recuperating from flu? Had Manolis decided to soften him up before the negotiations began, using his niece as bait? It was the sort of underhand ploy he’d expect from a man like him.
If so, Manolis had miscalculated badly. While she didn’t mind slumming it with a stranger for hot sex, obviously her aristocratic pride revolted at having to socialise publicly with a man with working-class roots.
Anger seethed beneath Damon’s skin.
Had she bartered her favours to help her uncle, just as she’d bartered her body for a rich husband?
Disgust was a pungent bitterness on Damon’s tongue.
Manolis was desperate. Soon Damon would take over the Manolis family company, lock, stock and barrel. The notion warmed the part of his soul that, despite his enormous success, could never quite let go of the past.
There would be satisfaction in crushing Aristides’ pretensions and obliterating him commercially.
He was minded to leave and delegate the negotiations to his lawyers.
Only curiosity had prompted him to come. He remembered the awe with which his parents had spoken of the Manolis family that employed his father and grandfather. The company that had finally destroyed them.
Times had changed and the mighty had fallen. Now Damon was the powerful one, the man whose word could make or break this family.
Nothing he’d seen tonight made him feel anything but contempt for his hosts.
And yet…he looked at Callista, felt the slide of her cool gaze glance off his face as she turned to her cousin. Her lips tilted in a half-smile that made his stomach tighten and his breath catch.
Whatever her motives, she’d used him, played him for a fool.
His male pride demanded satisfaction. Damon Savakis was used to calling the shots, not being manipulated.
Yet even now his body hungered for hers with a raw, aching need. This wasn’t over. It couldn’t be over while he still felt this tide of desire.
He decided in that moment to accept Manolis’ offer of hospitality and stay on. Not because the commercial negotiations demanded his presence.
It was business of a much more personal nature he intended to pursue.
CHAPTER THREE
‘WHAT do you mean my trust fund is frozen? It can’t be.’ Only by a supreme effort did Callie keep her voice steady as she stared at her uncle across his over-sized desk. ‘I inherit the day I reach twenty-five. That’s today.’
He didn’t meet her eyes.
That was a bad sign. Usually Aristides Manolis bullied his way out of answering awkward questions. The fact that he didn’t attempt it this time set alarm bells ringing. Plus he’d gone to such lengths to avoid a private conversation all week. Finally he’d summoned her to his study after they’d farewelled Damon Savakis.
She shivered despite the sultry air wafting through the open windows.
Damon Savakis was someone she didn’t want to think about.
Her nerves were raw from an evening of stilted conversation with the man who’d alternately treated her with polite condescension and devoured her with his gaze. The man she’d actually trusted for a few short hours.
‘On your birthday, that was the plan,’ her uncle said, shifting a silver letter opener. ‘But circumstances have changed.’
Callie waited, every instinct alert. But he refused to continue.
‘No, Uncle. Not a plan. It’s the law.’ She took a calming breath. ‘My parents set up the trust when I was a baby. Today I inherit the estate they left me.’
She had precious little left of her parents. Memories and a well-worn photo album. When she’d come to live with her Greek relatives, a grief-stricken fourteen-year-old from the other side of the world, her uncle had brusquely informed her that her parents’ home would be sold with its contents. It was an unnecessary luxury, he’d declared, storing furniture. Better to plough the proceeds into the fund she’d inherit.
Callie had arrived with only a suitcase and her new lime-green backpack. The one her
If so, Manolis had miscalculated badly. While she didn’t mind slumming it with a stranger for hot sex, obviously her aristocratic pride revolted at having to socialise publicly with a man with working-class roots.
Anger seethed beneath Damon’s skin.
Had she bartered her favours to help her uncle, just as she’d bartered her body for a rich husband?
Disgust was a pungent bitterness on Damon’s tongue.
Manolis was desperate. Soon Damon would take over the Manolis family company, lock, stock and barrel. The notion warmed the part of his soul that, despite his enormous success, could never quite let go of the past.
There would be satisfaction in crushing Aristides’ pretensions and obliterating him commercially.
He was minded to leave and delegate the negotiations to his lawyers.
Only curiosity had prompted him to come. He remembered the awe with which his parents had spoken of the Manolis family that employed his father and grandfather. The company that had finally destroyed them.
Times had changed and the mighty had fallen. Now Damon was the powerful one, the man whose word could make or break this family.
Nothing he’d seen tonight made him feel anything but contempt for his hosts.
And yet…he looked at Callista, felt the slide of her cool gaze glance off his face as she turned to her cousin. Her lips tilted in a half-smile that made his stomach tighten and his breath catch.
Whatever her motives, she’d used him, played him for a fool.
His male pride demanded satisfaction. Damon Savakis was used to calling the shots, not being manipulated.
Yet even now his body hungered for hers with a raw, aching need. This wasn’t over. It couldn’t be over while he still felt this tide of desire.
He decided in that moment to accept Manolis’ offer of hospitality and stay on. Not because the commercial negotiations demanded his presence.
It was business of a much more personal nature he intended to pursue.
CHAPTER THREE
‘WHAT do you mean my trust fund is frozen? It can’t be.’ Only by a supreme effort did Callie keep her voice steady as she stared at her uncle across his over-sized desk. ‘I inherit the day I reach twenty-five. That’s today.’
He didn’t meet her eyes.
That was a bad sign. Usually Aristides Manolis bullied his way out of answering awkward questions. The fact that he didn’t attempt it this time set alarm bells ringing. Plus he’d gone to such lengths to avoid a private conversation all week. Finally he’d summoned her to his study after they’d farewelled Damon Savakis.
She shivered despite the sultry air wafting through the open windows.
Damon Savakis was someone she didn’t want to think about.
Her nerves were raw from an evening of stilted conversation with the man who’d alternately treated her with polite condescension and devoured her with his gaze. The man she’d actually trusted for a few short hours.
‘On your birthday, that was the plan,’ her uncle said, shifting a silver letter opener. ‘But circumstances have changed.’
Callie waited, every instinct alert. But he refused to continue.
‘No, Uncle. Not a plan. It’s the law.’ She took a calming breath. ‘My parents set up the trust when I was a baby. Today I inherit the estate they left me.’
She had precious little left of her parents. Memories and a well-worn photo album. When she’d come to live with her Greek relatives, a grief-stricken fourteen-year-old from the other side of the world, her uncle had brusquely informed her that her parents’ home would be sold with its contents. It was an unnecessary luxury, he’d declared, storing furniture. Better to plough the proceeds into the fund she’d inherit.
Callie had arrived with only a suitcase and her new lime-green backpack. The one her
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