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‘I don’t know.’
‘Then tell me what you do know.’
Her delicate features were set and determined as she stared directly at him. ‘I know you’ve taken over my father’s company. Clearly you’re a megalomaniac.’ Her cool remark threw petrol onto the fire that raged inside him.
‘Don’t take me on, Miss Prince. I’m a tough boss but I’m a tougher enemy. Remember that.’ He delivered the warning and had the satisfaction of seeing her face lose colour. ‘I don’t want to hear anything from that smart mouth of yours except answers to my questions. Where is your father?’
‘I have no idea.’
That unmistakably honest admission was a solid blow to his gut. He’d been relying on her to reveal her father’s whereabouts. ‘You must be able to make contact. How do you get hold of him in an emergency?’
‘I don’t.’ She sounded genuinely surprised by the question. ‘My father taught me to be self-sufficient. If there’s an emergency, I handle it.’
‘I’ve taken over your father’s company, Miss Prince. This is definitely an emergency and I don’t see you handling anything. I can’t believe that the CEO of a company can so readily abandon his responsibilities.’ It was a lie, of course. He’d seen it before, hadn’t he? Tasted first-hand the bitter after-effects of another man’s careless disregard for obligation. The memory of it had never left him. Even now, when success was his many times over, it was always there beneath the surface. It drove him forward from one deal to the next. It was the reason he had never relied on another man for employment.
In the midst of discovering that the past still had the power to destabilise him, Damon found his attention snagged by the wisp of pale blonde hair that had floated down from the haphazard, kooky hairstyle she wore. It seemed that even her hair was rebellious.
This girl, he mused, knew nothing about obligation and responsibility.
She selfishly pursued her own agenda with no thought to the casualties. Ten years before it had been his sister who had suffered. Thrusting aside the fleeting thought that Polly Prince couldn’t be held accountable for her father’s shortcomings, he subjected her to a cold appraisal which she returned with no visible display of nerves or conscience.
‘You offered an inflated price for the stock and the board members sold my father out. That was outside my control. My priority now is to do everything I can to protect our loyal staff from your predatory instincts.’
‘Cut the act. We both know that you have no interest whatsoever in protecting the staff. The only reason you care about the business is because it’s your meal ticket. No other company would be stupid enough to take you on. You’ve been bleeding this company dry for years, but it’s stopping right now. If you were hoping I’d give you a pay-off to leave, then you’re in for a shock because I don’t carry passengers. You may be the ex-boss’s daughter, but from now on you’re going to work for your money.’ The anger boiled up inside him, the past somehow mixing with the present. ‘You’re going to take your useless, lazy self and finally do a job. And if all you’re capable of doing is clean the toilets, then you’ll clean the toilets.’
Those sapphire-blue eyes were locked on his and then she made a sound that might have been a laugh. ‘You really don’t know anything about the company you just bought, do you? Mr Media Mogul who never makes a mistake in business—Mr Big Tycoon who is all-seeing and all-knowing—is suddenly blind.’ Her voice dripped contempt and Damon, who prided himself on his lack of emotion in all his dealings, found himself wrestling the temptation to throttle her.
‘My only interest in your father’s business is as a way of ensuring his co-operation.’
‘You have no choice but to be interested in his business. You own it. A fairly heavy-handed approach to a problem, I’d say.’
‘I’ll do what it takes to protect my sister.’ He’d been protecting her since he was fifteen years old—since that cold February night when the policeman had knocked on the door and delivered the shattering news. Losing both parents in such a brutal way had been devastating but Damon had somehow dragged himself through each day, driven by the knowledge that another person was depending on him. He was all Arianna had in the world and what had began as the most terrifying responsibility had become the driving force behind everything he did. Now, protecting Arianna was as natural as breathing. Nothing would destroy the web of protection he’d spun around her. ‘If you have any idea where they are, you should tell me now because I will find out.’
‘I have no idea. I am not my father’s keeper.’
‘Arianna is your friend.’ He watched with satisfaction as that barb slid home.
‘And she’s your sister. She’s as likely to confide in you as she is in me.’
‘She tells me nothing about her life.’ The words tasted bitter in his mouth. ‘And now I know why. Evidently she has much to hide.’
‘Or possibly you’re just not an approachable person, Mr Doukakis. Arianna is twenty-four. An adult. If she wanted you to know what she was doing, she’d tell you. Perhaps you should try trusting her.’
Worry fuelled his anger. ‘My sister is ridiculously naïve.’
‘Had you not been so over-protective, perhaps she would have developed some street sense.’
Damon was thrown once again by the contrast between her fragile appearance and the layer of steel he sensed in her. It had been the same ten years before, when she’d stood in the office in silence, steadfastly refusing to explain her appalling disregard for school rules and general good behaviour. Because of her, his sister had been forced to leave one of the best schools in the country. Damon had subsequently banned Arianna from seeing the appalling Polly Prince. That was before he’d understood how teenage girls worked. The ban had effectively spurred his young sister into full rebellion mode and Arianna had promptly doubled the time she’d spent with the Prince family. It was a decision that had triggered numerous high-octane explosions in the Doukakis household.
‘Arianna is a very rich woman. That makes her a target for all sorts of unscrupulous individuals.’
‘I don’t pretend to be an expert on relationships, Mr Doukakis, but I do know that my father isn’t with Arianna because of her money.’
‘Really? Then perhaps you have no idea just how much trouble this company is in.’ He wiped his mind of images of his young sister with an ageing playboy.
‘Has it crossed your mind that he might be with her because Arianna is warm and funny and my father finds her entertaining?’
The thought of what form that ‘entertainment’ was likely to take sent pushed his soaring anger levels from dangerous to critical. ‘Well, she won’t be entertaining him for much longer.’ Control slid from his grip. ‘How the hell can you be so calm? You should be completely mortified. Your father is—how old?—fifty?’
‘He’s fifty-four.’
‘And it doesn’t embarrass you to see his name linked with an endless string of young women? He is thirty years older than Arianna. He’s been divorced four times. That’s a sign of an unstable personality.’
‘Or a sign of an eternal optimist, Mr Doukakis.’ Her voice was husky. ‘My dad continues to believe in love and the institution of marriage.’
If it hadn’t been his sister they were talking about, Damon would have laughed. ‘The institution of marriage doesn’t require endless practice, Miss Prince.’ Her defence of her father drove his opinion of her lower still. ‘When I walk out of here, I’ll be giving a statement to the media. Within the hour news of my takeover will be all over the internet. Once he finds out I have control of the company, your father will make contact. When that happens, I want to know. And I want to know immediately.’
‘My father doesn’t like the internet. He says it inhibits the development of personal relationships.’
At the mention of personal relationships, sweat broke out under his collar. ‘Bad news has a habit of travelling fast and we both know I’m the last person he would want at the helm of his precious company.’
‘I agree. He won’t be pleased. He considers you to be a man whose only goal is profit. He didn’t like me mixing with you when we were teenagers.’
Transfixed by that altogether unexpected revelation, Damon stared at her with genuine astonishment. ‘He considered me a bad influence?’
‘My father has a real thing about people who only judge the world in financial terms. That isn’t the way he runs his life and it certainly isn’t the way he runs his business. To my father a successful business is as much about the people as the profits.’
‘It took me a single glance at your company accounts to work that out. Prince Advertising is afloat through good fortune and the accidental success of a few of your campaigns,’ Damon snapped out, noticing that a faint frown appeared on her forehead. ‘The company is in profit despite your father’s approach to business, not because of it. As for the people—your headcount is severely bloated and you need to slim down. You’re carrying dead wood.’
‘Don’t you dare describe these people as dead wood. Everyone here has an important part to play.’ Her voice shook. ‘Your fight is with my father, not with the innocent people working for this company. You can’t make them redundant. It would be wrong.’
‘Business tip number one,’ Damon said softly. ‘Never let your opponent know what you’re thinking. It gives them an advantage.’
Those narrow shoulders straightened. ‘You already have the advantage, Mr Doukakis. You’ve bought my father’s company. And I’m not afraid to tell you what I’m thinking. I’m thinking that you’re as ruthless and cold as they say you are.’ Her eyes shone and he wondered if he should warn her that it was dangerous to wear her emotions so close to the surface. And then he realised how hypocritical that would be because, for once, his own were similarly exposed.
Acting on an impulse he didn’t want to examine too closely, Damon reached out and caught her chin in his hand, feeling the softness of her skin under the hard pads of his fingers as he forced her to look at him. ‘You’re right. I am as ruthless as they say I am. You might want to remember that. And tears just irritate me, Miss Prince.’
‘I’m not crying.’
But she was close to crying. He recognised the signs and he could feel the betraying tremble of her jaw. She was the same age as Arianna and yet that was where the similarity ended. For a fleeting moment he wondered what her life must have been like—an only child brought up by her father, a notorious playboy.
‘I took nothing your board of directors did not readily give.’
‘You made them an offer they couldn’t refuse.’ Her emotional accusation almost made him smile.
‘I’m Greek, not Sicilian. And the people working for me would never sell me out, no matter how good the offer.’
He saw something flicker in her eyes and then she jerked her chin away from his grasp. ‘Everyone has their price, Mr Doukakis.’
And she should know, Damon thought grimly, remembering the reason she’d been excluded from school. Definitely nothing like his sister. ‘I’m afraid I have to politely decline your offer. When it comes to my bed partners I’m extremely discerning.’
For a moment she stared at him blankly and then her mouth dropped. ‘I was talking about business.’
Damon found himself looking at those lips. ‘Of course you were.’
‘You are so offensive. Have you finished?’
‘Finished? I haven’t even started.’ Damon slowly lifted his gaze and stared into her eyes. The chemistry was unmistakable but it didn’t worry him in the slightest. When it came to women he made his decisions based on logic, not libido. He had no time for people who were unable to exercise control over their impulses when the need arose. ‘At the moment the staff have their jobs. Whether or not they keep them is up to you and your father. I’ll expect you in my offices at two o’clock this afternoon. You’re going to start doing some work. And don’t waste time appealing to my emotions, Miss Prince. I never let emotions cloud my decision-making.’
‘Really?’ Those blue eyes locked on his and he saw the same fire and determination in her he’d seen that day in the school. ‘That’s interesting, because I’d say that your decision-making in this instance has been entirely driven by emotion. You’re using this takeover as leverage against my father. If that isn’t an emotional decision, I don’t know what is. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to organise the staff for the office move. If you really want all this “dead wood” transferred to your offices by this afternoon then I’d better get my useless, lazy self moving.’ She stalked towards the door, all long legs and youthful attitude as her dress swung tantalisingly round the tops of her thighs and the spiked heel of her boots tapped the floor.
Hauling his gaze away from the seductive curve of her bottom, Damon slammed the lid on that part of him that wanted to flatten her to the boardroom table and indulge in raw, mindless sex. ‘And do something about the way you dress. Theé mou, you look like a flamingo in your hot pink tights. I expect the people working for me to look professional.’
‘So you don’t like what I do and you don’t like the way I look.’ Her back to him, she stood frozen to the spot. ‘Anything else?’
He wondered if she kept her back to him as a gesture of defiance or because she was close to tears.
There was something disturbing about the fragile set of her narrow shoulders, but Damon was out of sympathy. If she really cared about the staff, the business wouldn’t be in the state it was in. Because of this woman and her father Prince Advertising was in a pitiful state and a hundred people now risked losing their jobs. A hundred families risked having their lives shattered. A chill spread down his spine as he contemplated the possible fall-out from that scenario. ‘I want all the system passwords handed over to my team so that we can access everything. If I’m going to unravel the mess you’ve created here I need to know what I’m dealing with. That’s it. You can go.’
He could have told her that he considered redundancies a sign of failure. He could have told her that he understood his responsibilities as an employer better than anyone and that he ran his business according to his own rigid principles.
He could have told her all of that, but he didn’t.
She’d contributed to this shameful mess.
Let her suffer.
‘I’m going to kill him. I’m going to put my hands round that bronzed throat and squeeze until he can’t utter another sarcastic word and then I’m going to cut holes in his perfect suit and squirt ketchup on his white shirt …’ Feeling powerless, Polly lowered her head onto her hands and thumped her fist on the desk. ‘What do women see in him? I cannot imagine voluntarily spending a single minute in his company. He’s a heartless, sexist monster.’ But that hadn’t stopped her being hyper-aware of him all the way through their confrontation. There was a sexual energy between them that seriously unsettled her. How could she find him attractive?
‘I don’t know about him being a monster. The man is smoking hot.’ Debbie put a stack of empty boxes onto the floor and started clearing the office. ‘At least we still have our jobs. Let’s face it, the figures are so bad he could have dumped us all and no one could really have blamed him.’
Knowing that it was true, Polly lifted her head and stared at her friend in despair. ‘Trust me, that might have been the better option.’
‘You don’t mean that.’
‘I don’t know what I mean, but I know I can’t work for that man.’ Exhausted and stressed, she tried to blot out images of his cold, handsome face. Cold, she reminded herself. Cold, with no sense of humour. ‘I’m not going to last a week. The only thing in doubt is whether I kill him before he kills me.’
‘You can’t walk out! The future of the staff depends on you staying!’
‘How do you know that?’
‘We were listening at the door.’
Polly sank down in her chair. ‘Have you no shame?’
‘This was a crisis. We needed to know whether to ring the job centre or not.’
‘Ring them anyway. You won’t want to work for him for long.’ Trying to galvanise herself into action, Polly tugged open the drawer in her desk and stared down at the jumble of belongings. ‘I need a different pair of tights. Hot pink clearly isn’t his favourite colour. I cannot believe I’m about to change my clothes because a man asked me to. How low can a girl go? I should have told him where to stuff his dress code but I’d already antagonised him more than I should have done.’
‘He didn’t like the tights?’ Debbie raised her eyebrows. ‘Did you tell him you’re wearing them because—?’
‘Tell him?’ Polly rummaged through the drawer. ‘No one tells Damon Doukakis anything. They just listen while he commands. This is a dictatorship, not a democracy. How the hell does the man keep his staff?’
‘He pays top rate and he looks bloody gorgeous.’ Debbie stacked books into the boxes. ‘Calm down. I know you’re angry, but look on the bright side—he fired the board. And you were brilliant.’
‘I lost my temper with Michael the Moron.’
‘I know. You were amazing. You really let him have it. Pow. Smack.’ Debbie abandoned the packing and punched the air like a boxer. ‘Take that you sexist pig. No more looking up our skirts. No more demanding cups of coffee while we’re all running round like demented baboons doing the work he’s too lazy to do. We were all cheering.’
‘There’s nothing to cheer about. Haven’t you ever heard the phrase out of the frying pan into the fire? Damon Doukakis is a macho control freak with serious anger issues—’ Polly silenced the internal voice that reminded her that he was protecting his sister. That was no excuse to go completely over the top.
‘You can forgive a man a lot when he looks like that.’
‘I’m not interested in the way he looks.’
‘Well, you should be. You’re young and available. I know you’re anti-marriage because of your dad, but Damon Doukakis scores a full ten on the sexometer.’
‘Debbie!’
‘Oh, chill, will you? You’ve been uptight all week. It’s bad for your blood pressure.’
Polly had her nose back in the drawer. ‘I don’t have any boring black tights.’
‘Just wear leggings. Here’s a box—start packing.’
She took the box and forced herself to breathe slowly. Even though she’d grown up knowing that sex and love were two different things, the sexual tension between her and Damon horrified her. ‘I wouldn’t touch the man with a long pole. Apart from the fact that I can’t be attracted to a man who doesn’t smile, I wouldn’t want to have sex with a guy who is about to make a load of innocent people redundant. It doesn’t show a caring personality.’
‘You can’t expect him to smile when he’s taking over a company as unusual as ours.’ Debbie closed the box she was packing and started on another. ‘Most people just don’t get the way we work here. I mean, I love it, but we’re not exactly conventional, are we? Nothing about your dad is conventional.’
‘Don’t remind me.’
‘Relax. When your dad finally emerges from wherever he is this time, at least he’ll still have an intact company even if it does belong to someone else. If Demon Damon was thinking of making everyone redundant immediately he wouldn’t be mobilising an army of removal people to transport us from economy city to Doukakis World.’ Debbie carefully lifted a plant. ‘I’m excited. I’ve always wanted to see inside that building. Apparently there’s a fountain in the foyer. The plants are going to love that. So are the fish. Running water is very soothing. He must care about his employees to give them something as lovely as a fountain.’
‘It’s probably there so that despairing employees can drown themselves on their way out of the building.’ Polly walked across to the noticeboard she had on her wall and started taking down photographs.
‘You always say that everyone has a sensitive side.’
‘Well, I was wrong. Damon Doukakis is steel-plated. There’s more sensitivity in an armoured tank.’
‘He’s super-successful.’
Polly stared at a photograph of her father standing on a table at a Christmas party with a drink in one hand and a busty blonde from Accounts in the other. ‘Whose side are you on?’
‘Actually, Pol, I’m on the side of the person who pays my salary. Sorry if that makes me an employment slut, but that’s the way it has to be when you have dependants. Principles are all very well, but you can’t eat them and I have two cats to feed. Careful with those photographs.’ Debbie looked over Polly’s shoulder and gave a nostalgic sigh. ‘That was a good night. Mr Foster had one too many. He’s been nice to me ever since that party.’
‘He’s a lovely man but he’s not a very good accountant. He won’t last five minutes if Damon Doukakis decides to analyse what he does.’ Overwhelmed with the responsibility, Polly carefully slid the photographs into an envelope. ‘I’m sure the Doukakis financial department are killer-sharp, like the boss. They’re not going to be impressed when they see Mr Foster using a pen and a calculator. It will destroy him to lose his job.’
‘Maybe he won’t. You’ve been teaching him to use a spreadsheet.’
