‘I have some pressing business to conclude,’ he said, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘With my wife.’
Stavros said nothing at all on the short drive back to the villa. Tessa was torn between relief at the respite and horror at the way the silence merely racked up the suspense. Her nerves were at a breaking point.
Tension throbbed between them, thick and stifling, as she remembered the last time they’d been so close. When he’d kissed her and the world had splintered into a haze of heat and passion and desire.
But instead of interrogating her about her visits to his father, or berating her again for her perceived crimes, Stavros merely stared out the window of the chauffeur-driven car. When they reached his house he escorted her through the mansion to the seclusion of his office. There he gestured for her to take a seat before the desk. This time she meekly subsided into the chair, her legs weak from reaction to the enforced proximity of the short car trip.
Hell! Where was her backbone?
‘I have a document for you to sign.’ His voice was clipped.
She watched him lean forward to slide some papers across the desk towards her. He didn’t move from her side and the heat of his nearby body fed her edginess.
Tessa stared at the document on his desk and a sense of relief eased her strain fractionally. It really was a business meeting. This she could handle.
If only Stavros wouldn’t loom, his presence an inevitable distraction as he stood near enough for her to breathe in the spicy scent of his skin and for her flesh to prickle in awareness.
She scowled at the papers, the legal jargon blurring as she struggled to concentrate. Out of the corner of her vision she saw his hand, large and square, reach down to place a gold pen on the gleaming desk. He wore his ring. The ring she’d carried against her heart for years. The sight of it so close sent a strange, disturbing frisson through her.
‘For your signature.’
‘Thanks.’ She refused to look up at him. ‘But first I’ll have to read it.’
Was that a huff of exasperation from beside her? Frankly, she didn’t care. No way was she putting her name to anything she hadn’t read. Even as a way of escaping quickly from his dominating presence.
For a moment she sensed him tense, radiating impatience in a way that made the hairs rise on the back of her neck. Then abruptly he moved away.
Instantly the tension humming through her eased and she settled more comfortably in her seat.
‘Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything else.’ His tone dripped displeasure as he strode round the desk to lean over and punch something into his computer keyboard.
Tessa stared across at him, her gaze drawn inevitably to that strong profile, the chiselled, sensuous lips. Even the frown that marred his wide brow didn’t detract from his dark good looks. A chill rippled through her as she wondered whether she’d ever be free of his magnetism. If she’d ever be able to see Stavros Denakis and not feel anything. Especially not the curling spiral of need that danced deep in her abdomen whenever her gaze met his.
He swung round in his seat and fixed her with a look. Her breath hitched and for a moment the heavy pulse in her ears blotted out his words. She looked down at the document and forced herself to concentrate.
‘It’s quite straightforward,’ he was saying. ‘And I’ve had the agreement drawn up in English so you’ll have no trouble understanding it.’
‘Thank you,’ she said automatically.
He didn’t deign to respond.
‘Basically it’s an agreement to formalise what you’ll have to do to get a settlement from me. And what you can’t do. It will be binding on both of us.’
Tessa’s head shot up at that, a protest on her lips. How many times did she have to tell him she wasn’t after his cash?
But the uncompromising look in those steely eyes told her he wouldn’t listen. He’d never listen to anything she had to say. The omniscient Stavros Denakis had made up his mind and there’d be no changing it.
‘If you turn to clause eight, I think it is,’ he leaned across the desk, impatiently flipping pages until he found the right spot, ‘you’ll see the list of things you agree to.’
He ticked them off on his fingers.
‘You won’t reveal information about me to anyone. That includes information about my personal circumstances, my home, family, friends, everything right down to the design of my house and the food that’s served here.’
Her eyes skimmed the text as he spoke, amazed at the level of detail. Obviously Stavros was leaving no loopholes.
‘You will not discuss with anyone, journalist or not, the circumstances of our wedding, our married life or our divorce.’