Desire was one hell of an aphrodisiac when someone else was feeling it for you, he thought heavily. One unguarded look, the tempting thought of those anxious fingers touching his body, the sensual promise her lush parted mouth had offered him down in the car park…All it would take was a loosening of his self-control and the conflagration would happen and they might both gain some relief.
Shame Oscar stopped him from carrying through.
‘Your manners,’ he responded finally. ‘It is usual to thank the guy that bought you dinner.’
It was like he’d reached out and cut her throat. So cool, so sa
rdonic, he was even still in lecture mode. Mia drew her eyes shut as the whole wretched agony of the way he was treating her exploded like a firework of needle-hot sparks which turned to ice as they embedded themselves in her flesh.
‘Thank you,’ she delivered with stiff obedience, ‘for such—a pleasant evening, signor.’
‘My pleasure, signorina,’ he returned, and even the supercontrolled Nikos Theakis could not stop the rueful twitch that took hold of his mouth.
He caught a glimpse of some of Oscar’s arrogance in the way she nodded her head at him before she spun away on the heels of her ridiculously high shoes. Her chin was high, her shoulders back, her hair a glossy black stream of loose waves down her taut back. Not a single tremor showed in her body as she walked up to her door, keyed in her security code, then pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The door shut with an impressively controlled soft thud behind her. As if it was a sign that he could drop his guard—or whatever it was that was holding him—Nikos let his shoulders fall back against the wall behind him and closed his eyes.
Mia Bianchi was fast becoming the kind of recreational drug he never indulged in. The kind you only took on if you were looking for total loss of control of your life.
He needed a woman, Nikos decided grimly. He should not have blown off the one he could have been seeing tonight, in favour of chasing after the one he could not have.
Opening his eyes on that lowering confession, mouth turned down at the corners as he dragged himself free of the wall, he speared a final glance at her closed door, then turned to stride back into the lift and stabbed a long finger at the button which would take him back to the ground floor.
Mia watched from her bedroom window as Nikos crossed the car park with the long loose-limbed stride of a man eager to depart. Duty done, she thought miserably. Annoying responsibility returned safely home, now he was going out to catch up on his real life. And he had his mobile phone clamped to his ear to find out where that life happened to be situated right now.
A woman?
Of course a woman, she told herself, reaching out to snap the blind shut so she could not see him any more.
Chapter Five
THE sound of her mobile chiming out its jingle brought Mia swimming up from the dark depths of the heavy sleep she had eventually tumbled into after tossing about restlessly for half of the night.
Stretching out a hand and groping the bedside table to make contact with the flat black contraption, she tucked her arm back beneath the duvet and pushed the phone to her ear before mumbling, ‘Ciao.’
‘It’s Nikos,’ he announced with his usual impatience. ‘I have to go down to Hampshire and you’re coming with me.’
Sitting up with a jolt, her sleepy eyes opened wide as saucers. ‘Hampshire?’ Mia echoed. ‘W-what is in Hampshire—?’
‘Work,’ came the sardonic answer. ‘Of the socialising kind.’
Still trying to cast off the heavy mists of sleep, Mia pushed the tumble of ebony curls off her face. ‘But it’s Saturday,’ she remembered. ‘I am supposed to be meeting—’
‘I don’t recall promising you would get your weekends free when you came to work for me,’ Nikos rode roughshod over what she had been about to say. ‘So whatever it is you have planned get out of it. I have to go out for a few hours but when I get back I will expect you to be ready to leave. You will need a dress—something formal.’
‘Formal,’ Mia repeated, stunned by the way he had just discarded her plans. ‘H-how formal?’
‘Bella-at-her-red-carpet-best formal,’ he delivered dryly, referring to her wildly beautiful and glamorous supermodel half-sister. ‘Do you have something like that to wear?’ he then thought to ask.
Dragging herself to the edge of the bed and standing, Mia sent her mind’s eye sweeping down the packed dress rail in the other bedroom. ‘Sí, I think so,’ she mumbled. ‘But—Nikos, I am not very good at these formal occasions,’ she threw in anxiously. ‘I don’t think—’
‘This is at Oscar’s command, not mine,’ he informed her with the cool thrust of a murderer plunging a knife into her chest. ‘He wants you there to represent the family because no one else is available to attend. Do you want to call and tell him you’re not up to taking on the responsibility—?’
Dio. ‘No,’ Mia surrendered heavily. ‘I will come.’
‘Good,’ he approved. ‘Pack an overnight bag because we will be staying. See you at one o’clock.’
He cut the connection before she could find the necessary brain cells to ask any questions. Sinking heavily back onto the bed, her fuzzy brain listed: Hampshire, a formal evening dress, an overnight bag. Be ready to go by one o’clock…