success of the company’s businesses worldwide since taking over completely when his Uncle Theo died ten years ago. There would be little point in Markos denying that this success, and the power that came along with it, had resulted in a certain assured arrogance in both himself and Drakon.
He grimaced unapologetically. ‘It is what it is. And you, Ms Evangeline Grey, are deliberately trying to change the subject from my original question,’ he added knowingly.
Yes, she was. Because Eva was uncomfortably aware she didn’t want to answer Markos’s original question. Divorce, the ultimate admission of the failure of a marriage, was something that not even Eva’s parents had succumbed to—even if they should have done so years ago, rather than slowly destroying each other with the bitterness of their disappointment. Eva wasn’t in the least proud of her failed marriage, and nor did she wish to talk about it.
Her chin rose determinedly before she turned Markos’s earlier comment back on him. ‘It is what it is.’
Which told Markos precisely nothing. ‘I can easily make the necessary enquiries that would give me the answer to that question…’
Her mouth tightened. ‘That’s your prerogative.’
‘But I won’t,’ Markos concluded dryly. ‘I would so much rather wait for you to tell me about yourself than listen to inaccurate gossip,’ he added, in answer to her questioning look.
Her face flushed. ‘If that was a dig at me for the things I said to you on Saturday—’
‘It wasn’t,’ he assured her softly. ‘I would just rather wait for you to confide in me.’
She gave a dismissive snort. ‘Then you’ll be waiting a long time.’
Patience had never particularly been a part of Markos’s character, but he had a feeling that where this intriguing woman was concerned it might well be worth the wait…
‘I have no plans to leave New York for the foreseeable future, Eva,’ he said huskily.
Eva was well aware of that—which was why, after the mess she had made of things with this man, she was seriously considering relocating her office to Outer Mongolia, or possibly Antarctica—anywhere but New York!
Because this second meeting with Markos Lyonedes had shown her that he wasn’t at all what she had assumed he was after listening to Donna bemoan how callously he had brought an end to their relationship. He was arrogant, yes, but it wasn’t the over-bloated self-aggrandizement Eva had expected to find—more an inborn confidence in who and what he was. Markos had demonstrated that he was capable of dealing with, and returning, any challenge she might care to give him. He also had a wicked sense of humour, which he was just as likely to turn on himself as he was anyone else. There was something very appealing about a man who could laugh at himself.
And Eva defied any woman to remain unaffected by that heady combination of charming self-assurance and devastating good-looks.
That brief and thankfully interrupted kiss they had shared had certainly proved to Eva that she wasn’t immune to anything about Markos Lyonedes.
A man whose wealth and charm was everything and more than Jack, her ex-husband, had been…
Which was more than enough reason for Eva to take herself out of Markos’s insidiously seductive company. Right now!
‘Then I hope you enjoy the city,’ she told him lightly. ‘Now, if you will excuse me…’
‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’
Eva paused before turning back reluctantly to answer that softly spoken query. ‘Have I?’
He gave a mocking inclination of his head. ‘You haven’t been up to look at my apartment yet.’
She tensed warily. ‘Up…?’
Markos gave a husky chuckle even as he glanced pointedly towards the ceiling above them. ‘Up.’
Markos’s apartment was on the floor above this one? All this time there had been a bedroom—probably several—right above them? Oh, good Lord…!
Eva drew in a deep breath before speaking. ‘I think you’re right. It really wouldn’t be a good idea for me to work for you—’
‘Coward.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ she gasped softly.
Once again he shrugged those broad shoulders. ‘I called you a coward.’
‘Because I don’t want to work for you?’ She eyed him incredulously.
Markos shook his head slowly. ‘Because we both know the reason you don’t want to work for me.’
Her jaw tightened. ‘Which is?’
‘You’re afraid.’
‘You think I’m afraid of you?’ she said disbelievingly.
‘I think that you’re afraid of how you feel when you’re with me,’ Markos corrected softly. ‘You’re more comfortable in the company of a man like Glen Asher because you know you can manipulate and control him in a way you would never be able to do with me.’
All the colour drained from Eva’s cheeks. She knew that every word Markos spoke was the truth. Oh, not about Glen. But she was frightened—of Markos, and of what he made her feel when she was with him.
She didn’t want to feel that way about any man. After her divorce she had been relieved to feel so numb, to know that she would never again have to go through the pain of a broken relationship.
To now realise that Markos Lyonedes had penetrated her emotions, if only on a physical level, was not a welcome revelation.
‘Has anyone ever told you that you have an ego the size of Manhattan?’ She snorted disgustedly.
‘Not that I recall, no.’ He gave a slow and confident smile. ‘Was anything I said to you just now untrue?’
Her mouth thinned. ‘I’m not afraid of you.’
‘Then why not prove it by agreeing to redesign the interior of my apartment?’
Eva gave a disbelieving shake of her head. ‘I’m twenty-nine, Markos, not nine, and as such I’m not about to be goaded into a juvenile game of dare with you. Especially when I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to accept a commission from you.’
‘Kirsty is going to be so disappointed about that,’ he murmured regretfully.
‘Kirsty?’ she repeated warily.
‘Kirsty Foster. Her husband, Gerry, is my PA, and she was the one who recommended your work to me,’ he added pleasantly.
Ordinarily Eva would have been pleased to have her work so appreciated by one of her previous clients that they had chosen to recommend her to their friends. And she liked Kirsty Foster. The two women had remained friends even after Eva had completed the work on Kirsty’s bedroom, often meeting for coffee and a chat.
