One Night with a Gorgeous Greek: Doukakis's Apprentice / Not Just the Greek's Wife / After the Greek Affair

‘If your father were here, he’d stop you going.’

She didn’t look at him. ‘No, he wouldn’t. I make my own decisions about what I do, and I’m going to Paris.’ Twisting herself out of his grip, she turned and carried on walking towards the underground station.

Never having encountered anyone quite as stubborn as Polly, Damon stood for a moment, his emotions veering between exasperation and concern. Clearly she wasn’t prepared to listen to reason so what was he supposed to do? Fling her over his shoulder?

Noticing two men staring hard at her legs, Damon decided that wasn’t a bad idea. In four strides he caught up with her. ‘Why is it so important that you get to Paris tomorrow? Are you sleeping with the client or something?’

A choked sound came from her throat and she stopped dead. ‘You really do have a high opinion of me, don’t you?’

Heat crawled up the back of his neck. ‘I know Gérard. Like most Frenchmen, he appreciates a beautiful woman. And you are arriving nine hours before your meeting.’

‘Which naturally means I’m leaving plenty of time for afternoon sex before we move from bedroom to boardroom, is that it?’ Ignoring the flow of people around them, she fixed those blue eyes on him. ‘Make up your mind. This morning you told me I looked like a flamingo and now you think I’ve turned into a femme fatale? Or does a bruised head suddenly make you feel all protective and macho or something?’

He wasn’t sure what he was feeling and Damon certainly didn’t need her to question behaviour that he was already questioning himself. ‘I’m just asking myself what makes this meeting so important that you’d discharge yourself from hospital against medical advice.’

‘Everybody’s jobs are under threat. He’s a new client and I work in the service industry!’ Hauling her bag more firmly onto her shoulder, she glared at a man who brushed past her. ‘And before you make another insensitive remark, not that sort of service industry.’ She turned away again but this time Damon shot out a hand and halted her escape.

‘You are intentionally misunderstanding everything I say to you.’

‘There is another interpretation for the phrase “you look like a flamingo”?’

‘I was commenting on the inappropriateness of your dress. I never said you weren’t beautiful.’ The words launched themselves from some unidentified part of his brain and his own shock mirrored the confusion he saw in her eyes. He released her immediately, disconcerted by the lethal sexual charge that seemed to power every contact, no matter how small. ‘Look—you can’t be on your own tonight and any minute now the press waiting in the hospital will realised you’ve legged it out of the back door. Get in the car before you’re mobbed for a second time.’

‘I don’t need a lift. And I have to go back to my house to get my things for the meeting tomorrow.’

‘I’m trying to help you.’

‘And I’m trying to tell you that I don’t need help. I handle things myself. I always have.’

‘Well, tonight I’m handling them.’ Damon held out his hand. ‘Give me your keys. Franco will drop us and then go on to your house to get whatever it is you need. You can make him a list in the car. I’ll decide if you’re well enough to go to Paris in the morning. Until then you’ll stay in the penthouse. If you’d done that the first time you wouldn’t be in this mess now.’

There was a stunned silence and then she gave a strangled laugh. ‘Do you always take control?’

‘When the situation demands it, yes.’

‘So you’re inviting me to stay at your place?’ Her eyes glinted a beautiful sapphire blue. ‘Aren’t you afraid I’ll throw a wild party? Sully the place with my wanton ways? You know me—I can’t resist any opportunity to indulge in men and alcohol.’

He ignored her reference to the incident at school. ‘Hopefully a bang on the head will quell your intrinsic desire to cause havoc. I’ll take the risk.’ Even as he said the words, part of him was wondering what the hell he was doing creating a situation where they’d be in close contact.

‘I appreciate the gesture, but I’m fine. I’m used to looking out for myself.’ She added that last observation in a gruff little voice that made him wonder exactly what role her father had played in her life.

Damon was about to probe further when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. ‘We have company. Let’s move.’

With that, Damon scooped her up and deposited her in the back seat of the limo, slamming the door shut just seconds before the press pack descended. ‘Drive.’

Polly had conflicting emotions as she stepped out of the car in the underground car park of the Doukakis Tower. Smarting at being literally dumped in the car, but relieved at having escaped the hungry press pack, she eyed the high security steel doors that had closed behind them. ‘The place is like a fortress.’

‘It can be a fortress when it needs to be.’ Without looking at her, Damon strode towards the elevator, his footsteps echoing on the concrete.

Polly followed more slowly, and not just because her whole body was starting to ache from her fall.

What was the matter with him now?

It was obvious that he was angry but she had no idea why.

Having locked her safely in the car, he’d proceeded to converse in Greek with his driver, leaving her to stare out of the tinted glass and stew in her own emotions.

‘Are you angry because I ruined your evening or because I don’t slavishly follow orders? Because I didn’t ask you to come to my rescue. I would have been fine.’

‘Which bit would have been fine, exactly?’ He strode into the elevator like a man on a mission and thumped his palm against the button. ‘The bit where you were knocked unconscious or the part where you discharged yourself from hospital against medical advice?’

‘I’m capable of making my own decisions.’

He looked unimpressed. ‘Anyone can make a decision. The skill is making the right one at the right time.’

‘That’s what I do.’

‘What you do, Miss Prince, is disagree with me on principle.’

‘That isn’t true.’

‘Isn’t it? You were about to be mobbed by journalists for a second time in one evening. Would you have got into the car if I hadn’t forced you?’

She shifted uncomfortably, suddenly realising just how much she’d inconvenienced him. ‘Yes, I would. If you’d given me time to think about it.’

‘We didn’t have time to debate options.’ His savage tone intensified her growing guilt.

‘I’m sorry! I loused up your evening and I feel bad about that. And I’m grateful to you for helping me out. I’m not just not—well, I’m not used to accepting help. It feels strange.’ Polly felt as small as a field mouse. Not only had he come to her rescue, he’d abandoned a hot date to come to the hospital and all she’d done was give him grief.

When had anyone ever come to her rescue before?

When had anyone given her any help?

A strange, unfamiliar feeling spread through her and she wondered whether the bang on the head had been worse than she’d thought. Suddenly she was relieved he’d forced her into the car. It felt as though a heavy metal rock group was rehearsing inside her skull and she was wondering whether discharging herself had been such a clever idea. Was it normal to feel this bad?

But she had to get to Paris, didn’t she? Winning the High Kick Hosiery account was crucial to the business. And they couldn’t afford to lose that business.

‘P?’ Polly focused her gritty, tired eyes on the glowing panel as the lift moved upwards. ‘P for prison? P for punishment?’

‘Penthouse.’

‘Of course. Penthouse. You live above the shop.’ Looking at him, she saw how tightly he held onto control and wondered what it took to make him snap. ‘I really am sorry I ruined your evening.’ Gingerly, she touched her fingers to her head. ‘I didn’t realise they’d be that eager for a story. How did you find out?’

‘My head of security rang me. He was close enough to see it happen, but not close enough to stop it. Why didn’t you stay at the hospital?’

‘I can’t stay in hospital. I have a very unsympathetic boss. He told me to take my lazy, useless self and do a proper day’s work.’

‘So I’m to blame for your decisions?’