AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Have it your way.” She turned around and grabbed her handbag up off the chair. “I had heard you described as an arrogant piece of work, but I had hoped I would find some human decency in you. That I might be able to appeal to your basic goodness, and enlist your help. I see now how foolish I was. Not everyone has a streak of goodness, and you most certainly do not, Mr. Aleksandros. In fact, if anyone asked, I’d say you’re pure evil.”
He watched, jaw practically scraping the floor of his office, as she strode angrily across the room. Her shoulders were set square; she was fuming.
Out of nowhere, he felt another flash of attraction. Red hot and impossible to misinterpret. He’d never been addressed so harshly, and certainly never by a woman. Usually, they were bending over themselves to win his favour. He wondered if she would be this fiery in all aspects of her life. If the flame of temper that coursed through her now would be ignited by more pleasurable activities.
He shook his head to clear the direction his wayward thoughts were heading in. His legs moved of their own accord, taking him in swift pursuit as she made her way to the door of his office. As her hand closed around the handle, he pressed his palm into the solid timber, keeping it closed.
Mikey spun within the small space created by his broad frame. Her breath hitched in her throat when she saw how close they were. Her anger was in danger of dissipating, if she weren’t careful, so she went on the attack again. “What is it, Mr. Aleksandros? You’re not the only one who’s busy, you know. I have a sweet little orphan waiting for a bedtime story.”
He swore again, but didn’t move away from her. Up close, she could smell his cologne, and it was mind-blowingly amazing, like cloves and polished timber. His hair was jet black, but for a few fine silver streaks at the temples. His eyes were flecked with a thousand starbursts of lead and ink, and his strong jaw line was covered in a coarse stubble that her fingers longed to reach up and feel.
“What exactly do you want from me, Mikey?”
Her pale eyes flew wide, as she wondered, briefly, if she’d spoken her thoughts aloud. Did he know that she was fantasizing about running her fingertips over his jaw, towards those angry, curved lips. She sighed wistfully, and tried to refocus her thoughts.
“I want you to care about Andrew!”
“He is my blood. Of course I care.”
She leaned back against the door, her energy slowly sapping away under the force of his inspection.
It had been a mistake. In leaning away from him, she’d created a void, and he moved another step forward. Their bodies were now so close that they were almost touching. The heat emanating from him was enough to make her swear they actually were in physical contact. She cleared her throat. It was imperative that she seem unaffected. She arched a brow in what she hoped was a sign of sophisticated disapproval. “When you were ignoring lessons on etiquette and manners, did you also choose to ignore the concept of personal space? Because you’re invading mine, right now, and I don’t like it.”
His small smile was layered with scepticism. “Don’t you?”
Stay calm, Mikey, she silently pleaded. “No. I’m not the kind of person who likes to be physically intimidated.” It was a lie. At least where this man was concerned. Her body was yearning to lean forwards, just to feel what it would be like, to cleave their frames together. His would be rock hard and muscled; hers, soft and curved. She gulped.
Oh, but how he wanted to touch her. Loucas had to push away from the door, simply to be sure he wouldn’t give in to what his body craved. The need to touch Mikey Jones was an actual force. One he simply could not obey.
“As you wish,” he said, with all the appearance of nonchalance as he shrugged his broad shoulders.
“I do wish.” She murmured, more to herself than him. And, if the lazy smile on his face was anything to go by, he knew it, too. Her voice was not quite steady when she spoke again. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time. I see now how foolish I was, to think I would find you capable of compassionate behavior. You clearly have a heart of stone, and I was an idiot to believe I could pierce it.”
This time, he let her wrench the door open, ignoring the inexplicable bubbling of panic inside his chest. When she slammed the door shut in her wake, he told himself he was glad to see the back of her.
CHAPTER TWO
Trauma affects everybody differently. Some children can experience loss and devastation and take it in their stride. Or, at least, appear to. But Andrew’s trauma had been uncommonly difficult to manage. When Chad Washington had driven their jaguar over the edge of the Californian coast, plunging it down a steep ravine, it had become a mangled mess. A thick tangle of tree branches had halted its spectacular fall, but only after it had banged and scraped against sharp, jagged rocks for several meters. The beautiful Helena had died instantly; Chad only moments later. And somehow, by a twist of fate, or a guardian angel up in heaven, Andrew Washington had survived.
He had survived, strapped in his sturdy booster seat, while his parents lay lifeless and bloodied before him. He had cried and howled, and his mother had not responded. He had cried and howled but his daddy’s body was broken and lifeless. He had cried and he had screamed and he had begged for help, but it took hours for the rescue workers to secure the vehicle and cut him loose. Hours in which he stared upon the broken bodies of his most loved souls.
Mikey believed that a huge part of Andrew had died with them. His developing soul and spirit had been crushed by that accident. And it was her job to slowly help him come back to life.
She watched from beneath shuttered eyes as he drew another little scribble, then launched the texta across the room.
His face was crumpled, his eyes squeezed shut.
Mikey was trained not to react, and she didn’t react now. Calmly, she bent down and picked up the discarded pen. She passed it back to Andrew with a completely accepting smile. “How about a tree, Andy? Would you like to draw a big, green tree for me?”
The little boy shook his head, his eyes angry and accusing. In fact, they reminded her of another pair of eyes. A pair of eyes she hadn’t been able to get out of her mind in the three days since returning from Athens. She pushed thoughts of Loucas Aleksandros from her mind with effort, and focused on her small charge. “You’re tired, huh?”
He looked up at her, and his face relaxed.
“Okay, Andrew. That’s enough for today. You’ve done well.” She looked down at the scribbles. His drawings perfectly reflected his anger and confusion. Every one was angry. Tight little circles, made with dark colors. Having pressed the textas too firmly into the paper, the ink felt tips had all been pushed back into the plastic cylinders of the pen. He was so tightly wound he might pop.
“I have an idea, Andrew. How would you like to go outside and kick the ball with me?”
He didn’t smile. He rarely did; but he nodded, and it seemed as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Mikey tousled his blonde hair and stood up. “Come on then, slow poke. We’ll do fifty kicks each. Then Nanny Paxton will get you ready for bed.”
