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Lucilla felt almost bereft when he wasn’t looking at her anymore, as if he’d somehow rejected her when he’d turned away. Utterly ridiculous.
She hadn’t brought a date tonight. She hadn’t dated anyone in months now because she’d been so focused on the hotel empire and had no time, but she decided that first thing tomorrow, she was getting back out there in the dating pool. It was ridiculous to throw herself so hard into work that she neglected having a personal life.
She told herself that if she hadn’t been lonely and aching for companionship, Christos would not have been able to affect her.
And he had affected her. She would admit that much. He was tall, sinfully sexy, and he made her blood hum. She really hated that about herself, that she could be attracted to a jerk like him, but her body didn’t seem to know he was poison.
When the auction began, Lucilla stayed around at first to make sure things were going smoothly, but then she retreated to her office with instructions to Jessie to come and get her if anything was amiss. She didn’t want to be there for the auctioning of her mother’s portrait.
She didn’t know why it bothered her—Liliana Chatsfield had thought nothing of abandoning her children and husband and leaving the raising of her family to her two eldest, so why on earth should Lucilla care about her portrait?
It was nostalgia, plain and simple, and she refused to let it bother her a moment longer. She sat at her desk—not the easiest thing to do in a tight gown—and scrolled through the bookings and reports for the upcoming week. The hotel had many things going on, and it was her duty to make sure it all went smoothly.
When her door opened, she glanced up, expecting to see Jessie. Instead, her stomach dropped into her toes and her pulse kicked up at the sight of Christos standing there, coolly handsome in his tuxedo and crisp white shirt.
“Yes?” she said as blandly as possible.
He walked in and closed the door and her heart ticked up another notch. “You left rather abruptly. Is everything all right?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You tell me.”
She sighed and pushed her hair back over her shoulder. “It’s been a long day, Christos. I’m tired and I have a lot of work to do. I don’t stay for every event. Jessie knows where to find me if I’m needed.”
“You are upset with me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Not everything is about you, difficult as that may be to believe. No, I don’t like you, but I don’t spend every waking moment thinking about you.” Well, she did, but much of it was about how to get rid of him. She waved a hand airily. “I forgot about it as soon as I started talking to the auction director.”
Not quite true, but he didn’t need to know that.
He sprawled in the chair in front of her desk, gloriously loose-limbed and casual when she had the impression he was anything but. “This is good, Lucilla mou. Because we have things to talk about.”
She tried not to let the way he said her name slip down her spine and start drumming a beat in her deepest core, but it was damn near impossible. Plague the man for making her think of sex, anyway!
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that. I have no idea what it means, but it irritates me.”
His grin was too sexy for comfort. “I know this. It’s why I do it. And it means ‘my Lucilla.’”
Her stomach clenched. “I am most certainly not your Lucilla. I’m not anyone’s Lucilla.”
She could have bitten her tongue for admitting that last part. It was as if she’d just come out and said she couldn’t interest a man to save her life.
“This is a shame. You should be someone’s Lucilla. You should be taken to bed often and made to scream your lover’s name many times a night.”
Her throat was tight. “You really shouldn’t talk to me like this. It’s inappropriate.”
He ran his fingers along the edge of the chair’s arm. “Is it? You have informed me more than once that you don’t work for me, that you are a Chatsfield and these hotels are yours by birthright. How am I being inappropriate?”
She gritted her teeth and tried to ignore the pulsing of her blood in her veins. “My father hired you and gave you control over the Chatsfield Family Trust. I’d say that’s incentive enough for me to need to do what you say. And that makes this conversation inappropriate.”
“And here I thought we were finally being truthful with each other.” He made it sound as if he was disappointed in her, and that only irritated her further.
“What did you wish to talk to me about, Christos? If it’s not business, then please go away.”
He laughed. “It is definitely business, Lucilla mou. But I cannot help but rib you now that I know you are not immune to my charm.”
“Oh, for God’s sake—you have no charm! This is not about you or your nonexistent charm. It’s about business and what’s best for the hotels, so stop irritating me and get on with it.”
He leaned forward then and put his elbows on her desk. “After the shareholders’ meeting in August, I plan to make a tour of several Chatsfield locations. You will accompany me.”
Lucilla blinked. “Me? Why? Don’t you have an assistant for that?”
He rubbed a finger over his bottom lip and she found herself following the motion of that finger. “If you wish to run this company someday, I suggest you do what I tell you.”
She felt herself growling. “Sometimes it’s easier to get flies with honey, you know.” She tapped a key on her computer, purposely ignoring him. “And maybe I’ve decided I don’t want the company, after all. Maybe I’ll start my own business.”
“You can try. Or you can come with me and help fix what is wrong.”
She blinked. His tone hadn’t changed at all, but he was now looking at her expectantly. As if he just knew what her answer would be. And, damn him, he did. But she wasn’t going to make it easy on him.
“You cannot possibly mean for me to really help you. I’m spoiled and useless, remember?”
“You are indeed. And yet I am pleased with tonight’s event, and pleased with how things have gone in your office in general. It’s time to step up, Lucilla. Prove your mettle or get out of my way.”
She gripped the pen she’d picked up just a little tighter. He was so damn smug. “I can handle anything you throw at me, baby.”
He blinked. “Baby?”
“Annoying, right?” She shrugged, though her heart raced with adrenaline. “I’ve decided to start giving as good as I get. If I’m your Lucilla, you can be my baby.”
He lifted an eyebrow, and she had the impression she’d just wakened a sleeping tiger. Perhaps she shouldn’t bait him, but God, he deserved it. It made her feel reckless, which was certainly not how she usually behaved. But she rather liked it.
“I look forward to the inevitable clash of wills, Lucilla. You have no idea how much.”
She dropped the pen. “Because you like discord in your work environment? Well, I don’t. But I won’t be bullied, either. So get ready, baby, because I will not back down.”
He stood then and looked down at her from a great height. Because she didn’t like him towering over her, she stood, too. They faced each other across her desk. Her body felt rubbery, liquid, as their gazes held. There was no denying that Christos Giatrakos was powerfully, sinfully attractive.
If only he wasn’t such an arrogant jerk.
“I feel as if we must seal this deal somehow,” he murmured, and her stomach fluttered.
She came around her desk and thrust her hand out. She would not cower from him like a mouse. “I believe a handshake is how it’s usually done.”
His gaze dropped to her outstretched hand. “Indeed.” His hand slipped into hers, engulfing it. They were palm to palm and it somehow felt like the most intimate touch imaginable. She tried not to gasp, tried not to shiver or make any response that let him know how intense this feeling was.
But she didn’t need to. He tugged her hand softly and she moved forward until their bodies pressed together. His arm slipped behind her, his fingers spreading over the small of her back, burning her through the fabric of her dress.
His other hand tilted her chin up. His eyes, those beautiful, icy eyes, searched hers. She could not, for the life of her, imagine what she was supposed to say.
“I think this requires something a bit more personal,” he murmured. And then his mouth came down on hers—softly, sweetly, his lips gliding over hers, teasing and tantalizing. Her heart was a reckless runaway in her chest, and her body had lost the ability to hold itself upright moments ago.
She clutched his lapels, her eyes fluttering closed as he tormented her with that glorious mouth. His tongue slipped over her lips, and she gasped. Then he was inside and she was there to meet him. Their tongues tangled, and Lucilla made a noise in her throat as her body simply melted.
Oh, she hadn’t felt like this in so long—if ever. She’d had lovers, certainly. But not for months now, and no one who’d made her yearn so keenly for his touch. Kissing Christos was a revelation in more ways than one.
First, he was an amazing kisser. Second, in spite of her very real dislike of him, it only seemed to make kissing him more exciting. He tilted her chin up, plundered her mouth with a bit more urgency than before. His tongue was skillful, his lips masterful.
Oh, how she ached for more than this melding of mouths.
But this was Christos. Christos. The man her father had sent to do the job she was meant to do. The man who thought himself above her in every way. The man who showed absolutely no remorse or pity in his dealings with others.
He’d sent Lucca to the Mediterranean, Cara to Vegas, Franco on an errand in Australia. He’d hired Antonio as the head of strategy, but Antonio had taken the job only because she’d begged him to so they could work together to bring Christos down. With Orsino out of action in France, and Nicolo currently holed up at Chatsfield House with Christos’s PA—whom he’d sent to secure Nicolo’s attendance at the next shareholders’ meeting—Christos was like a great spider, sitting at the center of his web and sending out threads designed to ensnare people.
Lucilla’s fingers tightened in his lapels. She had a choice. She could stop this insanity or she could use this moment between them. She had never been a seductress before—but she could be. She could use this fire, this need, and she could best him at his own game.
She pressed herself closer to him, though it terrified her on some level to do so. His grip on her tightened, his hands spanning her hips, pulling her against him and—
Oh, my.
He was hard. There was no mistaking it. She’d thought, on some level, that he was faking desire for her. Liquid heat flooded her sex as he moved against her, his body sparking delicious sensations in hers. She let her hands slide over his chest, beneath his jacket—
There was a knock on the door and then it swung open before Lucilla registered what such an intrusion would mean.
“Oh! Excuse me!”
The door slammed shut again and Lucilla broke free of Christos’s grip. Oh, my God. Her cheeks blazed. She’d just been caught in the arms of the boss. By Jessie. Because that’s how everyone viewed Christos around here even if she did not.
Fury and embarrassment boiled in her belly. She’d been so convinced she knew what she was doing. What on earth had possessed her?
She was not a seductress and she had no idea what she’d do with Christos if she did sleep with him. How would that help her cause? Clearly, she’d been out of her mind. The moment he’d kissed her, she’d lost her sense. And now Jessie knew. Who else would know before the week was out?
Christos’s eyes glittered hot as he ran a thumb over his lip, presumably removing her lipstick. He appeared as cool as if he were standing outside in a soaking rain while she felt as if she would never be cool again.
“It seems as if we’ve been interrupted. Not a moment too soon, I imagine.”
“Honestly, I have no idea what that means.” She went around her desk and stood with that object between them, as if it could protect her when she apparently didn’t have sense enough to protect herself. “Nothing was going to happen.”
“Don’t lie to yourself.” His voice was soft as a whisper and yet steely, too. “We wanted the same thing, Lucilla. And it would have happened on your desk in another five minutes.”
“You are so deluded. I let you kiss me. It meant nothing.”
“Tell yourself that if it helps you sleep at night. But you know as well as I do where that kiss was headed.”
She folded her arms over her chest and hoped the wild beat of her pulse didn’t show in her throat. “If you will excuse me, I believe Jessie needs to see me for something.”
He inclined his head. “Of course.” He was almost to the door when he turned and threw her a heated look. “As I said before, this is not over. In fact, I would say it has only begun.”
Without waiting for a reply, he yanked the door open and stalked through it. An astonished and red-faced Jessie hurried into the room, eyes wide. She wisely did not say a word about Christos.
Lucilla took her seat and tried to appear cool. “Well, has there been a disaster?” Aside from the disaster of letting Christos kiss her and steal all her good sense, of course.
“Nothing of the sort. You asked me to let you know who bought your mother’s portrait.”
She’d almost forgotten. “Yes, of course I did.”
Jessie looked apologetic. “I’m afraid it was an anonymous phone bidder. It sold for one hundred thousand pounds, though.”
Lucilla tried to ignore the pinch in her heart. No way could she have afforded that much, even if she had been willing to bid. “Thank you, Jessie. I’ll be here for a while. Let me know if I’m needed.”
“Yes, Ms. Chatsfield,” Jessie said before turning and hurrying out the door. Lucilla closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. She could still feel Christos’s touch on her skin, still feel the deep pull of desire in her core.
Lucilla shivered. And then she opened up her email and got to work. Christos had to go. Soon.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_9f1733bb-37ad-56df-987f-b3dbe8768671)
CHRISTOS WAS IN a bad mood. He was restless and edgy and his patience had run out a long time ago. He knew what it was. He sat at his desk in his big corner office and brooded over the latest reports. Oh, the reports were fine. There was progress on all fronts. Lucca wasn’t making a spectacle of himself, Cara was managing to ride out the media storm created in Las Vegas with the notorious Aiden Kelly and Franco was getting somewhere with Purman Wines.
Not only that, but Sophie had made progress with Nicolo and he would be at the shareholders’ meeting next week. Orsino still wasn’t answering Christos’s calls, but Christos figured it was only a matter of time. The Chatsfield children were coming into line, whether they believed it or not.
His biggest problem, however, was Lucilla.
He couldn’t forget that kiss in her office on the night of the charity auction. It had been two weeks ago now and he thought of it incessantly. The way she’d melted in his arms like molten gold, her body curving into his and promising him such sweetness. He’d wanted her quite desperately in that moment. And she had wanted him, too; he was certain of it. She’d been ready to come apart in his arms and then the door had opened and Jessie had stumbled in—and that was the end of that.
For two weeks, she’d avoided him. They saw each other at the morning staff meetings. She gave her reports. But she did not come to his office—and he did not send for her.
He did it as much to prove to himself as to her that he was unaffected by their interchange. Yes, she’d excited him and he’d wanted her. But he did not need her. Women were interchangeable to him. All he required from them was a warm body in his bed and a few hours of passion. Beyond that, he wished for nothing more.
Needed nothing more.
Except, dammit, he couldn’t stop thinking about Lucilla’s mouth beneath his, her tongue gliding against his, her body so pliable and warm….
The tingle at the base of his spine was not a good sign. He swore and got to his feet, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets and stalking over to the window to gaze out on the park across the street. He needed a woman. Any woman. That would take the edge off and then he could get back to thinking straight again.
He could call Victoria. She was an enthusiastic lover, even if she left him cold. Yes, he’d taken her back to her apartment that night after the aborted kiss with Lucilla and he’d let her strip him naked. He’d spent his passion inside her body, but he’d felt vaguely disgusted with himself when it was done. Then he’d left her with a kiss and a promise to call.
He had not done so, of course. He had no intention of doing so, no matter that it would be the solution to his problem.
He raked a hand through his hair and swore softly. He could not figure out this reaction to Lucilla, except that she fired his blood because she so very clearly despised him. He didn’t usually care how anyone felt about him so long as the job got done. He still didn’t care.
But he was intrigued, damn him. No one stood up to him the way Lucilla did. No one challenged him on every level. He found that he enjoyed it.
He was a man who got what he wanted. And right now, he wanted Lucilla Chatsfield. He wanted her beneath him, saying his name in pleasure rather than derision. It was dangerous to want such a thing, and yet he was driven by a need that went all the way back to his miserable childhood.
He’d been nobody, nothing, an unwanted blot on the dirty face of the life he came from. He’d clawed his way up, out of the mire, and he’d sworn he would have everything he had ever been denied. He’d not been raised with gold and diamonds and plenty to eat. He’d had to fight to survive, and he’d had to maim to prevent being killed.
Lucilla Chatsfield, in contrast, had grown up in a huge pile of stones known as Chatsfield House, where she’d had servants, money, all the food she could eat and the finest education money could buy. Her tones were cultured, her manner graceful and understated.
