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There was a wistful note in her voice that sparked all the alarm bells in his head. Trained to detect vulnerability from a hundred paces so that he could give it a wide berth, Stefan cooled his voice.
‘Then this is clearly a case of mistaken identity because I’m never kind to women. I work really hard not to be or they start to expect it and the next thing you know they’re dropping hints about rings, wedding planners and a house in the country. Not my style.’
She smiled at that. ‘You were definitely kind to me. Without you I think I would have thrown myself overboard at that party. You talked to me for the whole night. You gave me hope.’
Stefan, all too aware that he was widely regarded as the executioner of women’s hopes, raised his eyebrows. He stared at that glorious hair and filed through his memory bank. ‘Definitely a case of mistaken identity. If I’d met you, we definitely wouldn’t have wasted a night talking. I would have taken you to bed.’
‘You told me to come back in five years.’
That news caught his attention and Stefan narrowed his eyes. ‘I’m impressed by my own restraint.’
‘My father would have killed you.’
My father would have killed you.
Stefan stared at her, his eyes sweeping her face for clues, and suddenly he stilled. Those beautiful washed-green eyes were a rare colour he’d only seen once before, hidden behind a pair of unflattering glasses. ‘Selene? Selene Antaxos.’
‘You do recognise me.’
‘Barely. Theé mou—’ His eyes swept her frame. ‘You’ve—grown.’ He remembered her as a gangly blonde who still had to grow into her lean body. An awkward teenager completely dominated by her overprotective father. A pampered princess never allowed out of her heavily guarded palace.
Stay away from my daughter, Ziakas.
It was the unspoken threat that had made him determined to talk to her.
Just thinking of the name Antaxos was enough to ruin his day and now here was the daughter, standing in his office.
Dark emotion rippled through him, unwelcome and unwanted.
He reminded himself that the daughter wasn’t responsible for the sins of the father.
‘Why are you dressed as a nun?’
‘I had to sneak past my father’s security.’
‘I can’t imagine that was easy. Of course if your father didn’t make so many enemies he wouldn’t need an entire army to protect him.’ Blocking the feelings that rose inside him, he stood up and strolled round his desk. ‘What are you doing here?’
The one thing he did remember from that night was feeling sorry for her and the reason he remembered it was because he so rarely felt sorry for anyone. He believed that people made their own choices in life, but he’d taken one look at her in all her leggy, uncomfortable misery and decided that being the daughter of Stavros Antaxos must be the shortest straw anyone could ever draw.
‘I’ll get to that in a minute.’ She bent down and caught hold of the hem of her habit. ‘Do you mind if I take this off? It’s really hot.’
‘Where did you get it? The local dressing-up shop?’
‘I was educated by the nuns on Poulos, the island next to ours, and they’ve always been very supportive. They lent it to me but there’s no point in keeping it on now I’m safe with you.’
Knowing that most women considered him anything but ‘safe’, Stefan watched in stunned disbelief as she wriggled and struggled until finally she freed herself and emerged with her hair in tangled disarray. Underneath she was wearing a white silk shirt teamed with a smart black pencil skirt that hugged legs designed to turn a man’s mind to pulp.
‘I almost boiled to death on the ferry. You have no idea. That’s why I couldn’t wear the jacket.’
‘Jacket?’
‘The jacket from my suit. It’s designed to be worn in an air-conditioned office, not a floating tin can which is how the ferry feels.’
Stefan wrenched his gaze from those bare legs, feeling as if he’d been hit round the head with a brick. Staring into those green eyes, he looked for some sign of the awkward teenage girl he’d met years before. ‘You look different.’
‘I should hope so. I hope I look like a businesswoman because that’s what I am.’ She slid her arms into a jacket that matched the skirt, scooped up her hair and pinned it with brisk efficiency. ‘When you met me five years ago I had spots and braces. I was hideous.’
She wasn’t hideous now. ‘Does your father know you’re here?’
‘What do you think?’
The corner of her mouth dimpled into a naughty smile and Stefan stared at that smile, hypnotised by her lips, trying to clear his mind of wicked thoughts.
‘I think your father must be having a few sleepless nights.’ The wicked thoughts still very much in play, he tried desperately to see her as she’d been that night on the boat. Young and vulnerable. ‘I should offer you a drink. Would you like a—’ he groped for something suitable ‘—a glass of milk or something?’
She pushed some loose strands of her hair away from her face in a gesture that somehow managed to be both self-conscious and seductive. ‘I’m not six. Do you often offer your visitors milk?’
‘No, but I don’t usually entertain minors in my office.’
‘I’m not a minor. I’m all grown up.’
‘Yes. I can see that.’ Stefan loosened his collar and discovered it was already undone. He wondered if the air-conditioning in his office was failing. ‘So—why don’t you tell me why you’re here?’
If she wanted him to ruin her father, they might yet find themselves with a common goal.
‘I’m here about business, of course. I have a business proposition.’
Huge eyes were fixed hopefully on his face and Stefan felt an instant pull of lust. The explosion of attraction was instant, unmistakable—and entirely inappropriate given the circumstances.
Apart from the obvious physical changes she still looked as innocent as she had that night on the boat. It would be asking for trouble. Even he wasn’t going to stoop that low.
‘I’m not known for doing favours for people.’
‘I know. And I’m not expecting a favour. I know a lot about you. I know you date different women all the time because you don’t want a relationship. I know that in business they call you all sorts of things, including ruthless and uncaring.’
‘Those are generally good traits to have in business.’
‘And you never deny any of those awful things they write about you. You’re happy to be portrayed as the big bad wolf.’
‘And yet still you’re here.’
‘I’m not afraid of you. You sat with me for seven hours and talked to me when no one else could be bothered.’ Folding the nun’s habit carefully, she leaned forward to stuff it into her bag, oblivious to the fact that the movement gave him a perfect view of the curve of her breasts above a hint of lacy bra.
Stefan made a valiant attempt to avert his eyes and failed. ‘You were sweet.’
He emphasised the word for his own benefit. If there was one thing designed to kill his libido it was ‘sweet’, so why the hell was he painfully aroused? And why was she looking at him with big trusting eyes when what he should have been seeing was an appropriate degree of caution?
Come into my house, Little Red Riding Hood, and close the door behind you.
Caution nowhere in sight, she gave him a warm smile. ‘It’s a bit embarrassing to remember it, to be honest. I was so upset I would have done anything just to make my father mad, but you refused to take advantage of me even though you hate him. You didn’t laugh at me when I told you I wanted to set up my own business and you didn’t laugh when I flirted with you. You told me to come and find you in five years, which I thought was very tactful.’
She spoke quickly, almost breathless as she got the words out, and Stefan stared at her for a long moment, all his instincts telling him that something wasn’t quite right.
Was he seeing desperation or enthusiasm?
Stefan bought himself some time. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like something cold to drink?’
‘I’d love some champagne.’
‘It’s ten in the morning.’
‘I know. It’s just that I’ve never tasted it and I thought this would be the perfect opportunity. According to the internet you live a champagne lifestyle.’ There was a wistful note in her tone that didn’t make sense. He’d assumed the Antaxos family bathed in champagne. They were certainly rich enough.
‘Believe it or not I try and restrict my champagne consumption until the end of my working day.’ Clenching his jaw, Stefan hit a button on his phone. ‘Maria? Bring us a jug of water, or lemonade, or—’ he racked his brains for a suitable soft drink ‘—or something soft and refreshing. With ice,’ he added as an afterthought. ‘Lots of ice. And some pastries.’
‘That’s thoughtful of you. I’m starving.’
Stefan leaned against his desk, maintaining a safe distance. ‘So—you say you have a business proposition. Tell me about it and I’ll tell you if I can help.’ Those words felt alien on his tongue. When did he ever help anyone but himself? He’d learned at an early age to take care of himself and he’d been doing it ever since.
‘I want to set up my own business just like you did. That night on the yacht, you inspired me. You talked about how you’d done it all yourself and about how great it felt to be independent and not rely on anyone. I want that.’ She dug her hand into her bag again and pulled out a file. ‘This is my business plan. I’ve worked hard on it. I think you’ll be impressed.’
Stefan, who was rarely impressed by other people’s business plans, gingerly took the pink file from her outstretched hand. ‘Is there an electronic version?’
‘I didn’t want to save it on the computer in case my father found it. It’s the figures that count, not the presentation.’
So her father knew nothing about it. Perhaps that explained the hint of nerves he detected beneath all that bounce and optimism.
No doubt this was her summer project, designed to fill the long boring hours that came with being an overprotected heiress, and he was the lucky recipient of her endeavours.
Shaking off the feeling that something wasn’t quite right about the whole situation, Stefan flipped open the file and scanned the first page. It was surprisingly professional. ‘Candles? That’s your business idea?’
‘Not just candles. Scented candles.’ Her voice vibrated with enthusiasm. ‘I went to school in a convent. I started making candles in craft lessons and I experimented with different scents. I have three different ones.’
Candles, Stefan thought. The most boring, pointless product on planet earth.
How the hell was he going to let her down gently? He had no experience of letting people down gently. He just dropped them from a great height and stepped over their broken remains.
Clearing his throat, he cultivated what he hoped was an interested expression. ‘Why don’t you tell me a bit more about what makes them special? Top line? I don’t need detail.’ Please, God, no detail. As far as he was concerned talking about candles would be one step down from talking about the weather.
‘I’ve called one Relax, one Energise and one—’ her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink ‘—Seduction.’
Something in the way she hesitated over the word made him glance up from the file. She was trembling with anticipation, and all it took was one glance to know that his first assumption had been correct.
She was a bored heiress, playing at business.
And now she’d prompted him he could clearly remember the night they’d met.
She’d been a teenager—miserable, confused and self-conscious. An ugly duckling dumped in the middle of a flock of elite swans with a doting father who barely took his eyes off her. None of the other men had dared talk to her, none of the women had wanted to, so she’d stood alone, her awkwardness almost painful to witness.
But she was no longer that teenager. She was all woman, and she knew it.
Stavros Antaxos must be having lots of sleepless nights. And now she was looking at him with those big eyes filled with unwavering trust.
Stefan knew she couldn’t have found a man less worthy of that trust.
He wondered just how much she knew about his relationship with her father.
The atmosphere in the room shifted.
When he was sure he had his reactions under control, he closed the file slowly and looked at her. ‘So your candles are called, Relax, Energise and Seduction?’
‘That’s right.’
‘And just how much,’ he asked slowly, ‘do you know about seduction?’
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_1af9ad00-466e-596a-9611-1b6c2ea072f1)
GREAT. Of all the questions to ask, he had to ask that one.
Not market share or growth forecasts—seduction.
Selene maintained the smile she’d been practising—her business smile—while her brain raced around in crazy circles getting nowhere.
What did she know about seduction? Nothing. Nor was it a skill she was ever likely to need unless her life changed radically. What she did know was that without his help she’d never get her mother away from the island. It was up to her to prove she had a viable business. ‘What do I know about seduction? Not a lot. But you know what they say—you don’t have to travel the world to teach geography.’
She didn’t add that she had her imagination and that was already working overtime.
She’d often wondered if her teenage brain had exaggerated his appeal or whether her own misery that night, together with his kindness, had somehow mingled together to create a god from a man. But he was as gorgeous as she remembered—power, strength and raw virility merged together in a muscle-packed masculine frame that made her feel dizzy with thoughts she couldn’t seem to control.
Physically he was imposing, but it wasn’t his impressive height or the width of those shoulders that shook her. It was something less easily defined. A hint of danger—the sense that underneath that beautifully cut suit and the external trappings of success lurked a man who wielded more power than even her father.
Flustered, Selene tried to remember the way he’d been on that night five years earlier, but it was almost impossible to equate that kind stranger with this cool, sophisticated businessman standing in front of her.
And the fact that he was flicking through her amateurish document so quickly left her squirming with embarrassment. He barely took any time as he glanced at each page, nothing in his face giving a hint as to his thoughts. Clearly he thought it was rubbish.
Her mother was right. He was never going to help her.
He was right at the top of his game, a busy man with huge demands on his time. According to her research, thousands of people approached his company every year for business advice and he helped less than a handful of people.
While she waited for him to comment she sipped the lemonade but after a couple of minutes of squirming in her seat restraint left her. ‘So tell me honestly—’ Is it a crappy idea? God, no, she couldn’t say that. ‘Er—do you see this as an investment opportunity?’ She felt like such a fraud. A total impostor, just waiting for him to laugh her out of his office. It must have been obvious to him that she’d never had a business meeting with anyone except her own reflection.
He closed the file, then turned to put it on his desk. His tailored shirt pulled across his wide shoulders, emphasising hard muscle, and her heart started to thud.
She dreamed about him all the time. Had thought about him almost every hour since that night.
‘Selene?’
His voice was gentle and she looked at him, startled and embarrassed to have let her concentration lapse.
