by Maya Blake
My mouth soured as I strode for the lift.
The Brazilian contingent only needed a little guidance—they’d come through eventually. If they didn’t, they’d simply be...replaced.
While I... Christos, I would never be a father.
I braced a hand against the wall, the weight of reality attempting to crush my shoulders.
So what if in the past I’d had my doubts about my potential effectiveness as a father? Xenakis men were many things, but exemplary fathers they were not. My grandfather had buried himself in work up to the point when he’d dropped dead of a heart attack, trying to save his near-bankrupt family. And long before that, my father had been denied his father’s favour, resulting in the neglect of his own family.
While we tolerated each other now, for the sake of the family business, I didn’t have a single memory of any bonding experience with my father. Boarding school had taken care of my formative years, followed by a gruelling apprenticeship at Xenakis Aeronautics.
I had respect and loyalty, earned from my position.
But affection? Or, hell, love?
In light of the bombshell that had flattened my life three hours ago, even the fake-it-till-you-make-it plan I’d so loftily believed would work with any future offspring had been shattered.
The finger I lifted to press the lift button shook with the force of the loss raking my insides. The moment I was inside the cubicle I attempted to breathe through the anguish, to get myself back under control.
Not even when Anneka had shown her true colours that day in the hospital three years ago had such a sense of deep loss affected me. While her betrayal had been similarly life altering, deep down a part of me had been thankful to have been given the opportunity to cut her out of my life before she truly sank her claws into me. Sure, my male pride had smarted for well over a year after she’d made a fool of me—cue excessive wild oat sowing—but ultimately, I’d escaped her trap.
With this there was not a single upside.
Save perhaps making the culprit pay?
The notion had gathered considerable pace by the time I entered my penthouse.
She stood at the glass window, her attention on the view. At some point between leaving the conference room only minutes ago and now, the sun had decided to shine. It threw a halo over her, turning her hair into living flames. Tendrils had slipped their loose knots, and as I watched she absently tucked a strand over her ear, slid her hand over her nape, then her shoulder, to massage it in firm, circular strokes.
The action sent another wave of tension through me, drawing my attention to her translucent skin, to the perfection of her hourglass figure and the stunning legs framed against the glass. Her other hand was splayed against it as if she yearned for the freedom beyond. Sensing my presence, she whirled around, those endless pools of green going wide at the sight of me.
‘Oh... I had no idea you’d returned.’
My lips tightened, and that percussive mix of anger and desolation threatened again. ‘I believe it’s your lack of awareness that has led us to this point.’
She had the audacity to look hurt. The surrealness of it nearly made me shake my head again—but enough. I was done with being confounded. The important thing was how to proceed from here.
Doctors. Specialists. Investigate one final time.
Every option left a trail of displeasure, and the prospect of having my dire circumstances prodded was even more unwelcome than the verdict I’d woken to after a three-week coma three years ago: the severity of my skiing accident meant that I couldn’t father children naturally. That my only hope of becoming a father rested on a sperm sample donated years ago, when I’d faced another crisis.
A seemingly miraculous turn of events that was now crushed to nothing.
Sadie Preston fidgeted where she stood, even as that pert little nose started to rise.
Christos, had no one ever taught this creature the concept of true contrition? But she wasn’t as calm as she attempted to look. Her chest rose and fell in gathering agitation, and her small feet were curling and uncurling within the cheap flat shoes she wore. The action highlighted the smooth definition of her calves, and against my will I dropped my gaze, the better to absorb it.
When that only prompted a sharp need to test their suppleness beneath my fingers, I turned, made a beeline for my drinks cabinet. A dash of Hine in the crystal tumbler clutched in my hand brought a little clarity.
At the delicate throat-clearing behind me, I squeezed my eyes shut for a control-gathering second. Before I turned, she was speaking.
‘I know you only need to look at me to remember why I’m here. What I’ve done. But I’ve been thinking... If you wouldn’t mind giving me a little information, maybe we can put our heads together and come up with a solution.’
Another urge to laugh this away in the hope that it was some extended acid dream hit me. ‘“Put our heads together”? Why would we want to do that? Are you a doctor?’
Rose-red lips compressed, drawing my attention to yet another tempting part of her body.
The body of your nemesis.
‘You know I’m not. I’m just trying to help—’
‘I think you’ve done quite enough, don’t you? Imagine we are the last two people on earth. Then be assured that I would rather take my chances with whatever apocalypse I face than accept your help.’
Her translucent skin lost a shade of colour. ‘Do you need to be so cruel?’ she muttered.
Absurdly, that plaintive question sent an arrow of guilt through me. Theos mou. What the hell was going on? Was it Upside Down Day? I downed half my drink, hoping the alcohol would burn through the fog.
The hope was in vain. So I approached until we stood half a dozen feet apart. ‘Fine. Humour me. How would you propose we “put our heads together”?’
‘Well, I was thinking that if you wouldn’t mind telling me the circumstances behind your needing to use the Phoenix Clinic the first time around—’
‘No, I would not. Next scenario.’
She hesitated, the tip of her pink tongue darting out to wet her lower lip. This time the punch in my gut was purely carnal. Ravenous. Demanding. Lustful.
For this woman? Christos, the world had truly turned upside down!
‘Okay. If you’re in a position to deposit another sample, perhaps I could contribute financially towards the future storage?’
Bitterness and bleakness lanced me in equal spikes. ‘You don’t look as if you can afford decent attire, let alone the fees of a clinic that charges upward of six figures. Do you have secret access to a gold mine, Sadie Preston? Or clairvoyant insight to the next set of lottery numbers?’
Her eyes flashed. ‘Has anyone ever told you it’s a mistake to judge a book by its cover?’
‘If I am misjudging you, I’ll consider rendering you an apology. Am I?’
She managed to hold my gaze for all of three seconds before her eyes dropped. Against her smooth cheeks, her long, unadorned eyelashes fanned in a seductive curl, highlighting her delicate eyelids. The combination of delicate, defiant and alluring made me grip my glass harder. But, more than that, I wanted her to lift her gaze, to show me those hypnotic green pools once again.
When she did, my breath caught.
I was attracted to her.
This woman, who’d brought me news of an apocalyptic kind, had awakened a libido grown so jaded I’d set it on the back burner in favour of pursuing even more success in the challenging boardrooms of Xenakis Aeronautics.
Was it the heightened bleakness of it all triggering this? And why was I wasting time deciphering it when I had no intention of following through on it?
‘No, you’re not wrong. I can’t afford to foot the bill now. But perhaps we can come to an agreement?’
Here it comes. The age-old proposition.
The idea that she
would offer herself to me on a platter drew deep disappointment. Enough to make me down the rest of my drink in abject resignation.
‘Enlighten me about this agreement.’
‘I’m two semesters away from completing a marketing degree. I’ve been top of my class every year. I can maybe work for your company from when I’m done? Pay you back that way?’
Surprise jolted me, followed by the familiar echo of wanting something because I’d been denied it. Had I wanted her on a platter? More specifically in my bed?
Yes!
I ignored the blaring affirmation, concentrated on what she’d said. So she wasn’t just a simple receptionist.
The determination stamped across her face almost made me believe her. Almost. For all I knew she was just spinning tales. Just as Anneka had spun lies around our relationship until an unguarded phone conversation had revealed the depths of her deplorable nature and the lengths she’d been prepared to go to ensure she received an unrivalled payday.
‘How old are you?’
The mutinous look that crossed her face said she was debating not answering. Perhaps suggesting I mind my own business. But she realised very quickly that the question pertained to the proposal she was making.
‘I’m twenty-five,’ she offered, with clear reluctance.
‘Most twenty-five-year-olds are done with their education.’
‘My circumstances are different. I had to interrupt my education for personal reasons.’
Reasons she clearly wasn’t about to disclose. I hid my disgruntlement. For now. ‘Why a receptionist? Why not a paid internship in your chosen field?’
Impatience crossed her face. ‘With respect, my reasons are private. But what I’ve said can easily be verified with my university professors.’
Enough. This had gone on long enough. ‘You walked in off the street to confess a crime. As admirable as you seem to think admitting your culpability should be, I have zero reason to trust you. Not with my personal property and certainly not with my business. Your offer is declined.’
She inhaled sharply, the action drawing my attention to her chest. To her parted lips. Christos.
‘So that’s it? You’re going to throw me to the wolves?’
‘For what you’ve done? Yes, Sadie Preston. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.’
Despite his doom-filled decree, he didn’t move.
In the hours I’d been stuck in his opulent penthouse, one question had persistently swarmed my mind—why did a man whose every breath and expression spelled out his masculine potency and unapologetic virility need to store a sperm sample?
Eventually, curiosity had got the better of me. And the internet had been breathlessly efficient in providing high-resolution digital answers.
‘Is this to be a staring contest?’ he mused now, in a bone-dry tone tinged with that note I’d mistaken for bleakness earlier when I delivered my news. ‘You’re attempting to hypnotise me into reversing my verdict, perhaps?’
‘What if I am?’ I parried. If he was about to throw me to the wolves, what did I have to lose?
One corner of his mouth twitched with stark amusement. But then his face settled into a hard mask. My heart lurched. With every breath I wished I could go back, take my time, pay better attention—even with Mr Donnelly’s unpleasant presence hovering over me.
But it was too late.
The damage had been done.
Neo Xenakis took another step closer, bringing that hard-packed body brimming with tensile, barely leashed power into my space. I wanted to step back, flatten myself against the glass wall, but that would exhibit a weakness I couldn’t afford to show.
The internet had supplied ample examples of his shark-like business savvy too. This was a man who relished challenge. He’d never step into the arena with a weaker opponent, and the inevitable victory of his trouncing bigger targets was all the sweeter for it.
Was that why I didn’t look away?
Was that why I even dared to clench my jaw and all but urge him to do his worst?
Because I wanted him to conquer me?
White-hot sensation flashed through me, made my nape tingle and my body blaze with the same anticipation I’d felt earlier, even before I knew that he’d entered the room. That misplaced illicit thrill that had ratcheted higher when I turned around to find him watching me with those hooded eyes containing an indecipherable gleam.
Here it was again, eating me alive when all I needed to do was hold my tongue and continue to demonstrate appropriate contrition.
For how long, though? And then what?
He’d given his verdict. Clemency was off the table. And yet, despite what he’d said about throwing me to the wolves, he seemed in the mood to play with me. Seemed perfectly content to indulge in the staring contest he’d ridiculed moments ago.
‘Would it work?’ I asked.
Dear God. Be quiet, Sadie. Just shut—
To my eternal shame, my stomach chose that pithy moment to announce its intense hunger.
Neo Xenakis’s gaze dropped to my belly at the unladylike growl, then returned to mine with a dark frown. ‘When was the last time you ate?’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t remember. It doesn’t matter.’
‘It matters if I wish to enjoy my evening drink without your digestive system providing accompanying acoustics.’
Heat burned my face. ‘I...I had a coffee this morning.’
His frown deepened. ‘That’s all you’ve had all day? It’s six in the evening.’
‘I know what time it is, Mr Xenakis.’
He raised a brow at my crisp tone. I wasn’t about to admit I’d gone into the office with hopes of snagging a stray Danish left over from the early-morning client meeting, only to be confronted by an incandescent Mr Donnelly before I could satisfy my raging hunger. After that, fear and panic had eroded my appetite. Until now, evidently.
Neo Xenakis regarded me with quiet intensity, weighing his decision for a terse moment. Then his lips flattened. ‘Far be it from me to send a criminal to the gallows on an empty stomach. Shall I instruct my chef to set another place for dinner, or are you in a hurry to face your crimes?’ he drawled.
Bite your tongue, Sadie!
‘That depends. Do you intend to torture me for the rest of the evening by recounting just how your wolves are going to tear me apart?’
‘You think you know what torture is?’ he asked, with a veil of deadly calm that didn’t fool me for a second.
I’d inconvenienced him, angered him by necessitating a return trip to the clinic to make a second deposit, when he’d much rather be occupied with other things. Like dating another supermodel.
And he wasn’t in a mood to let it go.
‘There are only so many times I can say I’m sorry. It’s clear you’re not going to forgive me or tell me what I can do to make this right. Right now I’m failing to see how joining you for dinner improves my circumstances.’
‘It could simply be an act of further character exploration on my part. To tell me which way I should lean in the punishment scales. Unlike you, I don’t wish to undertake that task on an empty stomach. But, of course, your options are very much yours to take.’
Oh, how cunning of him. That insidious need to surrender to his will swept over me. I resisted by squaring my shoulders. ‘Then I guess that’s fine. If that’s the only way to progress this...discussion.’
The merest hint of a smile twitched his lips. Then, seeming almost stunned by the action, he scowled.
Not the most enthusiastic response I’d ever had to meal-sharing, but I imagined under the circumstances a beggar couldn’t be a chooser.
For another short second he stared at me, as if debating the wisdom of his offer. Then abruptly he crossed the vast, magnificently decorated living room to a dainty-legged console table, picked up a phon
e and relayed a message in rapid-fire Greek.
Finished, he set his glass down. ‘Come.’
The command was quiet, but powerful enough to propel me forward. I told myself I couldn’t object because I’d agreed to dine with him. And because I owed Neo Xenakis a few non-confrontational gestures.
Thinking he was leading me to the large, antique-filled dining room I’d spotted earlier during my brief and tentative search for the bathroom, I followed him in surprise into a kitchen fit for the world’s most exacting chef.
Every imaginable gadget gleamed in polished splendour atop marble surfaces. On a large centre island, silverware gleamed under strategically suspended ceiling lights. Even the elevated stools looked too expensive for such a mundane activity as sitting.
But when he pulled one back and waited with tight expectancy, I swallowed the unnerving sensation that I was tangling with a supremely affluent and powerful man.
To the stout, rouge-faced chef who entered, I gave a quick smile. With a deferential nod, he started to uncover silver dishes.
Glorious smells hit my nostrils, and I stared at the mouth-watering array.
Exquisitely prepared Greek meze dishes were laid out next to an old-fashioned English shepherd’s pie. I didn’t fool myself into thinking this consideration had been made because I was joining him on such short notice. If the internet was right, Neo Xenakis was a man of extensive tastes and larger-than-life appetites.
Why that reminder triggered another wave of heat through my system I refused to consider as, with a few words, Neo Xenakis dismissed the chef and reached for the bottle of red wine that stood an arm’s length away.
Seeing the label, I felt my eyes widen. Once upon a time, before he’d pulled the rug from beneath our feet with his stark betrayal, my father had been as much of a wine enthusiast as my mother was a magazine fanatic. When I was old enough to take an interest, he had often recited his dream vintage collection. The five-figure-price-tagged Château Cheval Neo cavalierly reached for now had ranked among the top three on my father’s wish list.
I watched, slack jawed, as he deftly uncorked the bottle and set it aside to breathe.
