Chapter SIX
TEN VIP GUESTS.
Miami Fashion Week.
What could go wrong? It turned out to be plenty as Perla doused yet another metaphorical fire four days later, this time in the form of a wardrobe malfunction for one of the guests—a social media mogul’s wife, minutes before she was due to head down to the Pantelides V3 Hotel & Casino.
She curbed the urge to blurt out that she was an events organiser not a stylist and placed a phone call to summon the harried stylist. Twenty minutes later, after the crisis had been averted, the young blonde cast a grateful glance at Perla as they rode the lift down to the lobby.
‘I should’ve gone for something like what you’re wearing instead of this...this thing.’ She indicated the blue organza multi-layered dress that showed off more cleavage and bare back than Perla would ever be comfortable showing.
Her own knee-length silk dress, although slashed dramatically at the waist and side, was covered with thin mesh netting that made her feel not quite so...exposed. And the long fitted sleeves made of the softest leather offered further boosting confidence.
‘That black totally rocks against the vivid colour of your hair. You must give me the name of your colourist. Everyone tells me red and curly is the new black this season.’ The blonde flicked her straight hair back and offered a brittle smile.
Again Perla bit her tongue, smiled back and discreetly checked her watch. The pre-runway show drinks would be served in exactly six minutes. Although she realised she was probably being rude by not responding and discussing her now extensive wardrobe that had come courtesy of her generous Pantelides clothes expense account, she couldn’t think beyond the fact that in a few minutes she’d be coming face to face with Ari for the first time in almost a week.
By the time she’d arrived in Miami, he’d left for New York and she’d been given three days to prep for the arrival of the special guests, who ranged from a young senator to Hollywood royalty.
The earlier sailing trip around Biscayne Bay had been a success despite one guest almost ending up being launched overboard after one too many mojitos.
Keeping her fingers crossed for the same success tonight, she pasted a smile on her face as the lift doors opened onto the foyer that led to the cordoned-off VIP lounges where the runway shows were being held.
Ari Pantelides stood with a group of guests. Head and shoulders above most men, he was the first person she saw when she stepped forward.
The punch to her solar plexus winded her for an instant. Her mouth dried as she took in his imposing shoulders and breathtaking physique.
It really was a sin how one man could possess such a strikingly commanding presence. He turned to another guest and Perla caught a glimpse of that designer stubble. The memory of its roughness against her breasts and thighs sent a pulse of heat straight between her legs.
God, she really needed to get a grip. Like, right now!
Of course, he chose that moment to turn his head towards her.
Hooded eyes speared hers before they rose to rest on her hair. Recalling his fascination with her hair, she fought the foolish urge to touch the elaborate knot she’d worked the tresses into.
You’re here to work!
The stern reminder focused her a little.
Turning to the blonde woman at her side, she said, ‘I’ll be around if you require anything else, Mrs Hamilton. Otherwise, I’ll see you at the show in an hour.’
She left Selena Hamilton to find her husband and headed straight for the head waiter. After reassuring herself that everything was running smoothly, she found a quiet corner and activated her mini tablet. Double and triple-checking every detail was essential. The two designers whose shows they would be visiting were temperamental at the best of times and, with runway shows, seating arrangements could descend into chaos with little warning.
‘Kalispera, Perla.’
Her hand trembled and she nearly lost her hold on her tablet as the deep voice washed over her. Her one visit to Santorini meant she understood the greeting.
Her head snapped up and her eyes collided with steady hazel eyes. ‘Good evening, Ar...Mr Pantelides. How was your trip?’
His eyes narrowed slightly at the hasty correction but he didn’t comment on it. ‘Predictable. You seem to have settled in okay. I hear your boat trip today was interesting.’
It wasn’t a question and she had very little doubt that he’d been checking up on her since her arrival.
‘Yes, it hasn’t been smooth sailing, pardon the pun, but the orientation was very useful. And your head of Events let me shadow him for a day to get the hang of things. That was useful too...’ She stopped when she realised she was babbling. But, with him standing so close, she was dealt the full force of his powerful aura and the spicy scent of his aftershave. She’d smelled him up close and personal and knew continuing to breathe him in was not a very wise idea. ‘Anyway, I need to get back to work.’
He stopped her with a brush of his fingers down her arm. Electricity shot through her body. ‘How did your in-laws take your new status?’ he asked.
She froze, looked at him to see if he was being sarcastic but his eyes only held mild interest. ‘A lot better than some of the Pantelides employees.’ She bit her lip at the slip. She’d meant to let the avidly curious looks and whispers behind her back slide right over her. But it’d been hard not to be affected.
Her stomach hollowed when his eyes narrowed. ‘Who’s been giving you a hard time?’ he asked, his voice low and dangerous enough to send a shiver down her spine.
‘Sorry, I didn’t stop long enough to take names. Besides, can you really blame them? Morgan’s actions nearly brought down your company.’
He stilled. ‘So you know the full details of what he did?’
Perla frowned. ‘Of course I know. Even though your brother tried to protect me from the whole truth, I got enough from the papers to put the pieces together. Frankly, I was surprised Morgan’s benefits weren’t stripped from him, all things considered.’
His jaw clenched for a moment before his face cleared. ‘Those benefits weren’t advantageous to you in the end, though, were they? It must have been upsetting to find out that the man you loved would betray you that way?’ This time there was a definite question in his tone. His incisive gaze bored right into her. As if he was trying to understand her. And, more specifically, her actions on the night they’d met.
To admit that she hadn’t been thinking straight when she’d slept with him—least of all of her dead husband—would only make things worse. ‘It’s not easy to find out, no.’ But compared to the bombshell she’d received on the night of her wedding it was a walk in the park.
‘I’m aware that betrayal has a way of messing with people’s minds.’ A hint of that torment she’d glimpsed made an appearance. As did the curiously strong need to alleviate it for him.
Brushing it away, she answered, ‘Are we talking people generally or do you have personal knowledge of this?’
He stepped closer, blocking out the rest of the room and giving her no choice but to inhale his scent, to look into those unique gold-flecked hazel eyes. ‘I’ve been dealt a few life lessons but I’m talking about you. Was that why you slept with me?’ he breathed with a quiet intensity. ‘To assuage your sense of betrayal?’
‘Why are we going over this again?’
He murmured something pithy under his breath. ‘Perhaps I’m trying to make sense of it all. Trying to square things in my mind so I can move on.’
Shame scythed through her as she admitted that she didn’t want it squared away. She wanted to remember that night; to treasure it as the special moment in time it’d been for her. Of course, she knew she could never tell him that.
Straightening her spine, she returned his stare. ‘Morgan’s decisions and actions were his own. For my part, I married him for better or worse; he was the man I’d pledged to honour and cherish. And yes, before you remind me again, I broke that vow before he was even buried. Was I upset that things turned out the way they did? Of course I am.’ A trill of laughter from a guest grounded her to where she was. ‘I also think that this is the last place we should be discussing this. Frankly, I’d prefer it if we buried the subject once and for all. Can we do that, please?’
He stared down at her for several minutes before he inhaled deeply. He took a single step back and nodded. ‘Consider the matter buried.’
She managed to nod before glancing over his shoulder. Several guests were looking their way, no doubt wondering why she’d commandeered Ari’s attention. ‘I need to get back to work, earn the generous salary you’re paying me.’
His lips pursed but he gave her enough room to slide past. ‘I look forward to seeing you in action.’
Perla wasn’t sure if it was a threat or anticipation. And she couldn’t dwell on it because her insides were churning from the exchange. Once again, it had seemed as if her reason for sleeping with him mattered to him.
Far from being a distraction as he’d claimed, it seemed he couldn’t stop thinking about that night any more than she could.
Could she trust him not to bring it up again? Could she trust herself not to blurt out that it’d meant more than just a means to alleviate her pain?
She sucked in a deep breath and pinned a smile on her face. She’d survived Morgan and the debacle that had been her marriage.
She was a lot stronger now for it. She just needed to keep reminding herself of it.
* * *
Both runway shows went without a hitch. Watching from the back, Perla breathed a sigh of relief when the lights went up and her guests started to finish off their vintage champagne. Another few minutes and she could start herding them back to the limos to return to the Pantelides Casino for the gambling part of the evening. That was the most important part because it was why Ari had organised this event in the first place—
‘Relax,’ Ari said from beside her. How could a man so big, move so silently? ‘You’re off to a good start if Selena Hamilton is singing your praises. According to her, the two of you are BFFs now.’ He picked up two glasses of pink champagne from a hovering waiter’s tray and offered one to her.
‘I wouldn’t go that far but I’m glad she’s pleased.’ She took the champagne but didn’t take a sip, much as she wanted to. The need for liquid courage was what had placed her in Ari Pantelides’s crosshairs in the first place.
She was not going to make the mistake of drinking around him ever again.
‘She isn’t the only one who is impressed by your efficiency.’
Unable to help herself, she looked up at him. Hazel eyes captured hers and her breath snagged in her chest. ‘Oh?’
‘Her husband was equally effusive. Twice as much, in fact.’ A hard bite had materialised in his tone.
She swallowed. ‘What are you implying?’
He shrugged. ‘He has wandering hands. Make sure you’re not caught between them.’
On the surface, it seemed like a fair warning. Perhaps she was reading more into the situation than was necessary. They stared at each other for several heartbeats before she nodded. ‘Thanks for the heads-up.’
His eyes flicked to her hair and again the punch of heat returned. Never in her wildest imagination would she have thought the colour of her hair would produce such a reaction. But every time Ari’s gaze slid hungrily over her hair she felt hot, bothered and more than a little on edge. Before she could stop it, a small sound escaped her throat.
His gaze locked on hers once more. The air thickened around them, blocking the sounds of the party and locking them in their own sensual cocoon.
‘Please, don’t.’ She was very much aware that she was begging. For as long as she could remember she’d wanted someone to notice her, give her a little bit of their time and attention. Although she’d found that to some extent with Terry and Sarah, it ultimately wasn’t the right kind.
The attention Ari was giving her now felt like the right kind. Which was extremely frightening because it was the skull-and-crossbones kind, guaranteed to annihilate her with minimal effort.
‘I’m as puzzled by my fascination as you are, pethi mou,’ he murmured. ‘Or perhaps my inner ten-year-old is still reeling from the discovery that his favourite TV actress’s red hair came from a bottle,’ he said dryly.
‘How traumatic for you. Would it be better if I dyed my hair black or shaved it all off?’ she half teased.
He sucked in a sharp breath and his grip tightened around his glass. ‘I invite you to dare,’ he breathed in a low, dangerous voice.
‘You know, this would be the moment when I tell you that it’s my hair, and I can do with it what I choose.’
‘And I would in turn threaten to lock you up in a faraway dungeon until you came to your senses.’
Against her will, she felt a smile curve her lips. His mouth twitched too, as if sharing her amusement, but then his face turned serious again, and they went back to staring at each other.
Dirty, delicious thoughts of dungeons and shirtless heroes cascaded through her brain, sending spikes of desire darting through her body.
Realising just how pathetic she was being to take pleasure in the possessive tone in his voice, she cleared her throat. ‘Can I make a suggestion?’
He took a sip of his drink without taking his eyes off her. She desperately wished she could follow suit but she needed to stay as clear-headed as possible. ‘Go ahead.’
‘Perhaps if we agree to stay out of each other’s way, this...thing will eventually go away.’
‘Haven’t you heard the new saying? Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder?’
‘I think we can both agree our hearts aren’t the problem here.’
His face slowly froze until it was a hard, inscrutable mask. ‘No. They’re most definitely not.’ The depth of feeling in his voice made something sharp catch in her chest. Again that torment stained his expression.
‘You must miss her very much. Your wife,’ she blurted before she could stop herself.
His fingers tightened so forcefully around the stem of his glass she feared it would snap. ‘Sofia’s death is a loss to the world. And to me.’ The agony in his voice cut right into her heart.
Unable to look into his face, bleak with pain and guilt, she glanced away. Her own fingers were curled around the warming glass of champagne which trembled wildly, threatening to spill its contents. Hurriedly, she set it down on a nearby table.
‘I never got the chance to say it before. I’m sorry...for your loss. Um, please excuse me. I think I’m needed now.’
She hurried away before she could do or say something rash, like ask him to define what that kind of love felt like. Or expose the emotion writhing through her that felt shamefully like jealousy.
She’d wanted a love like that for herself, had built all her hopes around Morgan, who had taken her desperate need and used it to blackmail her. Fate had kicked her in the teeth for daring to hold out her hand and ask.
She wasn’t foolish enough to even contemplate asking a second time. The lesson had been well and truly delivered.
* * *
Ari watched Perla walk away, stunned by what he’d just revealed. He never spoke about Sofia. Never. Not to his brothers, not to his mother. And certainly not to traitorous strangers he’d made the colossal mistake of sleeping with.
And yet, with one simple sentence, he’d spilled his guts; would’ve spilled some more if Perla hadn’t rushed away. Because the admission of how Sofia—a warm-hearted, gentle innocent whom he’d ruthlessly clung onto and used to soothe his ravaged soul right after his father’s betrayal—had come into his life and ultimately left it, had been right there on his tongue.
Absently nodding to a guest who’d approached and started talking to him, he tried to reel in his flailing senses.
It was unconscionable that he still felt this unrelenting pull towards Perla Lowell. What had happened between them—twice—should’ve been enough to curb whatever appetites he hadn’t even realised were growing until he’d met her.
At first he’d thought his fascination with her was because she was the first woman he’d slept with after Sofia. That had been his excuse in the weeks following his discovery of her real identity.
And the second time?
He gritted his teeth. The second time, their emotions had been running high. So high, he hadn’t had the common sense to use a condom. Hell, even that little nugget hadn’t hit him until he was halfway across the Atlantic on his way to the US. A shudder raced under his skin at the sheer stupidity of his actions.
How many times, growing up, had he cautioned his brothers on the responsibility of taking care of their sexual health and those of the women they slept with, especially after finding out the bitter and humiliating legacy their father had left behind?
Granted, both Sakis and Theo were old enough now and no longer his responsibility. But for him to have fallen in the same trap, under the same spell that—
Enough. Beating himself up about it would achieve nothing. He smothered his thoughts and concentrated on the guest next to him, expertly hiding his distaste when he saw who it was trying to get his attention.
‘She’s something, your new organiser.’ Roger Hamilton’s gaze was fixed on Perla as she spoke to his guests, her smile open and friendly. The clear interest in his eyes sent a bolt of anger through Ari.
‘She’s also off-limits.’ The snarl in his tone was unmistakable.
Hamilton’s eyes widened, then his thin lips curved in a sly, knowing grin. ‘Right, she’s marked territory. Got it, buddy.’
Ari gritted his teeth and opened his mouth to deny the assertion. ‘Very marked. And I’m very territorial. Are we clear?’ Theos, where had that come from? He was losing his mind. There was no doubt about that.
Roger slapped him on the arm. ‘As crystal, buddy. But tell me something; between you and I, is that hair colour real?’
Ari’s fists clenched so hard his knuckles screamed in protest. From the first, he’d found an almost unholy fascination with Perla’s hair. To hear that same fascination in another man’s voice made the blackest fury roll through him.
‘That, buddy,’ he breathed, ‘is something you’ll never find out.’
From then on, he made sure he kept a room’s width between himself and Perla at all times. Not that he actively needed to. She seemed just as determined to stay away from him.
A thought that should’ve pleased him, but only succeeded in darkening his mood further. On impulse, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled.
Theo answered on the first ring. ‘A call from the big man himself. I haven’t been naughty, have I?’
‘You tell me. And while you’re at it, tell me what the hell is so captivating about Rio that you can’t seem to tear yourself from the place?’
His youngest brother laughed. ‘Sun, sea and wall-to-wall gorgeous women. Need I say more?’ Despite his tone, there was something cagey that set Ari’s radar buzzing.
‘Is everything okay, man?’ The worry that never abated when it came to his brothers rose higher. Of all his family members, Theo had been the youngest and most vulnerable when their world had unravelled, thanks to his father. That worry had never gone away.
‘Of course. How about you? Normally, you send me terse one-line emails asking me to report in.’
‘Half of which you never answer. Thought I’d try another means to get your attention.’
Theo remained silent for a minute. ‘You sure you’re okay, bro?’
A flash of red caught his eye and he tensed further. ‘I’m fine. But it would be good to row again, all three of us, some time soon.’
‘Ah, you’re nostalgic to get your ass whopped. I can oblige. But would this need to burn energy have anything to do with the headache you’ve created for yourself by hiring the Lowell woman?’
He gave an inward sigh. ‘You’ve heard?’
Theo snorted. ‘The whole company’s wondering if you’ve lost your mind. Hell, I’m wondering if you’ve lost your mind. Theos, she’s not blackmailing you in any way, is she?’ he asked sharply.
The tense note in Theo’s voice made Ari’s hand clench over his phone as a wave of pain swept over him. Theo had been kidnapped as a teenager and their family held to ransom for a tense two weeks before he’d been released, which made the subject of blackmail a very volatile one.
‘No, she needed a job, she proved to have the skill and I gave her one.’
‘Did you run it past Sakis, because I’m pretty sure he’ll blow a gasket once he crawls out of his love cocoon and returns to the real world.’
Ari’s jaw tightened. ‘I’ll deal with Sakis. In the meantime, have your assistant check schedules with mine about our next rowing session. I want to get together sooner rather than later, and get to the bottom of exactly what you’re doing in Rio.’
‘Dammit, anyone would think I was still twelve instead of a grown man.’
‘You’ll always be a twelve-year-old to me, brother, simply because you can’t help but act like one.’ He noticed the gruffness in his voice but couldn’t help it.
He hung up to Theo’s pithy curse and realised he was smiling. Pocketing his phone, he looked up and found Perla’s gaze on him. Wide green eyes held shock and wonder, which she quickly tried to bank. When he realised it was in reaction to his smile, he cursed under his breath.
Was it really so strange that he would smile? Was he such an ogre that he’d given the impression that smiling was beyond him?
Yes...
A lance of pain speared his heart. Smiling and laughter had become a thing of the past for him, ever since he’d lost the most precious thing in his life through hubris and carelessness. He’d believed he’d paid enough, sacrificed enough for his family and deserved happiness of his own. He’d believed he’d bled enough to owe fate nothing else.
He’d been careless with Sofia’s health, given in to her penchant to always look on the bright side, when deep down he’d known the bright side rarely existed. Guilt rose to mingle with the pain, wiping away every last trace of mirth from his soul. He had no right to smile or laugh. Not when he had blood on his hands...
Realising Perla was still staring at him, he turned away abruptly. But the unsettled feeling wouldn’t go away.
Perhaps Theo had been right. Had he lost his marbles by employing her, despite her obvious talent? He knew had he looked harder, he’d have found someone equally talented to employ who didn’t rock the boat or make his male clients salivate just by the sight of her. He pursed his lips. Hell, she herself knew she was distracting enough to have made some of his employees talk, made her own life uncomfortable—
Frowning, he removed his phone from his pocket and dialled his assistant. ‘Contact my head of HR—I want a conference call first thing tomorrow. Tell him I want to discuss Perla Lowell.’