The Greek Boss's Demand (4 page)

She shook her head before she could think too much about the kiss that had followed.

‘Blue.'

‘Cool!' Sofia flicked her glance to her watch. ‘I have to go shopping. He's taking me out to dinner tonight, and I just feel I need to get into something a little less—black.' She paused and pressed her lips together tightly, her eyes filmed with tears. ‘It's just so hard being reminded all the time.'

‘It's bound to be. A shopping trip is probably just what you need—but can I get you anything now?'

Sofia sniffed, and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. ‘No. I'll be fine. I have to get going. Nick and I have a lot of things to organise with the company and everything. You know how it is.' She rose and headed for the door, but halfway through stopped and turned around. ‘He asked if you were coming, but I told him you probably wouldn't be able to get a babysitter at such short notice. He didn't seem to know you had a kid. You haven't told him?'

He knows!

Ice formed in her veins, yet somehow she managed to force her jaw to work.

‘Ah. No, not yet. We haven't had much chance so far to catch up, that's all.'

Another sniff and a shrug later Sofia was gone. Alex sat stunned, her breathing shallow and fast, her mind racing.

He knows.

But how much did he know? How much had Sofia told him? She'd never shown much interest in children in general or in Jason in particular. What could she have given away? Maybe there was still time.

In a flash she maximised her computer screen and finished typing the letter before printing it off. She read it through once more and nodded. Perfect. All it needed was her signature.

She was doing the right thing; she was sure of it.

In a moment it was signed and sealed and ready to be dropped off on Nick's desk before he was back from seeing the tenants.

She took a deep breath and, suddenly parched, reached for her glass of water. It was empty. She stopped by the small office kitchenette to fill it, popping the envelope on the adjacent benchtop while she poured the cool spring water. She was standing at the dispenser, with her back to the door, when she felt it.

Something wasn't right.

Hairs prickled on the back of her neck and her heart belted out an erratic beat that reverberated in her head, spelling out exactly how she felt.
Scared.

Quickly she turned, feeling his presence before there was so much as a sound.

Water sloshed over the glass's rim, but she hardly noticed or cared. ‘Nick! You startled me.'

He was leaning against the doorway, hands in pockets. Strange how even in such a casual stance Nick could look all man. Relaxed, comfortable—
predatory.

Slowly he peeled himself away from the doorway and moved closer.

There was no telling what he was thinking. His dark eyes were unfathomable. He stopped a couple of feet in front of her, filling all the remaining space in the tiny kitchenette. She swallowed. Until Nick moved she was stuck here, with a brimming glass of water the only thing between them. As defences went, it wasn't much, but somehow just holding it there made her feel better. If only she could hold her hand steady.

‘Sofia took me for a tour of the properties yesterday.'

‘Yes, I heard.'

‘It's a large portfolio. I was impressed by the quality of the holdings.'

‘That's good.'

Alex winced at her lame responses, but how was she supposed to concentrate with him in the room? It was all she could do to keep her hand from shaking and spilling some more water.

‘I imagine it takes quite a bit of accounting skill to keep up with it all.'

‘Not really,' she said, studying the glass and using all her powers of concentration to will it to stay level. ‘Once the systems are in place—'
What am I thinking?
If he wanted to imply that she couldn't do the job, it would be in her interests to agree with him. She jerked her eyes up to meet his.

‘Actually, you're right. It's very complic—'

Nick jumped back before the wave of spring water could collect him fair in the chest, and Alex realised she hadn't just kicked up her chin when she'd changed her response.

Even with his quick evasive action the water landed at his feet, beading droplets over the sculpted black leather of his Italian shoes. In a flash he relieved her of the glass, and its remaining contents, and deposited it on the benchtop alongside the letter—
his letter
while she stood there dumbfounded.

‘You're jumpy, Alexandra.'

She looked up at him, preparing to apologise, but he took her shoulders in his large hands. Instantly every cell in her body seemed to contract and freeze.

‘Do I make you so nervous?'

She sucked in a necessary breath—only to find the oxygen she so desperately required infused with the scent of this man. Heat replaced the coldness she'd been feeling, warming sensations and desires she'd thought long buried. Under her discount designer jacket and tailored shirt her breasts felt swollen and
firm, aware of even the slightest brush of fabric over the points of her bra. And now that feeling coiled downwards, stirring feelings long since forgotten.

She sighed. There seemed little point in denying it. ‘Yes, I guess you do.'

He laughed, softly and openly, his breath curling warm against her face as his thumbs gently traced the line of her collarbone, almost hypnotising her. The flesh tingled under his touch. Alex felt her eyelids flutter. Oh, God! He hadn't forgotten how to make her feel good, just as her body hadn't forgotten how to respond to his.

‘But why, Alexandra, should I make you nervous? I am just a man. A man who, after all, you know—intimately.'

Something about the way he spoke made her look at him—really look at him. Why was he doing this to her? She willed her body not to be carried away by his touch, but that same body seemed intent on ignoring her. After all, this was just what she'd dreamed of, night after lonely night—being with Nick, enjoying his touch. Now her dreams had become reality, at least in part, and it was so hard to deny herself that for which she'd yearned so long.

Only she had to. Her lips felt desperate for moisture as she finally spoke.

‘That was a long time ago. It's ancient history now.'

‘Maybe. But sometimes the past can pave the way for the future. We were once good together. Is there
any reason why we shouldn't be again—at least until I leave?'

‘What?'

She dropped a shoulder and twisted out of his reach before he could react.

For just one moment his words had brought her an unexpected pleasure. For just one moment it had seemed he might still harbour some feelings for her.

In the next moment he'd shattered the illusion. ‘Just what are you suggesting?'

He shrugged and leaned himself back against the cupboards, crossing his ankles, his hands resting on the bench behind. The relaxed position belied the expression on his face. His jaw was set and his eyes looked more calculating than ever.

‘Simply that we fit together well—you know that. Why shouldn't we seek pleasure in each other? There's little enough to be found elsewhere in this world.'

‘You expect me to sleep with you while you're here?'

He looked over at her, his lips tilted at one corner, his dark eyes resolute as he pushed himself away from the bench and took two paces towards her.

Instinctively her feet edged back.

‘No, Alexandra. You have the wrong idea entirely. I don't expect you to sleep with me. I want you awake, very much awake. I don't expect we should get very much sleep at all.'

Alex could only swallow as he moved a step closer,
and then another, forcing her back against the small under-counter refrigerator. Only then did he stop—right in front of her.

‘After all,' he continued, ‘it's not as if you are a virgin, as I can attest. You're not married, and you've obviously had other partners. Sofia told me of your child. You expect me to believe that was the result of immaculate conception?'

Hot, angry tears pricked her eyes. Even if he didn't know that the child he referred to was his, there was no excuse for speaking to her that way. ‘And that makes it okay, then, does it? I should be only too willing to fall into your bed?'

His eyes held hers as he curled one hand around one hip and then the other. Alex flinched, surprised by the move, and grabbed his forearms, trying to push them away. But his arms were like steel and couldn't be budged.

‘I know the way I feel when I touch you. I know the way you respond to that touch. Can you deny that you would like me to touch you even more?'

He pulled her closer, making a mockery of her resistance.

‘Can you deny that you want me in your bed?'

Alex felt his arms slide up behind her, pulling them even closer together.

He was right, in so many ways. His touch now was so much like it had been years before—firm, warm,
hot
. Back then one touch hadn't been enough. One touch had never been enough. Not when it had
sparked desire and want and need. She couldn't deny that she would like him in her bed—hadn't she dreamed of just that over the last years?—but their lovemaking had never been callous then, and she wouldn't let it be reduced to that now.

Not when there was so much at stake.

Her face close to his, she delivered her answer in the steadiest voice she could muster. ‘You're wrong. I don't want you in my bed.'

‘Liar,' he said, smiling. ‘Your body gives me a different answer.'

Before he'd finished talking he'd slipped one hand below her jacket, sliding it across the silk of her shirt and up to capture her breast. Her breath hissed in as his thumb almost casually stroked the peak of one hardened nipple. With his other hand he pulled her even closer to him, pressing her against his obvious hardness.

‘Now tell me you don't want me.'

Alex's tongue met parched, dry lips as she battled to find strength she didn't feel. ‘I don't want you—not like this.'

Her voice trembled, and without slackening his hold he stared down at her, disbelieving.

‘Never like this,' she added, stronger this time.

A second later his hands slid out from under her jacket and he shrugged.

He'd let her go. But there was no time to congratulate herself—not before Nick was on the attack once more.

‘So you might feel like this now. But have you realised just how hard it is going to be for you to keep denying this attraction between us as we work together, day after day?'

He smiled, looking entirely like a man sure he had just delivered his trump card. Alex gulped in air, trying to replace the oxygen he had scorched with just his touch.

‘I don't see why that should be a problem,' she said in barely a whisper as she reached around him to retrieve the envelope. She held it up to him. ‘Maybe you should read this.'

He looked at the blank envelope suspiciously. ‘What's this?'

For the first time since his arrival Alex felt she had Nick at a disadvantage. It was a pleasant change, and one that brought a bittersweet smile to her face.

‘My resignation,' she said. ‘I'm leaving, Nick.'

H
E HELD
the envelope, not opening it, all the while just glaring at her. Alex waited, the initial rush of adrenalin at delivering what should have been the killer punch evaporating as time strung out between them. When he finally spoke his words were barely more than an order.

‘You can't.'

‘Open it,' she urged. ‘Read it.'

‘You can't resign.'

‘You don't want me here. You've made it plain you don't think I'm qualified to do the job. Well, you're right. You'd be much better off finding someone else.'

His head tilted to one side, his eyes sceptical. ‘You don't believe that.'

Her shoulders lifted in a shrug, but that didn't mean she was ready to give in to him.

‘What does it matter what I believe? I'm making it easy for you. I'm resigning. Now you're free to get in someone who you're sure can do the job.'

His eyes narrowed, calculating,
dangerous
, and then, without breaking eye contact, he ripped the envelope in two.

‘What are you doing?' she cried in disbelief as he
tore it through again and scattered the pieces with a flick of his wrist in the general direction of the bin.

‘Simple. I'm not accepting your resignation. You're staying.'

‘I'm going. I'll print another copy, and another, if that's what it takes.'

‘Don't bother. I'll do the same with them.'

‘You can't make me stay.'

‘I don't need to. You've done that yourself.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Simple. You have a contract, Alexandra. A contract for two years, with more than eighteen months to run. And I'm holding you to it.'

Alex sucked in a sharp breath.

‘I have no contract with you.'

‘Your contract is with the Xenophon Group, and right now that means me.'

‘But you don't want me here. Why are you doing this?'

‘Because you know the company, Alexandra. Even when we get a qualified accountant to take over you will no doubt be useful for secretarial and…' his eyes took on a vicious gleam ‘…any other duties I may require.'

Alex felt as if the breath had been sucked from her, her pulse beating a storm through her veins as the meaning behind his words struck home.

‘You can't be serious,' she whispered in a voice that sounded so flat and empty it mirrored her soul.

‘Alexandra,' he said simply, as one might speak to
a child who couldn't comprehend something basic, ‘you should know I'm
always
serious.'

Watching the lines of his face harden and set, she knew better than to doubt him. His intent was clear in the flare of his nostrils and the arrogant tilt of his jaw.

But he needn't think he had a monopoly on being serious! She gulped in air, fortifying herself for the battle she knew she had on her hands.

‘Don't assume that just because I have to stay here I'll be doing anything other than my work. Because I won't.'

He smiled, then leaned back against the bench and twisted the wristband of his watch with his free hand, as if he was bored. That he looked partly amused only served to fuel her anger. She'd do anything to wipe that smile off his face.

‘Really?' he said finally. ‘And how can you be so sure of yourself?'

‘Because, if you haven't already realised,' she replied, lifting her own chin a notch, ‘I'm not the naïve seventeen-year-old you met on Crete.'

His smile deepened, his eyes raking over her.

He didn't have to do that. Look at her as if he was assessing just how much the intervening years had changed her, mentally comparing his memories of her then with the reality of her now.

‘Just looking at you, I never thought for one moment that you were. But, in any event, I look forward to the challenge.' His eyes glittered, as if he'd won a
major battle rather than just readied himself for the skirmish to come.

No doubt he thought it was only a matter of time before she fell into his bed. His arrogance alone was enough to ensure she wouldn't give in to his expectations.

‘There's no challenge, Nick. It's a statement of fact. I'm not sleeping with you.'

Without waiting for his response, she willed herself to push past him and exit—only to almost crash into Sofia, laden with shopping bags, returning from her shopping expedition.

‘Wait till you see what I've bought,' Sofia said, her smile wide and her cheeks flushed.

Normally Alex wouldn't have had the time or the inclination to be interested, but today was different. Today she could do with the diversion—and a reason for Nick not to follow her.

She smiled with a warmth she didn't feel as she ushered the girl into her office. ‘Show me,' she invited, closing the door firmly after them.

 

‘You have to tell him.' Tilly positioned the three sets of knives and forks around the small dining room table as she spoke, and only then looked up at her sister, as if impatient for a response. ‘You
will
tell him?'

Alex tried to ignore her sister's glare and busied herself with the plates and salad. She'd made it through a whole week of putting up with Nick's con
stant presence in the office. A whole week of Nick's needling barbs. A whole week of Nick's dark eyes following her every movement.

One whole week! She wanted to congratulate herself. If she could make it through one week then maybe she could make it through two, or four, or however many weeks it took till he finally went home to Greece.

Couldn't Tilly see that? She was beginning to regret telling her sister anything. Only she'd been bursting to confide in someone. It was simply too much information to keep to herself. She opened the fridge, extracted the salad dressing from the door, and popped it down on the table.

‘Alex!' repeated Tilly, sounding more agitated by the minute. ‘You are going to tell him. He has a right to know. They
both
have a right to know.'

‘Okay, I hear you.' She stole a glance out of the window. ‘Is Jason still outside? He needs to wash up.'

‘So you'll tell him, then? And Jason?'

Alex sighed and licked a trace of avocado from her fingers. ‘You know, Tilly, Nick's going back to Greece. It could be in two months; it could be in two weeks. Is it really fair to tell either of them when Nick could just turn around and walk out of Jason's life?'

‘You don't know that. He could decide to stay—and who knows? Maybe he'll even take you both back to Greece with him. I remember he was crazy about you when we were in Crete. You seemed to have the hots for him pretty bad too.'

Alex laughed—a low, brittle laugh.
Take them both back to Greece?
It didn't sound like the action of a man who had offered her casual sex for the duration of his visit. It didn't sound as if she figured in any long-term plans, with or without a child. ‘I don't think so. Nick's changed. He seems—bitter—somehow.' She tried to remember the words he'd used—something about there being little pleasure in the world.

Nick had a hard edge that hadn't been there all those years ago. A hard edge no doubt caused by watching his family disappear around him—first his brother, then his mother and father. Aristos's death must have brought it all back in sharp relief.

And was her own hasty departure from their relationship also partly to blame? Nick had needed her and she'd abandoned him, not wanting to cause the family more pain than it already had to deal with. Was he trying to punish her now? To get back at her for that?

It wouldn't be fair if he was. She'd needed him more than ever back then. By denying that need she'd saved them more grief—only how was he to understand that?

‘Anyway,' Tilly continued, ‘whatever Nick chooses to do after he finds out he has a son—that's irrelevant as far as your decision is concerned. Despite whatever you think his reaction will be, he still has a right to know—and I think you know it.'

‘But I have Jason to think of too. He's my first priority now.'

‘So think of him! How will he feel if he finds out that his father spent time in Sydney, in close proximity to him, and yet you never told him he was here, let alone introduced him? Don't you think he'll feel just a tiny bit cheated?'

Alex opened her mouth, preparing to defend herself, but it was no good. She snapped it shut. Her sister was right. And when she thought about it that was exactly why she'd told her sister in the first place. Because she knew that Tilly would be impartial. That Tilly, in her naturally analytical way, would assess all the information and come up with what was the most fair, the most moral result. Even if it didn't seem like much of a solution for Alex.

But her sister was spot on. Alex would have to introduce Jason to his father and Nick to his son. Only how the heck was she supposed to do it? Especially with Nick appearing to bear such a grudge against her.

Not that Tilly would be much help there. She'd no doubt say that any interest or uninterest shown in her by Nick was irrelevant too. That Nick and Jason still had to know of each other's existence regardless. And she'd still be right.

Alex sighed. In a way Nick's resentment towards her should make it easier to break the news. He already thought little enough of her. What did she have to lose?

‘Yeah, you're right. I'll have to tell them both.'

Tilly stopped, her glass of wine poised halfway to her lips.

‘You'll tell them, then—when?'

Alex drew in a deep breath. ‘I don't know. I can't just come out with it.'

‘Can I make a suggestion, then? It's Jason's birthday in two weeks. Maybe it would be nice if Nick could be here for his party. Then you could all be together, just like a real family.'

Just like a real family!
That was a joke. The three of them had never been any sort of family, let alone a real one. Alex nibbled at her lip.

‘I don't know. What if Jason doesn't like him? What if Nick hates kids?'

Tilly reached out an arm and squeezed her sister's shoulder. ‘So introduce them first. Go for a picnic or something. Anything. Of course you can't make them like each other, but Nick must have some redeeming features, surely?' She gazed at her sister pointedly. ‘You certainly used to think so.'

Alex thought back to Crete and to the young man she'd fallen in love with—with his dark hair and dark eyes and a smile that had promised for ever. He'd been generous, kind and patient, and in no way flaunting his obvious wealth. She'd been in awe of his sheer magnetism, acutely aware even then of how her body responded to his, whether at a touch or a mere glance.

And Nick now? He seemed a world away from that young man—harder, more cynical—and yet still able
to set her body alight with one look. Did pure sexual magnetism qualify as a redeeming feature?

No. It just made him all the more dangerous. But for Jason's sake she really hoped Nick still retained some of that generosity of spirit he'd displayed all those years ago. They were all going to need it.

The back door slammed and the tornado that was her son bowled into the house. ‘What's for dinner, Mum? I'm starving.'

Alex smiled and stepped into the kitchen, relieved at the change of subject. ‘Lasagne,' she said, opening the oven door, ‘and it's ready, so go wash up.' She watched his rapidly departing back and shook her head.

How the hell was she going to tell him?

Tilly followed her into the kitchen, picked up the pile of plates and hesitated, as if sensing her sister's mood.

‘You can do this,' she said.

 

Alex gently smoothed out the folds in the old papers with the flat of her hand, wishing she could iron out the creases in her own life just as easily. Her mouth twitched into a smile.
Some hope.
If anything, her life was about to get a whole lot rougher.

She looked down at the collection of letters and the pile of envelopes lying alongside the mussed ribbon and the old chocolate box she'd found after Tilly had gone home—when she was supposed to be putting away the laundry.

Letters from Nick.
Love letters.

She looked at the stack of towels and sheets, still sunshine-fresh, sitting neglected on the floor nearby. She'd put them away in a moment—just as soon as she'd read one or two. She'd shoved the box in the back of the cupboard when she'd moved in, refusing to think about its contents. Now it seemed impossible to ignore.

Casting an eye through the nearby French doors, and satisfying herself that Jason, freshly bathed, was still happily attending to his weekend homework, Alex started to read.

The ink was faded in parts, and the words were sometimes difficult to make out in the folds, but the meaning and intent of the letters were crystal-clear, and as she began to read the years faded away.

She smiled when she looked over his earliest letters, written soon after their shared holiday. They were full of optimistic talk about how the archaeological dig he'd been working on in Crete had finished, what he was doing at university, how he missed her and when next they would have the chance to be together again.

In the months that followed the letters contained more family talk. He was increasingly worried about his brother, and the rift between him and his father over his unhappy marriage, and his anger at the woman who had forced him into it. He still missed Alex madly, he said, and worried that her letters seemed more distant, less personal.

Alex sighed as a single tear squeezed its entry into the world. He'd been right. She'd known about the baby coming by then, and known she couldn't tell him. Towards the end of the pregnancy she'd found it hard to write at all. It had been too hard to write small talk when she was keeping the biggest secret she'd ever had from the one who had a right to know but wouldn't want to.