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And so he’d succumbed to temptation and was now suffering from a peculiar inability to excise the memory. A problem, it seemed, she wasn’t having.
But even while he’d been satisfied that their agreement remained in place and was unlikely to suffer further misguided bouts of temptation, a part of him remained vexed that he couldn’t seem to move on from it. The taste of her lingered in his mouth. The soft, silky texture of her skin made the tips of his fingers vibrate whenever she was in his vicinity.
The way she’d gasped his name as he’d pinned her against his sofa echoed in his head when he least expected it.
Christos knew the confounding inability to forget those brief minutes had contributed to his disgruntlement lately. But he refused to accept it was the reason he’d lost this case.
No, part of that blame lay with his grandfather and the increasingly unreasonable demands the old man had been making for the better part of two years.
‘To be on the safe side, I’ve called my wife and told her not to expect me home before midnight tonight.’
Willis’s words broke through Christos’s thoughts, bringing him back to the present.
‘Oh, come on, this is ridiculous. The nuclear winter can start tomorrow. I have drinks scheduled with a hot second-year associate at that new bar across the street. It took my secretary six tries just to get a reservation. I’m not cancelling.’
Willis exhaled despondently. ‘I’d probably do the same thing in your situation.’
Enough.
Christos yanked open the doors and entered the adjacent conference room. He watched with dispassionate eyes as the associates caught sight of him and turned varying shades of the rainbow.
‘Willis, send your wife my apologies along with a large bouquet of her favourite flowers charged to the business expense account, because she won’t be seeing you for the next week.’ He turned to the other man, who was now visibly quailing. ‘Smith, I’ll let you make your apologies to your date at your own expense. You, too, will not be seeing daylight for the next week. Any active files you’re working on I’ll have reassigned to your colleagues. But between the two of you, I expect a preliminary report on my desk by morning as to how this case was seemingly airtight forty-eight hours ago but still ended up blowing up in our faces. I want to know how an illegitimate child was missed right under our very noses. Understood?’ he asked in a deceptively calm voice.
Swift nods came his way. ‘Of course, sir,’ Smith replied.
‘We’ll get right on it, Mr Drakakis,’ Willis added straightening his tie and his spine.
Christos turned to exit the room.
‘Sir?’
He paused at Smith’s nervous prompting, eyebrows raised.
‘Umm...about what we were saying—’
‘You were right. I don’t like to lose. And yes, heads will roll this time too. You have one opportunity to make sure it’s not yours. Use it wisely. And in the future I suggest you check you’re alone before indulging in schoolyard gossip.’
Christos ignored the buzzing phone in his pocket as he left, silently cursing himself for not containing his roiling reaction to the verdict until he was back in his office. The apprehensive whispering and furtive looks that came his way from his employees as he prowled down the hallway he could withstand. Even on his best day the ruthless determination with which he attacked his punishing caseload gave the most hardened subordinate meaningful pause before they attempted to engage him.
With the news of his loss, no one would dare offer him even a benign greeting. For all intents and purposes, Christos Drakakis was an island—much like the one his grandfather was dangling frustratingly out of his reach—and not the most welcoming one at that. He didn’t regret that reputation. After all, it had seen him rise through the ranks of marital law to make partner by twenty-six, and, shortly thereafter, paved the way for him to establish one of the most successful law firms in the world.
The notion that he’d been off his game because he’d come within a whisker of bedding his assistant—an incident that should’ve remained in his rear-view mirror—stuck in his craw like the sharpest tack.
The doors to the lift parted.
At the last moment, he bypassed the button to his office and stabbed the one for his penthouse. Only then did he reach for his phone. But it wasn’t to answer the frantic messages from his client. That would come later, when he had a definitive answer as to what had gone wrong.
Instead, he sent a short, sharp message to his executive assistant, the woman who was taking up far too much real estate in his mind.
Alexis Sutton’s response was equally brief. And as expected, she turned up at his penthouse door five minutes later.
‘A shot of espresso or two fingers of Macallan?’ She held up the choice of offerings when he opened to her knock.
Christos pulled his fisted hands from his pockets, strolling forward until he was a couple of feet from Alexis. ‘If I want a drink, I’ll make it myself. Did you bring the list I wanted?’ he demanded. The growl in his voice was unmistakable, but the woman before him barely blinked.
Christos knew he wasn’t an easy man to work for. Alexis’s ability to remain unflustered was why she’d lasted this long as his assistant. It was why he’d made that proposition to her a year ago when his grandfather’s subtle hints had grown into real threats.
‘I won’t be around forever, Christos.’
