Her breath was forced. He had no doubt she was thinking of kissing him, just as he was her. The air seemed to spark around them, humming with an electrical current.
‘And would you like me to stay, Miss Ashford?’
Her eyes flickered closed, long lashes fanning her cheeks for a moment, and a tiny noise escaped from her lips. Then she blinked quickly before lifting her eyes to his once more, something like panic in their depths. Her reactions were fascinating. She was like a little butterfly, flittering and moving, so fine and nimble, so difficult to pin down.
‘It’s not about what I want, nor what I think you should do.’
‘Liar.’ His laugh was deep and throaty, husky, as the sound brushed her hair, lifting it slightly.
It seemed to shake her, waking her from some kind of dream. Her face tightened and her features became unreadable. Her voice, when she spoke, was authoritative. Impatient, almost. ‘Fine, then. I would like you to put your son before yourself. There is no doubt in my mind that leaving England suits you very nicely. It will be much easier for you to continue your life with minimal inconvenience if you return to Greece. But Cameron’s interests are served by remaining right here.’ And then, to underscore her feelings, she sidestepped him, moving away a little, putting vital distance between them. Something he should have done moments earlier.
Only the flush of her cheeks betrayed that she was still feeling a rush of awareness—or that she’d ever felt anything for him whatsoever. In fact, in every other way she was suddenly ice-cold.
Fascinating.
He watched her from where he was, his eyes shuttered, taking her lead and suppressing the desire that had been rampant in his system a moment ago. He wasn’t sure what had come over him but it had been stupid and inappropriate. He had Maria waiting in the room next door. This woman was his son’s teacher! And absolutely not his type.
Beyond that, she’d come to his home to try to organise his life—something Santos had never particularly relished.
Her small sigh drew his gaze back to her face. ‘All I ask is that you think about what you would want if you were in his shoes—your whole world changing with a sadness beyond words carried inside your heart. Ask yourself what you would need and please do only that, Mr Anastakos.’
She used his surname like a shield, pressing it between them to remind him that they were two strangers, nothing more.
And she was right—he had no idea why he’d let the strength of his impulses override every piece of common sense he possessed, but he had, and it had been wrong.
‘I intend on doing the right thing by him.’ His admission was gravelly, his eyes reverberating with the intensity of that pledge.
‘I hope so.’ She stared at him for several moments and he stood perfectly still, wondering if she was going to move closer, if she was thinking about him, if she was wishing he’d given into his impulses and kissed her. But then she blinked and shook her head, forcing a tight smile to her lips.
‘Enjoy your date.’
He dipped his head in what appeared to be a nod but was actually a way to disguise his thoughts.
Santos might have been called ‘the billionaire playboy’ for years but he lived by a strict code of conduct, a black and white morality, and that always guided how he treated women. If his father had taught him anything—and indeed he’d learned many lessons from his father’s choices, most vitally how he didn’t want to act—it was that women deserved respect. He never slept with a woman who didn’t want exactly what he did and he never slept with one woman while another was waiting in a different room of the same damned house. Shame coloured his own feelings for a moment.
‘Then you’ve said what you came to say?’
‘And I hope you’ll listen to it.’ Her tone was ice-cold, but there was worry in it too, as though she hope
d he would heed her advice but severely doubted that he would.
He held her gaze for a long time, neither of them inclined to look away, but this time he found the power to break that connection.
‘Then goodnight, Miss Ashford.’
His dismissal was every bit as cold as her own words but he didn’t get any satisfaction from that. Her features showed hurt and he winced inwardly, watching as she reached the door. When her hand pressed to the handle, he spoke once more, his voice gravelly. ‘Thank you.’ The words were stilted. She angled her face just a little, enough for him to see the proud tilt of her chin. ‘For caring about Cameron, I mean.’
A cursory nod and she was gone, pulling the door behind her with a near-silent click. He stared at it for several seconds before sitting down heavily in the chair behind his desk.
Maria would keep a moment or two. Santos didn’t particularly want to see her when his cock was straining against his pants, desire for another woman making him almost desperate with needs. He sat down and tried to make sense of how a slight, prim schoolteacher had driven him to the edge of sanity with little more than the sharpness of her tongue.
* * *
Amelia stared at her ceiling, completely unable to sleep. Ever since she’d walked out of Renway Hall hours earlier, she’d been unsettled and filled with a gnawing sense of frustration that made almost everything impossible.
Her body felt different. Alive on a different cosmic plane, existing in a hyper-aware state so everything looked and felt brighter and sharper. She’d gone through the motions of a normal evening. A light dinner, fifteen minutes of meditation and then an hour on the Hayashi Analysis. Usually, that consumed her, the detailed analysis of star radius and formation stretching her brain in just the way she needed, followed by a quick back and forth messenger chat with Brent, usually about his work or hers, before dropping into bed exhausted and satisfied.
But not tonight.