“Desperate times,” he said with a careless lift of his shoulders.
“Wow. You really are an arrogant son of a bitch.”
He made no effort to deny it and despite the fizz in the air, she didn’t want to argue. Pressing back against the seat, she lifted a hand to her temple and surrendered, for a moment, to his control. It was strange, given the combative nature of their interactions, but he was Konstantinos’s son, and it was, therefore, impossible not to trust him, at least on some level.
Twenty minutes later, they crossed Connaught bridge, rousing Phoebe out of her state of quiet acceptance. She sat up straighter, eyes moving from the Thames, to an airport, far smaller than Heathrow.
“Anastasios…” her voice held both a warning and a question.
He pulled the car to a stop and a man in a suit approached, but Anastasios didn’t immediately move. “I cannot allow this story go to print.”
“I told you, I have nothing to do with it. And there is no story.”
“Nonetheless,” he leaned closer, his face paralyzingly near hers. “Your cooperation is appreciated.”
“And if I don’t want to cooperate?”
“Better not to ask, for both our sakes.”
She was tempted to push him, to ask just how far he was willing to go to ensure this article didn’t get publicized but until she forgot her loyalty to Konstantinos, she couldn’t ignore Anastasios’ request. At least until she had a little more information. She knew the guilt that had plagued Kon for decades over his extra-marital affair, the pain that had come from genuinely loving two women. She also knew how important it had been to him to protect Maggie from what he viewed as his great failure. He’d have moved heaven and earth to protect her. The idea of a newspaper running a gossip piece about his alleged infidelity withher, even when it didn’t hold a shred of truth,was enough to galvanize Phoebe into action.
“I’ll give you one hour,” she said grudgingly, pushing out of the car as another suited man approached to open her door.
Anastasios didn’t respond.
A valet took his car keys and then, they were walking across the tarmac. She frowned, looking around.
The idea that he might be leading her to an airplane was so preposterous it didn’t enter her head as a credible possibility at all, until he gestured to a jet with a huge golden X emblazoned across the tail.
She stopped walking and crossed her arms. “Absolutely not.”
“We need to talk.” His voice gave nothing away.
She let out a sharp laugh. “Yeah? Well, we can talk here. Or there. Or anywhere that’s not a private jet, for crying out loud. You must be delusional to think I’d get on that thing with you. For all I know, you’re planning to throw me out a hatch when we reach cruising altitude.”
“Tempting,” he growled. “But I think that would only draw more media attention, not less.”
“Then where are you taking me?”
“Somewhere we can talk privately,” he muttered, looking around as if to remind her there were staff milling. “Get in the plane.”
She gaped at him. “I cannot believeanyonecan be as arrogant as you are! Do you really think you have the right to boss me around like this?”
He leaned closer, dangerously close, and spoke into her ear, so her pulse trembled. “Sleeping with my father changed the ballgame considerably.”
“How many times do I have to tell you—,”
He pulled back, lifting a finger and pressing it to her lips. “This is not the place.”
Her eyes flared wide as warring emotions clashed in her belly, desire chief amongst them.
“Be that as it may, I respectfully decline your ‘invitation’.”
“To hell with that,” he ground out, lifting her to cradle against his chest, just as he’d threatened to earlier, so she was stunned into silence. His long strides carried them both across the tarmac, the inclement sky casting him grey shadow.
“Damn it,” she whispered, as he drew closer to the plane—and airline staff. “Put me down.”
“Will you walk onboard yourself?”