The Greek Boss's Demand. Trish Morey

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The Greek Boss's Demand - Trish Morey Mills & Boon Modern

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to Nick again.

      Stavros had been killed, Nick had become the new heir to the family fortune, and it had been obvious there could never be a future with Nick—neither for her nor their newborn child.

      Alex rubbed her arms. It was cold in here. She’d have to check the wall thermostat. But not now. Not until Nick had left her office and there was no chance of getting anywhere near him.

      His eyes narrowed until they glinted and he straightened behind the chair.

      ‘Something frightened you away. Is that it? Is that why you never returned my calls after that?’ His words speared through her consciousness to places she’d rather not go. It was one thing to know she’d done the right thing. It was another thing entirely to have to explain it.

      ‘Nick, I don’t think we need to rehash all that. It’s in the past. Let it stay there.’

      ‘No. I think the least you can do is offer me an explanation.’

      Alex stiffened in her chair. What relationship they’d had had been over for the better part of nine years, and here he was, larger than life, insisting on the whys and wherefores. Talk about inflated male ego! As if it mattered now.

      ‘Let it go—’

      ‘Was it another man?’ He threw a glance to her left hand. ‘You’re not married, but was there someone back then?’

      ‘Look, it’s not important—’

      ‘So it was another man. Why else would you just stop communicating? I tried to call you. I wrote to you.’

      ‘We moved—’

      ‘I didn’t. You knew where to find me.’ Accusation was layered thickly in his eyes. ‘So why else would you never return my calls? Why never answer my letters unless you were too busy in someone else’s bed?’

      Enough! Incensed, Alex pushed herself up from her chair. She’d had enough of looking up to him. And she was sick of putting up with his slurs.

      ‘Drop it, Nick.’

      ‘I demand to know what happened!’

      Alex glared at him, at that moment totally wondering how she’d ever held the notion that she’d loved this guy. ‘I grew up.’ The hard way. ‘End of story.’

      ‘It’s no wonder you’ve never married, if that’s the way you treat men. If you want my advice—’

      Alex’s hands curled into tight fists.

      ‘As a matter of fact,’ she cut in, ‘I don’t want your advice. I don’t need your advice. And, given that you don’t appear to be married either, are you completely sure you’re in any position to give advice?’

      In that moment Nick’s face might have been cast from concrete. It seemed all harsh angles and rigid planes, and she could tell he was battling to keep the fury he was obviously feeling under control.

      Well, bully for him. She was furious too. How dared the brute think he could waltz back into her life and start criticising?

      A muscle in his cheek twitched. ‘You’ve changed, Alexandra. You are still as beautiful as you were then, maybe even more so, but you’ve changed on the inside.’

      I’ve had to! Her mind told her to remain strong and resolute. It shouldn’t matter what he said about her looks. And it wouldn’t. She wouldn’t let it.

      She sucked in one unsteady breath, battled to get her speech back to something resembling normality. ‘Please leave. I have work to do.’

      When he remained there motionless it was obvious that he had no intention of complying with her request. If she wanted him out of her office she was going to have to make him leave herself.

      She stepped around the desk. ‘I’ll see you to the door.’

      There was at least four feet between them and she’d mentally assessed the risk. There was no chance of them coming close to each other. In a moment she’d be safely behind the open door, ushering him out, and some sort of peace could again reign in her office.

      Halfway there his hand seized her arm, halting her in her tracks. His grip burned, his hand looking so large on her forearm that her heart tripped. She’d known that touch before, known the strength of it, and yet the tenderness that could accompany it. Only there was none of that tenderness now. Now she sensed anger, and her heart raced fast and loud as adrenalin kicked in once again.

      ‘Alexandra,’ he said, half demanding, yet half imploring. She closed her eyes briefly and willed herself not to be affected by the mere sound of her name.

      ‘Let me go.’ Her voice sounded amazingly calm and level and she took strength from that.

      But he didn’t let go. His grip changed. Instead of just holding her, it was tugging her, forcing her closer to him. They were close enough now that she could catch the tang of his subtle cologne, the faint remnants of his coffee, all infused with the scent of man—angry man.

      ‘Alexandra?’

      Her elbow was still locked, her arm held firm, as she looked up into his eyes. Breath caught in her throat as anger was replaced by something else. Something darker and far more dangerous.

      In that instant he relaxed his hold, and with the pressure off she immediately lost balance, swaying on her heels, only to be pulled unceremoniously back into him in the next moment.

      Impacting against his chest was like colliding with solid rock—only warm and smooth and, oh, so familiar. She sucked in a deep breath, her senses reeling from so much male so close. Something in the back of her mind registered that Nick hadn’t changed that much. Somehow this was just the way she remembered he’d felt back then. Maybe just a little broader and more developed, but just the way she’d imagined, late at night when she couldn’t sleep, thinking how he’d feel now.

      Only this was all wrong!

      ‘Let me go!’ she urged, trying to push him away. But his arms snaked around her, holding her tight.

      She pulled her head back to look up at him. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? This is harassment. You can’t try these caveman tactics here.’

      ‘Harassment?’ His tone mocked and his eyes held a teasing glint.

      An unkind, teasing glint she registered. Life had apparently left Nick bitter.

      Then she realised he was moving, swaying ever so gently, the fingers of his hands stroking her back while his arms still kept their vice-like grip. The motion was disarming, gently soothing and strangely sensual.

      ‘Hardly harassment,’ he went on. ‘Don’t you remember how it was between us? We’re simply sharing an embrace, and perhaps a kiss for old times’ sake.’

      Alarm bells went off in her head. No way. No way would she kiss him. He couldn’t be serious.

      Firmly she pressed her hands against Nick’s chest and pushed for all she was worth. ‘I have no intention of sharing anything with you.’

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