“That’s horrible. You’re horrible, vile people.” I couldn’t bear to think of Amber in this situation, and yet it was the main thing on my mind.
“Sure. Whatever. Call names. I’m just telling you how it is so you won’t be surprised when my father decides you’re in his debt as well.”
I bit back my gasp. “You’re just trying to scare me.”
He smirked. “Maybe so. Doesn’t mean I don’t also mean it.”
“Petros,” a thick masculine voice snapped from behind me followed by a string of conversation in Greek.
I turned to find a broad-shouldered middle-aged man had entered the room. I’d seen Michelis in pictures so I recognized him easily, but in person, he was both more formidable and more attractive than photos portrayed him. While his slicked-back hair was graying at the temples and his eyes were creased with age, he appeared to be in excellent physical condition. He was handsome, and I may have even thought he was sexy if I didn’t know so much about him. If I didn’t know what he was capable of. If I didn’t know his hands could hurt and punish and break down.
It struck me – those were the types of men I was normally drawn to. Had I finally found a man who was a hard limit? Or was every man a hard limit if he wasn’t Reeve?
“Emily Wayborn,” Michelis exclaimed, crossing to me. When he reached me, he put his hands on my upper arms and greeted me in the European style with a kiss to each cheek.
Horror and adrenaline slid down my spine, automatically causing me to straighten my posture. I should have been prepared for that, and I hadn’t been. But more concerning was how unprepared I was for all of it.
“Hello,” I said smoothly, recovering as much poise as possible.
His lip curled up, and the gleam in his eye said he’d seen every beat of my reaction to him – my assessment, my apprehension, my regrouping. He’d seen it, he’d remember it. He’d use it if he could.
Despite all that, he was polite and hospitable. “I’ve heard so much about you, Emily – may I call you that?” He didn’t wait for my response. “It feels like I already know you.”
My skin prickled, and I had to scold myself to keep composed. He doesn’t know me. It’s his way of manipulating the situation, making me feel both welcome and uncomfortable all at once. I’d seen this trick played before. I wouldn’t let it get to me.
“I wish I could say the same. I feel, however, like we’re perfect strangers.” I hoped it was a good move, dismissing any knowledge of him as if he were insignificant.
His smile fell slightly. “Well, we shall get to know one another now. For me, it’s an honor to finally meet the face behind the name. Or should I say, behind the voice.”
“I’ve heard that one before, I’m afraid.” I sighed. As if I were bored.
“I’m sure you have.” He lost the grin altogether now. “I wasn’t going for originality. I was going for an icebreaker. Can Petros get you anything before he leaves? Coffee? A glass of wine?”
“Uh, no.” At the last minute, I added, “Thank you.”
“Water, perhaps?”
His persistence didn’t necessarily mean he had ill intentions. He could simply have been attempting to put me at ease.
Still, I was smart about bad men. “I’m not going to accept anything you have to offer, thank you, Mr. Vilanakis.”
“Call me Micha, please.” With a nod of his head, he dismissed Petros, who disappeared down the hall.
And now we were alone.
“Have a seat, Ms. Wayborn. Make yourself at home.” He thrust his hands in his pockets, relaxed but in command. He reminded me of a lion lying in the sun, his eyes half closed, comfortable as king. If a mouse tried to sneak past him, all he’d have to do was stretch out his paw, and he’d catch the sucker in its tracks.
All I had to do, then, was watch out for that paw. Easy enough.
I circled the coffee table, putting space between us, casual despite the cocktail of adrenaline and foreboding that hummed in my blood. Once I’d distanced myself as well as I could, I spun to face him. “Why am I here?”
“Ah, right to the heart of things. No beating around the bush.” He’d beat enough around the bush for me, it seemed.
“That isn’t an answer to my question.”
“No, it’s not. I’ll get there momentarily. Please. Sit.”
I remained on my feet. “My friend is downstairs. I’m sure he’s looking for me already. Reeve will come looking for me as well.”
“Only time for a short chat today, then. What a pity.”
It was naïve to assume that a short chat meant he intended to let me go. But I clung to that notion all the same. He’d intimidate me, he’d bully me. But he’d let me walk away. He had to.
Michelis gestured at the armchair, wanting to put me at ease, I was sure. Wanted me to sit, unwind. Let him call the shots.
At another time, I might have played it that way.
With Michelis – I would never use the nickname Amber used – I didn’t have the time or the patience. I would not sit. I would not unwind. He would not call the shots.
“Why am I here?” My tone was even but insistent.
“I wanted to meet you.” He could have had a hundred different motives, none of them were clear.
I guessed at the most obvious. “Are you going to slip me your number and let me know you’re available after I’m done with Reeve?”
“Amber’s told you how we met. How dear of her.” Sugar drenched his words, so much so that they became insincere. If he’d felt any fondness for her, it hadn’t run deep. His eyes narrowed as he openly perused my body like a man checking out a horse. “She was an exception, though. I don’t believe I’ll make a habit of indulging in my nephew’s leftovers.”