The Greek Tycoon's Secret Child (7 page)

‘We're both adults,' he said flatly, determined to knock through her defences, ‘and we're both attracted to one another. And there's no point denying it.'

‘All right, then! I won't deny it! But it still isn't going to happen!'

‘Why the hell not?'

‘Because I'm living with someone. Because I happen to have a boyfriend!'

N
OW
that her final project was done and dusted, Mattie had a sinking feeling that the hard work had only just begun.

That she would pass with flying colours, she had no doubt. She had been committed to the course from day one, had managed to hand almost all her work in on time, had been ahead of the rest for the past few months. But the course co-ordinator, a snappy-looking woman with a brisk attitude towards her students that bordered on the terrifying, had been blunt. Marketing was a competitive field and, marks or no marks, Mattie lacked experience. That she was brimming over with enthusiasm and talent unfortunately took second place to someone who had been working in the field for years. She would do her best but anything she came up with might involve disappointing pay and an ability to grapple with the bottom rung of the ladder without resentment.

The two employment agencies she had visited over the past week had more or less said the same thing but packaged a bit more attractively.

Mattie consoled herself with the thought that one week was not very long in terms of finding a job.

On another, less reasonable level, she was relying on the anxiety involved in a job hunt to keep her mind from swerving dangerously back to Dominic Drecos and the precipice she had almost succeeded in stepping off.

But at least she could relax a bit more now. No nightclub tonight and no Frankie.

He had been peculiarly silent on the topic of her completed course but had compensated for the temporary break in hostilities by spending most of his time out of the house.

When she had questioned him two days previously on his whereabouts, he had responded in his typically aggressive manner.

Mattie kicked off her shoes, let the undisturbed peace of the house settle over her, contemplated switching on the television but wondered whether she really needed to be bombarded by a choice of desultory eight-thirty Sunday-evening viewing, and decided against it.

Easier just to slouch in the chair, eyes closed, and let her mind roam.

It was a little disturbing to find that it was roaming an awful lot more on Dominic Drecos than it was on Frankie, even though there were a million and one things she knew she needed to sort out with her boyfriend, things that could no longer wait for a convenient moment.

What was Dominic thinking of her?

She had walked out of his apartment, left with the snapshot image of his dark, stunned face at her revelation.

Her imagination had been more than willing to fill in the remaining details. The revulsion he would have felt for her, for thinking that she had responded to him, led him on perhaps, when she had not been in a position to lead anyone on. She would have lived down to his worst expectations, would have confirmed his thoughts that she was nothing but a waitress in a nightclub, huffing and puffing and playing hard to get when in fact her morals were of a decidedly shady nature.

Maybe he had even considered the possibility that her
behaviour had been nothing more than an act to try and hook him. The minute she started thinking along those lines, a whole host of other, nasty little thoughts sprang out from their dark corners and she was reaching for the remote control as a last-ditch effort at distraction, when she heard the peal of the doorbell.

Mattie hesitated. It took a few split-seconds to register that it couldn't possibly be Frankie because he had his own key, at which she caught herself heaving a sigh of relief and heading for the front door.

Her relief lasted precisely the precious few moments it took her to swing open the door and comprehend the fact that the person lounging against the doorframe in front of her was the last person she had expected to lay eyes on again. Ever.

‘What are
you
doing here?' Antagonism laced her question but her heart had leapt treacherously inside her at the sight of him. This time in casual clothes and all the more impressive for it. Cream trousers, a cream shirt collar peeping out above the rugby-style jumper. The colours accentuated his swarthy colouring in a way his dark work clothes hadn't and she had to fight not to let any expression show in her eyes.

‘I thought I'd drop by and size up the competition,' Dominic answered, getting to the point immediately and taking advantage of her momentary speechlessness to nudge his way through the door and into the house.

‘You did
what
? Are you
mad
? And how did you find out where I live? No, let me guess, Harry told you!'

He had strolled towards the poky sitting room, glancing up the narrow staircase
en route
, and now proceeded to look around him with unabashed interest.

‘Hm. Interesting method of colour co-ordination. Somehow I had associated you with a lot more flair.' He
finally turned to look at her. How did she manage to look so damn good in a pair of baggy jogging bottoms and a T-shirt that went a long way to hiding every feminine curve of her body? ‘So where is the boyfriend?'

His tone was light but his eyes weren't. She could read the message there and it sent a shiver down her spine. He had come to confront her over her duplicity because he was a man who would not walk away from a liar without first making his feelings known. Never mind that rubbish about coming by to check out the competition.

‘Out. And his name is Frankie. You can't stay here. If Frankie came home now, he'd…'

‘He'd…what?'

‘Look, if you want me to apologise for…for not telling you sooner, then OK. I apologise. I should have told you from the very beginning.'

‘So why didn't you?'

‘Why didn't I
what
?' Mattie demanded. Even standing feet away from her, he still seemed to dominate the small room and drain her lungs of oxygen. And against him the room faded into ugly shabbiness that seemed to point accusingly in her direction. No wonder he had made that sniping little remark about being disappointed with the lack of flair.

‘A cup of coffee would be nice. Black, no sugar.'

‘You can't stay for a cup of coffee! You shouldn't even
be
here! Harry isn't going to get away with this! Giving my private address to any and everyone!'

‘I'm not any and everyone,' Dominic contradicted coolly.

‘OK! Well, anybody who flashes an impressive business card and makes vague promises about being able to help him financially at some point in the future! You
know what I mean! You have to leave. Now. Frankie could get back at any minute…'

‘I'm beginning to think that you're scared of this boyfriend of yours.' She certainly wasn't in love with him. Not if she had responded to
him
the way she had. He had spent the past week at the mercy of a thousand thoughts about her, angry with himself for being taken in, furious because he still couldn't seem to get her out of his head and finally harshly reasoning that he was completely justified in doing his utmost to seduce her, considering she had strung him along.

‘Does he hit you?' Dominic asked without taking his eyes off her face.

‘Don't be ridiculous! Of course he doesn't hit me! Do you think I would ever stay put with a man who raised his hand to me?'

‘Then what are you doing with him, because you sure as hell don't love him?'

‘And you just
know
that, do you? After a couple of conversations with me, you're suddenly qualified to make conclusions about my personal life, are you?'

The brooding intensity of his stare was shattering her composure as utterly as he had managed to shatter it a week ago when he had touched her.

He began walking towards her very slowly and Mattie backed away, then remembered that he was in her territory now, and uninvited, and stood her ground until he was standing right in front of her with his hands thrust into his trouser pockets.

‘Got it in one. So tell me what you're doing here with a man you don't love when you'd much rather be with me.'

‘You're an arrogant swine! You know that, don't you?'

‘Yes, but I still like to hear you say it.' His expression didn't change but there was a sudden ironic humour in his voice that had the ground beneath her feet shifting once again.

She sighed dramatically and gave up.

‘I'll make you your coffee and then you go. Deal?'

‘No. But I accept the offer of the coffee anyway…'

He followed her back into the tiny hallway and out through it into the kitchen. Mattie could feel him just there behind her, a dark, overpowering presence that was sending her nervous system into fierce overdrive.

She had grown quite accustomed to the house. Now, though, she was seeing it through his eyes. He'd probably never been inside a place as small and unkempt as this one. A lifetime of wealth would have protected him from ever getting too close up and personal with this particular vision of reality.

And the kitchen wouldn't improve his ideas either.

At first, when she and Frankie had moved in, she had felt some enthusiasm to do something with the place. After all, it wasn't as though they were renting. The house had belonged to his parents, an ex-council house that had suffered from lack of essential home improvements. But life just seemed to get in the way of her good intentions. First there was Frankie, slumped in depression after his mother faded away in a hospital from lung cancer, leaving him the house and the memories but unfortunately no siblings with which to share the burden of her passing away. Then his own accident and his sharp spiral downwards. Not to mention her own time spent juggling jobs and study.

Who had time for stripping walls and plastering over cracks?

She held her head up high as she walked into the
kitchen, switching on the kettle and reaching for a couple of mugs before finally turning to look at him.

‘I can see what you're thinking. There's no need to make it so obvious.' Mattie folded her arms protectively and tried to insinuate a bit of distance between them, which was nigh on impossible because of the dimensions of the room.

‘What am I thinking?' Dominic perched against one of the counters and gave her a long, measured look.

‘You're thinking what a dump I live in.' The kettle was boiling. She spun around and began making the coffee, but her hands were trembling.

‘Why don't you move out?' Big question and, if she but knew it, she might have guessed that he wasn't just referring to the house but to the man she shared it with.

Thinking about him was enough to make Dominic clench his fists in jealousy. Primitive, green-eyed, monstrous jealousy. An emotion he had never succumbed to in his entire life and one which left him shaken and confused. As emotions went, confusion didn't do it for him.

‘Take one guess, why don't you? Here's your coffee.' She moved to sit on one of the pine chairs at the small kitchen table. ‘You can sit if you want.'

‘The money? Is that why you stay here?'

‘We don't pay rent for this. It was Frankie's parents'. His father died when he was twelve and his mother left it to him when she died a few years ago.'

Dominic sat down facing her. He wanted her to tell him everything, why she was here, why she had stayed here and not cleared off. What her relationship was with the boy. It sure as hell wasn't love because this house did not speak of love. No homely touches. No pictures of the two of them cluttering the surfaces. Nothing that
seemed to have been bought with joint effort and affection.

Or so he told himself.

The alternative was that he had chased a woman who had a boyfriend, saw him as a nuisance and wanted him out of her life without further ado.

Pride fought against something else…whatever emotion it was that had driven him to come here tonight.

‘When did you hand in your final paper?' he asked abruptly, surprising her with the change of subject, and Mattie allowed herself to relax a little bit.

‘On Friday.'

‘I'm surprised you're not out celebrating.'

‘On a Sunday?' No celebration. She had gone out to work as usual. Come home to an empty house and Frankie had not returned home until lunchtime the following day.

‘You never told me where the boyfriend is.'

‘He's…he's out with some of his mates. At the local, I expect.' She looked away with a telltale flush.

‘Spends a lot of time there, does he?'

Mattie was horrified to find that tears had sprung up behind her eyes, and she tightened her jaw in an attempt to bite them back. She wouldn't cry. She had stopped crying a long time ago and she wasn't going to let this man get to her like this.

‘You don't understand.' She took a few deep breaths and managed to get control of herself once again. Enough for her to raise her eyes to his although the unexpected gentleness of his expression was almost her undoing. ‘It's all right for you. You've never known what it's like to open your eyes and know that each day is going to be a struggle. Sometimes it's easy just to
give up and take the simplest road to dealing with things, which is usually the road leading to the nearest pub.'

Dominic said nothing. He continued to nurse his mug and look at her.

‘A lot of people face a life of struggle. Most people aren't born into privilege. But most of them don't become alcoholics in the process.'

‘Frankie's not an alcoholic!'

‘Why are you defending him? You work in a nightclub because, you tell me, the money's good and you need the money. From which,' he carried on inexorably, ‘I take it to mean that you need to pay the bills because he doesn't have a job.'

Mattie's green eyes were stormy with helpless anger but she couldn't reply. He was right, after all.

‘He…he's going to get one.'

‘In between his visits to the pub with his mates?' Dominic laughed harshly and saw her wince. ‘Are you sure he's with his mates?'

‘What do you mean?'