‘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.