The Untamable Greeks

About the Author

MAYA BLAKE’s writing dream started at 13. She eventually realised her dream when she received The Call in 2012. Maya lives in England with her husband, kids and an endless supply of books. Contact Maya: www.mayabauthor.blogspot.com www.twitter.com/mayablake www.facebook.com/maya.blake.94

What The Greek Wants Most

Maya Blake

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-472-04325-2

WHAT THE GREEK WANTS MOST

© 2014 Maya Blake

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Authors

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

About the Publisher

To my editor, Suzanne Clarke, for your unfailingly brilliant insight and support!

CHAPTER ONE

THEO PANTELIDES ACCELERATED his black Aston Martin up the slight incline and screeched to a halt underneath the portico of the Grand Rio Hotel.

He was fifteen minutes late for the black tie fund-raiser, thanks to another probing phone call from his brother, Ari.

He stepped out into the sultry Rio de Janeiro evening and tossed the keys to an eager valet who jumped behind the wheel of the sports car with all the enthusiasm Theo had once felt for driving. For life.

The smile that had teased his lips was slowly extinguished as he entered the plush interior of the five-star hotel. Highly polished marble gleamed beneath his feet. Artistically positioned lighting illuminated the well-heeled and threw the award-winning hotel’s design into stunning relief.

The hotel was by far the best of the best, and Theo knew the venue had been chosen simply because his hosts had wanted to show off, to project a false image to fool him. He’d decided to play along for now.

The right time to end this game would present itself. Soon.

A sleek designer-clad blonde dripping in diamonds clocked him and glided forward on sky-high stilettos, her strawberry-tinted mouth widening in a smile that spelled out a very feminine welcome. And more.

‘Good evening, Mr Pantelides. We are so very honoured you could make it.’

The well-practised smile he’d learnt to flash on and off since he was eighteen slid into place. It had got him out of trouble more times than he could count and also helped him hide what he did not want the world to see.

‘Of course. As the guest of honour, it would’ve been crass not to show up, no?’

She gave a little laugh. ‘No, er, I mean yes. Most of the guests are already here and taking pre-dinner drinks in the ballroom. If there’s anything you need, anything at all, my name is Carolina.’ She sent him a look from beneath heavily mascaraed eyelashes that hinted that she would be willing to go above and beyond her hostess duties to accommodate him.

He flashed another smile. ‘Obrigado,’ he replied in perfect Portuguese. He’d spent a lot of time studying the nuances of the language.

Just as he’d spent a lot of time setting up the events set to culminate in the very near future. For what he planned, there could be no room for misunderstanding. Or failure.

About to head towards the double doors that led to the ballroom, he paused. ‘You said most of the guests are here. Benedicto da Costa and his family. Are they here?’ he asked sharply.

The blonde’s smile slipped a little. Theo didn’t need to guess why. The da Costa family had a certain reputation. Benedicto especially had one that struck fear into the hearts of common men.

It was a good thing Theo wasn’t a common man.

The blonde nodded. ‘Yes, the whole family arrived half an hour ago.’

He smiled at her, effectively hiding the emotions bubbling beneath his skin. ‘You’ve been very helpful.’

Her seductive smile slid back into place. Before she could grow bolder and attempt to ingratiate herself further, he turned and walked away.

Anticipation thrummed through his veins, as it had ever since he’d received concrete evidence that Benedicto da Costa was the man he sought. The road to discovery had been long and hard, fraught with pitfalls and the danger of letting his emotions override his clear thinking.

But Theo was nothing if not meticulous in his planning. It was the reason he was chief troubleshooter and risk-assessor for his family’s global conglomerate, Pantelides Inc.

He didn’t believe in fate but even he couldn’t dismiss the soul-deep certainty that his chosen profession had led him to Rio, and to the man who’d shattered what had remained of his tattered childhood twelve years ago.

Every instinct in his body yearned to take this to the ultimate level. To rip away the veneer of sophistication and urbanity he’d been forced to operate behind.

To claim his revenge. Here. Now.

Soon…

He grimaced as he thought of his phone call with his brother.

Ari was beginning to suspect Theo’s motives for remaining in Rio.

But, despite the pressure from his family, neither Ari nor Sakis, his older brothers, would dare to stop him. He was very much his own man, in complete control of his destiny.

But that didn’t mean Ari wouldn’t try to dissuade him from his objective if he’d known what was going on. His oldest brother took his role as the family patriarch extremely seriously. After all, he’d had to step up after the secure family unit he’d known for his formative years had suddenly and viciously detonated from the inside out. After his father had betrayed them in the worst possible way.

Theo only thanked God that Ari’s radar had been momentarily dulled by his newfound happiness with his fiancé, Perla, and the anticipated arrival of their first child.

No, he wouldn’t be able to stop him. But Ari…was Ari.

Theo shrugged off thoughts of his family as he neared the ballroom doors. He deliberately relaxed his tense shoulders and breathed out.

She was the first thing he saw when he walked in. His lips started to curl at his clichéd thought but then he realised she’d done it deliberately.

The dress code for this event had been strictly black and white.

She wore red. And not just any red. Her gown was blood-red, provocatively cut, and it lovingly melded to her figure in a way that made red-blooded males stop and stare.

Inez da Costa.

Youngest child of Benedicto. Twenty-four, socialite…seductress.

Against his will, Theo’s breath caught as his gaze followed the supple curve of a breast, a trim waist and the flare of her hips.

He knew each and every last detail of the da Costas. For his plan to succeed, he’d had to do what he did best. Dig deep and extract every last ounce of information until he could recite every line in the six-inch dossier in his sleep.

Inez da Costa was no better than her father and brother. But where they used brute force, blackmail and thuggery, she used her body.

He wasn’t surprised lesser men fell for her Marilyn Monroe figure. A true hourglass shape was rare to find these days. But Inez da Costa owned her voluptuousness and confidently wielded it to her advantage. Theo’s gaze lingered on her hips until she moved again, dropping into conversation with the consummate ease of a practised socialite. She had guests eating out of her hands, leaning in close to catch her words, following her avidly when she moved away.

As he advanced further into the room, she turned to speak to another male guest. The curve of her bottom swung into Theo’s eye line, and he cursed under his breath as heat raced up through his groin.

Hell, no.

His fists curled, willing his body’s unwanted reaction away. It had been a while since he’d indulged in a mindless, no-holds-barred liaison. But this was most definitely not the time for a physical reminder, and the instigator of that reminder was most definitely not the woman he would choose to end his short dry spell with.

He exhaled in a slow, even stream, letting the roiling in his gut abate and his equilibrium return.

As he made his way down the stairs to join the guests, the deep-seated certainty that he was meant to be here—in the right place at the right time—flared high.

If Pietro da Costa’s love of excess hadn’t led him down the path of biting off more than he could chew, this time in the form of commissioning a top-of-the-line Pantelides super-yacht he could ill afford, Theo wouldn’t have flown down to Rio to look into the da Costas’ finances three years ago.

He wouldn’t have become privy to the carefully hidden financial paper trail that had led right back to Athens and to his own father’s shady dealings almost a decade and a half ago.

He wouldn’t have dug deeper and discovered the consequences of those dealings for his family. And for him personally.

Memory stirred the unwanted threads of anxiety until it threatened to push its way under his control like Japanese knotweed. Gritting his jaw, he smashed down on the poisonous emotion that had taken too much from him already. He was no longer that frightened boy unable to stem his fears or chase away the screaming nightmares that plagued him.

He’d learned to accept them as part of his life, had woven them into the fabric of his existence and in doing so had triumphed over them. Which wasn’t to say he wasn’t determined to make those who’d temporarily taken power from him pay dearly for that error. No, that mission he was very much looking forward to.

Focusing his gaze across the room to where Benedicto and his son held court among Rio’s movers and shakers, he strategised how best to approach his quarry.

Despite the suave exterior he tried to portray with his tailor-made suit and carefully cropped hair, Benedicto could never mask his lizard-like character for very long. His sharp, angular face and reptilian eyes held a cruelty that was instinctively felt by those around him. And Theo knew that he honed that characteristic to superb effect when needed. He bullied when charm failed, resulting in the fact that half of the people in this room had attended the fund-raiser tonight just to stay on Benedicto’s good side.

Five years ago, Benedicto had made his political aspirations very clear, and since then he’d been paving the way for his rise to power through mostly unsavoury means.

The same unsavoury means Theo’s own father had used to bring shame and devastation to his family.

Grabbing a glass of champagne, Theo sipped it as he slowly worked his way deeper into the room, exchanging pleasantries with ministers and dignitaries who were eager to find favour with the Pantelides name.

He noticed the moment Benedicto and Pietro zeroed in on his presence. Bow ties were surreptitiously straightened. Smiles grew wider and spines straighter.

He suppressed a smile, deliberately turned his back on the father and son and made a beeline for where the daughter was smiling up at Alfonso Delgado, the Brazilian millionaire philanthropist, who was her latest prey.

‘If you want me to host a gala for you, Alfonso, all you have to do is say the word. My mother used to be able to throw events like these together in her sleep and I’ve been told that I’ve inherited her talent. Or do you doubt my talents?’ Her head tilted in a coquettish move that most definitely would’ve made Theo snort, had his eyes not been drawn to the sleek line of her smooth neck.

Alfonso smiled, his expression beginning to closely resemble adoration.

Forcing himself not to openly grimace, Theo took another sip of champagne and brushed off an acquaintance who tried to catch his eye.

‘No one in their right mind would doubt your talent. Perhaps we can discuss it over dinner one night this week?’

The smile that started to curve her full, glossy lips forced another punch of heat through him. ‘Of course, I would love to. We can also discuss that pledge you made to support my father’s campaign…?’

Theo moved closer, deliberately encroaching on the space between the two people in the centre of the room.

Alfonso’s attention jerked towards him and his smile changed from playboy-charming to friendly welcome.

‘Amigo, I wasn’t aware that you had returned to my beloved country. It seems we cannot keep you away.’

‘For what I need to achieve in Rio, wild horses couldn’t keep me away,’ he replied, deliberately keeping himself from glancing at the woman who stood next to Alfonso. He breathed in and caught her scent—expensive but subtle, a seductive whisper of flowers and warm sunshine.

His friend’s eyes gleamed. ‘Speaking of horses—’

Theo shook his head. ‘No, Alfonso, your racehorses don’t interest me. Speedboat racing, on the other hand… Just say the word and I’ll kick your ass from one end of the Copacabana to the other.’

Alfonso laughed. ‘No can do, my friend. Everyone knows underneath that tuxedo you’re part shark. I prefer to take my chances on land.’

A delicate clearing of a throat made Alfonso turn, a smile of apology appearing on his face as he slipped back into playboy mode. For the ten years that Theo had known him, Alfonso had had a weakness for curvy brunettes.

Inez da Costa had curves that required their own danger signs. His friend risked being easy prey for whatever the da Costas had in mind for him.

‘Apologies, querida. Please allow me to introduce you to—’

Theo stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m perfectly capable of making my own introductions. Right now, I think you’re needed elsewhere.’

Alfonso’s eyes widened in confusion. ‘Elsewhere?’

Theo leaned and whispered in his friend’s ear. Shock and anger registered on Alfonso’s face before his jaw clenched and he reined his emotions back in. His gaze slid to the woman next to him and returned to Theo’s.

Taking in a deep breath, he held out his hand. ‘I guess I owe you one, my friend.’

Theo took the proffered hand. ‘You owe me several, but who’s counting?’

‘And I shall repay you. Até a próxima.’

‘Until next time,’ Theo repeated. He heard the disbelieving gasp from Inez da Costa as Alfonso walked away without another glance in her direction.

A thread of satisfaction oozed through him as he tracked his friend to the ballroom doors. Scanning the room, he saw Pietro da Costa’s thunderous look in his sister’s direction.

Theo lifted his glass to his lips and took a lazy sip then turned his attention to Inez da Costa.

Her large brown eyes were filled with anger as she glared at him.

‘Who the devil are you and what did you say to Alfonso?’

CHAPTER TWO

THEO DIDN’T LIKE the idea that he’d been less than one hundred per cent thorough in covering every angle in his investigations.

His surveillance of Inez da Costa had been from afar simply because until recently he’d deemed her involvement in his investigation peripheral at best.

The extent of her role in her father’s organisation had only come to light a few days ago. But even then he should’ve recognised her power.

Now, at the first proper sight of what was turning out to be the jewel in Benedicto da Costa’s crown, the essential cog in the sinister wheel that his enemy was intent on using to his full advantage, he experienced a pulse of heat so strong, so powerful, he sucked in a quick breath.

Up close, Inez da Costa’s heart-shaped face was flawless…breathtaking, her skin a silky, vibrant complexion even the best cosmetics couldn’t hope to produce.

Not that she hadn’t attempted to enhance her beauty even further. Her make-up was impeccable, her lids smoky in a way that drew attention to her wide, doe-like stare.

Long-lashed eyes that bored into him with unwavering demand and a healthy dose of suspicion. Her nose flared with pure Latin ire and her full lips parted as she released another agitated breath.

The pictures in his dossier did her no justice at all. Flesh and blood wrapped in red silk from cleavage to toe, she made his senses ignite in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. The earlier pull deep in his groin returned. Harder.

‘I asked you a question.’ Her voice held a hint of dark sultriness that reminded him of a warm Santorini evening spent drinking ouzo on a deserted beach. And the mouth that framed her words, painted a deep matt red, reminded him of what happened on the beach after the ouzo had been consumed and inhibitions were at their loosest.

She glanced over his shoulder and Theo’s jaw clenched at the thought that she was more concerned with the departing Alfonso than she was with him.

‘Why is one of my guests walking out the door right this moment?’

‘I told him that if he didn’t want a noose slipped around his neck before he was ready to be hog-tied, he needed to stay away from you.’

Her parted mouth gaped wider, showing a row of perfect white teeth. ‘Excuse me—?’

‘You’re excused.’

Eyes the colour of dark caramel flashed. ‘How dare you refer to me as such—?’

‘Careful, anjo, you’re causing a scene. Pai would not be happy to see his event ruined by a tantrum now, would he?’

Her eyes didn’t stray from his, her stare direct and cutting in a way that made it difficult for him to look away. Or maybe it was because, despite the boldly challenging stare, he spied a quickly hidden vulnerability that tweaked his radar?

‘I don’t know who you think you are but perhaps you need to be educated in the etiquette of social gatherings. You don’t deliberately set out to insult your host or—’

‘My intention was quite simple. I wanted to get rid of the competition.’

‘The competition?’

The doors to the larger ballroom where the dinner fund-raiser was to be held were thrown open. Theo turned to her. ‘Yes. And now Alfonso’s gone, I have you all to myself. And, as to who I am, I’m Theo Pantelides, your VIP guest of honour. Maybe you should add another bullet point to your rules of etiquette. That the hostess should know who her most important guests are?’

Her mouth started to drop open but she caught her reaction and pursed her lips.

‘You’re Theo Pantelides?’ she muttered.

‘Yes, so I suggest you make nice with me to stop me from leaving. One high net worth guest departing before dinner may be excusable. Barely. Two will certainly not go down well with your crowd. Now, smile and take my arm.’

Inez reeled under the steely punch packed behind the suave, sophisticated exterior and charming smile.

Theo Pantelides.

This was the man her father and Pietro had talked about. The one who would be taking over majority shares in Da Costa Holdings until after the elections. The one her brother Pietro had referred to as an arrogant bastard.

Well, he certainly was arrogant all right. The swiftness with which he’d dispatched Alfonso and assumed he could control her confirmed that assertion. As to whether he was a true bastard…well, that was something to be determined. But so far all signs pointed in that direction.

What she hadn’t been aware of was that the man spoken of with such scorn would be so…visually breathtaking.

‘I thought you would be older.’ The words tripped from her tongue before she could stop herself.

‘As opposed to young, virile and unbelievably handsome?’ he drawled.

Shock jolted though her at his unapologetic, irritatingly justified confidence. Because he undeniably was. A full head of vibrant jet-black hair was common enough among her countrymen. Even his hazel eyes, sculpted cheekbones and square jaw were conventional in the polo-loving jet set crowd her father and brother encouraged her to associate with.

On this man, though, the whole combination had been elevated several hundred notches to an entirely different level of magnetism that demanded attention and got it. There was a quality about the way he carried himself, his broad shoulders unyielding, that spelled a tough inner core anyone would be foolish to mess with.

And yet that danger Inez could feel rising off him was…compelling. Alluring.

She found her gaze drifting over his face, past the tiny dimple in his chin to the dark bronze throat as he lazily swallowed a mouthful of champagne.

She inhaled a sharp dart of air as she watched his Adam’s apple move. Then jerked back when her fingers flexed suddenly with the urge to touch him there.

Santa Maria!

She fought to remember her anger at this stranger. As much as she detested her role in tonight’s events—the blatant begging for campaign funds disguised as a charity event—she couldn’t let opportunities slip through her fingers.

It was the deal she’d made with her father.

An education in return for serving her time. In six short weeks she would be free to pursue her dreams. Free of her father’s influence, of the sleazy, horrifying rumours that had been part of her childhood and what had driven her mother to quiet despair when she thought she wasn’t being observed.

She needed to focus, not moon over how coarse this arrogant stranger’s faintly stubbled jaw would feel against her skin.

‘Make nice? After you rudely interrupted my conversation and sent my guest for the evening running without so much as a goodbye?’

‘Think about that for a minute. Do you really want a man who would abandon you so easily on the strength of a few whispered words?’

Genuine anger replaced the momentary sensory aberration. ‘That you needed to whisper those words instead of state them in my hearing makes me wonder just how confident you are of your manhood.’

Inez was used to being the butt of male jokes. Pietro and her father had mocked and dismissed her career ambitions until the day she’d picked up her suitcase and threatened to leave home for good.

But she was still shocked when the man in front of her threw back his head and laughed. Even more so when the sight of his strong white teeth and the genuine twinkling merriment in his eyes sent her pulse racing. An alien tingling started in her belly and spread outward like fractured lightning.

‘Did I say something funny?’

Light hazel eyes speared hers. ‘I’ve been challenged on a lot of things, querida, but never over my manhood.’

The political career her father so desperately craved produced men who could fake confidence with the best of them. She’d seen political candidates on a clear losing streak fake bravado until they were on the verge of looking totally ridiculous.

This man oozed confidence and power so very effortlessly it was like a second skin. Couple those two elements with the dangerous magnetism she could feel and Theo Pantelides was positively lethal.

Over her thundering heartbeat, she heard the master of ceremonies announce that the fund-raiser she’d so carefully orchestrated—the platform that would see her achieve her freedom—was about to begin.

Beyond one broad shoulder of the man who seemed to have sucked the air from the large ballroom, she saw her father and Pietro heading towards her.

Her father would want to know what had happened to Alfonso. The Brazilian businessman had promised to host a polo match on his large ranch where he bred the finest thoroughbreds. Securing a time and a date and a campaign donation had been her job tonight.

A much needed win this man had cost her.

Frustrated anger flared anew.

‘This can be resolved very easily, Inez,’ Theo Pantelides murmured in her ear. His voice was deep. Alluring. To hear him use her given name, the version her half-American mother had so lovingly bestowed on her, made her momentarily lose her bearings. A state that worsened when his hot breath washed over her neck.

Barely managing to suppress a shiver, she snapped herself back into focus. ‘Don’t say my name. In fact, don’t speak to me. Just…just go away!’

Inez knew she was on the verge of displaying childish behaviour but she needed to regroup quickly, find a solution to a situation that had been so cut and dried fifteen minutes ago.

She watched her father and brother approach and the dart of pain that resided beneath her breastbone twisted. For a long time she’d yearned for a connection with them, especially after Mãe had been so cruelly ripped from their lives following a fall from a racehorse a week before Inez’s eighteenth birthday. But she’d soon realised that she was alone in the pain and loneliness brought on by the loss of the mother who’d been her everything. Pietro had been given no time to grieve before their father had stepped up his grooming campaign. As for Benedicto himself, he’d barely finished burying his wife before resuming his relentless pursuit of political power.

The only other male she’d foolishly thought was honourable had turned out to be just as ruthlessly power-hungry as the men in her family.

Constantine Blanco—one lesson well and truly learned.

‘I see the rumours were false after all,’ the man who loomed, large and imposing, in front of her drawled in that deep voice of his, capturing her attention so effortlessly.

She pushed down the bitterness that swirled through her at the thought of what she’d allowed to happen with Constantine. How low she’d sunk in her need for love and a desire for a connection.

‘What rumours?’ She infused a carelessness in her voice she was far from feeling.

‘The ones that said you exhibit grace and charm with each bat of your eyelids. At the moment all I can see is a hellcat intent on scoring grooves into my skin.’

‘Then I suggest you stay away from me. I wouldn’t want to ruin your unbelievably handsome face now, would I?’

She hurried away from his magnetic presence towards where the tables had been set out with highly polished sterling silver cutlery and exquisitely cut crystal. At twenty thousand dollars a plate, the event was ostensibly to raise money for the children trapped within Rio’s favelas, a cause dear to her heart.

Shame it had to be tainted with power-hungry sharks, mild threats to secure votes and…devastatingly handsome rogues with piercing hazel eyes who made her breath catch in a frighteningly exciting way…

The direction of her thoughts made her stumble lightly. Catching herself, she smiled at a guest who slid her a concerned glance.

Each table was set for eight. Her father had insisted their table was placed in the centre, where all eyes would be on them.

With Alfonso’s unexpected departure, the empty seat would stick out like the proverbial sore thumb once the Secretary of State and his wife and the other power couple had taken their places.

She had no choice but to bump someone to the high table. All she needed to figure out was who—

‘Staring at the empty seat will not make your departed guest suddenly reappear, senhorita,’ the deep voice uttered from behind her.

That hot shiver swept up her spine again.

Before she could summon an appropriately scathing retort, her chair and the one bearing Alfonso’s name were pulled back.

‘What are you doing?’ she demanded heatedly under her breath. She continued to stare down at the place setting, unwilling to look up into those hazel eyes. Something in their light depths made her hyperaware of her body, of her increased heartbeat. As if she was prey and he was the merciless predator.