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It was the mission goal that counted and his mission goal was to help as many people affected by human trafficking as possible, in particular women. And if being thought of as a dissolute playboy was the only way he could help those women, then that’s what he’d do. Without a second’s thought.
However, what he didn’t want was for innocents like Glory Albright to start wandering into his parties thinking they could get money or kudos or whatever the rumours the gossip magazines were printing from him.
If anyone found out what he was really doing at his parties, then there was the potential for his cover to be blown, and the network of contacts and information he’d so painstakingly built would be destroyed.
Which couldn’t happen and especially not when he was on the verge of gaining access to the biggest trafficking ring in Europe.
He needed to decide what to do with her that wouldn’t involve her talking to anyone else, or coming back here with yet more ludicrous offers.
Do you have to do anything with her? She’s not going to say anything. You could just let her go.
He could. But if anything the last ten years of associating with the scum of humanity had taught him it was that you couldn’t trust anyone. People lied all the time, which meant you had to be careful. So very careful.
He had to find out if she’d run into anyone else tonight, or whether she’d heard anything she shouldn’t, because he didn’t necessarily want her running to the media with lurid tales of human traffickers and criminals.
Not that she’d be believed, he suspected. She was just a checkout girl at a grocery store with a sick sister. No one notable or special. A nobody.
A nobody in a cheap, stretchy red dress who happened to have, now that he was looking, a knockout figure. Generous breasts and hips, and a small waist. A classic pin-up.
Her hair had been covered by the cloak and when she’d flung it off, glossy, chestnut curls had fallen out of the bun it had been pinned in, some falling behind her ear and some haphazardly down to her shoulder.
It should have looked untidy but it didn’t. It looked sexy, as if she’d been pulled into an alcove and ravished within an inch of her life.
From out of nowhere came the absurd impulse to go over to her and start pulling the pins out of her bun so he could watch all those luscious curls fall down over her shoulders. Then maybe bury his fingers in it just to see what it would feel like.
But he wouldn’t, of course. Getting excited about an ordinary young woman who’d been reading too many gossip magazines? What a ridiculous thought for a man of his jaded tastes.
He’d seen everything, done everything. Nothing surprised him these days, nothing delighted him. Because after all, you couldn’t live as long as he had in filth before some of it touched you, no matter how careful you were.
She was giving him a deeply suspicious look, as if she knew exactly what was going on in his head, in which case no wonder. He deserved her suspicion.
You scared her quite a lot.
Perhaps more than necessary. Clearly he’d let his frustration at the lack of progress with this particular trafficking ring and his anger at Dimitri get the better of him.
Another reason—as if he needed another—for him to figure out an alternative plan. Normally keeping a tight leash on his emotions wasn’t a problem, but if he was letting fools like Dimitri get to him, then he needed to do something.
‘I’d like to offer you some refreshments,’ he said more gently this time. ‘By way of an apology for scaring you.’
Her dark, liquid gaze was wary. ‘You didn’t scare me,’ she said.
A lie. Her fear had been obvious. Which meant that perhaps it was time to give her the charming playboy rather than the wolf’s sharp teeth. After all, it wasn’t her fault she didn’t know what these parties were really all about.
Deliberately, he relaxed his posture, let the tension bleed out of him. Put on the mask he’d cultivated over the years, the easy smile and the warm expression that didn’t come naturally to him, but that he’d been faking for so long it was now part of him.
‘I suppose that’s why you keep looking at me like I’m going to murder you at any second, hmm?’ He let amusement colour his voice.
She frowned, clearly not finding his sudden change in mood convincing. ‘You might,’ she said slowly. ‘I’ve heard a lot of things about you.’
She had a point. Still, he hadn’t thought his reputation was quitethatbad if people thought him capable of murdering innocent gatecrashers.
Didn’t you though? All those years ago? Wasn’t it essentially murder?
Deep inside, an old agony stirred and along with it an old fury. But with the ease of long practice, he ignored both emotions, keeping his smile firmly in place.
‘It’s true, I’m not at all trustworthy,’ he said easily. ‘But since I’m Greek and we would rather die than let a guest under our roof suffer even the most minor of discomforts, you can trust in my sense of national pride at least.’
She eyed him warily for a long moment, a deep crease between her brows. ‘Okay,’ she said at last. ‘I suppose I can do that.’
