“I’m not turned off,” he growled, moving into the chair where he’d sat to put on his boots. His feet were heavy, his jacket on the floor where he’d dropped it.
He braced his elbows on his knees, deeply bothered and uncomfortable, still not keen to delve into why he was struggling with this, but he couldn’t avoid dissecting it.
While she was already turning back to her suitcase to fiddle with the zipper, apparently resolved to leave.
“I don’t mess around with moms, Natalie. I hear what you’re saying,” he hurried to state, forestalling another “you’re a fantasy” remark. For some reason that was starting to annoy him. “The women I usually get involved with are as superficial as I am. You’re not shallow in the least, and I knew that the first day we spoke, but I ignored it because...”
“Sex,” she provided. “I know. That’s why I’m here, too.”
It was more than the sex. He liked her, but the sex was pretty incredible. Did she even realize how good? His conscience twinged as he processed that it sounded as though she’d had one lover before him, a boy-man who had never got past seeking his own pleasure.
A dark ache rose behind his breastbone. No wonder she was so enthralled with him. It had nothing to do with substance on his side or even his money. It was purely because he happened to take a great deal of pleasure in giving women pleasure, and she was starved of it.
He swore at the floor between his feet, oddly embittered by the thought.
She sighed. “I should have told you. I’m sorry. You’re feeling guilty and you shouldn’t. This was my decision, Demitri.”
He lifted his head, grumbling, “Maybe your ex never gets a chance to take responsibility. Did you ever think of that, Natalie?”
She dropped her splayed hand from the middle of her chest, expression blanking with surprise. “Fine. Wallow in guilt, then. This is all your fault.”
It wasn’t, obviously, so he shouldn’t be feeling anything beyond mild inconvenience that he was losing a delightfully compatible lover.
He rubbed his thighs, growing more keyed up as he watched her open her case and rearrange things, shoulders bowed with rejection.
Because she had a kid. And rather than try to pull him into that vortex, she was telling him why she never would. There was a quiet ferocity in her defensiveness. She was sorry she’d hidden her daughter, but everything she’d said told him she was deeply proud and committed to the girl. It was sweet and endearing, and he couldn’t leave her thinking that he found something wrong with that.
“Nat, listen,” he said to her back. “I’m allergic to family. Mine’s a horror show. Like, we should be in therapy, but that would mean talking about it. If I could cut all my ties to them, I would.”
“Don’t say that!” She swung around. “If I didn’t have Zoey, I’d be completely alone, and that’s awful. Don’t wish your family away. Don’t.”
“Obviously we have different perspectives,” he dismissed, not comfortable with her vehemence. “What I’m saying is this does change things, but because of my history, not yours.”
She hooted, swinging around to say, “It’s not you, it’s me? Is that what you’re saying?” Heaving her suitcase off the bed, she let it hit the floor next to her with a thump that jostled her narrow body.
“Stop.” He stood, hissing with impatience at her determination to leave.
“Look, I’m not going to tell the guy who paid for the room to get out of it,” she stated. “I’m a big girl and can solve my own problems. I wasn’t sleeping with you for this ski trip or even a new scarf.” She pulled the silk one he’d bought her from its bunched home inside her coat sleeve and left it on the dresser. “I just wanted a nice memory. Let’s keep it as one by ending things here, with civility. A clean break.”
He had never realized how much that silly saying could feel like an actual bone snapping inside him, leaving a screaming agony that reverberated through his entire body.
“I brought you here,” he said through his teeth. “Stay in this room, get some sleep and I’ll take you to Lyon in the morning. Meet me in the lobby at eight. That’s the end of it.” In more ways than one.
He walked out.
CHAPTER SIX
DEMITRI HAD TWO LIMOS waiting at the helipad when they arrived in Lyon. Aside from a few neutral remarks—good morning, ready?—they’d barely spoken. A maid had come to the room to pack his things. He’d piloted the helicopter and Natalie had tried to convince herself she was airsick, not lovesick.
They arrived at the Makricosta Heritage in Lyon one behind the other. He had no reason to check in and only a small duffel that he took straight to the elevators. She had new colleagues to meet and a room to be shown to. If she was distracted while she waited and her gaze followed the youngest Makricosta brother as he strode across the lobby, it was hardly suspicious. Every female employee’s head was programmed to turn in his direction when he graced a hotel with his indifferent presence.
Her room, a standard queen in the upper middle of the main tower, had a pretty view of spires and red-tile roofs winding along the Rhone. Liable to break down if she moped in her room, really needing distraction from her melancholy thoughts, she asked to be shown to the desk she’d be using.
The administration floor was mostly deserted. The weekend manager pointed out her cubicle and leaned in with a conspirator’s whisper. “I’d keep my head down and finish as quickly as possible, if I were you. The boss is in and does not look happy.” He nodded toward the end of the hall.
“Demitri?” She willed herself not to blush. “I saw him arrive.” And the idea of him looking as despondent as she felt should not be such a boon to her ego.
“Adara,” he corrected under his breath. “But she’s got him in there, and the staff in Paris said heads will be rolling, but they’re being very tight-lipped about what happened. You were just there, weren’t you? Do you know?”
She tightened her grip on her purse. What was left of her conscience swirled down an imaginary toilet. The dryness in the pit of her stomach affected her voice.
“No,” she managed, but it was more a mouthed word than spoken. Her eyes had to be huge and swimming in guilt.
Fortunately, he was craning his neck as he ensured the doors were still firmly closed down there. “Well, I don’t want to be around when they come out looking for blood. I’d suggest ignoring the rain and heading out to see the sights.” He gave her a nod as he walked away.
Adara knew.
Natalie wished she could run and hide from this, but it was not her way. When she made a mistake, she owned it, 100 percent.
On heavy feet, she started down the hall.
* * *
Demitri so didn’t need this. He reached for the knob on Adara’s office door, only getting it open a crack before his sister said sharply, “We’re not done talking about this!”
She stood behind her desk, more imperious than he’d ever seen her, but hard to take seriously when she had yogurt on her lapel. Apparently she’d been in a hurry to leave her family in Athens this morning so she could lie in wait for him and ruin the rest of what had already become a lousy weekend.
“It’s over anyway, so there’s nothing more to say,” he told her.
“There’s plenty to say! You’ve opened us to a sexual-harassment suit!”
“She’s not going to sue,” he said impatiently. Natalie was good and decent and maybe a little too grateful for his attention. They’d parted amicably—or as amicably as he could feel when he was furious with her for being completely different from what he wanted her to be. He would still be brooding over that if his sister hadn’t arrived and commanded him to meet her in her office. Now.
She’d been taking lessons from her husband, he imagined. At one time Adara had been quite the pushover, determined to run the hotels but hiding behind Gideon and his position as chairman to do it.
The PA who’d nearly destroyed their marriage had turned out to be the best thing for them, however. Adara had grown a lot more confident once she knew her husband was completely devoted to her and always had her back. These days she really was the face and voice of Makricosta’s, strong and determined.
Admirable, Demitri would have judged her, if she wasn’t being such a pain in his hide.
“Everyone in Paris knows you’ve taken up with one of the IT specialists. It will be across the entire organization within the week. Are there others?” she demanded.
“No. And may I remind you that Theo did it? Why the hell are you coming down on me?” He could hear his voice tightening with anger at the injustice, and searched for patience. For the laconic disinterest he’d patented for any occasion when his morals were called into question. This was what he did. He behaved badly and it rarely had serious consequences. He rode out the waves he’d created and got on with his day.