Undercover Billionaire

Chapter 1

1

Fuck! People. So many damn people . Happy, smiling, selfie-clicking people. Loud T-shirts and flip-flop people. Floral swimsuits and Speedos people.

Too much cleavage. Way too much c ock age.

And not even the nearby tray full of frothy drinks with bright red cherries could make up for the fact that Aristotle Callisthenes – or Ari George for the next week, anyway – was stuck with three thousand people for the next seven days and nights.

On a boat. In the middle of the Mediterranean. Where his ability to get away was severely hampered.

Dull pain from an encroaching headache gnawed at his temples. Ari didn’t do people. Sure, most days of his life he had to interact with them, but it just wasn’t his forte. Give him numbers and spreadsheets any time!

Only seven more days… Christe!

He plonked his ass on the bar seat. ‘Whisky,’ he said, barely looking at the approaching waitress as he slid his hand over the wood grain checking for stickiness. ‘Neat.’

‘That’s a pretty serious drink for not even half past eleven in the morning.’

Ari glanced up to find a pair of pale green eyes sparkling at him above a little snub nose and a wide mouth turned upwards at the corners. The top lip was dominated by a fascinating Cupid’s bow. The kind that invited licking. The kind he might have found irresistible once upon a time.

In a galaxy far, far away.

Her blonde hair was caught back in some kind of side ponytail thingy, leaving her long bangs loose around her oval face. He judged her to be in her mid to late twenties and, in the bright red of her Hellenic Spirit polo shirt, she looked the quintessential girl next door.

His gaze dropped to her nametag. Kelsey . Yep. She looked like a Kelsey. All sunny and bright and impossibly perky and it had nothing to do with her cup size, although, curiously, he had noticed the V of her cleavage.

The gnaw in his temples upsized to a throb.

Ari wanted to say, That’s me, Mr Serious . But he didn’t. Smile. Flirt. Be friendly. Don’t scare the fucking staff. His brother’s strict instructions rang in his ears. Theo always had been a pain in the ass.

Have some goddamn fun for a change.

Ari shrugged and forced a smile. The muscles of his cheeks, unused to the exercise, protested the movement. ‘It’s five o’clock somewhere, right?’

Kelsey laughed as she poured the whisky and Ari blinked at the sexy vibrato as it fluttered around him like confetti. It’d been a long time since any kind of laughter had penetrated the thick hide of his self-imposed isolation.

Kelsey looked like she knew how to have fun.

‘It’s 9p.m. in Sydney.’ She placed the glass on the bar. ‘So it definitely needs one of these.’

She opened a blue paper cocktail umbrella and inserted it at a jaunty angle into his drink. She leaned back, admiring her handiwork, and laughed again, louder this time. Whisky with a cocktail umbrella looked utterly ridiculous but Ari found himself smiling despite the absurdity.

A different throb this time sliced between his ribs. Quickly, he picked up the glass, tossed the umbrella aside and threw the contents down. Placing the tumbler back on the bar, he said, ‘Hit me, again.’

Whisky was the worst possible thing he could be ingesting in the face of his threatening migraine. But that was why God had invented pharmaceutical companies.

The blonde quirked an eyebrow slightly before pouring a second helping. Ari drained the glass and set it down. Kelsey lifted the bottle but he shook his head.

The ship horn sounded and people whooped and cheered and headed for the railings as the oldest ship in the ōceanós cruise line pulled out of Civitavecchia. Beyond the reaches of the harbour, April sunshine threw diamonds at the sapphire blue of the Med.

Out there, the Greek Islands beckoned. Venice beckoned.

Ari glanced at his watch. Eleven thirty on the dot. ‘You’re Australian?’

‘Good guess.’

Ari shrugged. He’d been born in Athens, raised in France, holidayed all over Europe and schooled in England. Accents were second nature. ‘You’re a long way from home.’

‘I am indeed.’

‘How long have you worked on cruise ships?’

‘Seven years.’

‘You like it?’

She smiled and tipped her chin at the view. ‘I’m in the Mediterranean. What’s not to like?’

Which was a good response, but didn’t really answer the question, and if the need to medicate himself wasn’t becoming increasingly urgent, he might have stuck around to probe some more. He pulled out his wallet. ‘How much do I owe?’

‘Oh, no, sir.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ll just swipe the card you were given on check-in.’

‘Oh yes, right.’ Ari removed the card and deliberately placed his wallet on the bar top. ‘Sorry. I forgot.’

‘No worries.’ She gave a teasing laugh. ‘Your first time?’

It wasn’t. Ari had been seven the day his grandfather had smashed a bottle of champagne against the bow of this very ship, launching it on its maiden voyage. He’d lost count of the number of cruise ships he’d travelled on since.

Smile. Flirt. Be friendly.

‘Yep. Cruise virgin I’m afraid.’

The lie slipped smoothly from his tongue. He had a job to do and zero problem with pretending to be someone else to get it done. But her eyes lit playfully and Ari’s heart skipped a beat.

‘In that case,’ she said, handing back his card, ‘we’ll be gentle with you, sir.’

She laughed at her joke and it was infectious, a smile spreading across Ari’s face before he even registered what was happening. He wondered if his cheek muscles were as confused as he was about the situation. But it was hard not to smile, not to respond to her easy laughter and her light, flirty chatter.

The kind of flirty chatter he suspected she used with everyone regardless of age or sex. It obviously came as naturally as breathing and he envied her that lightness of spirit.

Ari suddenly felt ancient at the grand age of thirty-two.

Smile. Flirt. Be friendly .

But he couldn’t. His temples throbbed, the pain in his ribs was back, his breath was short. His smile faded and he stood to go, and instead of saying something like Don’t be gentle on my account , which was something the old Ari might have said, he bade her goodbye.

Then he left, dodging all the fucking people and not stopping until he reached the dark, private cocoon of his inside cabin.

* * *

‘Well, hello there. This is my lucky day.’

Kelsey glanced up from the drink she was pouring to find Andy, her fellow bartender, brandishing a wallet. She recognised it immediately as belonging to Whisky Dude.

She handed the drink over to her customer as Andy strode around the corner, out of sight. Hurriedly, she scanned the passenger’s card and was grateful that people were still absorbed with getting underway. In a few minutes they’d be slammed by passengers wanting booze to celebrate their departure, but for now, she could go and check on her partner.

Kelsey had mixed feelings about Andy. She’d worked with him on and off the last two years and had even fooled around with him once at a party in the staff quarters on their first cruise together. He was English, four years younger than her twenty-seven years and a good kisser. But his moral code was a bit on the lax side. A fact confirmed when she found him rifling through the wallet.

‘Two condoms and two hundred and twenty euros.’ He waved the notes in the air. ‘A tip for me and you,’ he said with a wink. Kelsey was sure he was joking but she wasn’t laughing.

‘Very funny.’ She snatched the wallet and held out her other hand. ‘Give it back.’

‘Oh, come on, Kels, he won’t miss a couple of twenties. He probably won’t even know.’

Silently, she stared Andy down. A couple of hundred euros was hardly a fortune – but she’d know if some of it was missing.

She’d bet Whisky Dude would, too.

Those dark eyes of his had been steady and intense, appraising her face with an attention to detail that had caused a little flutter in her chest. She doubted he missed a single goddamn thing. Not to mention, as the senior staff member, it’d be her ass if the passenger made a complaint.

God knew she couldn’t afford to lose her job. Not now. Not when she was just one more year from her goal.

‘ I’ll know.’

He sighed as he handed over the cash. ‘You are a spoilsport, Kelsey Armitage.’

She nodded. ‘Atta boy.’

* * *

Four hours later, her shift over, Kelsey made her way to Ari George’s room on deck seven, his wallet in her hand. A couple of keystrokes of the register and she’d been able to access his name and room number from the card he’d given her to swipe. And other information. Like there being no Mrs George.

Or any other companion…

No wedding band either, she’d noticed. Or a telltale white line where one would be if he was that kind of scumbag.

Of course, none of those things meant he wasn’t in a relationship. But it was rare to see an attached man going solo on a cruise. Most men either travelled with their partners or they were a younger crowd travelling in groups looking to get drunk and laid.

She should just have handed the wallet to guest services – it was protocol, after all. But she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the man at her bar drinking whisky at eleven in the morning.

Or his brooding good looks.

The intensity of his obsidian stare, the thickness of his lashes, the squareness of his ruthlessly shaved jaw line, the perfect straightness of his nose, the hollows beneath the twin rails of his cheekbones, the firm line of his mouth.

The deep, lurking… sadness in his eyes.

She’d always been a sucker for sad eyes. Which was probably why she was here, at a passenger’s cabin, breaking all the rules, delivering the abandoned wallet personally.

He probably wasn’t even in his cabin. It was three thirty in the afternoon on a gorgeous day, the sun was shining and the Med was being its beguiling self. Surely no one in their right mind would be indoors?

In which case, she’d find the room attendant, get the door opened and leave it on his bed. She’d swiped a cocktail umbrella from the bar to use as a calling card for such an eventuality and her lips curved at the thought of him finding the little yellow umbrella atop his wallet.

At the thought of him knowing she’d left it on his bed.

Kelsey stared at his door, hesitating. Maybe she should just give it to the attendant and let them deal with the situation. She looked over her shoulder – the hallway was empty. Screw it. She’d knock, and if he didn’t answer, she’d go to plan B.

With her pulse washing through her ears, Kelsey rapped on the door. A muffled ‘Just a moment’ caused a hitch in her breath as the reality of seeing him again gripped her chest.

It was utterly preposterous – he was just a man, for fuck’s sake. And a passenger at that!

Which did not prepare her – one iota – for the sight that greeted her as the door opened. Not for his wild bed hair or the dark shadow of his whiskers or the pillow mark on his face. Not for him to be dressed in nothing but a towel or the way he appeared to be trying to focus.

Was he… drunk?

Had he continued the whisky party in his cabin? He didn’t smell boozy but hell, it was so dark behind him he could be concealing a drug den for all she could tell.

‘Oh, hey.’ He frowned, his hand going to the knot of the towel sitting snug and low on narrow hips.

The action pulled her gaze downwards. Over the broad span of his shoulders and the smooth bronzed planes of pecs dusted in a light covering of hair, down the furrow bisecting his firm abs, and lower still to the happy trail heading south from his belly button.

‘Sorry,’ he said, his voice gravelly.

A hint of an accent she hadn’t picked up earlier roughed up his smooth English enunciation.

Italian? Greek?

‘I thought you were room service.’

Kelsey dragged her gaze upwards as he shoved a hand through his hair. The action bunched his triceps and revealed a dark thatch of hair under his arm that was masculine as fuck and caused a riot in her underwear.

She blinked. What the hell? Since when had armpits been a turn on? Because she was most definitely turned on by this long, lean hunk of a man. It may have been a while but she knew chemistry when it reached out and tweaked her nipples.

‘No, I came to…’ She held up his wallet. ‘You left this behind.’

He frowned again. ‘Oh right, thanks.’

He reached for it but swayed alarmingly and, before she could check the impulse, Kelsey slid her hand onto his forearm. It was warm and hard, the dark hair springy beneath her palm.

‘Whoa. Are you okay? Are you sick?’ She peered into his face as he shut his eyes and leaned heavily into the door. ‘I could call the ship doctor?’

His eyes blinked open and, between their intense focus and the heat of his skin, Kelsey could barely breathe. A lock of his hair had fallen forward onto his forehead into an honest-to-God curl, and her palm itched to push it back.

‘I’m fine,’ he dismissed. ‘I’m just coming out of a migraine. I’m always a bit lightheaded afterwards.’

‘Oh God, I’m sorry. My mother suffers from them. Is there anything I can do? A cold compress, a drink of water, some tea?’

‘Room service is bringing peppermint tea.’

Kelsey would have sworn Mr Whisky would be a coffee man. That strong, bitter shit that caused a jolt to the heart at the first sip. Tea sounded so… English. But then, so did he.

Mostly.

‘I just need to sit.’

Not trusting his ability to stay upright, Kelsey followed Ari into his cabin, lowering herself down beside him on the bed as the door clicked shut. The cabin plunged into a darkness that was the hallmark of inner cabins on cruise ships.

‘How’s that?’ Kelsey asked into a silence exacerbated by the deep, bottomless black hole pressing in from all directions.

She should take her hand off him, but he felt solid and real as her eyes adjusted to the tomb-like gloom. His aftershave seemed more pronounced too. Sweet. Wrapping her in a cloud of maple syrup and a fuck-ton of pheromones.

He grunted. ‘Better.’

‘Is it okay if I turn on the lamp or do you still need it off?’ Kelsey’s mother needed the dark when she was in the grip of a migraine.

‘On is fine.’

The low rumble of his voice went straight to her nipples and Kelsey was momentarily thankful for the lack of light as she inched her way around the bed, his wallet still in her hand. Her feet found what she assumed were his clothes discarded on the floor. She resolutely ignored them – the less she thought about how little he was wearing, the better!

She continued on until her knee bumped the bedside table. Placing the wallet down, she groped for the lamp switch and flicked it on, immediately adjusting the dimmer switch at the base. A low, yellow glow, like a single candle flame, illuminated the cabin.

Kelsey glanced over her shoulder, noting the sheets had been pulled back before her gaze snagged on the golden play of light across the planes and angles of his back and shoulders. His hair was short at the nape, which only seemed to emphasise the riot of dark waves atop his head.

‘That okay?’ she asked quietly.

He nodded. ‘Thank you.’

A knock and a murmured ‘Room service’ startled Kelsey.

He started to rise but she waved him down. ‘I’ll get it,’ she said, hurrying to the door, pleased he didn’t try to pull some bullshit macho act about being okay.

Kelsey hadn’t really thought about who might be on the other side and whether she’d know them but, thankfully, she didn’t. On a ship with a thousand-plus staff and a turnover higher than any ship she’d ever worked on, it wasn’t uncommon.

But Kelsey was still in the red shirt and white knee-length shorts worn by the staff manning the pool deck bar, which could be problematic if the room service attendant was a stickler for rules. Thankfully, he didn’t appear to pay Kelsey any attention and was happy to hand the tray over and depart.

Placing the tray on the nearby desk, beside a closed laptop, Kelsey fussed around making his tea, adding the cocktail umbrella on the spur of the moment. It looked even more ridiculous in a cup of tea, but she remembered how he’d smiled at the one she’d put in his whisky, and maybe a little comic relief wouldn’t go astray right now?

Sitting beside him again, she offered him the cup and saucer. He gave a barely-there smile. ‘Do you walk around with a supply of them?’

‘Tools of the trade.’

He took the cup off the saucer, placed the umbrella on it and sipped at his tea in silence for a long moment. Heat radiated from his body, and Kelsey was conscious of how close they were as the peppermint from his tea joined the bouquet of aromas playing havoc with her senses.

‘Do you get them very often?’ Her voice was tentative as it broke the silence.

He cradled the cup in his lap. ‘I used to, not so much any more.’

‘Have you had them investigated? Sometimes they’re more than just a headache, you know?’

As soon as the words were out, Kelsey wanted to bite her tongue. Nice one, Kels . Why not imply the man has a brain tumour?

‘I mean… I didn’t mean anything serious like a…’ Bloody hell, don’t say the T word! ‘It could just be you need… glasses or something simple.’

Oh, Jesus . Shut up already!

His black eyes sought and held hers for a moment and then he chuckled, his beautiful mouth parting. Kelsey blinked as the noise poured over her skin like warm oil. Sadly, it didn’t last.

‘I was in an accident three years ago. It’s a residual thing from that.’

‘Oh God, I’m sorry. Were you badly hurt?’

‘Not really.’ He stared into his tea. ‘I was lucky.’

He raised the cup to his lips, obscuring half his face but not the trace of bitterness that had laced the word ‘lucky’. It was stark in the profound silence. Clearly, there was more to that story.

Was that why his eyes were so sad?

She inspected his profile as he drank, looking for answers, but his face was a mask. And it wasn’t any of her business. He was a passenger , for fuck’s sake. She’d returned his wallet and helped him out when he’d been unwell. She’d fulfilled her duties as a member of the Hellenic Spirit ’s crew.

Gold star for her. Now get out!

‘Well…’ She placed the umbrella on the tea tray and handed him the empty saucer. ‘I best be off, if you’re sure you’re okay.’

The teacup rattled against the saucer. Those dark eyes slid once again to hers and locked tight. ‘Yes, thank you.’ His gaze slipped to her mouth with a laser-like focus.

Kelsey suddenly realised how close they were, their arms and thighs only inches apart. Her breath hitched and her hand shook a little as she concentrated on inhaling. She’d been with guys who could excite her with a look but never with one who could interfere with her ability to breathe.

Who made her feel like there wasn’t enough air.

‘It wasn’t any trouble.’

Her voice sounded weird. High and strange, like she’d been sucking on helium. Not the usual husky quality. And still, he stared at her mouth, and every pulse point in Kelsey’s body started to throb. Her nipples hardened. Her belly tightened. Heat radiated from his thigh to hers, sliding up her leg. All the way up.

She really, really should leave.

‘Maybe,’ he murmured. ‘Still…’

Kelsey waited for him to continue, to finish what he’d been about to say, but he didn’t. He just kept staring at her mouth, the sound of his breathing growing rougher and rougher, thicker and thicker, until it rubbed against her exposed flesh like a velvet glove.

He kissed her then, his mouth swift as it breached the distance between them, his lips pressed hot against hers. Not moving, just pressing. Not hard but not light either.

Firm.

Pressing and pressing. Not opening or shifting to take the kiss deeper. Not attempting to touch her. Just pressing. And breathing – hard and fast. Sucking air in and out of his nostrils in swift, harsh respirations, like he was struggling to keep himself in check.

Or struggling against some kind of internal demons.

Kelsey’s pulse hammered at her temples and beat a wild tango between her legs as she tried to compute myriad sensations coursing through her body. How perfectly his mouth fitted against hers, how her erogenous zones had lit up like a pinball machine, how his loud, crazy breathing was a bigger turn on than everything else put together.

How she was kissing a virtual stranger. A near-naked virtual stranger. In his cabin. At her work.

A passenger.

Her sex tingled and her body pulsed at a primal level. The kind that made a lot of women stupid.

But Kelsey had used up her quota of stupid.

Tearing her mouth away, she jumped to her feet, stumbling back two steps, dragging in oxygen. ‘I… can’t,’ she muttered.

‘ Christe! ’ He shoved a hand in his hair as he stood, placing the cup and saucer on the tray before holding up his hands in a placatory manner. ‘I’m sorry.’

Kelsey shook her head, a wild unchecked thrill zinging through her body at the sight of his big, almost-naked body. ‘It’s against the rules to…’

Fuck the passengers was what she wanted to say, because God knew she wanted to push Ari George onto his bed and ride him like a pogo stick.

‘We’re not supposed to fraternise.’

‘Of course. Theé. Of course.’

Christe… Theé… Kelsey realised absently the passenger she’d just gotten waaay too close to was Greek.

‘Please, forgive me,’ he continued. ‘I… don’t know what came over me. It was unforgiveable .’

He shoved his hands on his hips, drawing her gaze downwards again. To what lay under the towel. The light might have been low but there was no mistaking the state of his arousal or the fact the man was packing some serious dick.

‘I don’t do this,’ she said, dragging her gaze back to his face. Kelsey wasn’t a rule breaker. And she needed this job. She had financial responsibilities. ‘Some staff do cross that line, but not me. I’ve never done this.’

She had no idea why she felt the need to convince him. Given he’d kissed her , she didn’t think he’d report the incident. Maybe she was just trying to convince herself? Convince her body it didn’t need what he had under that towel.

‘I believe you,’ he said as he sunk down on the bed behind him. ‘It wasn’t your fault. It was mine.’ He propped his elbows on his knees, leaned forward at the hips and cradled his face into his palms. ‘You should go.’

If Kelsey had been in her right mind, his dismissal might have rankled. Right now, she was glad for the out as she turned on her heel and fled the cabin.