out her seat.
Casting a swift glance around, Inez saw that they were attracting attention. Short of causing a scene, there was nothing she could do. Willing her facial muscles to relax into a cordial smile, she slowly sat down and watched as Theo Pantelides folded himself into the seat next to her.
He reached for his champagne at the same time as she reached for her water glass. The brush of his knuckle against her wrist made her jump.
‘Relax, anjo. I’ve got this,’ came the smooth, deep reassurance.
A hysterical laugh bubbled up her throat, curbed at the last minute by a cough. ‘Pardon me if that assurance brings me very little comfort.’
He lifted the glass she’d abandoned and held it out to her. ‘Tell me, what’s the worst that could happen?’
She took the glass and stared into the sparkling water. The need to moisten her dry throat had receded. ‘Believe me, the worst already has happened.’
For a long time she’d hidden from the truth—that her father had his heir, and she was a useless spare part.
Pain writhed through her and her breath grew shaky as her throat clogged with anger and bitterness.
‘Get yourself together. Now isn’t the time to fall apart. Trust me, Delgado may be a good friend but he has a wandering eye.’ The hard bite to his tone cut a path through her emotions.
Setting the glass down, she faced him. ‘I have been toyed with enough to last me a century, and I know your business here tonight has nothing to do with me, so do me a favour, senhor, and tell me straight—what do you want?’ she whispered fiercely. She noted vaguely that her heartbeat was once again on rapid acceleration to sky-high. Her fingers shook and her belly churned with emotions she couldn’t have named to save her life.
‘First of all, cut out the senhor bit. If you want to address me in any way, call me Theo.’
‘I will address you how I see fit, Mr Pantelides. And I see that once again you have failed to give me a straight answer.’
‘No, I’ve failed to jump when you say. You need to be taught a little patience, anjo.’
She lifted a deliberately mocking brow. ‘And you propose to be the one to teach me?’
That wide, breathtaking smile appeared again. Just like that, her pulse leapt then galloped with a speed even the finest racehorse would’ve strained to match.
What was going on here?
‘Only if you ask nicely.’
She was searching for an appropriately cutting response when her father reached the table with the rest of the guests.
He cast her a narrow-eyed glance before his gaze slid to Theo Pantelides.
‘Mr Pantelides, I had hoped for a few minutes of your time before the evening started properly,’ her father said as he took his seat across the table.
Inez wasn’t sure whether she imagined the slight stiffening in the posture of the man beside her. Her senses were too highly strung for her to trust their accuracy. Searching his profile as he stared at her father, nothing in his face gave any indication as to his true feelings.
‘I’m all for mixing business with pleasure. However, I draw the line at mixing business with the plight of the poor. Let the favela kids have their cause heard. Then we will attend to business.’
The firm put-down sent an arctic chill around the table. The Secretary’s wife gave a visible gasp and her skin blanched beneath her overdone make-up. Pietro, who’d just approached the table as Theo replied, gripped the back of his chair, anger embedded in his face.
Silence reigned for several fraught seconds. Her father flicked a glance at Pietro, who yanked back his seat and sat down. The hands her brother placed on the table were curled into fists and for a moment Inez wondered if his famous temper was about to be let loose on their guests.
Benedicto smiled at Theo. ‘Of course. This cause is extremely dear to my heart. My own mother was brought up in the favelas.’
‘As indeed you were, no?’ Theo queried silkily.
Again, the Secretary’s wife gasped. She reached for her wine glass and took a quick gulp. When she went to take another, her husband surreptitiously stayed her hand and sent her a stern disapproving look.
Her father nodded to the waiter, who stood poised with a bottle of the finest red wine. He took his time to savour his first sip before he answered.
‘You are quite mistaken, Mr Pantelides. My mother managed to escape the fate most of her lot failed to and bettered her life long before she bore me. But I inherited her fighting spirit and her determination to do what I can for the bleak place she once called home.’
Theo’s eyebrow quirked. ‘Right. I may have been misinformed, then,’ he said, although his dry tone suggested otherwise.
‘I assure you misinformation is rife when it comes to the ploys of political opponents. And I have been told more than once that only a foolish man believes everything he reads in the papers.’
Theo slashed a smile that had a definite edge to it across the table. ‘Trust me, I know a thing or two about what lengths newspapers will go to achieve a headline.’
‘We seem to have lost Alfonso. Would you care to explain his absence, Inez?’ Pietro’s voice slid through the conversation.
Anger still rippled off him and Inez was acutely aware that he hadn’t directly addressed Theo Pantelides.
Before she could speak, the man in question turned to her brother. ‘He was called away suddenly. Emergency business elsewhere. Couldn’t be helped. Since I was there when he took his leave, your sister offered me his seat and I graciously accepted, didn’t you, anjo?’
She saw Pietro’s eyes visibly widen at the blatant endearment. Just as swiftly, they narrowed and she could almost see the wheels spinning in a different direction as his gaze swung between her and Theo Pantelides.
No! Never! Her fingers curled into fists and she glared at him until he looked away.
‘Well, perhaps Delgado’s loss is our gain, sim?’ her father prompted.
Again Theo smiled. Again her heart thudded hard at the sheer magnetism of his smile, even though it sorely lacked any humour.
The man was an enigma. He’d inveigled his way onto the top table, then proceeded to insult his host, just as he’d insulted her.
Inez had little doubt her father would unleash his anger at the slight later.
But right now she was more puzzled by the man next to her. What was his game plan? If he was in a position to acquire a controlling share of their company then clearly he was a man of considerable means. But he wasn’t Brazilian. That much she knew. So why was he interested in her father’s political ambitions?
She realised she was staring when that proud head turned and gold-flecked hazel eyes captured hers,
