A Perfect Man: International Billionaires IV: The Greeks (2 page)

He no longer smiled. In fact, the fake smile had fallen off his handsome face the moment Jorge had turned away from him and left. “Weeeellll…”

His drawl mocked her. Flashed the wisp of anxiety right out of her, replacing it with…irritation. Typical. “Weeeelllll…” She mocked him back. “What do you want?”

“What do I want?” He lazed against the stone wall by the office. “An excellent question.”

“Stop playing—”

“You always get straight to the point, don’t you, Sophia?”

“Soph
ie
.”

“Always succinct. Pithy.” He folded his arms in front of him. “A person could even say acerbic, bitter.”

The words hurt. Which was incredibly stupid. What did it matter what this man thought of her? “Is this why you came around? To insult me?”

He ignored her. “It always amazes me that such a bitter woman works with sugar all day long.”

Sophie stared at him.

A month ago, when she’d given him back the bling and told him in no uncertain terms that Mel was lost to him, she’d expected this kind of attack. Some anger or lashing out. But he’d smiled instead. A cold smile, true, yet a smile nevertheless. Then, he’d thanked her for the ring and graciously escorted her from his office. His perfect manners had made her want to hit him, which wouldn’t have done any good. At six-foot-four, he would have flicked off her puny five-foot-two attack like a flea. So, instead, she’d used her words to hit at him. She’d been snide and snippy, still, the only thing he’d done was smile some more.

She’d been quite out of sorts by the time she’d left his office.

But at least she’d had the satisfaction of breaking apart the Perfect Couple for good.

Why this? Why now? Had he stewed on her words for a month and lost his perfect control? The thought made her smile.

“Perhaps there’s some sugar in you, after all.”

Her temper flared at his condescension. “Say whatever you have to say and leave.”

The gold ring on his pinky finger flashed in the overhead lights. The ring only highlighted the rough, rugged hand. The hand that whitened as he fisted it. “Okay, Sophia. I won’t pretty it up for you.”

“Good.” The whisper of anxiety floated into her stomach once more.

“I’ve decided since you’ve created the problems in my life, you should be the one to fix them.”

His arrogance flooded the room and swamped her anxiety, drowning it into silence. “Me?” Disdain dripped from her one word.

“You.” His cold blue gaze never wavered from her face.

“I’m sorry if you have problems—”

“No, you’re not.” His chuckle rasped along her nerves. “You’re not sorry at all.”

“Okay, I’m not,” she admitted, lifting her hands in the air with a wave of dismissal. “Your problems mean nothing to me.”

“I have to disagree.” He moved from the wall, walking across to the tall ovens flanking one side of the room. His long, lean legs crossed the big room in only a few steps. He stared into one of the dark caverns as if he were taking some kind of inventory.

Anxiety whispered back, winding around the anger inside her. “Would you spit out—”

“I own this building.”

His words slammed her mouth shut.

He glanced over his shoulder, and this time, his eyes were alive and hot with pleasure. “I’m your landlord.”

“Why didn’t you ever mention this before?” She clung to her composure. What did it matter if he owned this place? She had a lease. A rock-solid lease. Plus, she was an excellent tenant.

“The information didn’t seem pertinent.” Broad male shoulders shrugged. “At the time.”

Ice settled in her gut. She didn’t know what was coming, but it was going to be bad. Her Irish sense of doom sagged down on her like a thick, stifling blanket, freezing the ice into a solid block of stone inside her.

“Now, though…” He turned away from her again, the long, blond curls of his hair tightly tied in his usual ponytail, swished on the gray silk of his suit.

“Now what?” She just wanted it out. Whatever
it
was.

“So impatient. So demanding.” His words were a mere murmur, as if he spoke them only to himself. As if he didn’t mean them as a put-down. As if she couldn’t hear the contempt in his voice. “So unfeminine.”

Sophie jerked herself straight. Okay, she wasn’t the kind of female he liked. That had been clear from the moment they’d met. She didn’t coo over him or smile at his every joke. She didn’t slather praise on his every accomplishment or bow down before his wealth. She loved Mel, but she’d been disgusted by her friend’s fawning love for this man. She’d thought of it as some sort of crazy sickness. She’d even told Mel that when she’d finally convinced her friend this man was all wrong.

Still, merely because she wasn’t a female he appreciated didn’t mean she wasn’t feminine. “Leave.”

The chuckle came once more, filled with a harsh confidence. “I’ll remind you once more, I’m your landlord.”

“That fact doesn’t give you the right to march in here and throw insults at me.”

“Insults? Am I insulting you, Sophia? For once, are my words penetrating that thick hide of yours?” He swiveled from his perusal of her ovens and spiked her with his heated eyes. Leaning his tall body on the steel frame, he managed to appear as if he owned the place.

Which he did. Damn it.

They stared at each other across the cool, brightly lit room. The silence reeked of threat. A threat she hadn’t been willing to acknowledge until now. Yet it blazed from him; his negligent pose only emphasizing what was in his eyes.

“I’m going to take you in hand.” His soft words floated across the steel table to settle in her churning gut. “I’m going to teach you a lesson.”

His egotism blasted the fear out of her in one short second.

She laughed. It felt good to laugh at this man and his asinine arrogance. It felt good to crush her stupid fears with amusement.

But then she looked back at him.

And the fears came rumbling back.

She didn’t know why. He hadn’t moved. His eyes were only the usual cold blue she’d become used to whenever he glanced her way. His mouth might be a touch grimmer around the edges, but nothing she hadn’t seen before. Yet something about the way he watched her, the way he held himself, very still and silent—something told her she was in trouble. Something told her this man meant what he said.

Anyone knowing anything about Alexander Stravoudas knew his reputation.

Alexander the Great got whatever he wanted.

Even before he’d dated her best friend, she’d noted his rise in the business world. Prediction after shining prediction in the financial news came true—seemingly without Alexander the Great breaking a sweat. She had to admit she’d been a bit in awe of this man’s ability to build a worldwide architectural business worth billions in only a few short years.

He’d earned the label of the Perfect Man way before he’d become a part of the Perfect Couple.

Once she’d come into his orbit, she’d understood why. Time and time again, she’d observe him as he zeroed in on an investor, a politician, a potential colleague, and went in for the kill. Amazingly, none of these supposedly intelligent people ever spotted the calculation behind the charm.

Watching this charlatan hunt her best friend had been even worse. As soon as he’d set his eyes on Melanie, he’d been clear in his intentions. Mel thought it had been romantic. Soph had thought it Machiavellian. She’d detected no heart in his choice—only expedience.

Alexander the Great needed a pretty, educated wife and a babymaker.

Melanie fit the bill.

Trusting her gut as always, Sophie had done everything she could to get Mel out of this man’s firing line. After much maneuvering, listening, and lecturing, she’d achieved complete success.

But it appeared this complete success meant she’d placed herself right in the middle of his bull’s-eye.

He stared at her, his hunter eyes intent.

Ready to fire straight at her.

For a moment, she trembled. But then her quick mind rushed to her rescue and she breathed in a cool sweep of air. True, Alexander Stravoudas seemed to have some kind of preternatural ability to charm everyone, win every time, exert his will on all.

Yet he’d never been able to win over Sophia Feuer before.

Why should this time be any different?

“A lesson?” She forced herself to chuckle. “I don’t think you have anything I want to learn.”

How could cold blue turn to hot fire in one flash of a second? She had the sense he wanted to jump across the steel table separating them and grab her. Yet, he didn’t move a muscle. Only those eyes of his blasted her with his fury.

The Perfect Man was clearly in a perfect rage.

At her.

Sophie couldn’t understand why. Okay, she’d busted his engagement, but the man swam in a sea of willing women. All right, she hadn’t fallen for his charm like every other person, but so what? It wasn’t as if he needed everyone to love him. Fine, she’d been a bit over-the-top when she’d given him back the bling. Still, a man like this, with enough pride and arrogance for the entire city of New York, would surely have simply shrugged it off.

Surely.

Not.

Because why else would he be here? Glaring at her. Throwing insults. Implying threats.

A shiver ran through her and he must have sensed it because he smiled. The smile he only seemed to give her. The smile that never reached his eyes and made her blood freeze. “I’ve decided—”

“
You
’
ve
decided.” She managed a snort of disgust.

“Yes, I have.” The words were silky steel. “I’ve decided you are going to be my new fiancée.”

The words boomed in her head, entering her brain to buzz like a swarm of locusts. She stared at him with not one thought clear enough to verbalize.

“Hmm.” He kept his pose, kept his gaze on her. “I can’t remember a time I’ve been able to shock you into silence.”

That was quite a ridiculous statement. Yes, she’d been labeled a chatterbox a time or two, and true, she’d asked him a lot of questions when they’d first met. Yet after a while, she’d spent most of her time when in his company observing him, analyzing, figuring out what was all wrong about him. He’d also appeared to be much more comfortable when her mouth was shut then when it was open. Consequently, she’d obliged him. Until their last meeting.

The buzz in her head settled into a low burr. Finally, some words popped in her mind. “Are you crazy?”

It was his turn to chuckle. “No.”

“We—”

“Detest each other?”

“Yes.”

His eyes were alive now with an odd kind of delight. Which made no sense. This scene was as un-delightful as a person could imagine. The whole situation bordered on the surreal. Sophie wondered if she’d fallen down a strange sort of black hole to arrive in another world. A world where a man proposed to a woman he detested and appeared as delighted about it as a man in love.

What the hell?

“What the hell?”

He smiled at her barked words. “There’s no need to swear.”

What a condescending jerk. His tone made her want to grab her biggest spoon and whack him on his head. “I can swear as much as I want and whenever I want.”

“Don’t be childish.” Did he tut? Did he actually
tut
at her?

“I’m done with this conversation.” Wrenching around, she headed for her office. “You can let yourself out.”

“I have found a missing clause in your lease.”

A
lex watched
in grim amusement as she turned to stare at him. He had to give her credit. Not by one bat of an eyelash did she show any sense of feeling threatened.

But that would change. Very soon.

She straightened. To her full height of…nothing. It had amused him when he first met her. The way she marched into every room as if she were an Amazon, instead of a small, inconsequential woman.

“What clause?” she said in a calm, reasonable voice. They might have been discussing the weather or the Yankees’ inevitable win over the Mets.

She did it to provoke him. As always.

He understood that.

What this woman didn’t understand, though, was there was now danger in poking him over and over again as she had from the moment she’d met him. He wasn’t engaged to her best friend any longer. He wasn’t interested in winning Sophia over anymore.

He was interested in making her pay.

The rage he’d fed inside himself during this last month roared at him. Yelled at him. He didn’t want to merely take this woman in hand; he wanted to shake her. Hard. “A clause concerning your zoning.”

She closed her eyes. And opened them. Something everyone did a thousand times a day. Then why did he notice the slight movement? Notice she wore no mascara and yet her lashes were long and dark. Why did he suddenly notice how those lashes contrasted dramatically with her very white skin?

He shook himself. This was not the time to fall into one of what his partner, Henry, laughingly called
his artistic trances
. He had a lesson he needed to teach this woman. “Your permit to bake is dependent on the zoning.”

“Correct.” She swept a hand across her cheek, pushing a strand of dark hair back behind her ear. The bright lights above made her hair appear almost black, yet his artist’s eye had noticed the red highlights the first moment he’d met her. Natural, he’d bet at the time. “I had my lawyer check into this before I signed the contract.”

Her words yanked him out of staring at her hair. Henry would be laughing at him if he were here. “Not deep enough.”

For the thousandth time in their acquaintance, Sophia Feuer gave him a look of annoyance. “Plenty deep. The zoning here hasn’t changed in twenty-eight years.”

“Anything can change.” He straightened from the wall and paced to the edge of the steel table, coming within two feet of his soon-to-be fiancée. “Quite quickly, too. But you know that, don’t you?”

She caught his meaning, he could tell by the defensive tilt of her chin. She understood his unspoken acknowledgment of how swiftly his perfect engagement to the perfect woman for him had been destroyed.

Quick. Sharp. Keen.

That was Sophia.

Much to his regret, he hadn’t realized these skills were being used to undermine him. Not before it was too late. Too late to stop her from destroying something he’d badly wanted.

A gorgeous, gentle wife and a big, happy family.

The moment he’d spotted Melanie Hamell, he’d known she was the one. Tall and blonde and beautiful, she’d fit into his life like a perfect glass of champagne.

She got along with his friends.

She impressed potential clients.

His mother and sisters loved her.

Well, except for Ceci. But his youngest sister was only a baby at twenty-one. A sister in name, still, in reality more like a daughter. Thus, it wasn’t surprising she objected to a new, permanent woman in his life. Ceci had been extremely happy a month ago when the breakup had happened. His mother, other sisters, friends, and clients not so much.

Henry had said it best. “This screws everything up.”

He’d have stated it a bit differently.

Sophia Feuer screwed it all up.

“When change comes, it’s usually for a specific reason.” Sophia’s smile beamed a fiery laser of explosives across his fury. “A very good reason.”

The confidence in her voice, the same confident tone she’d used when she’d slapped Melanie’s engagement ring into his hand and told him it was over, sent a blast of anger through his chest. The surge was so hot, he swore he smelled smoke. She didn’t regret one single thing she’d done to spoil the relationship between Melanie and him.

Apparently, she hadn’t given herself one second to doubt.

He could not remember a time when he’d been angrier. “You’re right, as always.”

Her smile faded as if she understood his sarcasm hid ugly intent. One of her hands, with clipped nails bare of any feminine polish, smoothed down the front of her long, white apron. “My lawyer assured me the likelihood of a zoning change was zero.”

“That was a mistake.” He leaned forward, the steel edge of the table pressing into his thighs. “A mistake I noticed as soon as I scanned the rest of the contract.”

“Really?” Her stubby little fingers flew to her throat, yet her gaze never dropped from the challenge of his.

“Your lawyer neglected to add a clause that protected you if the zoning changed.”

“Oh?” Her tone held steady.

“If the zoning changes, you won’t be able to bake anymore.” He gave her a pitying look. “But you’ll still have to pay the rent.”

“It’s a good thing the zoning hasn’t changed for years and years then. I have nothing to worry about.” Her voice stayed confident, except he noticed her hands. Her tiny, plump hands were now clutched in front of her.

Her hands reminded him of another pair of hands—not because they were similar, but because they were entirely different. Melanie’s hands had been graceful, long and slim, artistic. He’d always remember slipping his grandmother’s ring on her finger, enjoying the gleam of the diamonds reflecting on the perfection of her skin.

The rage roared, burning in his throat. “I have a friend on the zoning board.”

“Do you?” Her words were cool, yet he didn’t miss the quick flash of concern in her eyes. “That doesn’t surprise me. You have friends everywhere, don’t you, Alexander?”

She elongated the vowels in his name. To annoy him, he knew. She’d started doing it in retaliation because she didn’t like him calling her Sophia. Sophia was a beautiful name, he’d told her when they’d first met. I’m always going to call you Sophia, he’d said. The woman had glared at him as if he’d insulted her.

He never insulted a woman.

He’d never had to.

Until this one.

“Yes.” He smiled. He knew she hated his smile, so he smiled. “And my friends tend to do me favors when I ask for them.”

“Really?” Her hand came up again to brush the disobedient lock back, leaving a streak of white frosting on her white skin. “What favor did you ask for?”

“Weeellll…” He propped his hip on the table and crossed his arms, letting his taunt settle in before continuing. “I haven’t asked for one yet.”

She stared at him, her bee-stung lips firming. He’d thought at first her mouth could be quite attractive if she’d put some lipstick on. But Melanie had assured him Sophie was a natural kind of girl, that she didn’t have time for makeup except for when she went on her TV show.

He’d been glad nothing drew his attention to her mouth as soon as she opened it and started her constant poking and prodding at everything he did and everything he said.

Ignoring Sophia had become something of a continuing discipline for him during the course of this past summer as he courted her best friend. He’d ignored her jabs at the weekly happy hour he held for his work associates and friends. He’d ignored how everyone else seemed to think she was adorable. And he’d ignored how she examined him like he was some specimen under a microscope she’d very much like to dissect.

He ignored everything about her until it was too late.

Much to his ultimate regret.

“Have you begun to view mobster movies in your abundant spare time, Alexander?” She crossed her arms, mimicking his action, waiting for her sly dig to hit its mark before she continued. “You’re doing a great imitation of a thug.”

A thug.

A thug
.

No person on earth who knew him would use this kind of word to describe him.

“Watch what you call your new fiancé, my love.” He broadened his fake smile.

She made an unfeminine sound of disbelief. “In your dreams.”

“Hardly.” He let his smile drop. “Still, it will be my reality for the next few months.”

Turning around, she marched toward her office. “I’ve wasted enough time with you. Goodbye.”

“Sophia.”

Something in his voice stopped her. Good. At least he didn’t have to deal with a woman who didn’t know what was in her best interests. There was something to be said for dealing with a sharp cookie.

She jerked back to scowl at him. “I’m done playing games.”

“No games.” Dropping his arms, he strolled around the table to stand right in front of her. “You’re going to be my fiancée for the foreseeable future.”

She made the same ugly sound in her throat. A grunt. Not ladylike at all. But she’d learn under his tutelage.

She’d learn.

“I’ll spell it out.” He lifted a finger. “One. You’re moving in with me as my new fiancée.”

“Not on the last day of my life,” she spat at him. “Or any day before that.”

Another of his fingers rose. “Two. In a couple of weeks, you’re going to attend my wedding ball at my side. The ball my mother and sisters worked hard to organize.”

“Good God.” Her face lost all color. “You cannot be serious.”

“No, no.” A startled laugh escaped him. The thought of living with this woman’s stinging tongue for the rest of his life made him shudder. “You misunderstand me. The last thing I want to do is get married to you.”

“You haven’t gotten rid of all your brains yet.” She stared at him, her dark eyes blistering with revulsion. “I’m still not doing anything with you, though.”

“You’ll attend as my fiancée. We’ll call it an engagement party instead.” He pushed away the thought of what his family was going to think of Sophia after they’d known Melanie. One problem at a time. “My mother worked hard on this party and she’ll be relieved when all of the arrangements won’t go to waste.”

“Not a chance.”

A third finger rose. “Finally, you’re going to be my loving fiancée, right by my side, as Henry and I travel to Paris to sign a deal to build the tallest building in Zhani. You’ll be cordial to the emir and his wife. We’ll entertain them.”

“Until they sign on the dotted line.” Sarcasm lined her tone.

“Correct.” He dropped his hand, the three fingers curling into his hot palm. “Once that’s been completed, you’ll come back with me to New York and stand by my side as we execute the IPO.”

“Wait.” A frown furrowed her brow. “I remember Melanie said something about meeting someone on your honeymoon.”

“Yes.” His gaze was snagged when her nose crinkled in apparent disgust. For a moment, he was distracted by the smatter of freckles ruining the cream of her skin.

Then she opened her mouth and did her usual reliable job of focusing his anger. “You were going to use your honeymoon to make a business deal?” Outrage laced every word.

She made it sound as if he’d planned on taking her best friend to Siberia to negotiate with terrorists. “Paris. City of Lights. Romantic.”

“But…but…but…”

“A few short meetings wouldn’t have ruined the honeymoon.”

“I can’t believe you.” She gaped at him in horror.

A stray strand of guilt whispered inside him. Melanie had seemed a bit…disconcerted when he’d told her of the meetings with the emir. Then memory crushed the whisper. “Let’s be clear—” he used his height to loom over her short figure “—on who ruined my honeymoon.”

“Wait.” The termagant frowned, her quick mind connecting dots that weren’t even there. “I remember. Melanie said something about this sheik guy being old-fashioned. He likes to work with people who are married.”

“That has nothing—”

“Jorge read something in the newspaper the other day.”

He could practically see the dots popping in her head, forming in a line to declare him a bastard. “I’m not following you,” he snarled. As if anyone could.

“The whole thing all makes sense now.” She folded her arms around her, small pudgy fingers tightening on her skin as if she were holding herself back from hitting him.

“What are you talking about?” Not that he wanted to know what Jorge had read, but rather he wondered when this conversation had strayed from his initial intent. Still, this always happened with Sophia. She never stuck to his script.

A script everyone else always happily endorsed.

“The IPO.” Her head rose to stare at him with those eyes. Those dark eyes that never failed to look at him as if it were all his fault. “The public offering. If you didn’t get the contract from this emir guy, then your precious IPO might be a bust.”

As usual, she put the pieces of his life together in exactly the wrong way and in the process, jumped to all the wrong conclusions. “Do you believe everything that is printed?”

“Good grief.” The tiny fingers fluttered on her plump arms. “I was entirely right about you.”

“Sophia.” He took one more step forward, close enough to catch a whiff of vanilla. The contrast between the sweet, welcoming smell and this acerbic, tart-tongued woman could not have been greater. “You know nothing about me.”

“No?” Her brown eyes shot up to meet his, the disgust in them making the color turn dull. “That’s why you wanted to marry Melanie so quickly.”

Indignation at this conclusion mingled with the anger he’d held onto for one long month. “I was not marrying Melanie—”

“Ha!” She went to her tiptoes to get in his face. “You are a slimy, nasty man.”

He’d expected his height to intimidate her, but instead he found himself fighting an impulse to retreat. Retreat from her warm, comforting smell and heated eyes filled with accusation. “I planned on marrying Melanie because she was the perfect—”

“Don’t try to sell me your crap.” Her eyes flashed with righteous anger. Again, she’d drawn her conclusions and was running full steam ahead, ready to mow him down. “Leave before I squash you like a bug.”

The thought of this pipsqueak doing any kind of squashing at all should have made him laugh. In any other case, with any other person, he would have. Eventually, they would have joined in. As always, charmed out of their anger.