The Greek Tycoon's Secret Child (5 page)

‘Oh, I bought the building, renovated it and then sold it on.' He watched her digest this information whilst his mind began to drift off into images of that exotically beautiful face glowing with the film of passion, her body unclothed, writhing in a lover's embrace. His embrace.

He cleared his throat, sat up straighter. ‘As I mentioned, that's a part of what I do.'

She found she wanted to hear more. Wanted to find out more about him. It wouldn't do. Time to rectify a situation before it became too dangerous.

‘Sounds very important. So…how did you manage to just land up doing that? It must cost an absolute fortune to go into the property business. Mustn't it? Especially in London.'

‘I studied economics at university,' Dominic said abruptly. ‘Went into finance before I got into the property side.'

‘You must have made a great deal of money in finance in that case. To enable you to have the capital to play with.' Mattie pretended to muse on the conundrum of this.

Dominic gave her a long, narrowed look which she
met with widely innocent eyes. ‘I've always had a fair amount of money at my disposal.'

‘Ah.' Of course he would have. He was a man born into money. It sat on his shoulders like an invisible cloak. And she had wanted him to say it. Out loud. So that she could remind herself of yet another reason why she should get out of this place and fast, before his sexy face and ability to listen and smooth-talking charm got the better of her caution.

‘So…what did your parents do?'

‘Is this really relevant?'

‘It is to me.'

‘My father is in shipping.'

‘Builds them, you mean?'

‘You know exactly what I mean.'

‘My mum was a cleaner. She died ten years ago. My dad was a carpenter, except not many people seem to want handmade things these days. He lives in Bournemouth now. He still makes bits and pieces for himself, but his full-time job is supervisor at a furniture factory.' Mattie stood up and smiled politely.

She felt disproportionately hurt at the fact that she would never see him again, but she had had to do it. Had to make him see the one difference between them that would always be there.

‘Well, thanks for the coffee. No, please, I can get a taxi home myself.' She just couldn't face the underground just now. And before he could say another word she was hurrying out of the door, up the stairs and through the chic foyer that looked as though it had stepped straight out of a magazine.

‘O
H, NO
, you don't.'

Mattie heard the rapid footsteps behind her at the same time as she heard his voice, which was just as he gripped her arm and swung her around to face him.

‘You are
not
going to sling this in my face and then run away before I have time to refute it.'

‘I'm not running away from anything. I'm going home, if it's all the same to you!'

‘No, well, as a matter of fact, it's not.'

Her heart was beating a mile a minute, racing inside her like a roller coaster that had gone wildly out of control, and his hand on her arm was like a vice grip, but one that was doing crazy things to her stomach, just the sort of crazy things she didn't want to happen.

‘Well, tough!'

‘Not good enough, Mattie.' He reached out one hand to hail a taxi and kept the other one firmly on her arm. ‘Where do you live? I'll drop you home. We can talk on the way.'

‘No!'

Drop her home? And what if Frankie just happened to be up and moving around? Unlikely, but not a possibility she could rule out. Frankie, after a few bottles of beer, couldn't be relied on to behave in a predictable manner and go to sleep. And the thought of him storming out of the house and confronting Dominic Drecos was enough to make her blood curdle. She knew who
would be the loser and it wouldn't be the man opening the door of the taxi now for her to step past him.

‘Why not?' Dominic demanded, leaning forward, invading her space and noticing that she was leaning forward too, not shrinking away from him like a scared rabbit.

‘Because…'

‘Because what?'

‘Because…' Because she didn't want Frankie, if he happened to be up, to see her with him? To get the wrong idea? Because even after all they had been through, she still didn't have it in her to hurt him like that? Or was it, she wondered uneasily, because she didn't want this man to know that a boyfriend existed?

‘Because I don't reveal my address to strangers, especially when those strangers happen to have been a customer in the nightclub where I work!'

Dominic grimaced, seeing her point of view but knowing that the last thing he would do would be to take advantage of her. He had covered some distance, he thought with another grimace to himself, since he had first set eyes on her and concluded that he wanted her. Now, along with those signals that she sent out, that had every masculine pore in his body rearing into full-blooded life, were other, more complex ones. He wanted to get to know her, against all his better judgement, and in order to do that he would have to take his time.

‘In which case, I suggest we go back to my apartment.'

Mattie almost laughed at the suggestion, even though a treacherous part of her stirred at the thought of it.

‘Over my dead body.'

‘Where there is a very comfortable sitting area downstairs. We can finish our conversation.' He gave his ad
dress to the taxi driver and was aware of her staring at him for having removed the decision from her hands.

‘You really have got a nerve! How dare you?'

‘Stop running from me,' he drawled softly. ‘I always catch the things I want, Mattie.'

‘And you want me.'

‘And I want you.'

He wasn't touching her, but God, she felt her body burn as if he were.

‘You want a good-looking waitress in a nightclub. You don't want
me
. You don't
even know me
.'

‘Is that a plea from the heart?' he drawled.

‘It's a matter-of-fact statement, actually,' Mattie snapped in return. ‘You may have spent your life with women tripping behind you in your wake, wondering if they might be the lucky little thing to get the ring on her finger, but,
buddy,
where I come from I can see straight through men like you! You're a taker, Mr Drecos.'

‘But you don't
even know me
.'

Mattie uttered the strangled sound of someone whose impeccable reason has been neatly lobbed right back at them, and decided that she wouldn't dignify his comment with a reply. Not that she could think of anything to say to his barbed piece of verbal cleverness.

But she didn't like the fact that she was sitting in a taxi with him and being transported to wherever his apartment was, even though that gut feeling she had had three evenings before was back with her. A deep knowing that he was a man who didn't lie. If he said that there would be somewhere downstairs where they could talk, then there would be.

The problem was that she didn't want to talk.

No, she amended truthfully to herself, the problem
was that she was a little too tempted to talk for her own good.

She felt as though her emotions had been put on hold forever, building up behind a dam which was beginning to strain at the weight put against it.

She wanted to talk, but why him? He had already told her what kind of interest he was feeling and it wasn't the sort that wanted to get to know her, whatever he had to say on the subject. It was the sort that wanted to get her into his bed.

‘If I get there and I find that the only thing waiting downstairs is a lift to carry me up to your apartment, then you're out of luck. I'll walk straight back out of the door and into the nearest taxi I can find!'

‘Fair enough.'

He had deprived her of further argument, but he could still feel her simmering away next to him. Sexy as hell and as appealingly defensive as a cornered cat.

He watched her averted profile, the stubborn tilt of her head, and wondered if she had any idea how seductive her mutinous silence was.

By the time the taxi pulled up in front of his apartment block, he was almost willing to bet that she would have changed her mind about coming in.

But all she said to the driver was, ‘Would you mind waiting here for a few minutes? Just in case I need to get back to my house?'

‘No problem, love.'

‘Well? Does it pass muster?' Dominic asked, the minute they were inside the building. ‘There's the sitting area over there and, as you can see, there's a security guy permanently on call by the desk. His name's Charlie and I'm sure he'll fly to your rescue if you decide to start shrieking.'

‘Very funny.'

‘So are you going to tell our taxi driver to disappear or are you going to climb into his taxi and run away again?'

It was his implication of cowardice that did it. Or so Mattie told herself. She walked out of the foyer without answering, leaving him to nurse the unsettling thought that she had decided to clear off, then returned almost immediately.

Dominic could hardly believe the surge of relief that washed over him.

They stood and stared at one another, across the expanse of expensively tiled foyer, with Charlie's curious gaze flicking from one to the other, and Mattie was the first to move, walking towards him with the same wary expression on her face.

‘Would you like something to drink?'

‘Where from? I don't see too many vending machines around here.'

‘No vending machines,' Dominic agreed, standing perfectly still, waiting for her to approach him, to look up at him. ‘But a kitchen just off behind you. Charlie has all the necessary equipment to provide us with coffee or tea or whatever your preference is. At a pinch, he could probably rustle up something to eat, although I wouldn't guarantee that it would go beyond a sandwich.'

‘Coffee would be fine.'

‘And you can take your jacket off,' Dominic said drily. ‘Sit wherever you like.'

Unlike many London apartment blocks, this particular one was fairly unique in so far as there was always a porter manning a desk at the front, and the actual hall area was extensive. Large enough to accommodate the generous proportions of Charlie's desk, as well as two
separate sets of sitting areas and a fair number of plants that were cleaned and watered daily.

She was still standing uncertainly when he returned to her with two mugs of coffee and a plate of biscuits balanced precariously on the top of one of the mugs.

‘This is beautiful,' Mattie said politely, following his lead and sitting down, though not on the two-seater sofa alongside him, but in the chair facing him.

He was at home here. He breathed power and wealth and these surroundings were tailor-made for men who were powerful and wealthy. The marble tiles on the floor gleamed, the brass details on the balustrade that wound up the flights of stairs were indecently shiny, the overhead chandeliers were solid and impressive.

‘So.' She sipped some of the coffee and tried to remain blithely underwhelmed by the surroundings. ‘You have an apartment here…'

‘I have…'

She could sense his dark eyes fixed on her as she slowly looked all around and had never felt more self-conscious in her life before. Jeans, a sweatshirt and trainers were not at home in a place like this, although, in all fairness, he hardly seemed to notice her attire.

She noticed, though, and weakly reminded herself that her duty was to carry on pointing out all the differences between them, as she had started to do in the hotel bar.

‘So…you live in London, full-time. Do you?'

‘I live primarily in London, but I travel a lot.'

‘Oh, yes. Of course. To visit your parents in Greece, I expect.'

‘Among other things.'

‘What other things?'

‘Work, usually. New York, Paris. Just recently, the Middle East.'

‘Leading eventually to what? A global takeover?' She laughed a little nervously and sipped some more of the coffee. ‘It all sounds very high-powered. And what do you do when you want to relax? Nightclubs?'

‘When I want to relax, I usually go to the Cotswolds. I have a house there. If you perch any closer on the edge of that chair, you're going to fall off.'

Mattie wriggled into a more comfortable position. ‘You have a house in the Cotswolds. A country retreat.'

‘Something like that.' The look he gave her was one of gleaming, devilish amusement. ‘Now, aren't you going to attack me for the luxury?'

She shrugged. ‘I wasn't attacking you earlier on, if that's what you're implying.'

‘No? What were you doing, in that case?'

‘I was reminding you why you don't stand a chance in hell of getting me into your bed, never mind your big-headed notion that whatever you want in life you get.'

‘Why don't you come and sit here next to me on this sofa and tell me that again?'

It was like being shot through with a volt of electricity that ran from the tips of her toes to the hair on her scalp, but she made herself look at him with incredulity.

‘Is that how you would address the women you go out with?' she fired scornfully.

‘No, I don't suppose it is.'

‘I know that. Because I happen to work in a nightclub, you think that you can speak to me just as you want to and poor, awestruck little me would have no choice but to immediately fall to my feet!'

‘Because the women I go out with would already have taken the decision to sit right here next to me. If, of course, we were here in the first place.'

The implication in his lazy statement rushed at her and reddened her face.

No, he wouldn't be sitting in the foyer here when his apartment was only an elevator ride away.

‘Would you be as defensive as you are if we hadn't met in a nightclub?' he asked curiously. ‘If I didn't know what you did for a living?'

‘We wouldn't have met.'

‘You haven't answered my question.'

‘I'm not defensive,' Mattie lied and prevaricated at the same time. ‘I'm a realist. We come from opposite sides of the tracks. Look at the way you're dressed, for heaven's sake! I would bet my life that that suit of yours wasn't sitting on a peg in a department store on Oxford Street. Was it?'

‘This line of conversation isn't going to get us anywhere.'

‘I don't
want
to
get
anywhere with you!'

‘Then why are you here?'

Mattie flushed. ‘Because I was manipulated into coming,' she said awkwardly.

‘Don't be ridiculous. Now you're pretending to be a passive victim of circumstance. Is that how you feel? About being here? With me? About yourself?'

‘You don't understand.'

‘Try me.'

‘I want to go home now.'

‘No, you don't. Come upstairs to my apartment. It's more comfortable than being down here.'

‘More dangerous, you mean.'

‘Do you think I'm dangerous?'

‘A girl can't be too careful.'

‘Do you?'

‘I wasn't born yesterday, Mr Drecos.'

‘Stop calling me that. The name is Dominic. And you still haven't answered my question.'

‘You've already told me what your intentions are.'

‘I've never gone near a woman who didn't want me to be near her. Let's go upstairs.'

‘I'll stay half an hour then I'm off. And this time, I don't want you coming back to the nightclub to see me! OK?'

He didn't answer. Instead, he stood up, waiting for her, giving her time to consider what she had done. Going upstairs with him to his apartment! Another step towards the edge of a cliff, or that was how she felt.

Although, she told herself sternly, hadn't she made sure to tell him that, after tonight, no more?

She walked with him to the lift and concentrated hard on the control panel as they were whirred up and the doors opened to a lushly carpeted corridor.

She knew that his apartment was going to be luxurious. But she wasn't prepared for exactly how luxurious.

Rich wooden floors peppered with silky Persian rugs, an open-plan layout that exaggerated the space and allowed the eye to roam freely over the beautiful spread of low, clean-lined furniture, glass-topped dining-table with a thick band of wood framing the glass, white walls interrupted with large, dramatic paintings. And the kitchen, to which he was now heading, was simply separated from the rest of the open space by a large semi-circular, granite-topped counter.