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Brianna Moneypenny’s file had listed talents that made him wonder why another competitor hadn’t snapped her up. No one that good would’ve been jobless, even in the current economic climate. He’d asked her as much.
Her reply had been simple: ‘You’re the best at what you do. I want to work for the best.’
His hackles had risen at that response, but there had been no guile, no coquettish lowering of her lashes or strategic crossing of her legs. If anything, she’d looked defiant.
Thinking back now, he realised that was the first time he’d felt it—that tug on his senses that accompanied the electrifying sensation when he looked into her eyes.
Of course, he dismissed the feeling whenever it arose. Feelings had no place in his life or his business.
What he’d wanted was an efficient assistant who could rise to any challenge he set her. Moneypenny had risen to each challenge and continued to surprise him on a regular basis, a rare thing in a man of his position.
His gaze finally reached her feet and, with a sharp dart of astonishment, he noted the tiny tattoo on the inside of her left ankle. The star-shaped design, its circumference no larger than his thumb, was inked in black and blue and stood out against her pale skin.
Although he was staring straight at it, the mark was so out of sync with the rest of her no-nonsense persona, he wondered if he was hallucinating.
No, it was definitely a tattoo, right there, etched into her flawless skin.
Intrigued, he returned his gaze to the busy fingers tapping away. As if sensing his scrutiny, her fingers slowed and her head started to lift and turn towards him.
Sakis glanced down at his watch. ‘We’ll be landing in three hours. Let’s take a break now and regroup in half an hour.’
Despite the loud whirr of her laptop shutting down, he noticed her attention didn’t stray far from the device. Her attention never wavered from her work—a fact that should’ve pleased him.
‘I’ve ordered lunch to be served in five minutes. I can hold it off for a few more minutes if you would like to look over the bios of the people we need to speak to when we land?’ Her gaze met his, her blue eyes cool and unwavering.
His gaze dropped again to her ankle. As he watched, she slowly re-crossed her legs, obscuring the tattoo from his gaze.
‘Mr Pantelides?’ came the cool query.
Sakis inhaled slowly, willed his wavering control to slide back into place. By the time his gaze reconnected with hers, his interest in her tattoo had receded to the back of his mind.
Receded, but not been obliterated.
‘Have lunch served in ten. I’ll go take a quick shower.’ He rose and headed for the larger of the two bedrooms at the rear of his plane.
At the door, he glanced back over his shoulder. Brianna Moneypenny was reaching for the attendant intercom with one hand while reopening her laptop with the other.
Super-efficient and ultra-professional. His executive assistant was everything she’d said on the tin, just like he’d explained to Ari.
But it suddenly occurred to Sakis that, in the eighteen months she’d worked for him, he’d never bothered looking inside the tin.
CHAPTER TWO (#u92907484-af35-5d5e-9473-9686b63013ed)
‘I NEED TO get to the site asap once we land,’ Sakis said in between bites of his chef-made gourmet beef burger.
Brianna curbed her pang of envy as she forked her plain, low-fat, crouton-free salad niçoise into her mouth and shook her head. ‘The environment minister wants a meeting first. I tried to postpone it but he was insistent. I think he wants a photo op, this being an election year and all. I told him it’d have to be a brief meeting.’
His jaw tightened on his bite, his eyes narrowing with displeasure. Brianna didn’t have to wonder why.
Sakis Pantelides detested any form of media attention with an almost unholy hatred, courtesy of the public devastation and humiliation Alexandrou Pantelides had visited on his family two decades ago. The Pantelides’ downfall had been played out in full media glare.
‘I have a helicopter on standby to take you straight to the site when you’re done.’
‘Make sure his people know my definition of brief. Do we know what the media presence is at the site?’ he asked after swallowing another mouthful.
Her gaze darted to his. Green eyes watched her like a hawk. ‘All the major global networks are present. We also have a couple of EPA ships in the area monitoring things.’
He gave a grim nod. ‘There’s not much we can do about the Environmental Protection Agency’s presence, but make sure security know that they can’t be allowed to interfere in the salvage and clean-up process. Rescuing the wildlife and keeping pollution to a minimum is another top priority.’
‘I know. And...I had an idea.’ Her plan was risky, in that it could attract more media attention than Sakis would agree to, but if she managed to pull it off it would reap enormous benefits and buy back some goodwill for Pantelides Shipping. It would also cement her invaluable status in Sakis’s eyes and she could finally be rid of the sinking, rock-hard feeling in her stomach when she woke in a cold sweat many nights.
Some might find it shallow but Brianna placed job security above everything else. After everything she’d been through as a child—naively trusting that the only parent she had would put her well-being ahead of the clamour of the next drug fix—keeping her job and her small Docklands apartment meant everything to her. The terror of not knowing where her next meal would come from or when her temporary home would be taken from her still haunted her. And after her foolish decision to risk giving her trust, and the steep price she’d paid for it, she’d vowed never to be that helpless again.
‘Moneypenny, I’m listening,’ Sakis said briskly, and she realised he was waiting for her to speak.
Gathering her fracturing thoughts, she took a deep breath.
‘I was thinking we can use the media and social network sites to our advantage. A few environmental blogs have started up, and they’re comparing what’s happening with the other oil conglomerate incident a few years ago. We need to nip that in the bud before it gets out of hand.’
Sakis frowned. ‘It isn’t even remotely the same thing. For one thing, this is a surface spill, not a deep sea pipeline breach.’
‘But...’
His expression turned icy. ‘I’d also like to keep the media out of this as much as possible. Things tend to get twisted around when the media becomes involved.’
‘I believe this is the ideal time to bring them round to our side. I know a few journalists who are above-board. Perhaps, if we can work exclusively with them, we can get a great result. We’ve admitted the error is ours, so there’s nothing to cover up. But not everyone has time to fact-check and the public making assumptions could be detrimental to us. We need to keep the line of communication wide open so people know everything that’s going on at every stage.’
‘What do you propose?’ Sakis pushed his plate away.
She followed suit and fired up her laptop. Keying in the address, she called up the page she’d been working on. ‘I’ve started a blog with a corresponding social networking accounts.’ She turned the screen towards him and held her breath.
He glanced down at it. ‘“Save Point Noire”?’
She nodded.
‘What is the point of that, exactly?’
‘It’s an invitation for anyone who wants to volunteer—either physically at the site or online with expertise.’
Sakis started to shake his head and her heart took a dive. ‘Pantelides Shipping is responsible for this. We’ll clean up our own mess.’
‘Yes, but shutting ourselves off can also cause us a huge negative backlash. Look—’ she indicated the numbers on the screen ‘—we’re trending worldwide. People want to get involved.’
‘Won’t they see it as soliciting free help?’
‘Not if we give them something in return.’
His gaze scoured her face, intense and focused, and Brianna felt a tiny burst of heat in her belly. Feverishly, she pushed it away.
‘And what would that something be?’ he asked.
Nerves suddenly attacked her stomach. ‘I haven’t thought that far ahead. But I’m sure I can come up with something before the day’s out.’
He kept staring at her for so long, her insides churned harder. Reaching for his glass, he took a long sip of water, his gaze still locked on her.
‘Just when I think you’re out of tricks, you surprise me all over again, Miss Moneypenny.’ The slow, almost lazy murmur didn’t throw her. What threw her was the keen speculation in his eyes.
Brianna held his gaze even though she yearned to look away. Speculation led to curiosity. Curiosity was something she didn’t want to attract from her boss, or anyone for that matter. Her past needed to stay firmly, irretrievably buried.
‘I’m not sure I know what you mean, Mr Pantelides.’
He glanced down at the laptop. ‘Your plan is ingenious but, while I commend you for its inception, I’m also aware that keeping track of all the information flowing in will be a monumental task. How do you propose to do that?’
‘If you give me the go-ahead, I can brief a small team back at the head office to take over. Any relevant information or genuine volunteer will be put through to me and I can take it from there.’
The decisive shake of his head made her want to clench her fist in disappointment. ‘I need you with me once we get on site. I can’t have you running off to check your emails every few minutes.’
‘I can ask for three-hourly email updates.’ When his gaze remained sceptical, she rushed on. ‘You said so yourself—it’s a great idea. At least let me have a go at trying to execute it. We need the flow of information now more than ever and getting the public on our side can’t hurt. What do we have to lose?’
After a minute, he nodded. ‘Four-hourly updates. But we make cleaning up the spill our top priority.’
‘Of course.’ She reached for the laptop but he leaned forward, took it from her and set it down beside his plate.
‘Leave that for now. You haven’t finished your meal.’
Surprised, she glanced down at her half-finished plate. ‘Um...I sort of had.’
He pushed her plate towards her. ‘You’ll need your strength for what’s ahead. Eat.’
Her gaze slid to his own unfinished meal as she picked up her fork. ‘What about you?’
‘My stamina is much more robust than yours—no offence.’
‘None taken at all.’ Her voice emerged a little stiffer than she intended.
Sakis quirked one eyebrow. ‘Your response is at variance with your tone, Miss Moneypenny. I’m sure some die-hard feminist would accuse me of being sexist, but you really need it more than I do. You barely eat enough as it is.’
She gripped her fork harder. ‘I wasn’t aware my diet was under scrutiny.’
‘It’s hard to miss that you watch what you eat with almost military precision. If it wasn’t absurd, I’d think you were rationing yourself.’ His eyes were narrowed in that unnervingly probing way.
Her pulse skittered in alarm at the observation. ‘Maybe I am.’
His lips tightened. ‘Well, going without food for the sake of vanity is dangerous. You’re risking your health, and thereby your ability to function properly. It’s your duty to ensure you’re in the right shape so you can fulfil your duties.’
The vehemence in his tone made her alarm escalate. ‘Why do I get the feeling we’re talking about more than my abandoned salad?’
He didn’t answer immediately. His lowered lids and closed expression told her the memory wasn’t a pleasant one.
He settled back in his seat, outwardly calm. But Brianna saw the hand still wrapped around his water glass wasn’t quite so steady. ‘Watching someone wilfully waste away despite being surrounded by abundance isn’t exactly a forgettable experience.’
Her grip went slack. ‘I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to dredge up bad memories for you. Who do you...?’
He shook his head once and indicated her plate. ‘It doesn’t matter. Don’t let your food go to waste, Moneypenny.’
Brianna glanced down at the remnants of her meal, trying to reconcile the outwardly confident man sitting across from her with the man whose hands trembled at a deeply disturbing memory. Not that she’d even been foolish enough to think Sakis Pantelides was one-faceted.
She recalled that one moment during her interview when he’d looked up from her file, his green eyes granite-hard and merciless.
‘If you are to survive this job, I’d strongly urge you to take one piece of advice, Miss Moneypenny. Don’t fall in love with me.’
Her response had been quick, painful memory making her tongue acid-sharp. ‘With respect, Mr Pantelides, I’m here for the salary. The benefits package isn’t too bad either, but most of all I’m here for the top-notch experience. To my knowledge, love never has and never will pay the bills.’
What she’d wanted to add then was that she’d been there, done her time and had the tattoo to prove it.
What she wanted tell him now was that she’d endured far, far worse than a hungry stomach. That she’d known the complete desolation of coming a poor second to her mother’s love for drugs. She’d slept rougher than any child deserved to and had fought every day to survive in a concrete jungle, surrounded by the drug-addled bullies with vicious fists.
She held her tongue because to speak would be to reveal far more than she could ever afford to reveal.
Curiosity gnawed at her but she refused to probe further. Probing would invite reciprocity. Her past was under lock and key, tucked behind a titanium vault and sealed in concrete. And that was exactly where she intended to keep it.
In silence, she finished her meal and looked up with relief as the attendant arrived to clear away their plates.
When the phone rang, she pounced on it, grabbing the familiarity that came with work in an effort to banish the brief moments of unguarded intimacy.
‘The captain of the coast guard is on the line for you.’
Sakis’s gaze swept over her face, a speculative gleam in his eyes that slowly disappeared as he took the phone.
With an inward sigh of relief, Brianna reached for her laptop and fired it up.
* * *
Sakis’s first glimpse of the troubled tanker made his gut clench hard. He tapped the helicopter pilot on the shoulder.
‘Circle the vessel, would you? I want to assess the damage from the air before we land.’
The pilot obliged. Sakis’s jaw tightened as he grasped the full impact of the damage of the tanker bearing the black and gold Pantelides colours.
He signalled for the pilot to land and alighted the moment the chopper touched down. A group of scandal-hungry journalists stood behind the cordoned-off area. From painful experience, Moneypenny’s suggestion to bring them on-side rankled, but Sakis didn’t dismiss the fact that in this instance she was right.
Ignoring them for now, he strode to where the crew waited, dressed in yellow, high-visibility jumpsuits.
‘What’s the situation?’ he asked.
The head of the salvage crew—a thickset, middle-aged man with greying hair—stepped forward. ‘We’ve managed to get inside the tanker and assessed the damage with the investigation team—we have three breached compartments. The other compartments haven’t been affected but, the longer the vessel stays askew, the more likely we are to have another breach. We’re working as fast as we can to set up the pumps to drain the compartment and the spillage.’
‘How long will it take?’
