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Those lustrous amber eyes shimmered below his thick sooty lashes, the leashed power of his strong personality and masculine virility creating an aggressive aura. Another punch of awareness slid through her. It was like poking a tiger through the bars of a cage and shockingly exciting, a welcome respite from the hard little knot of humiliation he had inflicted.
‘One weekend in return for my silence and the twenty grand you stole … cheap at the price,’ Cristo quipped cool as ice.
Erin wanted to thump him for that crack and restraining that natural urge made her slender hands clench into fists where she had placed them on her lap, out of view of his shrewd notice. The only way to play it with Cristo was cool. If she lost her temper she was lost and he would walk all over her.
‘Stop playing the ice goddess. That may be a turn on for Morton but it doesn’t rev my engine at all,’ Cristo informed her drily. ‘One weekend—that’s the deal on the table—’
‘Was this whole thing a set-up? Have you no intention of buying Sam out?’ Erin pressed shakily.
‘That is a question for me and my acquisitions team to decide. If it’s a good investment your presence on the staff will not deter me, although obviously I’d be bringing back the forensic accounting team to run a check on your activities.’
Her chin came up. ‘They’ll find nothing because I have done nothing dishonest. Neither at Sam’s company nor at yours. Furthermore I will not accept blackmail.’
‘I think you’ll end up eating those words,’ Cristo forecast gently, spearing a chunk of succulent steak, primal male to the bone in his unspoilt appetite.
‘You have to show me the evidence you say you have before I can make any kind of a decision.’
‘After we’ve eaten. It’s in my suite,’ he responded equably.
His easy acquiescence on that score shook Erin. Clearly he was confident about the proof he had of her deceit. But, dismayed though she was by that suspicion, she brought her chin up, amethyst eyes glinting with challenge. ‘We’ll see.’
And she ate even though she wasn’t hungry, for to push her food round her plate and leave it virtually untouched would only highlight the reality that she was sick with nerves.
‘I have to go home for a week,’ Cristo told her smoothly. ‘My foster father’s company is in trouble and he needs my advice. You must be aware of the state of the Greek economy.’
Erin nodded grudgingly. ‘Aren’t you suffering from the same effects?’
‘My businesses are primarily here and in North America. I saw the way things were going a couple of years back but Vasos is stubborn. He dislikes change and he wouldn’t listen to me when I tried to warn him.’
‘And you are telling me this … because?’
‘To help you to pen that weekend slot into your no doubt busy social calendar.’
Her teeth gritted behind her closed lips, her aggrieved sense of outrage building higher. He was so confident of winning that it was an affront. For a split second she was tempted to tell him that two young children took a heavy toll on what free time she had, but common sense kept her quiet, not to mention pride. She did not want him to know that a night out for her these days would most likely encompass a trip to the cinema or a modest meal with friends.
‘So what is the state of play with Morton?’ Cristo enquired quietly.
As Cristo was rarely quiet, she glanced up suspiciously. ‘My relationship with Sam is none of your business.’
‘I’m divorced,’ he murmured flatly.
Erin shrugged a slim shoulder as if the information meant nothing to her. ‘I read about it in the papers. Your marriage didn’t last very long.’
He frowned, black brows drawing together. ‘Long enough.’
And as his darkly handsome features shadowed and hardened Erin made a discovery that stung her. His broken marriage was still a source of discomfort to him. She sensed his regret and his reserve and the latter was nothing new. Cristo had always played his cards close to his chest, keeping his feelings under cover, and he had played it that way right to the end of their affair when he had told her it had run its course without drama or remorse. The recollection stiffened her backbone because she had been so shocked and unprepared for that development. This time around, she knew who and what she was dealing with: if he wanted a fight, one way or another, she would give him one!
They travelled up in the lift in a tense silence. She could not credit the situation she found herself in. Was she to be the equivalent of a rebound aff
air in the wake of his divorce? It occurred to her that a sleazy one-off weekend scarcely qualified for that lofty description and mortified pink highlighted her cheeks. Cristo studied her, picturing her silver gilt hair loose, a party dress to replace the business suit, high heels to show off those shapely legs. His body quickened to the image and was swiftly encouraged by far more X-rated images from the past. When he had her in his bed again, she would disappoint him, of course she would. It would not be as good as he remembered, he told himself urgently. That was the whole point of the game, that and, of course, a well-deserved dose of retribution. She had changed though. Those amethyst eyes no longer telegraphed every reaction making her easily read and she was more controlled than he recalled. Once she saw that he had definitive evidence of her thefts, she would surely study to please …
Erin had not quite bargained on the silent isolation of a hotel suite and she hovered in the centre of the reception room, having refused a drink. She watched him stride into the bedroom to retrieve whatever he was after, that long, lean, powerful body that had once haunted her dreams and ensured that other men could not compare so graceful in movement that she compressed her lips into a tight line, infuriated by the fact that she had noticed. But Cristo was a very noticeable guy. Every female head turned when he walked by and their attention lingered. But, Elaine had been right about him, he was a predator to the backbone and she was now simply a target with an X marked on her back. She wondered what his wife had done to him. Did Cristo have a score to settle against the female sex? And why, after almost three years had passed, was she on the menu again?
Cristo extended a file. ‘Go ahead and take a look.’
Once again his self-assurance ignited her anxiety level. She took the file over to a sofa and sat down, determined not to be hurried or harassed. There were copies of many documents she had signed off while she worked for him, payments to suppliers and therapists, invoices attached to other copies that differed to show altered figures on the base lines. Her heart sank like lead in her chest and she felt as though someone were sitting on her lungs. It was very comprehensive stuff and shatteringly straightforward in its presentation.
Her knees developed an irritating tremor below the file on her lap but she still fought for a clear head. ‘And according to your investigation these particular therapists didn’t exist?’
