What the Greek Can't Resist

by Maya Blake

  But he couldn’t help it as memory gathered speed through his brain.

  He’d grown up depending on his father, looking up to him, hanging on his every word. For most of his early years, he’d wanted nothing more than to follow in his father’s footsteps, only to find out that they were the shoes of a philanderer, an extortionist and a fraudster. A man who would take his son’s idolisation and attempt to use it against him...to manipulate it for his own selfish needs.

  His gut tightened against the ragged pain he’d thought long buried but that seemed to catch him on the raw much too often these days. It didn’t help his disposition to know that Perla was always present when it happened. That perhaps they shared a connection with hurt and betrayal.

  ‘If you’re talking about your husband, he was just one man. Don’t let him cloud your judgement about everyone else. Trust your instincts.’

  ‘Trust my instincts? I don’t think that’s a very good idea. My instincts told me you were a good guy. But you turned on me like I was some sort of criminal when you found out who I was.’

  ‘I no longer think that, or you wouldn’t be here.’

  She opened her mouth to speak, paused, then eyed him. ‘But that’s only half true, isn’t it? If you’d thought I could really cope on my own you wouldn’t have stepped in.’

  He dropped his hand, then immediately flexed it at his side when it continued to tingle wildly. ‘You told me how long you’d been out of the corporate world. That, coupled with your husband’s activities, placed you in a vulnerable position.’

  ‘And you were trying to save me? How unnecessarily noble of you.’ The hand she’d placed on her hips drew attention to her pert breasts. Breasts he’d feasted on for a long time that first night. Breasts he wanted to touch, to caress again more than he wanted his next breath.

  He whirled away and focused on the views of the GW Monument and Capitol Hill in the distance, lit up beacons of power, hoping his brain would find a different focus other than replaying the sight of her in that pulse-destroying bikini.

  ‘So, are you done berating me?’ he asked. He wanted her gone before he did something completely stupid. Like finding out just how robust the wraparound sofa behind him would be with both their weights pounding it.

  ‘No. I don’t need saving, Ari.’

  ‘Fine, I won’t interfere. Even though you’ve clearly exacerbated a simple assessment directive, perhaps I should’ve just let things play out. Let’s move on, shall we?’

  Behind him, she heard her soft sigh. ‘Move on. That’s easy for you to say.’

  His chest tightened. ‘No, actually, it’s not,’ he said, then froze. Where the hell had that come from? Pushing his hands into his pockets, he hoped she would let the careless slip slide.

  Instead, she came closer until she stood next to him. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked with a soft murmur.

  He clenched his jaw for several seconds, then felt the words spiral out of him. ‘It means I know what it feels like to be under scrutiny. To know that people are looking at you and forming judgements you have no control over. That at best you were being judged with pity and at worst with scorn and malice.’

  She sucked in a shocked breath. ‘God, who...why...?’

  He turned and glanced at her. Her wide eyes were drowning in sympathy and her mouth was parted with agitation. The realisation that she wore that look for him struck him in the gut. ‘You don’t know about Alexandrou Pantelides, my father?’

  She shook her head.

  Giddy relief poured through him. ‘Then I prefer to keep you in the dark just a little while longer.’

  ‘Was he...was he the one you meant when you said him that day in your office?’

  Another time, another slip. When it came to this woman, it seemed he didn’t know when to shut the hell up. ‘Yes,’ he confessed.

  ‘And you don’t want to be like him? What did he do to you?’ she asked, sympathy making her voice even huskier.

  ‘Nothing I wish to share with you.’

  Although a tinge of hurt washed over her eyes, she kept her gaze on him. ‘Okay. But you know there’s nothing to stop me from searching the Web for information the moment I leave here.’

  His insides tightened at the thought of Perla knowing just how mired in deceit and humiliation his past was. ‘No, there isn’t. But it’ll be an extra few minutes when I know you’re not forming an opinion about me the way you think others are doing about you.’

  ‘But if you know how it feels then why did you contact HR?’

  ‘I saw a potential problem. I stepped in to fix it. It’s what I do.’ After his father had slashed their lives into a million useless pieces, seventeen-year-old Ari had assumed the role of protector. Protecting his mother and his younger brothers from the press intrusion after Alexandrou Pantelides’s sleazy dealings and philandering lifestyle had come to light had, overnight, become his number-one priority.

  His brothers, after severely rocky years, had grown into stable, intensely successful individuals. And his mother had eventually found peace. He’d believed his family was safe...

  Until fate had shown him otherwise...

  Theos, this was too much! Resentment that he’d inadvertently taken a trip down memory lane yet again coiled through him.

  Sucking in a deep breath, he faced Perla. ‘You’ve aired your grievance. I’ve listened. Now don’t you have work to be getting on with?’

  The harshness of his voice stung. ‘It’s my day off, but Ari—’

  He let his gaze slide down her body, ignoring the fire sizzling through his veins. ‘And was this what you meant when you suggested staying away from each other? Because this plan—’ he indicated her skimpily clad form ‘—is a poor attempt at removing temptation from both our paths.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking... I just reacted—’

  ‘Well, make a better judgement call next time!’

  She flinched as if he’d struck her. But he couldn’t regret his tone because he was drowning in hell. He’d almost opened up about secrets he shared with no one. And the temptation to unburden had been great. But not to her. Not to the woman whose husband had caused the media to dredge up all the bitterness and humiliation only a few short months ago.

  He tightened his jaw and watched, fascinated, as she pulled herself together with a grace and dignity he found curiously admirable.

  Crossing her arms round her middle, she glared at him. ‘We’re weak when it comes to each other. Striking out at me for your weakness is cowardly and beneath you. Stop it. Believe me, I can bite back.’

  He felt a wash of heat surge up his cheekbones. ‘You need to leave. Now. Before I do something we’ll both regret.’

  ‘Ari—’

  ‘A word to the wise. No man likes being told he’s weak; it can be misconstrued as a challenge. Leave. Now, Perla, before I invite you to honour your promise of biting me.’

  Eyes wide, she backed quickly towards the door. ‘We’ll need to find a way of working together eventually, Ari.’

  ‘Let’s discuss it further when you’re not wearing a whisper-thin sarong and a clinging bikini that’s just begging to be ripped off.’

  * * *

  Perla tried not to count the ways things had gone spectacularly wrong as she left Ari’s penthouse. First her headlong flight from the swimming pool, bristling with intense irritation and hurt, had been ill-timed. She should’ve waited to cool down before confronting him.

  And what, in goodness’ name, had she been thinking, going into his presence wearing two tiny pieces of Lycra and an even flimsier sarong?

  But of all the things slamming through her mind, it was the look on his face as he’d confessed that he’d walked in her shoes that struck deepest and made her kick herself for picking the wrong time to confront him.

&n
bsp; His pain had been unmistakable. It was a different sort of pain from when he’d spoken about his wife but the dark torment had been present nonetheless.

  Just how much had Arion Pantelides been through? And what the hell had his father done to him?

  She reached her suite five floors below and immediately glanced at her laptop set atop the most exquisite console table. She dismissed the voice that whispered that knowledge was power. However foolish it might be, she couldn’t forget the relieved look on Ari’s face when she’d confessed to not knowing who his father was.

  There’d been a point in time a few months ago when she would’ve given her right arm to remain oblivious to what Morgan had done.

  If Ari craved privacy, she would grant him that.

  As for his anger at the way she’d gone to him, dressed in only a bikini and a sarong... She glanced down and saw her body’s visible reaction to him. Her nipples were sharp points of fierce need and the way her chest rose and fell in her agitation...

  God, no wonder he’d been angry!

  She sank onto her bed, overwhelmed by her body’s turbulent response.

  It was clear that staying away from each other the last three weeks had achieved none of the clarity and purpose they’d both sought. If anything, the attraction bit harder, the hunger sharper.

  It was also clear that she’d overreacted to the HR director’s call and possibly made her work situation worse.

  But she was sure she hadn’t imagined the cynical looks between her colleagues when all her suggestions on the various stages of the opening night for Pantelides WDC had been accepted without question. Pleased that she was being valued as a hard-working member, she’d put forward more suggestions.

  It was why she’d begun questioning herself, and the call coming so close to that had made her storm from the rooftop pool with every intention of confronting Ari and taking him to task.

  Of course it had nothing to do with the fact that she’d been unable to stop thinking about the man since Miami; she had found herself growing curiously bereft with his continued absence and the fact that her body seemed to have pulsed to life the moment she’d found out he was back.

  She was here to do a job. She seriously needed to focus on that and nothing else.

  Let’s move on...

  Pursing her lips, she pulled off her sarong. Ari was annoyingly right.

  They had two weeks before this spectacular hotel set in the heart of America’s political and cultural capital opened.

  The hotel itself was a jaw-dropping architectural masterpiece, and fully expected to achieve six-star status within the next few weeks. They’d already hosted the industry critics, who’d since given glowing reviews.

  With prime views of the Lincoln Memorial and Capitol Hill, the mid-twentieth-century building had been given a multi-million-dollar facelift that had seen it propelled to the realms of untold luxury and decadence.

  Marble, slate and gleaming glass were softened by hues of eye-catching red-and-gold furniture and art that captured the imagination, and the five top-class restaurants were already booked well into the new year.

  Regardless of her own shaky issues, Perla was hugely excited to be working on the hotel opening.

  After showering and slipping on her bathrobe, she ordered room service and pulled open her laptop. Her research into the Washington scene had thrown up a few ideas for the opening. She’d already secured the jazz quartet said to be a favourite of the President to her list and confirmed the special tour of the Smithsonian and the White House for the VIP guests who would be staying overnight. Her idea of a midnight cruise on the Pantelides yacht had also been greeted with enthusiasm.

  Feeling her confidence return, she pulled up the details of Oktoberfest on a whim, then immediately discarded it. Somehow she didn’t think beer-drinking went well with Ari’s vision for his hotel.

  But there was nothing wrong with checking it out for herself while she was here. Something to do to take her mind off the fact that Ari was once again within seeing and touching distance...and the knowledge that her pulse skittered every time she admitted that fact.

  Her doorbell ringing brought welcome relief from her thoughts. The scent of the grilled chicken and salad made her stomach growl and reminded her she hadn’t eaten since a hastily snatched bagel and coffee first thing this morning.

  Ravenous, she ate much faster than she should have, a fact she berated herself for when she bolted out of her chair, rushed to the bathroom and emptied the contents of her stomach a mere hour later.

  * * *

  ‘Are you all right? You look a bit peaky.’

  Susan, the assistant concierge, peered at her as Perla waited for the list and notes she’d typed up last night to finish printing.

  Perla nodded absently and smoothed her hand down her black skirt and matching silk shirt she’d worn for the meeting with Ari and the rest of the key hotel staff.

  Glancing down at herself, she wondered if she’d made the right choice. The shirt hadn’t felt this tight across the bust when she’d picked it as part of her work wardrobe a month ago. The gaping between the top buttons had forced her to leave the first and second buttons open and she questioned now whether she shouldn’t have changed her outfit altogether.

  But after waking up twice more to throw up, she’d eventually fallen into a deep sleep and missed her alarm.

  Which was why she was hopelessly late—

  ‘Do you intend to join us for this meeting, Perla?’

  Ari stood behind her, tall, imposing, gorgeous beyond words. In the morning sun, the sprinkling of grey at his temples highlighted the sculpted perfection of his face. But it was his unique hazel eyes that made her belly spasm with heat and a whole load of lust.

  ‘I...I was just coming.’

  ‘Good to hear.’ He turned on his heel and strode back into the conference room.

  ‘Someone’s got an armadillo in their bonnet,’ Susan whispered, her eyes wide with speculation.

  Perla grabbed the sheets, gave a non-committal smile to Susan and hurried across the marble floor in her three-inch heels, only to freeze when she entered the room.

  The only seat left at the small conference table was next to Ari. She’d have to sit beside him, breathe in his spicy cologne, feel the warmth of him and place herself within his powerful aura for however long the blasted meeting took. Her throat dried as her heart rate roared.

  Ari glanced up and sent her another impatient look, one that made her stash her unease and walk to his side.

  Ideas for the opening event were discussed and tossed or kept as Ari saw fit. Half an hour later, he turned to her. ‘Do you have your list?’

  She nodded and passed copies around. ‘The top four are secured. The other three are yet to be finalised...’

  ‘Oktoberfest?’ Ari demanded.

  Perla frowned and glanced down at the sheet in her hand. ‘Sorry, that wasn’t supposed to be on there. It was an idea I thought of floating but I don’t think it’s the right image for this hotel.’

  ‘You’re right. It’s not.’

  Several of her colleagues exchanged glances. Perla ignored them. Pursing her lips, she met Ari’s direct stare. ‘Like I said, it wasn’t supposed to be on the list—’

  ‘But it would be perfect for the San Francisco hotel.’ He put the list down and caught up a pen, flicking it through long, elegant fingers. ‘Contact their concierge, tell them to trial it and give us feedback on how it goes. And make sure you take credit for it. As for the rest of the suggestions, I’m on board with the jazz quartet and the White House tour. Add it to the other maybes and we’ll discuss a shortlist at the next meeting.’

  Warmth oozed through her but her veins turned icy when she spotted the repeated exchanged glances. From the corner of her eye she saw Ari’s jaw tighten
as he brought the meeting to a close.

  In her haste to leave his disturbing presence, she dropped her file. She retrieved it and straightened to find him blocking her path to the door.

  Her heart jumped into her throat. ‘Did you need something?’

  His gaze drifted over her and he frowned. ‘Is everything in your wardrobe black?’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Black doesn’t suit you. It makes your skin look too pale.’ His eyes dropped lower, the opening of her shirt.

  She forced herself not to reach up and button her shirt. Or touch her skin to test if it really was on fire since his gaze burned her from the inside out. ‘You stopped me from leaving to disparage my clothes?’ She casually leaned against the table and lifted an eyebrow, although casual was the last thing she felt.

  He rocked back on his heels and shoved his hands into his pockets. For several seconds he didn’t speak. ‘I see that I’ve made things difficult for you here,’ he finally said.

  The hint of contrition in his tone made her breath catch. Nonchalantly, she tried to shrug it away. ‘It’s partly my fault. I overreacted. I’ll deal with it. As you said, I need to trust my instincts and my talent, and not what other people think.’

  He nodded. ‘Bravo,’ he said. Thinking he would move out of her way, she started to take a step and paused when his mouth opened again. ‘And if it doesn’t earn me a sexual harassment charge, may I suggest you find a better fitting shirt that doesn’t display all your assets?’

  Her gasp echoed around the room. ‘It’s not that bad! And stop talking about my assets or I’ll have to point out that shoving your hands in your pockets like that pulls your trousers across your junk and displays your assets. Not that I’m paying a lot of attention, of course,’ she added hurriedly and felt her face flame.

  God, she needed her head examined!

  One eyebrow slowly lifted. ‘Of course.’ He remained planted in front of her, as if he had nothing better to do than to rile her.

  Unable to stand his intense gaze, she glanced down and saw just how much cleavage she was displaying. God!

  ‘I just...seem to have put on a little weight, that’s all. And I was running a little late this morning so there was no time to change...’ She grew restive beneath his continued silent scrutiny. ‘Seriously, it’s not that bad.’