The Greek Tycoon's Secret Child

‘I don’t take very kindly to being labelled a pervert.’

‘Do I look as though I care what you do or don’t take kindly to?’ But she uneasily felt a stab of guilt at the insult she had flung at him. Then she reminded herself that he was nothing but a good-looking face with a squalid mind, or why else would he have followed her out of the nightclub and cornered her on her way to the underground?

‘So you label all the men you see in your line of work as perverts, do you?’

‘I want to get home. It’s late and I don’t need to spend time having this conversation with you. Now, excuse me.’

‘Why don’t you take a taxi to your house?’

‘Because, not that it’s any of your business, I can’t afford the luxury. If I could afford to catch cabs here, there and everywhere, then I wouldn’t be working at a nightclub, would I?’

‘We’re not talking here, there and everywhere. We’re talking at this hour in central London. The underground isn’t a very safe place to be.’ Or so he imagined. He, personally, seldom travelled on the underground. He had a driver so that he could work in the back of the car, and when he didn’t want to use George he drove himself.

‘You would know, would you?’ Mattie snapped, reading his mind with staggering accuracy. ‘When was the last time you went anywhere on the tube?’ She gave a little grunt of pure scorn, at which point his mind told him to just leave the woman alone, to get a grip on himself.

‘I was on my way to the underground myself, as it happens,’ he heard himself saying, beyond all common sense.

‘You’re lying.’

‘So now I’m a liar and a pervert, am I?’

Mattie glared at him for a further few seconds and then dodged around him and began striding towards the illuminated underground entrance.

Dominic fell in line.

What the hell was he doing? he asked himself. What did it matter what a waitress in a nightclub thought of him? So what if she was exciting to look at? At the grand old age of thirty-four he should be over all that by now.

But still he found that he was walking alongside her, feeling her impotent anger simmering from every pore of her body, surreptitiously watching the proud tilt of her head, hands still resolutely thrust into her pockets, her bag, which was no more than a weathered knapsack, casually slung over one shoulder.

‘Well, goodbye.’ Mattie turned to face him as soon as they were in the station, virtually a ghost town at this time in the morning.

It was the first time she was seeing him in light and what she had taken for a good-looking face, not dissimilar to the one that was probably lying, mouth open, empty whisky bottle at the side, waiting for her on the tired sofa in the sitting room, she now realised far exceeded that.

This man, whose name he had not even bothered to tell her because he was, of course, far too high and mighty for such niceties, especially when it came to the fact that he was just out for a good time with a woman he imagined would be an easy lay, went beyond good-looking. He was very firmly placed in the higher regions of staggering.

Faintly olive-skinned, short black hair, eyes that were as dark as midnight and a bone-structure that seemed to have been chiselled lovingly with perfection in mind.

‘What stop are you getting off at?’

‘Not the same as yours,’ Mattie answered smoothly, turning away and slotting her coins into the ticket machine. She always made sure that her change was ready for when she got to the ticket machine. No fumbling in bags. Not very safe.

‘How would you know that?’

‘Because I have eyes in my head.’ To prove her point, she insolently raked her eyes over his immaculately tailored suit, his handmade shoes, the gold watch on his wrist.

‘I’m delivering you to your door,’ Dominic said flatly. There was something about this girl that made him concerned for her safety—her insurgency, perhaps. ‘So we do happen to be travelling to the same stop after all. And you needn’t fear that I shall try and take advantage of you on the way.’

‘I don’t need an escort.’

Green eyes. The purest green he had ever seen. The suggestive lighting in the nightclub had only given him a glimpse of her. Here, her face crystallised into huge, almond-shaped eyes, a nose sprinkled with freckles and a full mouth that was currently down-turned in an expression of fierce disdain.

‘This place is deserted. Or maybe not. Maybe there’ll be a few junkies and drunks waiting to get into the same carriage as you. Am I right?’

‘I’m touched that you care so much about my welfare, but I do happen to do this particular route four nights a week. I think it’s fair to say that I can take care of myself.’ She gave him another scornful once-over. ‘Probably more than you can take care of yourself.’

‘More typecasting?’

‘Look, it’s late,’ Mattie said carefully, meeting his eyes and holding them with difficulty. ‘I didn’t appreciate the way you were looking at me in the nightclub and I don’t appreciate the way you followed me out. Can I make myself any clearer? I need to grab some sleep if I’m not to pass out tomorrow.’

‘Don’t you have all day to catch up on your sleep?’ The dark eyes narrowed speculatively on her face and Mattie felt herself blushing. Blushing like a teenager when in fact she was twenty-three years old and had had enough sobering experiences in her life for a cynical outer shell to be well and truly in place.

‘I happen to have things to do,’ she muttered. ‘The world doesn’t cater for people who sleep by day and work by night, in case it’s missed you. Now, go away.’

‘Fine. But I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow at the club.’

‘Why?’

This was something that was genuinely puzzling her. She had become experienced in a very short space of time in reading the men who patronised the nightclub. They were usually middle-aged, married but not so married that they didn’t still lick their lips at the sight of a pretty girl in next to nothing. Harmless men. Then there were the groups of young, rich yuppies. She personally found them a lot more threatening because there was no wife at home waiting, no kiddies tugging on their consciences.

The man standing in front of her didn’t seem to fall into either category.

In fact, he struck her as the sort who didn’t need to trail behind waitresses in nightclubs or anywhere else for that matter because whatever woman he wanted would come to him with a click of his fingers.

‘Because I don’t particularly like being categorised without an explanation.’ Which beggared the question of why he should give a damn in the first place, but he could tell that that train of thought hadn’t occurred to her from the small frown.

‘Look at it this way,’ he pointed out smoothly, jumping into whatever she had been thinking so that she once more raised her eyes to his. ‘How would you feel if I insulted you by implying that since you were a waitress in a nightclub, willing to dress in next to nothing because the less the clothes, presumably the bigger the tips, you were therefore—’

‘A cheap tart?’ Mattie snapped, interrupting him before he could voice what he had obviously been thinking. ‘A woman of easy virtue? Or maybe a woman of no virtue altogether? A sad loser who has nothing better to do with her life than whistle it down the drain working for tips in a nightclub?’ Yes, they all thought that. All the men who ogled her as she waited their tables. It still got her back up, though.

Not just with him, but with herself because she knew where she was going. She knew why she was doing what she was doing. What did it matter what one passing stranger out of the hundreds thought of her?

‘Like it?’ Dominic murmured lazily. ‘Think you might want to refute it?’

‘I don’t have to refute anything to you, but let me just tell you that I’m not an easy lay.’ Understatement of the century, she was honest enough to think. One lover in all her years. Frankie King, whom she had known since she was sixteen. And she hadn’t even slept with him for…how many months now?

‘So if that’s why you followed me, then you can forget it. I won’t be climbing into your bed, not now, not ever.’

A mixed group of merry teenagers, drunk but too wrapped up in each other to be threatening to her, jostled past and Dominic took hold of her arm and led her away from the ticket machines to the side.

‘I’ll take you home in a taxi.’

‘Oh, suddenly a little bit scared of our great British transport system, are you?’ she sneered, not much liking the way she sounded. Hard and jaded and cynical, but this was the best way she knew of protecting herself.

‘Oh, don’t be such a damned little fool.’

‘Well, it might interest you to know that I’d rather take my chances with that little lot that just waltzed past than cooped up in a taxi with you.’

‘Then I’ll just put you in the damned cab and pay the man to take you wherever it is you live!’

‘Ah. Not so keen on my company now that you know I won’t be sleeping with you.’ Mattie shook her head with an expression of mock disappointment. ‘Now, why am I not falling down in surprise?’

‘Come on.’ He had never met a more suspicious, cynical woman in his life, but did she have spirit! Was that why he was now hailing a taxi for her rather than letting her take the first tube of the morning home? Not liking the thought of her stepping into a carriage with a mob of drunks, even though she was right and was probably more accustomed to dealing with situations like that than he was?

‘You, mister, are the last word in arrogance!’

‘Watch out. I might start getting used to your line of compliments.’

‘Hardly.’ The black cab had slowed down for her and she knew better than to kick up her heels at his insistence. ‘Unless fate decides to behave in a freakish way, this is the last we’ll be seeing of each other.’

Dominic didn’t say anything. Just opened the taxi door for her, handed the driver some notes, sufficient, he was assured, to cover the trip, before turning to her briefly.

His large, powerful frame was draped suffocatingly by her open door, and when he looked down at her his presence seemed to fill the entire back of the taxi like a drug.

‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ he said in a low, silky voice, and Mattie felt a disturbing thread of excitement race up her spine. ‘After all, I have yet to refute your accusations, do I not?’

‘I apologise,’ she said quickly. ‘There. Will that do?’

‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘I’ll never sleep with you,’ she hissed fiercely. ‘You’ve got the wrong measure of me!’

‘In life, I’ve learnt that never is the most fickle word in the English language.’ With which he stood up and slammed the car door.

What he didn’t tell her was that it was also the most challenging word in the English language. Especially in this context and especially for a man like him.

CHAPTER TWO

‘DUNNO know why you bother wasting your time on that rubbish.’

Mattie glanced across the room to Frankie. He was sprawled on the chair in front of the television, his feet propped up on the coffee-table he had dragged over, and he was staring at her in a way that she was all too familiar with.

So she ignored him and returned to the books in front of her. ‘Told you, love, there’s no way you’ve got the brains to do anything in any company anywhere. Left school at sixteen, or you forgotten already?’

He was on the beer. For that she was grateful. If he had been on the whisky, he would be targeting his comments with a lot more venom. And he would be gone in a little while. It was Saturday, after all. Not a night for a man like Frankie to stay in. Not when his mates would be down at the local, eyes glued to whatever sport happened to be showing on the massive overhead screen that The Lamb and Eagle proudly sported.

‘That doesn’t mean I can’t do this,’ Mattie said quietly, knowing that there was no point going down this road but doing it anyway.

‘Sure it does. Big shots in companies ain’t looking for a girl like you, Mats. Pretty you might be but let’s not forget the background.’ He gave a cruel little chuckle and her fingers tightened on the pen she was holding. ‘Anyway, what time you off tonight, then?’

‘Does it matter? You won’t be here anyway.’

‘True, true. Go and fetch us another beer, would you, Mats?’

‘You’ll be drinking at the pub, Frankie.’

‘Oh not another of your little preachy sermons. Don’t think I can stand it. Any wonder I want to clear out of this place whenever you’re around? A right little Miss Prim and Proper you’ve become ever since you started filling your head with ideas about high-flying jobs in marketing. You should ’ave just stuck it out as secretary in that poxy little company you were at before.’

Pushed to the limit, Mattie snapped shut the book she had been studying and fixed him with a cold stare.

‘But I couldn’t, could I, Frankie? And we both know why!’

He staggered to his feet, raked his fingers through his hair and headed towards the kitchen with a thunderous scowl on his face. But this time she wasn’t going to let him get away with his jibe.

Three nights ago it had felt damned good to yell at someone and she was going to do that now. This time at the right person instead of at a perfect stranger who had happened to rub her up the wrong way. A perfect stranger who had, unsurprisingly, not reappeared at her exciting little workplace, even though she had caught herself watching out for him, and then berating herself for letting him get under her skin when she had figured him out for what he was.

‘Well?’ Mattie went to the kitchen door and leaned against the frame, her eyes stormy, watching as Frankie helped himself to another lager, which he proceeded to drink straight from the can.

‘I can’t be bothered to argue this one with you, Mats. Why don’t you just head back to those books of yours and carry on pretending you can get somewhere in life?’

‘No! I want to have this one out, Frankie. I’m sick to death of all your slurs and insults. I couldn’t stick it out in that job because the money wasn’t enough to keep us both!’ She had tiptoed round this long enough.

‘I suppose you blame me for the accident!’

‘I don’t blame you for anything! But that was nearly two years ago! So isn’t it about time you just woke up to the fact that you will never become a professional footballer? It’s over, Frankie! You need to get your head around that and—’

‘Know what, Mats? I don’t need to stand here and listen to all of this! I’m off.’

She felt tears of frustration prick the backs of her eyes, but she stayed where she was, blocking the doorway.

‘You need to get a job, Frankie.’

He slammed the half-empty beer can on the kitchen table and lager shot out of the top over the table-top.

‘An office job, Mats? Think I should get myself decked out in a cheap suit and see if anyone wants me?’

‘It doesn’t have to be an office job.’

‘Well, then, maybe a job like yours, then, eh?’

‘That job happens to pay five times what I was getting as a secretary and a hundred times more than I was getting working at that restaurant.’

‘So you could take time off and study those books of yours. As if you’ll ever be able to do anything in any company.’

‘Well, it didn’t last long, did it? I had to jack that in so that I could get something better paid to pay the bills you have no intention of paying because you won’t get a job!’

‘Know what? If you feel that way, why don’t you just clear off, Mats?’ His blue eyes met hers and he looked away.

‘Maybe I will,’ she said, turning away, only half hearing him as he apologised. Again. Told her he needed her. Again. Slammed his way out of the house. Again.

They both knew that the end of their relationship had already arrived, had arrived quite some time ago, as it happened. But Mattie knew how hard it was to say goodbye to history, to memories of them both as teenagers, when they had had high hopes of going places. Just as she knew that the only glue keeping them together, as far as she was concerned anyway, was pity.

His star had been so promising, and then when the accident happened she had just felt so damned sorry for him, too sorry to take the final step and walk away even though she could see how he had changed, how they both had.

He was enraged and bitter at what fate had done to him but even those spells of anguish, of opening up to her, communicating, had dwindled away. She realised that they hadn’t really communicated in months.

Not, she thought as she tidied away her books and began getting dressed to leave the house, since he had broken down and sobbed like a baby on her shoulder over eight months ago. When yet again she had allowed herself to feel sorry for him, to struggle on with him, knowing that he needed her.

She had, after all, known him for such a long time.

In a way, the nightclub was just the right job for her, quite aside from the fantastic earnings.

There was no time to think about her own problems when she was busy scuttling around the tables, catching up with the other girls now and again so that they could share a giggle about their customers.

But their argument tonight had been different. Had had an edge to it that they had both felt.

Two hours later her mind was still harking back to it, when she looked up and there he was, the man, the stranger, sitting on his own at the back of the room, and her heart gave a sudden, illogical leap of pleasure which disappeared as fast as it had come.

How long had he been sitting there?

And now that she had spotted him, she became acutely conscious of her every movement until finally she had no choice but to walk towards him, even though he wasn’t seated in her patch.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘I told you I would return,’ he asked with the same slightly amused, lazy drawl that sent a shiver up her spine. ‘Missed me?’

‘Of course I haven’t missed you, and I also thought I’d made my position clear. I’m not for sale along with the drinks and the food.’ And, since there was no more to be said on the subject, she knew that she should just spin round on her heel and walk away, leaving him ample time to get the message once and for all. But she didn’t. She hesitated.

‘Why don’t we leave here and go somewhere a little more civilised for some coffee? I know a particularly good coffee bar that’s open all hours.’

‘A coffee bar that’s open all hours? Oh, please! And where would that be? On another planet?’

‘Actually, in a hotel that caters for men like me. Not, I might add, the lying pervert you categorised me as but a workaholic who keeps highly irregular hours.’ He raised one eyebrow, leaned back into his chair and proceeded to watch her very intently.

‘I don’t think so. Thanks all the same.’

‘You look exhausted.’

Three words that made her stop in her tracks, brought back the flood of memories of what had taken place between her and Frankie. Right now, there wasn’t a nook or cranny in her life that wasn’t exhausting. How had he spotted that when no one else had?

‘There are one or two reasons why that’s totally out of the question,’ Mattie said tartly. ‘And if you choose to disregard the ones I’ve already given you, then here are a couple more. I’ve only been here for an hour and a half and this is my job. Sorry.’

‘It occurred to me,’ Dominic said, sweeping past her little speech as if it was of no consequence, ‘that I don’t even know your name. What is it?’

‘Look. I have to go. Jackie will hit the roof if she thinks I’m muscling in on her customers.’

‘Why do you work in a place like this?’

‘I already told you. Now, goodbye.’

‘I’ll meet you at the exit in half an hour.’ He stood up, finished his drink and looked down at her. ‘Right?’

‘I’m not going anywhere with you! How much does it take to get through that thick skull of yours?’

‘I’ll sort it out with your boss.’

Mattie gave a short, dry laugh. ‘Oh, right. And how do you propose to do that? Put a gun to his head, by any chance?’

‘I’ve always found that strong-arm tactics never work.’ His dark eyes locked with hers and he felt that sudden surge of unexplained excitement once again. The same excitement that had coursed through him whenever she crossed his mind. Which she had done with puzzling regularity over the past few days.

Why? Logic told him that if all he wanted was a safe and enjoyable antidote to Rosalind, then he could find that anywhere. He certainly didn’t need to pursue a woman who had made her feelings patently clear from the word go. But logic was no match for what he could only put down to the thrill of a challenge, and challenge, he had grudgingly admitted, was certainly what she was.

Hence his reason for returning to the nightclub.

‘Leave it to me.’

Leave it to him! Well, why not? He didn’t know Harry and he obviously had no idea how strict nightclub bosses were when it came to their girls not skipping off work.

‘Sure.’ She shot him a caustic grin. ‘If you can pull that one off, then I’ll come with you to your coffee bar, by all means. But, since I don’t see that happening, I’ll just bid you goodnight and tell you that it’s no use your coming back here because the next time you won’t even get a conversation out of me.’

It was a little disconcerting to feel a tug of regret at the thought of that, but Mattie was nothing if not practical. Her life was just too full of problems for her to take another one on board in the shape of a man, probably married, because good-looking, well-spoken men like that were never single, who was after a little no-strings-attached fling with a pretty young thing.

She would make sure not to look in his direction again.

What she hadn’t bargained on was Harry calling her over ten minutes later as she was on her way back for a refill of champagne for a table of men who had already had far too much to drink.

‘I what?’ Mattie stammered, after he had said what he had to say.

‘Can take the rest of the evening off.’

‘I’ve just got here, Harry.’

‘Jacks won’t mind covering your patch. She needs to catch up on some lost earnings.’

‘How did he do it?’ Mattie glanced around her, seeking him out in the darkness and through the crowds, then finally returning her narrowed eyes to Harry’s flushed face. ‘Well?’ she demanded. Then a thought crossed her mind. ‘He didn’t…he isn’t…some kind of dangerous thug, is he, Harry? He didn’t threaten you, did he?’ She thought back to her throw-away remark about guns and heads.

‘Threaten me? Harry Alfonso Roberto Sidwell?’ He rocked on the balls of his feet for a few seconds, straightened the lapels of his jacket and gave her a superior look. ‘No one has ever dared do such a thing, Matilda Hayes, and don’t you forget it! No. Just said he wanted to talk to you, that this seemed the only time you could snatch. Gave me his card. Told me that if I ever needed any advice, just ask for him.’

‘Advice? Advice about what?’ She felt as if the ground had unexpectedly opened up from under her feet. ‘Relationships? Is he some kind of counsellor or something?’

‘Harry Sidwell has never needed advice on relationships! He’s in finance, Mats. Powerful man. Even I’ve heard of him and you know how much distance there is between the underbelly of life here and the Olympic heights of some of those money men.’ He chuckled at his own sense of humour but Mattie’s head was reeling with shock.

‘You’re giving me the night off because some man asked you to and handed over a business card? And what about my tips, Harry? I can’t afford to take the time off! You know how much I need the money!’

‘I’ll cover you, Mats. Give you roughly the amount you usually pull in on a Friday. Don’t say I’m not fair.’

‘I can’t—’

‘You deserve a night off, Mattie. Reliable as clock-work, you are. Never let me down. When was the last time you went out for enjoyment? Eh? When you’re not at college or poring over textbooks, you’re here. And you’d be doing me a favour, love.’