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“Because I’m going to make sure of it. Thanks for the tip off, Tommy.”
“No worries—,”
Anastasios had already disconnected the call.
When Phoebe arrived for her shift, he was the first person she saw, occupying the same table as last time, his eyes fixed on the room, brooding, mysterious. Delicious.
She shuddered, but not with fear so much as need. It tore through her instantly, flooding every cell in her body, so she had to force her feet to stay planted to the ground, rather than allowing them to propel her forwards, towards him, into his arms, his lap.
She sucked in a sharp breath and turned, looking desperately for her manager. He was in the bar.
“Edward, any chance someone can cover my shift?”
He let out a laugh. “You’re kidding, right? Fiona’s kid’s sick—again—so she’s out, Raul is getting his teeth looked at,” Edward winced, “And Clare’s in Barcelona, remember? Why? What’s going on?”
“I—nothing. It doesn’t matter.” This job paid above the minimum and the tips were excellent. God knows she needed the money. “Forget I said anything.”
“Atta girl. Table two needs their order taken.”
Table two just happened to be right beside Anastasios. Steeling herself for the inevitable interaction, she grabbed a notepad and pen from next to the cash register and moved with cold determination through the packed restaurant. As she neared his table, his eyes flicked to her and the second they collided with hers, energy sparked between them and her steps faltered.
She forced herself to look away, staring at table two instead.
“Hi,” she smiled overbrightly, trying to tune out the beautiful man who was still watching her intently, trying not to remember how good it had felt when he’d touched her, kissed her, taken her nipple in his mouth... “Are you ready to order?”
She wrote down everything the four diners said, word for word, offered another smile, took the menus, then moved away, but after only two steps, he beckoned her.
“Waitress?”
She ground her teeth.
“My name is Phoebe,” she hissed, when she’d drawn level with him. A hint of his masculine fragrance assailed her and her knees knocked together. “As you’re well aware. What do you want?” It was too late for civility. Her insides were squirming painfully at the sight of him, as so many things came rushing back to her. That he’d given her money after what had happened between them! That he no doubt still believed she was capable of sleeping with his father! The very idea made her skin crawl.
“To speak with you.”
A shiver ran the length of her spine. “I’m working.”
“Until when?”
She gripped the notepad more tightly. “I don’t know. It’s busy. And besides that, I have nothing I want to speak to you about.”
“That’s not the way I see it.”
“Yeah, well, you must be looking at something completely different to me then.” She paused, gathering her senses. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to—,”
He reached out, curling his fingers around her wrist, so a thousand arrows of need shattered her equilibrium.
“Someone’s been speaking to the tabloids about you and my father. The story’s going to run.”
She stared at him in a state of total disorientation. Nothing about what he’d just said made any kind of sense. “There is no story,” she denied hotly. “I’ve told you a thousand times, we were just friends.”
Anger sparked in the depths of his eyes but he didn’t argue with her. “I’ve managed to get them to hold off on running it—for now. But they’re going to contact you for a quote. It won’t be long.”
She stared at him, all the colour and warmth draining from her face. “I can’t believe it. How—why—it’s not true.”
His skepticism was clear. “How? Someone called a paparazzi photographer. Why? Money, Phoebe. As you well know, it’s a powerful motivator. In fact, I hear you might even be interested in supplementing the story, for the right price.”
It was all too much. She saw red, a haze of mist in front of her eyes, and then, she felt nausea rising inside of her like a tidal wave, so she gripped the empty seat across from him until her fingers hurt. “I—,” Indignant anger fired her but so too did grief and confusion and hurt. “This is unbelievable. It’s not true.”
