The Greek's Convenient Wife. Melanie Milburne

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      Maddison had six hours to get through before she announced her decision. She glanced at her watch repeatedly, her heart hammering with every passing minute as she thought about the phone call she had to make by five p.m.

      She left the bookshop at four-thirty, surprising herself at her detached attitude as she walked away from it without a backward glance. She searched for a public telephone at four-forty-five, but each one she came to was out of order. She stood on yet another street corner and nibbled at the rough edge of a fingernail as she thought about what to do. In the end she decided a phone call was the cowardly thing to do, that the best way to approach the situation was head on. She wasn’t going to relay her message to Demetrius Papasakis via his secretary; she was going to have it out with him face-to-face.

      She rummaged in her bag for the business card he’d given her and quickly memorised the address of his office tower, relieved to find she had just enough time to get there on foot if she hurried. She arrived somewhat breathlessly outside the imposing building in the north of the city, her hair sticking to the back of her neck and her white blouse clinging to her back where beads of nervous perspiration had collected. She brushed an errant strand out of her face and stabbed her finger at the call button of the lifts, trying to ignore the distinct flutter of unease in her belly.

      The lift swept her up to the administration floor where she encountered a middle-aged woman guarding the reception desk.

      ‘Can I help you?’ the woman asked in a haughty tone.

      Maddison brushed another wayward strand out of her face.

      ‘I’m here to see Mr Papasakis.’

      ‘Do you have an appointment?’

      ‘No, not really. I was supposed to call him, but at the last minute I decided to come in person. My name is Maddison Jones.’

      The woman’s eyes swept over her. ‘You’re Miss Jones?’

      ‘That’s correct.’ Maddison lifted her chin in a token gesture of pride.

      She didn’t care for the look the secretary was giving her, as if she was the last person anyone would expect Demetrius Papasakis to be associated with. She suffered no illusions about her out-of-date clothes and scuffed shoes, but she knew her figure was nothing to be ashamed of, even if her hair needed brushing and her lips a touch of gloss.

      ‘I’ll let him know you’re here.’ The woman reached for the intercom on her desk.

      ‘Thank you,’ Maddison responded politely.

      She heard the deep burr of Demetrius’s voice on the machine as she stood waiting, and glancing at the clock on the wall saw the second hand tick down the remaining seconds—ten, nine, eight, seven…

      ‘He’ll see you now,’ the woman said, interrupting her quiet panic.

      She followed the woman’s directions to his office and gave the solid door one small sharp knock.

      ‘Come.’

      She opened the door and her eyes immediately went to his seated figure behind the huge expanse of his desk.

      He got to his feet with languid grace and greeted her. ‘Maddison, and right on time too.’

      She didn’t answer but stood in front of his desk with a fiery look in her clear blue gaze.

      Demetrius couldn’t help feeling faintly amused. She was so touchingly defiant, pretending she wasn’t intimidated when she very clearly was. It intrigued him in a way. Most of the women he’d been involved with would have jumped at the chance to wear his ring and yet here she was looking as if he’d asked her to walk the plank above an ocean full of sharks.

      He indicated the chair for her to sit on with a sweep of his hand.

      ‘Please, take a seat.’

      ‘I’d rather stand,’ she said through stiff lips.

      ‘As you wish.’ He sat back down and picked up a pen off his desk and gave it a click. ‘Have you come to a decision regarding my proposal?’

      ‘I’m surprised you still have the gall to call it a proposal,’ she said. ‘I would prefer the term blackmail.’

      ‘Blackmail is a strong word.’ He gave his pen another audible click. ‘I’d like to remind you now that you can walk out of that door at any point and accept the consequences.’

      She tightened her spine at his chilling warning.

      ‘But you’ve made it impossible for me to do so, haven’t you?’ She eyeballed him directly.

      ‘I take it you’re referring to my real estate dealings over the weekend?’ He leant back in his chair and propped his feet on his desk in an indolent pose that made the blood simmer in her veins.

      ‘You did it deliberately, didn’t you? To flush me out like a rat down a drainpipe.’

      ‘Not quite the metaphor I would have chosen, but it will suffice, I suppose.’

      ‘You’re СКАЧАТЬ