club scene’s passed me by, I’m afraid…’ They had entered the darkly lit cosy confines of a room that curled informally in a U shape around a small stage, in the centre of which a jazz band was playing some whimsical, vaguely familiar tune.

  ‘Tell me about it!’

  And, surprisingly, she did. After half a bottle of wine, she even confided her doubts about the evening, and about whether she was ready to start back on the dating scene.

  ‘I’m relieved you said that,’ Scott told her, leaning towards her so that he could be heard over the sound of the music, ‘because I’ve just crawled out of a relationship and I’m taking it easy myself. No involvement equals no broken heart.’

  ‘Beth never mentioned it…’

  ‘No?’ He laughed and shook his head. ‘Clearly taking her matchmaking skills a bit too seriously for her own good.’

  ‘But she means well…’

  ‘And I can’t say that I’m having a miserable time. Are you?’

  ‘No.’ Heather surprised herself. ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Good. Nice to know that I’m not the hard work you expected!’ He linked his fingers through hers and gave her hand a friendly squeeze which felt just right, comfortable.

  This was just the sort of man she should be falling head over heels with, Heather thought, cupping her face in her hand and thinking about Theo. Someone nice. Someone who was recovering from a broken heart which meant that he had a heart in there somewhere.

  She had opened her mouth to share something of what she was thinking with him when she heard the cutting drawl of a familiar voice and her whole body went rigid with shocked awareness.

  ‘Well, well, well…’

  Heather twisted round and followed Theo with her eyes until he was standing right in front of them.

  She had to blink several times, because it was so surreal seeing him in the flesh. And a few weeks of absence had done nothing to diminish the devastating effect of his sex appeal.

  Belatedly she realised that Scott was still clasping her fingers, but when she tried to wriggle free he tightened his grip, before releasing her so that he could stand up and extend his hand in greeting.

  It was ignored as Theo glanced away and focused his attention on Heather, who reluctantly stood up and managed a smile.

  The palms of her hands felt horrible, sweaty. She pressed them against her sides and widened her smile. ‘Theo! What a surprise.’

  ‘Isn’t it just?’ Theo answered with deadly politeness. ‘I had no idea that you came to places like this. I always got the impression that you were content to stay at home, doing your artwork and catching up on TV soaps.’

  Heather flushed. If he had intended to make her sound as dull as dishwater, then he had succeeded. Normally slow to anger, she felt a fire begin to burn inside her, and she took a few deep breaths, feeling sorry for Scott—who had been deliberately sidelined by Theo.

  ‘Just the sort of woman I appreciate,’ Scott said, joining in the conversation. Although the look he received from Theo was hardly encouraging. ‘I’m not much of a club man myself. Much prefer a night in with the television—although documentaries are more my style. Name’s Scott, by the way.’

  Flustered, Heather completed the introductions, but she was uncomfortably aware that Theo’s attention was focused solely on her flaming face.

  ‘It’s good to see you, Theo…you’re looking well. But I don’t want to keep you…’

  ‘You’re looking well, too…’ His eyes brazenly appraised her with lingering, insolent thoroughness. ‘Nice dress.’

  ‘Thank you…Are you here with someone…? Perhaps you should be getting back to your party…’ Heather looked around, but the club was dark and crowded.

  ‘Oh, I’m not here with a party…’ Theo drawled.

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Michelle’s waiting at a table over there, at the back…’

  Heather involuntarily followed the direction of his brief nod, and miraculously the crowds seemed to fade into the background—leaving her a clear and unimpeded view of a rake-thin, tall, dark-haired woman sitting on her own, with a flute of champagne in one hand and wearing a scarlet dress that exposed a hell of a lot more than it concealed.

  Heather hadn’t seriously thought that Theo would spend too long on his own after she had left, but seeing the evidence of just how quickly he had moved on made her stiffen with unaccustomed bitterness.

  She suddenly felt deeply grateful that she was with Scott, and viciously pleased that Theo would see for himself that she, too, wasn’t sitting in, counting the seconds go by. Even if that was exactly what she had been doing.

  ‘She looks lonely, Theo.’ Heather glanced warmly at Scott and then back to Theo. ‘I suggest you hurry back to her before someone else comes along and snaps her up. These sorts of places can attract men on the prowl, in case you didn’t know.’

  ‘Are you speaking from experience?’ He glanced over at Scott questioningly.

  ‘I don’t prowl around for women,’ Scott said mildly, placing one arm affectionately over Heather’s shoulders. ‘I’m way too discriminating for that.’ He laughed. ‘In fact, my friends say I’m too discriminating for my own good. I only settle for…the best…’

  Heather flashed him a grateful smile and sank down into her chair, followed by Scott, leaving Theo towering over them both.

  Instead of taking the hint and going, though, he leaned forward and planted his hands squarely on the table.

  ‘I myself prefer variety,’ he said with a wolfish smile. ‘But each to their own. Now, Heather and I haven’t seen each other in a while, so would you mind if I stole her away from you for a dance? I promise to return her to you in one piece.’

  ‘I think we’ll let Heather decide whether she wants to dance with you,’ Scott said, turning to her.

  Theo obviously had a less gentlemanly option in mind, because he didn’t give her a chance to voice an opinion. He reached out and clasped her hand in his, and before Heather could protest she was on her feet and being led towards the dance floor, one solicitous hand firmly placed at her elbow.

  ‘How dare you?’ Heather whispered, feeling her body react with unwelcome heat to the big, masculine body now pressing uncomfortably close to hers. ‘I don’t want to dance with you! My date’s sitting on his own at the table and it’s very rude to abandon him!’

  ‘He didn’t seem to mind,’ Theo replied di
smissively.

  He pulled her a little closer. Through the thin little number she was wearing he could feel everything. The thrust of her generous breasts, the small curve of her spine. It enraged him to consider how much he had missed her body. Missed her. Although he reasoned that that was just a case of missing a habit. Yes, he had hurled himself back into work, had even made the effort to take Michelle out—a woman he had spoken to for half an hour at a cocktail party the week before and who had emitted all the right signals of being interested. This was his second date with her and she left him cold.

  Unlike the small, curvaceous woman now reluctantly dancing with him. He could feel her desire to get away in palpable waves, and wondered whether she was sleeping with the date wilting on his own at her table.

  The thought made his teeth snap together in fury.

  ‘So…how are you?’ he asked, lowering his voice, perversely desperate to know that she still wanted him.

  ‘You asked me that already.’

  ‘I’m asking you again,’ he said irritably.

  ‘Fine. I told you. I’m fine.’

  ‘What have you been up to?’ The question emerged in an aggressive, demanding undertone that made her even more tense. He felt it in the way she stiffened in his arms. ‘Am I making you nervous?’ he asked softly.

  Just the sort of sexy voice that had had her head spinning in the past. Did he even know that he was doing that? Heather thought of his new conquest, probably seething at the sight of him parading on the dance floor in close proximity with another woman, and a self-protective layer of cold settled over her. She’d never thought that she had it in her to be frosty, but she was fast discovering that she had.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Why should you be?’

  ‘You’ve changed,’ Theo said grimly.

  ‘People do.’ She shrugged as he spun her around to the melodic tunes of some stupid love song.