CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

A RISTOPHANES WAS VERY conscious of the seconds ticking by, of the further rearrangements in his schedule he might need to make. He’d already wasted hours at the hospital and he did not want to waste any more. His assistants had organised his doctor and his doctor had begun the process of handling the hospital bureaucracy. She would meet him at the penthouse apartment. Everything was being handled. There was nothing money and power couldn’t arrange for him if he required it.

However, apparently the one thing his money and power couldn’t arrange was Miss Underwood’s consent to go with him, and she was currently being difficult. It was annoying. While he hadn’t expected her to fall in with his wishes immediately, he’d thought she might take one look at his Wikipedia page and then graciously agree.

But she had not. What she’d given him was a look of brief shock, then, to his surprise, had doubled down on her refusal.

He found that inconceivable.

He wasn’t a household name, it was true, but most people, in his experience, knew who he was. Knew the story of the company he’d started building when he was a teenager, already playing the stock market with his frugal earnings from a job in an Athens fast-food outlet.

He hadn’t gone to university. He’d found school dull and had left as soon as he could, which had been at fourteen. Numbers had been his delight, his music, and he’d created symphonies with them. He made money obey his every wish, doubling, tripling, moving from place to place, fluid as water. Sometimes he lost it, but that didn’t matter, because he could always make more and he did. Effortlessly.

People called him a genius, but for him that was merely the way he was. As long as he kept to his schedule. Time was money. Seconds were euros that he poured into something productive, because if he wasn’t productive, he was nothing. And he couldn’t be nothing. He’d been nothing once before, to the woman who’d called herself his mother and yet who’d never been any kind of mother to him. She’d taken him to church with her when he was eight, and then after the service she’d told him to sit still and be quiet and then she’d left. Without him.

He’d still been sitting there an hour later when the priest had found him. They’d searched for his mother for days, but she was long gone by then. That had been the beginning of his climb from the nothingness of being abandoned, and he would never allow anything like that to happen to him again.

Now this lovely little woman was sitting up in the hospital bed, staring at him with those dark, dark eyes, her delicate features set in stubborn lines, and she seemed to be hell-bent on wasting his time with her arguments. Yet all he could think about was not his wasted hours, minutes and seconds, but how beautiful she was. How she irritated him with her refusals and how mystified he was that he cared so much about them.

Possibly he was irritated because of the constant ache of physical lust that dragged at him whenever he looked at her, which had never happened to him before. Not without a meeting of minds first. He resented it. She was a complete stranger to him, he knew nothing of her mind and how it worked, and that was not the usual order of things for him. It further irritated him that he couldn’t understand why he felt that way, either.

A fascinating mind was of the utmost importance to him, and then physical attraction. The chemistry of bodies was nothing compared to the intrigue of how a woman thought. But he had no idea how Nell Underwood thought. What he wanted was her body.

Annoyed with himself and his physical feelings, he stared stonily back at her. He just couldn’t understand why she was protesting. She’d read his history; it was all there in black and white on the Internet. He wasn’t a serial killer or an axe murderer. She had nothing to fear from him, so why was she arguing? Yes, he was a stranger, but he was hardly some random passer-by.

He was Aristophanes Katsaros. One of the richest men in the world. Some would argue that rich men weren’t exactly pure as the driven snow and that maybe she was right to be apprehensive of him. But he’d never hurt a woman in his entire life and he wasn’t about to start. That wouldn’t be a productive use of his time anyway.

Tonight, his body had expected sex and that was still his plan—Angelina had some work to do and she hadn’t minded waiting—but he needed to make sure Miss Nell Underwood was taken care of. His doctor would keep her under observation for the requisite number of hours. It would not be a problem.

Her cheeks had flushed prettily and he found his gaze drawn yet again to the deliciously feminine lines of her body. There were no bra lines, no panty lines showing under the cheap, clinging black jersey. She wasn’t wearing a stitch beneath it, and he was inexplicably intrigued by that. Where had she been going wearing no underwear? Was she a sex worker? A high-end escort? Had she been going to meet a lover?

He didn’t understand why he wanted to know. He didn’t understand why her body fascinated him. Because it wasn’t as if he didn’t know what a woman looked like naked. He knew very well about breasts and hips and the soft, wet, hot place between a woman’s legs.

Yet it seemed to him as if he was intrigued by this woman and her body, and he wasn’t sure why. All bodies were the same and they all worked the same, too, but it was the mind that was different. It was the mind that fascinated him.

‘No,’ she said, calm yet firm. ‘I don’t think so. Your doctor can come to me instead.’

Her voice was huskier than expected and it stroked over his skin in a velvet caress. He wanted to hear it again. He wanted to hear it moaning his name as he made her come, as he—

Aristophanes gritted his teeth, dragging his thoughts away from that particular track.

No wasn’t acceptable. He didn’t like. He didn’t like being unable to fathom why his body wanted her so very badly. And he really didn’t like that a part of him didn’t want to let her go. A part of him felt that she was his obligation now, his responsibility. Absurd to liken a woman to the kitten he’d once rescued, but still, that was how he felt. He’d witnessed her getting hurt and he’d looked after her until the ambulance came. She’d reached for his hand, had held it as if she hadn’t wanted to let him go and yet apparently now his doctor was preferable to him.

Logically it made sense, so why was he feeling the need to argue with her? His doctor would be there, his sense of obligation duly discharged. He didn’t need to be there himself, and besides, the longer he stayed, the more the seconds poured through his fingers, becoming minutes, turning to hours, time sliding away into nothing.

He had places to go, people to see. This strange fascination with her had already cost him a few hours of his evening and he didn’t want it to cost any more.

Yet as she sat there in the hospital bed, he found his gaze returning yet again to her delicious curves. Full breasts, the perfect dip of her waist, rounded hips to grip and grip tight. That glorious mane of thick auburn hair, long enough to wind around his wrist to tug her mouth close. And her mouth... Yes, there were so many things he could do with that beautiful, full mouth...

Her eyes went wide and she tore her gaze away, her skin flushing the most beautiful shade of pink.

She’d seen what was in his eyes. She’d seen the hunger there. He’d betrayed himself, which was unconscionable, and yet still a part of him had noted the blush in her cheeks, the racing pulse at the base of her throat.

He wasn’t the only one who’d betrayed themselves.

You should go. Now.

He gave a soundless growl. Yes, he should. If she didn’t want him there, that was fine. He wouldn’t insist. He had Angelina to quench the curious flare of desire that had sprung to life inside him, and she was always appreciative of his attention. He wanted more from his partners than just sex anyway. Sex was easy and cheap and he disdained easy and cheap. Sex could be had from anyone. Time was precious, so why would he spend it satisfying only his body, when he could also satisfy his mind?

He would have his night with Angelina and he would forget about Miss Nell Underwood.

‘Very well,’ he said coldly. ‘If that’s what you prefer. Give me your address and I will have my doctor escort you home.’

She did and then he forced himself to leave her bedside and wait for his doctor away from her.

Things moved with their usual smoothness after that.

His doctor arrived, leaving Aristophanes to finally go to the penthouse apartment he owned, where Angelina was waiting for him, and once there, he should have forgotten about Miss Nell Underwood completely.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

His normal plan for an evening with a lover was an excellent meal, a very good glass of wine, an interesting conversation and then some mutually satisfying sex.

However, when he got to the apartment, the meal his favourite chef had prepared was lukewarm, the wine subpar, and Angelina irritated at being made to wait. Then, to make matters even worse, he couldn’t stop thinking about the woman he’d left back in the hospital ER. His brain kept reminding him of the shape of her body underneath that clinging dress, and the way her gorgeous auburn hair had curled in the rain. How soft her mouth had looked. How she’d gripped his hand so tightly, as if she couldn’t bear to let go of him. How, after she’d fallen, her beautiful deep brown eyes had opened and he’d looked into them and felt something deep and profound shift inside him.

He was furious. His evening plans had been blown to smithereens and it was all her fault.

Angelina, sensing his distraction, tried her best to engage him. He’d been neglecting his sexual needs for a couple of months because he’d been fine-tuning an update to his algorithm and when business called, he was consumed by it. So his body should have been primed and ready for sex from the moment he’d walked into his apartment. But when Angelina kissed him and he prepared for the usual rush of lust, there was nothing. And when she ran a hand down the front of his trousers, caressing him through the fabric, he didn’t get hard. Even when he kissed her back and slid his palm down her spine, touching her skin...

He felt nothing.

His body wanted sex, but not with Angelina. His body wanted the Burne-Jones angel he’d left in the ER, and it didn’t care what his mind wanted.

Aristophanes had never been turned inside out by physical desire. He was always in complete control of himself physically and emotionally, because only then could he set his mind free. The body and its needs were an inconvenience that he tolerated and managed accordingly, but this... He could not tolerate this and most especially not when he didn’t even understand why she’d got so completely and thoroughly under his skin.

Which meant that there was only one thing he could do.

The answer to his problem didn’t lie with Angelina.

It lay with Miss Nell Underwood.

And fortunately, he had her address.

Mr Katsaros’ doctor was nice and a complete professional, much to Nell’s annoyance, since she didn’t want to like anything associated with the disturbing, kind of rude, yet also mesmerising man who’d left her in the ER.

The doctor gave her a thorough examination, before dealing with the hospital paperwork. Then a car arrived for them, delivering them back at Nell’s small but cosy flat in Brunswick.

Nell, going automatically into hostess mode, tried to make the doctor some tea, but was then told in no uncertain terms that the correct behaviour after a knock to the head was rest.

That was annoying too, because she wasn’t good with rest. She liked to be doing something, so, instead of going into her bedroom and lying down, she went to have a hot shower. She was cold, her head ached, and she wanted to get out of her damp dress.

She also felt oddly...abandoned.

Aristophanes Katsaros had left her in the ER. After first arguing with her, then staring at her as if he wanted to eat her alive, he’d agreed to her wishes without another protest before turning around and leaving.

And she’d felt deflated, which was ridiculous because what more had she expected? If he truly was who he’d said he was, then why on earth would he want to stay in the ER with her? She was merely a random stranger that he’d helped, and he’d already helped as much as he’d been able to. There wasn’t anything more he could do.

Yet still, her heart pinched tight at the memory of his powerful figure disappearing through the curtains around her bed. He hadn’t looked back and she hadn’t realised she’d wanted him to until he didn’t.

It was the way he’d looked at her just before he’d left that was the issue. His gaze burning bright silver as it followed the line of her body before coming to rest on her face once again. She knew what a man wanted when he looked at a woman that way. Clayton had looked at her in a similar way, yet his gaze had never been as hot, never been as hungry. And more importantly, she’d only felt...warm in return. Warm, not burning hot. A bit peckish, not starving. Pleased that he wanted her, of course, yet...

If she was being really honest with herself, she’d never felt the rush of sudden, hot physical desire for Clayton. Had never been so breathless in his presence that all thought had left her head. Never felt as if her cheeks were on fire whenever he’d caught her looking at him. In fact, she couldn’t remember looking at him the way she’d looked at Aristophanes Katsaros.

God, it was stupid to be thinking about him. It didn’t matter how he looked at her. He was too disturbing for her peace of mind anyway, and she should be glad he’d walked away.

Peeling off the embarrassing, ridiculous dress, Nell stepped into the shower, sighing as warm water ran over her chilled skin. Apart from a painful lump at the back of her skull, the ache in her head had receded and she was feeling a lot better. The doctor had given her a list of concussion symptoms to watch for and Nell was to let her know if she felt woozy or dizzy. Some people didn’t develop concussion, though, so she might be fine, especially if she’d only been out for a couple of seconds.

Nell wasn’t sure how long she’d been unconscious, but she had none of the symptoms the doctor had mentioned. Maybe she’d be one of the ones who didn’t develop any. She hoped so. She didn’t want to annoy Sarah by not coming into work tomorrow.

Once she’d showered, she stepped out of the stall and dried herself off, then reached for the thick pink fluffy robe she always wore when it was cold, wrapping herself up in it. Humming softly, she towel-dried her hair to get most of the water out before winding the towel around her head turban-style.

Then she opened the bathroom door, stepped out into the hall, and came to a dead stop.

A man stood in the middle of her tiny, narrow hallway.

A familiar man.

Aristophanes Katsaros.

All the breath left her body in a wild rush, an electric thrill shooting straight through her, and her first thought was, Thank God. He hadn’t abandoned her after all. He’d come back.

He stood with his arms folded across his muscular chest, filling the hall with his compelling physical presence. His height and the broad width of his shoulders, the flickering silver fire in his storm-grey eyes. A crackling energy seemed to leap between them, rooting her to the spot.

He seemed to be furious about something and, given the way he was looking at her, that something appeared to be her.

Her mouth became a desert. She had no idea what he was doing here.

‘I have dismissed the doctor.’ His deep rough voice was a shock to her system, as if she’d been fast asleep and the sound of it had woken her up. ‘I said you were my responsibility and so you are. For the next twenty-four hours.’

She struggled to find her own voice. ‘But...why? Don’t you have better things to do?’

‘I did.’ His gaze slid over her and she was very aware that she was naked underneath her fluffy pink robe and...oh, yes, she was wearing a fluffy pink robe. And a towel turban. Sexy. ‘Until you interrupted my evening with your accident.’

There was definite accusation in his tone and her cheeks heated. She was shocked he was here, embarrassed to be caught in her dressing gown with a towel around her head, and already angry with herself for thinking about him. Him getting angry with her for having the gall to slip in front of him was the last thing she needed.

‘I’m terribly sorry your evening was inconvenienced by my head injury,’ she snapped. ‘I’ll be sure to watch my step better next time when incredibly rude, overbearing men are in my vicinity.’

His black brows twitched again, his gaze sharpening. ‘I am not overbearing.’

‘Really? Then maybe I imagined you flinging your phone at me and ordering me to google you. I probably imagined you ordering me to come with you back to your residence, and being petulant when I refused, too.’

He said nothing, yet she could see the temper glittering in his eyes.

She shouldn’t have spoken to him that way. Why had she? She was always patient, always caring and considerate. Never rude. It was just... Everything about him rattled her.

Still, she handled some of the worst nonsense humanity was capable of every day in the form of four-year-olds. She would not let a confrontation with one adult man get the better of her.

Nell lifted her chin, determined to show him that she was not intimidated by him and his silly little male temper, not one bit.

He glowered, obviously unimpressed by this show of defiance. ‘Do you know what I had planned for this evening?’ he bit out.

‘No.’ Nell lifted her chin even higher, ignoring how her heart beat far too fast and her skin was tight and hot. ‘I can’t imagine how your evening plans would be at all relevant to me.’

He did not like this one bit, something hot leaping in his eyes, and he took a step towards her, his arms still folded, his stare relentless. ‘Sex, Miss Underwood. That’s what I had planned for my evening. Dinner, conversation and sex. But because I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I could not pay proper attention to my date.’

‘That sounds like a you problem,’ she said coolly. ‘I didn’t ask you to come here, Mr Katsaros, and if you’re so concerned about your date, perhaps you should be with her instead of standing in my hallway being annoyed with me. Certainly you’ll get more sex that way.’

His glower turned into a scowl and she really didn’t like how hot that made her feel. As if part of her was pleased she was getting under his skin as much as he was getting under hers.

‘I tried being with my date,’ he growled. ‘It didn’t work.’

‘Inside voice, please,’ she said automatically.

‘Excuse me?’

Nell knew a moment’s fierce embarrassment as she realised what she’d said, then shoved it away. He couldn’t blame her for treating him like a four-year-old when he was acting like one.

‘It’s what I tell the children in my preschool class,’ she said, meeting his hot gaze head-on. ‘When they are throwing tantrums.’

For a second something tense and electric crackled in the air between them.

‘Your preschool class,’ he echoed as if he’d never heard of such a thing.

‘That’s right.’ She didn’t look away. ‘I’m a preschool teacher.’

‘Good God,’ he muttered with some disgust. ‘Then what is the point of all of... this ?’ He flung out a hand, clearly indicating her.

Nell stiffened. ‘All of what? What are you talking about?’

‘All of you . ’ He virtually spat the words. ‘You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and I have not been able to stop thinking about you since I left you in the ER.’

Nell blinked. No one ever complimented her. Clayton had told her she was pretty a couple of times when they’d first started going out, but then the compliments had stopped, and he’d started complaining about her more than he’d praised her. And as for her aunt and uncle, who’d taken her in after her parents had died... They hadn’t complimented her either. They’d been resentful they’d had to look after her in the first place, and had made no secret of the fact.

Yet now this maddening man had called her beautiful and seemed to regard this as a personal affront, and she didn’t know whether to be complimented or insulted.

‘Fine,’ she said, struggling to hold onto a patience that was usually limitless. ‘You’re upset about the interruption to your evening and I’m truly sorry about that.’ She wasn’t and made sure that her tone indicated that she wasn’t. ‘I’m also sorry my appearance is such an aggravation. But you really don’t have to stay.’ She gave him one of the sunny smiles that always cheered the children she taught. ‘I’ll be fine. So why don’t you go off and have your little evening, and enjoy your date, hmm?’ She’d wanted to sound calm, firm and authoritative. Yet she had a horrible suspicion that the words that had escaped were the ones she’d usually use with Dylan, one of the naughtiest boys in her class. Dylan. Who was four.

Aristophanes Katsaros, who was definitely not four, stared at her as if he couldn’t believe what she’d said. ‘My little evening?’ he repeated. ‘My little evening?’ He took another step forward, and then another, and another, stalking down the hallway towards her, and Nell found herself backing up and up, until the closed door of her bedroom was hard at her back, stopping her.

He towered over her, so much bigger and more powerful than she was. If he decided to do anything to her, she wouldn’t stand a chance. She should have been terrified.

Yet she wasn’t. She was...exhilarated almost. This man was a billionaire. The founder of a huge company. He was a mathematical genius and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. He’d dismissed the doctor so he could look after her. He’d said she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Yes, he seemed angry about that, but he’d also called an ambulance when she’d been unconscious and injured. He’d held her hand and come to the hospital with her.

He wasn’t going to do anything to her; she knew that as well as she knew her own name.

But he was certainly angry, which was fair since she probably shouldn’t have used quite that tone with him. And maybe she was crazy, but she found it unbearably exciting. When she’d gone to live with her aunt and uncle, they had never taken much notice of her. They’d already had four other kids and hadn’t wanted a sixth, especially one who wasn’t theirs, so she’d been forgotten, ignored. Her middling marks at school and her middling performance at the outdoor activities they preferred had ensured her place as the most mediocre of their brood. Or perhaps the cuckoo in the nest was a more apt term, since the rest of their kids were blonde and tall, while she was dark-haired and short.

She’d once tried a bit of rebellion as a teenager by sneaking a cigarette or two and going to a couple of parties, but even doing that hadn’t earned her their attention. They hadn’t even yelled at her. They’d shrugged their shoulders and ignored her, deeming her so unimportant they weren’t even going to waste their anger.

But this man was wasting his anger on her, and God help her, but she liked it.

He was inches away, staring down at her, and she could smell his aftershave, spicy like sandalwood or frankincense, and it made her mouth go even drier than it already was. His body was large, hard, and powerful and he was hot; she could feel the heat of him radiating through his clothes.

His attention was fixed wholly on her as he put one hand on the wall beside her head. ‘I don’t want my date,’ he said roughly, putting his other hand on the wall, caging her against it. ‘I want you.’

Her heart thumped hard, deafening in her ears, electricity dancing like static over her skin. She looked into his eyes, the grey light in the centre of his iris darkening to charcoal around the edges. Fascinating eyes.

She wasn’t afraid, even though he was crowding her. No, she was excited. Excited that she’d got to him, that she’d bothered him. Amazed that he found her beautiful. And thrilled beyond measure that he wanted her.

Because she wanted him too.

Nell took a sudden, shuddering breath and then, holding tight to her courage, she put out a hand and brushed her fingers along one of his high cheekbones. His skin was warm beneath her fingertips, whiskers making it slightly rough. ‘Then what are you waiting for?’ she said.