Maisey Yates - Greek Mavericks - At The Greek's Pleasure

Still, she couldn’t help herself. Still, she could feel nothing as Nikos pulled her into his arms and swept her onto the dance floor. Still, she felt more when she looked across the crowded room and locked eyes with Apollo, who was glaring at her and her dance partner with dark rage.

Fine. He was welcome to be murderous. She didn’t particularly care. They were here separately. He was dancing with another woman, and she would be damned if she would play the part of wallflower.

She shifted her hands lightly on her partner’s shoulder, tightening her grip on his hand.

“I think Savas wants to kill me,” Nikos said, his tone tinged with amusement.

“Oh, I don’t suppose he wants to kill you,” she said, her tone dry. “Anyway, he and I are associates, as I said before. And neither of us believes in mixing business with pleasure.”

“Excellent. Then I shall never do business with you.”

She laughed. “Well, that would be a shame. Since you are in retail, I would very much like to do business with you.”

“Perhaps it is crass of me to discuss this during a dance,” he said, “but tell me more.”

They spent the next two songs largely ignoring the music and discussing the various ways in which they could marry their two brands. She decided that she liked Nikos quite a bit even if he did not make her heart beat faster.

She only wished that he could.

He was Greek, he was wealthy, he had a hint of a gorgeous accent. Truly, if she had a type, this was it. If any other man was going to start a fire in her loins quite the way that Apollo did, this man would. But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was an extreme disappointment.

Still, though she had not found a way to encourage desire toward another man, she had come away with a very promising business contact. They parted at the end of the song, and he did not try to make any sort of romantic overture. He must’ve sensed the lack of chemistry as profoundly as she did.

She was making her way toward a waiter to get herself a drink when she was all but accosted by Apollo. “Having fun?”

“It’s a charming party,” she said.

“Yes. I told you already that you would be with me and me alone while we work out the attraction between us, did I not?”

“I’m sorry, I was not aware that a waltz was on par with intercourse.”

“You are playing with fire,” he said.

“Then you are, too. Don’t think I didn’t notice your lovely blonde partner.”

“It is expected of me.”

“And you want my face in the paper. Therefore, I had better do something newsworthy. You put me in this dress that leaves me essentially naked, and now you’re going to act as though my getting attention is not somehow essential to your plan?”

“All you have to do is simply walk into a room to gain attention, agape. Trust me on this.”

“I find your assessment flattering, if slightly ambitious.”

“I don’t care whether or not you find it ambitious. It is the truth.” He looked around them. “Even if you have not noticed, I have. Every male eye—and many of the female eyes—have been on you from the moment you walked in. You are absolutely the one to watch here.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. And when you make a large charitable donation in the name of the company, you will become even more of a conversation piece.”

Her mouth opened, then snapped shut. “I did not know you were going to make use of my money.”

“Of course I am. Anyway, it is a good cause, on that you can trust me. As I said, I provide housing and other necessities for families who have fallen below the poverty line. Surely you can find no fault with that.”

“I suppose not.”

“You sound so distressed. It must be terrible when I don’t rise to the part of blackguard when it suits you.”

“Sincerely awful. I can see why you prefer to pretend you’re terrible. For consistency.”

“I am nothing if not consistent.”

She laughed. “If only that were true.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. You are not consistent, I don’t care how you frame it, I don’t care what you say. You were a friend of my family, and then you betrayed us. There is nothing consistent about that.”

His expression turned dark, fierce. He leaned in and her breath caught in her throat. She thought, for a moment, that he might kiss her. She hoped that he would. He did not. “From the moment I understood there was better than the circumstances I existed in I was determined to find better. When I went to a private school, knowing full well that I didn’t belong there, I was determined to rise to the top of the class so that no one could question whether or not I had the ability to succeed in the realms of society into which I had been thrust. I have done nothing but hold myself up from the bottom with my brute strength from the moment I understood it could be done. If that’s not consistency, I don’t know what is.”

“Yes, I know you pulled yourself up quite a bit. But it’s quite convenient to forget that my father’s money provided a ladder to help you out.” She turned away from him and he grabbed hold of her arm, holding on tightly to her and pulling her back to him.

“I was willing to advance myself using any means necessary. Again, I claim consistency.” He released his hold on her, straightening the cuffs on his shirt. “Go off and have fun. We will meet again at the end of the night. Do not forget to make your donation.”

“Of course not.”

“I imagine Luka would like to dance, as well.”

“Are you off to find him?” she asked.

“No, but I suggest you should.”

“Now you’re encouraging me to dance with other men? There’s that legendary consistency.”

“No, I believe you’re right. You should do what you can to get your photograph in the news. And I shall do what I have to to get attention of my own. I will see you at the end of the evening.”

CHAPTER SIX

BY THE TIME the car pulled back up to Apollo’s house later that evening he was in a violent temper. Elle had done exactly as he had demanded and had danced with every businessman within fifteen years of her age. And she had charmed every single one of them. She had no doubt delighted the media.

She had done exactly as he’d asked, and he was incensed. Spending the evening not touching her had been akin to torture. But he was ready to move ahead with their agreement. He was ready to claim her. To remind her exactly why she was here, and who she was with.

They had not spoken in the car on the way back to his villa. She was vibrating with indignation next to him, but he didn’t care.

When they got out of the car and walked into the house he turned to her. “I want you to go to your room and open up the top drawer of the bureau there. You will find some other items that my staff has procured for you. Make yourself ready for me.”

He stormed off to his office then, pouring himself a glass of scotch and downing it in one desperate gulp, relishing the burn as it slid down his throat.

He paced the length of the room, trying to figure out exactly what happened to make him so agitated.

Jealousy.

He could not remember the last time he had ever felt jealous. If he ever had.

He closed his eyes, allowing an old memory to wash over him. Hell, the bikini. Yes, he had been jealous then in a strange way. Of the fact that she was young, with her entire life ahead of her. Of the fact that men had not yet discovered her, and he would not be a part of that discovery. He would have given everything to have been the first man to touch her. To have been the one to awaken her sensuality. Her every sigh, her every moan.

To have been the one who gave her that first climax.