CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FOUR
Juliette
“R ELAX , G REY .”
I stop struggling as his voice sinks in. Dark, smooth, laced with his lilting accent.
Gavriil-freaking-Drakos. My body responds to his voice, my heart ticking up as warmth pools in my belly even as my mind snaps at me for letting a spoiled billionaire playboy get the drop on me.
“Are you going to scream?”
His lips brush my ear. I stiffen as the muscles in my thighs clench.
You haven’t been on a date in months. Or had sex in...months. I frown as I count back. Okay, a year and a half. Totally normal reaction.
I shake my head. His fingers start to loosen, then tighten once more over my jaw.
“I don’t know. I rather like it when you can’t speak.”
Ass.
I force my lips open and graze my teeth against his palm, a threat of what I’m willing to do. The action startles him enough that he loosens his grip. I sag in his arms. He swears and stumbles backward. I lean forward, breaking his hold, and then whirl around to face him.
“Don’t ever sneak up on me or touch me without my permission,” I snap.
He rights himself and stares me down. He’s nearly a foot taller than me. Steam swirls around him. With the dim lighting and his dark suit, he looks like a demon lying in wait.
I reach into my pocket and hit the button on my recorder.
“You’re the one who followed me, Grey.”
“Which I think you wanted, Mr. Drakos.”
He arches a brow, the one with a small scar bisecting the dark hair. “Oh?”
“Or perhaps I interrupted an assignation?” I smile sweetly at him. “Is Natalie White joining you?”
His lips curve up. “Jealous, Grey?”
I manage not to snarl at him. “I don’t have any interest in another woman’s leftovers.”
His amusement disappears as his mouth flattens into a grim line. “Keep your speculations about my private life out of your gossip rag.”
That he didn’t deny a personal relationship with Natalie bothers me for reasons I don’t care to examine. That he calls my work gossip infuriates me to the point I almost lose focus and lash out.
Stay on target.
“Gossip implies the facts have not been verified, Mr. Drakos. I always verify.”
“And ruin people’s lives in the process.”
Men like Gavriil have no idea what ruin means to the average person. Have no idea about the children left behind, the women with broken hearts, the families without a penny to their name. All they care about is their own wealth, their reputations.
“I’m not in the business of ruining people. I reveal them for who they really are.”
“Then you should know that my brother and I are not like my father.”
He’s got me there. In all my research on the Drakos men, I found little to suggest that Rafael and Gavriil were close with Lucifer. The subtle venom in Gavriil’s voice makes me wonder what happened before he grew up, those early years that are still a mystery. If there’s something there that can be used to further my cause.
However, as I’ve learned the hard way, the words that come out of someone’s mouth, the expressions of grief or outrage or sympathy, all of it can be twisted, manipulated. I’ve talked with Gavriil less than a dozen times over the years, all in a professional capacity. I don’t know him nearly well enough to know if he’s lying right now. If his supposed disgust of his father is real or an act.
“We’ll see.”
Gavriil’s eyes narrow to slits. “The man was cruel, arrogant and greedy.”
“Agreed.”
“And I don’t begrudge the first story you published about him.”
I blink in surprise. “You read it.”
“It was well researched. Lucifer was wrong.”
I mentally note his use of his father’s first name.
“He threatened and harassed an eighty-year-old grandmother of seven into nearly selling her property for a fraction of its worth, or face having her house condemned by the county.”
His jaw tightens. “Like I said. He was wrong.”
I tilt my chin up. “What if you found out you and your brother were now in possession of property that had been obtained in a similar manner?”
He moves before I can blink, stopping with mere inches between us. My breath catches in my chest as I look up. I try to keep my face professional, try not to let this man see the physical effect he has on me. It would give him power over me. Power I have no doubt he would use to get what he wants.
But it also irritates me. I’ve never been the type to fall for a handsome face. I’m not about to start now with the son of the man who ruined my family.
“What do you know, Grey?”
“I know a lot of things.”
He leans down. Damn it. I take a step back, not wanting to let him get too close. But it’s too late. That sensual awareness that I felt back in the ballroom slams back into my body and curls through me, leaving me breathless and unfocused as my gaze lands on his mouth.
My back hits the wall. His hands come up on either side, pinning me in.
“You know something about one of the properties.”
I cock my head to one side, faking a bravado I don’t feel as my pulse pounds even as my mind screams at me to slow down, to not let lust get in the way of what I need to do. I inhale, acutely aware of the barest brush of my breasts against his chest. His eyes flare as his lips part slightly.
Focus!
I mentally reach out and manage to rein in my racing thoughts. Judging by the underlying question in what he just said, the balance has just tipped in my favor. He doesn’t like the idea that I might hold some knowledge of his father’s illicit doings over his head. Maybe even fears it.
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
The rawness in his voice catches my attention. Gone is the silver-tongued heir who dominated the podium in the ballroom. Standing before me is a man who knows the truth about the man who fathered him. A man who, judging by the pain and fury in his blue eyes, is tortured by that knowledge.
I never thought I’d feel a kinship with Gavriil Drakos. Every time I’ve seen him, talked to him, he’s come across like an arrogant jerk who knows he’s handsome and wealthy and could care less about what his father’s done.
But right now, as he stares down at me, our breaths mingling with the steam and creating shapes out of shadows, I realize how much this man is hurting. Hurting because of decisions made by someone else.
The truth hits me. He doesn’t know about Grey House. Knows nothing about Simon Jones, his wife, or the woman he later loved. His daughter. And I’m using his lack of knowledge, his embarrassment over his father, to get what I want.
Shame weighs down my heart. I’m doing what so many have done before me. What I promised myself I would never do, especially after Texas. Even knowing there’s a purpose to it doesn’t make me feel any less ugly inside. Doesn’t stop the knife that was shoved into my conscience all those months ago from twisting a little deeper.
“I don’t think here is the place—”
“Cut the crap, Grey.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“You know something. What are you planning?” He leans down further. “Blackmail?”
My empathy evaporates. I curl my fingers into my palms, the nails digging into my skin, to stop myself from slapping him across the face.
“Blackmail was your father’s specialty, not mine.”
“Don’t think for a second you can drag Rafe or me down with him.”
I stand up on my toes, bringing our lips within a breath of each other’s. Do I imagine his sharp intake of breath? Probably. Despite our moment of attraction earlier, men like him prefer women like Natalie White. Glamorous, fair, voluptuous. Not short, skinny, nosy reporters who have exposed his family’s secrets for the world to see.
“If you have nothing to hide, then you have nothing to worry about.”
His hands come up and grab my shoulders. The heat from his palms seeps into my skin. “I do worry. I worry far too much about you, Grey.”
Shocked, and more aroused than I’ve been in...well, ever, I swallow hard. His touch is possessive, his fingers searing my body through the material of my blazer. A brand. It should disgust me. I should be bringing my knee up and ramming it into his groin. The man is arrogant, rude, conceited and a Drakos.
But I don’t. I don’t because for one moment, I’m not thinking about revenge or illness or the depths of human depravity. I’m savoring how it feels to be wanted, desired. Indulging in a yearning I’ve never experienced before with a man who tests the limits of my patience even as he has earned my grudging respect for doing what his father never had the courage to do and go head-to-head with me.
Carnal images fill my mind, remnants of dreams I’ve suppressed and imaginings that make me blush even as they make me crave. It takes my very limited reserves of self-control to stop myself from rising up on my toes and pressing my mouth to his.
He lowers his head. God, I can feel his breath against my lips.
Just a taste.
A sharp peal of muted laughter sounds off to my right. A moment later the door swings open. The women in pink sashes stream through, still wearing the sashes but now sporting swimwear. A couple of them cast glances at Gavriil and me. Some keep their eyes focused on him, not bothering to hide their appreciation of his impressive physique. Others shoot me an envious glance. One even winks at me and gives me a thumbs-up.
Gavriil releases me and steps back, nodding to the passing women with a smile that could kill. They titter and preen as they head toward the first set of lounge chairs clustered at the edge of the lap pool.
That uncomfortable feeling when I saw him with Natalie hits again, harder and deeper after our intimate moment. I did what I haven’t done since I started my career—I let myself be swayed by a handsome face. Whether he was genuinely attracted to me moments ago or was just faking his response to distract me, I don’t know. But his ability to step away so quickly, to smile at another woman like she’s the best thing he’s seen all day seconds after nearly kissing me, reinforces the rule I almost forgot.
Men like Gavriil—like Lucifer—don’t care about other people.
Be careful, sweetheart , I can hear Dessie murmuring as she brushed my hair before a school dance. He turns his back to me, the smile disappearing as it’s replaced by a dark brooding that sends a shiver down my spine. A handsome face can hide an ugly heart.
“Goodbye, Mr. Drakos.”
His eyes harden as he starts to reply.
“If she’s turning you down, I’m free, sexy!” one of the women calls from the edge of the pool. “I could use a date for the wedding tonight.” The women around her alternate between laughter and groans.
I shoot her a grin over his shoulder. “He’s all yours. And I’ve heard he loves to dance.”
He glares daggers at me. The sight boosts my mood and I incline my head. “Mr. Drakos.”
“This isn’t over, Grey. Not by a long shot.”
“On that, Mr. Drakos, we agree.”
I leave the pool, walk past the spa, and ascend the stairs, my body tense as I listen for the sound of footsteps behind me.
Nothing. He’s letting me go.
Good.
I reach the main floor of the hotel.
Time to regroup. Strategize.
The next meeting will be in an office setting, preferably one of my choosing. I’ll have research, notes, everything I need to make my case.
That and an iron grip on my wayward desire. He didn’t even hesitate to shut down his reaction to me when the bridal party came in, to engage in flirtation with another woman as if we hadn’t just been about to tear each other’s clothes off.
It hurts. My throat tightens as I hit the top of the stairs. It hurts and I hate that it hurts. That I let myself be swayed for even a moment by the chemistry between us. Even though I tell myself I won’t let things go that far again, I make a promise as I move toward the main doors of the hotel to never let myself get that close to him again, especially in a dark room that blurs my inhibitions and tempts me to the edge of reason.
No matter how much I might fantasize otherwise.