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The last little shred of her patience evaporated in a puff of angry smoke. “And how dare you say that you are?” She challenged, marching haughtily across the office and standing right before him. If she hadn’t been so cross, she might have realized that she was only inches away from him. That she actually stood within the triangle formed by his legs.
He looked up at her, his emotions at war. Outrage and fury battled with a strange sense of physical attraction. Strange, because he didn’t find her at all attractive. Sure, she had her good points, but she wasn’t the kind he usually went for. And yet this curvaceous pocket rocket had inspired in him a strong and undesirable burst of desire. He forced himself to ignore it, and instead, focus on the insults she was determinedly hurling at him.
“He is my sister’s child. My dead sister’s child.” His voice was hollow, his words rich with his pain. “Of course I am interested in him. Of course I care for him.”
Mikey was not impressed. She threw her hands in the air in exasperation. “Caring is as caring does.”
“Meaning?”
She slapped her palm to her forehead. “For someone who’s reputed to be so smart, you sure are slow on the uptake.” At his continued silence, she expanded, “I mean that you’re nowhere to be seen. I’ve been on Nisi Ourano for a month now and I haven’t so much as set eyes on you.”
Loucas might have made a flirtatious observation here, about her wanting to see him, except that she was actually shaking with anger. The effect he usually exerted over women was noticeably absent with Mikey Jones.
With a seemingly casual pose, he enquired silkily, “And this is a problem?”
“Andrew has lost everyone and everything he cares for. You are the only family he has left. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“I am a busy man, Arnaki. As much as I would like to play nursemaid to my nephew, I cannot. That is what I have employed you for.”
Mikey had never hit another person in her life, but her fingers tingled to slap him now. She clutched her hands together, simply to prevent herself from striking. “Yes, yes,” her voice was clearly scathing. “You’ve got your four men of the emotional apocalypse.”
Despite himself, and the tension emanating from Mikey, he felt a hint of amusement. He had brought four specialists to Greece to assist the boy in his recovery. It was an amusing description for the team of experts.
Mikey was still talking. “…But that’s not the same thing. You have your sister’s eyes. Just like your nephew does. He should be able to look into them from time to time.”
He swore now, bitterly, as he dragged himself up to standing. He braced himself against the table. “What do you know of Helena’s eyes?”
Mikey jumped at the bitterness in his voice. She’d said something terribly, terribly wrong. All of the anger fizzled out, and in its place, remorse and compassion lingered. “Only what I’ve seen in photographs.”
“Photographs? There are no pictures of Helena at Nisi Ourano.” He’d made sure of that. When she’d gone against his wishes and married The American, Chad Washington, Loucas had expunged her from his life. Being named legal guardian of the boy was as shocking to Loucas as his sister’s death had been.
“No, I noticed.” She took a step backwards, faltering a little. “In any event, Andrew is a scared little boy who’s been through an unimaginable trauma. He needs to connect with someone.”
“So let him connect with you.”
Loucas’s voice was implacable, his face frozen like a stone. Mikey slowly scanned his handsome features, wondering at what had happened to this man to make him so cold and heartless.
“I am not heartless, Ms Jones.” He commented with a harsh shake of his head. She hadn’t realized she’d spoken her thoughts out loud. Embarrassed color flushed her face. “Nor do I appreciate being spoken to so frankly by someone who doesn’t even know me.”
Now it was Mikey’s turn to feel angry. “I know plenty about you,” she snapped. “Like the fact that you have a nephew on the brink of a complete emotional breakdown and you don’t care enough to spend even a moment of your time with him.”
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sp; When Loucas expelled a long breath, his nostrils flared, and he looked truly terrifying. Unknowingly, Mikey took a step backwards, lodging her hip against the hard edge of the large desk in the process.
“I don’t want to see him,” he ground out, a muscle flexing in his jaw.
“Why not?” She pushed, though she knew she was skating on very thin ice. “What can a four year old have possibly done to inspire this level of resentment in you?”
Loucas dropped his gaze. “It’s none of your damned business, lady. I am paying you to help Andrew learn to speak again. That is it. I do not need someone like you to psychoanalyse me.”
How wrong he was, she thought with a small, inward smile. He needed psychoanalysis like nobody’s business. How could anyone be so cruel to a small child? Especially a small child like Andrew – all sweetness vulnerability, sadness, and downy cheeks? Who had suffered such a terrible tragedy? Mikey knew that she had already become far too in love with Andrew, but it had been out of her hands. He was so sweetly pathetic, and so emotionally needy, that the writing had been on the proverbial wall from the moment she’d first met him.
“Didn’t anyone ever teach you about manners?” She fixed him with a withering, disapproving glare.
The subtle reproach caught him off guard. His mother Anna had been a stickler for manners and respect. And it was true, Loucas had become rather slack at employing his training in that department.
Still, the last thing he needed was for this woman to be taking up his valuable time with criticisms. “Again, that is none of your business.”
