‘Everyone has their price, Mr Doukakis.’

‘You think so?’ Intrigued, Damon allowed his gaze to drop to the creamy skin visible at the neck of her formal white shirt. So what’s your price, Miss Prince?’

‘I was talking about business.’

Damon smiled. ‘Of course you were. Someone with your exceptional morals would never become tangled with someone like me, would they?’

His sarcasm brought a scarlet tinge to her cheeks but she didn’t defend herself. ‘Have you finished?’

‘Finished?’ Damon slowly lifted his gaze and stared down into those eyes. They were the blue of a summer sky. ‘I haven’t even started.’

21ST CENTURY BOSSES

Impossible, infuriating and utterly irresistible!

In the high-octane world of international business,

these arrogant yet devastatingly attractive men

reign supreme.

On his speed-dial, at his beck and call 24/7,

it takes a special kind of woman to cope with this

boss’s outrageous demands!

About the Author

USA TODAY bestselling author SARAH MORGAN writes lively, sexy stories for both Mills & Boon® Modern™ Romance and Medical™ Romance.

As a child Sarah dreamed of being a writer, and although she took a few interesting detours on the way she is now living that dream. With her writing career she has successfully combined business with pleasure, and she firmly believes that reading romance is one of the most satisfying and fat-free escapist pleasures available. Her stories are unashamedly optimistic, and she is always pleased when she receives letters from readers saying that her books have helped them through hard times.

RT Book Reviews has described her writing as ‘action-packed and sexy’, and nominated her books for their Reviewer’s Choice Awards and their ‘Top Pick’ slot.

Sarah lives near London with her husband and two children, who innocently provide an endless supply of authentic dialogue. When she isn’t writing or reading Sarah enjoys music, movies, and any activity that takes her outdoors.

Readers can find out more about Sarah and her books from her website: www.sarahmorgan.com. She can also be found on Facebook and Twitter.

Doukakis’s

Apprentice

Sarah Morgan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

‘HE’S here. He’s arrived. Damon Doukakis just strode into the building.’

Woken by the panicky voice, Polly lifted her head from her arms and was blinded by sunlight pouring through the window. ‘What? Who?’ The words were slurred, her brain emerging slowly from the shadows of sleep. The headache that had been part of her life for the past week still squeezed her skull. ‘I must have dozed off. Why didn’t anyone wake me?’

‘Because you haven’t slept for days and you’re scary when you’re tired. There’s no need to panic. I’m doing that for both of us. Here—I brought sustenance.’ Balancing two mugs of and a large muffin, the woman kicked the door shut. ‘Wake yourself up with carbs and coffee.’

Polly rubbed her eyes and squinted at the screen of her laptop. ‘What time is it?’

‘Eight o’clock.’

‘Eight o’clock?’ She flew to her feet, sending papers and pens spinning across the floor. ‘The meeting is in fifteen minutes! Were you hoping I’d just walk in there and talk in my sleep or something?’ Polly hit ‘save’ on the document she’d been working on all night, her hand shaking from the sudden awakening. Her heart pounded and deep in her stomach was a solid lump of dread.

Sleeping didn’t make any of it go away and reality pressed down on her like a heavy weight.

Everything was about to change. Life as she knew it had ended.

‘Stay calm,’ Debbie swooped across the office and put the plate and the mugs on the desk. ‘If you show him you’re afraid, he’ll walk all over you. That’s what men like Damon Doukakis do. They sniff out weakness and they move in for the kill.’

‘I’m not afraid.’ The lie wedged itself in her throat.

She was afraid. She was afraid of the responsibility and of the consequences of failure. And, yes, she was afraid of Damon Doukakis.

Only a fool wouldn’t be.

‘You’re going to be fine. I mean, we’re all depending on you, obviously, but I don’t want the fact that you have the future of a hundred people in your hands to make you nervous.’

‘Thanks for that calming thought.’ Polly allowed herself a quick gulp of coffee and then checked her BlackBerry. ‘I’ve only been asleep for two hours and I already have a hundred e-mails. Don’t these people ever sleep?’ She scrolled through them quickly, scanning for anything important. ‘Gérard Bonnel wants us to move our meeting tomorrow back to the evening. Can I get a later flight to Paris?’

‘You’re not flying. The train was cheaper. I bought you a non-flexible ticket on the seven-thirty out of St Pancras. If he’s moved the meeting then you’ll have most of the day to kill.’ Debbie leaned forward and stole a large chunk from the muffin. ‘Go and see the Eiffel Towel. Make love to a delicious French guy on the banks of the Seine. Ooh la la.’

In the process of replying to an e-mail, Polly didn’t look up. ‘Public sex is an offence, even in France.’

‘Nowhere near as big an offence as your non-existent sexlife. When did you last go on a date?’

‘I have enough problems without adding a sex-life to the mix.’ Polly pressed ‘send’. ‘Did you sort out a purchase order for that magazine promotion?’

‘Yes, yes. Do you ever stop thinking about work? The fearsome Damon Doukakis just might have met his match in you.’

‘The rest of these e-mails are going to have to wait.’ Polly put the phone down on her desk and glanced at the clock. ‘Damn—I wanted to take another look at the presentation. I need to brush my hair—I don’t know what to do first—’

‘Hair. You slept with your head on your arms and you look like Mohican Barbie.’ Debbie whipped a pair of hair straightners out of Polly’s drawer and plugged them in. ‘Hold still. This is an emergency.’

‘I need to go to the bathroom and do my make-up.’

‘No time. Don’t worry. You look great. I love that look. You’re so good at mixing vintage with current.’ Debbie slid the irons down Polly’s hair. ‘The hot pink tights really work.’

Keeping her head still, Polly reached out and unplugged her laptop. ‘I can’t believe my dad still hasn’t rung. His company is being decimated and he’s nowhere in sight. I’ve left about a hundred messages.’

‘You know he never switches his mobile on. He hates the thing. There—’ Debbie unplugged the irons ‘—you’re done.’

Polly twisted her hair and pinned it in a haphazard knot at the back of her head. ‘I even called a few of the London hotels last night to see if a middle-aged gentleman and a young woman had rented a suite with them.’

‘That must have been embarrassing.’

‘I grew up with embarrassing.’ She retrieved her boots from under the desk. ‘Damon Doukakis is going to rip us apart when he realises my father isn’t showing up.’

‘The rest of us will make up for it. The whole company came in early. We’re all busy bees. If Doukakis is looking for slackers, he’s not going to find them here. We’re determined to make a good impression despite your father’s absence.’

‘It’s too late. Damon Doukakis has already made up his mind what he wants to do with us.’ And she knew what that was. Panic gripped her. He’d taken control of her father’s company. He could do anything he liked with the business.

It was his revenge. His way of sending a message to her father.

But it was a crude weapon. The scorching blaze of his wrath wasn’t just going to burn up her father—it was going to burn up the innocent staff who didn’t deserve to lose their jobs.

The weight of responsibility was suffocating. As her father’s daughter she knew she had to do something, but in truth she was powerless. She had no authority.

Debbie ate a piece of muffin. ‘I read somewhere that Damon Doukakis works a twenty-hour day so at least you’ll have something in common.’

After three nights with virtually no sleep Polly could barely focus. Drugged by tiredness, she struggled to shake the clouds from her brain. ‘I’ve put together the figures. Let’s just hope Michael Anderson can work the laptop. You know what he’s like with technology. I’ve backed up the entire presentation in three places because he managed to delete the thing last time. Are the rest of the board here?’

‘They all arrived at the same time as him. Not that they said anything to us.’ Deep lines of disapproval bracketed Debbie’s mouth. ‘None of them have the bottle to face us since they sold their shares to Demon Damon. I still don’t understand why a rich, powerful tycoon like him would want to buy our little company. I mean, I love working here, but we’re not exactly his style are we?’

Polly thought about how hard she’d worked to try and drag the company into the twenty-first century. ‘No. We’re not his style.’

‘So did he buy us for the fun of it?’ Debbie finished the muffin and licked her fingers. ‘Maybe this is billionaire retail therapy. Instead of buying shoes, he blows a fortune on an ad agency. He offered the board a whole heap of money.’

Polly kept her mouth shut but the dark dread turned to an icy chill.

She knew why he’d bought the company. And it wasn’t something she could share with anyone. Damon Doukakis had sworn her to silence in a single chilling phone call that had come a few days earlier. A phone call she hadn’t mentioned to anyone. She didn’t want it to be public knowledge any more than he did.

Polly forced herself to breathe slowly. ‘I’m not surprised the board sold. They’re greedy. I’m so sick of booking their long lunches and their first-class airfares and then being told we’re not profitable. They remind me of mosquitoes, sucking up our lifeblood into their fat bodies—’

Debbie recoiled. ‘Pol, that’s gross.’

‘They’re gross.’ Polly mentally ran through everything she’d put into the presentation. Had she missed anything? ‘If I were the one giving the presentation, I wouldn’t be so worried.’

‘You should be the one giving it.’

‘Michael Anderson is too threatened by me to let me open my mouth. He’s afraid I might actually tell someone who does the work around here. And anyway, I’m just my father’s executive assistant, whatever that is. My job is to keep everything running behind the scenes.’ And she was horribly conscious that she had no formal qualifications. She’d learned by watching, listening and trusting her instincts and she was savvy enough to know that for most employers that wouldn’t be enough. Polly pressed her hands to her churning stomach, wishing she could stride into the boardroom wielding an MBA from Harvard. ‘Doukakis already has a super-slick successful advertising agency in his organisation. He doesn’t need another one and he doesn’t need our staff. He’s just going to snap his jaws around us like—’

‘No!’ Debbie held up her hand and shuddered. ‘Don’t tell me what it will be like. No more of your blood-sucking-mosquito analogies—I just ate your breakfast.’

‘I’m just saying—’

‘Well, don’t say. And if Damon Doukakis wants your father’s business that badly, well—that’s sort of a compliment, isn’t it? And you’re assuming he’ll make us all redundant, but he might not. Why buy a business and then break it up?’

Because he wanted to be in control.

Instead of being a helpless passenger like her, Damon had put himself in the driving seat. While her father was living the life of a man half his age, his company was being savaged by a ruthless predator. And she was fighting that predator single-handed.

‘Cheer up.’ Debbie patted her shoulder. ‘Damon Doukakis might not be as ruthless as they say. You’ve never actually met him in person.’

Oh, yes, she had.

Feeling her face turn the same colour as her tights, Polly closed her laptop.

They’d met just once, in the head’s office the day she and one other girl had been permanently excluded from the exclusive girls’ boarding school they attended. Unfortunately that one other girl had been his sister and Damon Doukakis had turned the full force of his anger and recrimination onto Polly, the ringleader.

Just thinking about that day was enough to make her body tremble like a leaf in the wind.

She was under no illusions about what the future held for her.

To Damon Doukakis she was a troublemaker with an attitude problem.

When he lifted his axe, she’d be the first for the chop.

Polly ran her hand over the back of her neck. Maybe she’d just offer to resign if he kept the staff on. He wanted a sacrifice for her father’s behaviour, didn’t he? So she’d be the sacrifice.

Debbie picked up the empty plate. ‘So who is your dad seeing this time? Not that Spanish woman he met at Salsa classes?’

‘No, I—I don’t know.’ The lie slid easily over her lips. ‘I haven’t asked.’ Stressed out of her mind, Polly picked up her BlackBerry and slipped it into the pocket of her dress. ‘It’s crazy, isn’t it? I can’t believe that Damon Doukakis is about to stride in here and take away everything my dad has ever worked for and he is in some hotel somewhere—’

‘—having wild monkey sex with a woman who is probably half his age?’

‘Don’t! I don’t want to think about my father having sex, especially with a woman my age.’ Especially not this woman.

‘You should be used to it by now. Do you think your dad realises that his colourful sex-life has put you off ever having a relationship?’

‘I don’t have time for this conversation.’ Blocking out thoughts of her father, Polly wriggled her feet into her boots and zipped them up. ‘Have you arranged coffee and pastries for the boardroom?’

‘All done. But Damon Doukakis is probably just going to feast on the staff. He’s like a great white shark.’ Adding to the aura of menace, Debbie made a fin with her hands and hummed the theme from Jaws. ‘He glides through the smooth waters of commerce, eating everything that gets in his way. He’s at the top of the food chain, whereas we’re right at the bottom of the ocean. We’re nothing more than plankton. Let’s just hope we’re too small to be a tasty snack.’

Uncomfortable with the analogy, Polly glanced protectively towards the fish tank that she kept on her desk. ‘Keep your voice down. Romeo and Juliet are getting nervous. They’re hiding behind the pond weed.’ She wished she could join the fish. Never in her life had she ever dreaded anything as much as this meeting. Over the past few days she’d sacrificed sleep trying to put together a convincing case for saving the staff. She no longer had any illusions about her own future, but these people were like her family and she was going to fight to the death to protect them.

The phone on her desk rang and she picked it up with the same degree of enthusiasm a doomed man would display on his walk to the gallows. ‘Polly Prince …’ She recognised the slightly slurred tones of Michael Anderson, her father’s deputy and the agency’s creative director. Despite the hour, he’d obviously already had a drink. As he instructed her to bring the laptop to the boardroom, Polly gripped the phone tightly. Snake. The man hadn’t had a creative idea for at least a decade. He’d bled the agency dry and now he’d sold his shares to Damon Doukakis for an inflated price.

Anger shot through her. If they hadn’t sold out, this whole situation might have been contained.

Slamming down the phone, Polly scooped up her laptop, determined to do what she could to fight for the staff.

‘Good luck.’ Debbie glanced at Polly’s feet. ‘Wow. Those boots are perfect for kicking ass. And they make you look tall.’

‘That’s the idea.’ Last time she’d met Damon Doukakis he’d made her feel small in every way. Physically and emotionally, he’d towered over her. It wasn’t going to happen again. This time she was determined that when he glared at her they were going to be eye to eye.

Walking towards the boardroom felt like walking the plank. It didn’t help that every two seconds someone stuck their head out of an office to wish her luck, each nervous smile making her more aware of the depth of her responsibility. They were relying on her, but deep down she knew she had no influence and virtually nothing with which to defend them. It was like going into battle armed only with her hairdryer. She was just hoping that Michael Anderson would use the presentation she’d put together to fight for them.

The doors to the boardroom were closed and she paused to draw breath, irritated by how nervous she was. Not of the board—for them she felt nothing but contempt—but of Damon Doukakis. She breathed out, slow and long, telling herself that ten years was a long time. Maybe the rumours were wrong. Maybe he’d developed a human streak.

She was relying on it.

Knocking briskly, she opened the door. For a moment all she saw were smug expressions, a litter of coffee cups and dark suits hugging bodies fattened by too many lunches.

The boys’ club.

Still clutching her laptop, Polly forced herself to walk forward. As the doors were closed behind her she looked around the table at the men she’d worked with since she’d left school at eighteen. Not one of them looked her in the eye.

Bad sign, she thought grimly.

A couple of the directors stared at the notes in front of them. The atmosphere was thick with tension and anticipation. They reminded her of the bloodthirsty, voyeuristic crowds that sometimes gathered round the scene of an accident. To some, there was nothing so compelling as watching another human being in deep trouble. And she was in deep trouble. Knowing that every man around the table was now a millionaire several times over, Polly felt nothing but disgust.

They reminded her of a pack of hyenas ready to benefit from someone else’s kill.

They’d sold her father out without hesitation.

And they’d sold out the staff.

She was so furious with the lot of them that it took her a moment to notice the man positioned at the head of the table.

Occupying her father’s chair with arrogant assurance and no evidence of conscience, Damon Doukakis presided over the meeting like a conqueror surveying his captives. He didn’t speak or move, but somehow everything about his body language screamed masculine aggression.

Her heart pumping, Polly placed the laptop carefully on the polished surface of the boardroom table.

Those dangerous black eyes watched her and she wondered how he could convey authority when he hadn’t even opened his mouth. Somehow he dominated the room, his economy of movement and speech intensifying the aura of power that clung to him like a protective force field.

A superbly tailored suit skimmed his wide shoulders and a snowy white shirt dazzled against his bronzed throat. The knot of his tie was perfect—everything about him was sleek and impeccably groomed. He presented a startling contrast to the rest of the men around the table. Not for this man the excess weight that came with endless business entertaining. Under the expensive suit, his body was hard and strong—honed, no doubt, by exercise and the same rigid self-discipline he applied to his business practices.

Women found him irresistible, of course. He was pure alpha male, the controlling force behind one of the fastest-growing, most successful companies in Europe. In the darkening gloom of economic depression, the Doukakis Media Group was the bright star that shone the light of recovery.

It irritated Polly extremely that the man not only had a towering intellect and an astonishing gift for business, he also looked that good. There was no justice, she thought savagely as she opened up her laptop and reminded herself not to be fooled by the sleek suit or the other outward trappings of civility. As far as she was concerned, the clothes did nothing to mask what he was—a ruthless opportunist who was willing to stop at nothing to achieve his chosen goal. But she understood why the board had sold out to him. He was the King of the beasts, she thought numbly, and the men around him were just lunch, to be consumed in one snap of his jaws. They were weak, and the weak would never challenge a man like Damon Doukakis any more than a wildebeest would turn on a lion.

Look him in the eye, Polly. Look him in the eye.

Knowing that the worst thing she could do was show him she was afraid, she looked. It was only for a second, but something passed between them. The impact of that wordless exchange slammed into her and she dragged her gaze away, shaking from head to toe. She’d expected to feel intimidated. What she hadn’t expected was the flash of sexual awareness.

Shaken, Polly switched on the laptop, desperately hoping that he wasn’t aware of her reaction to him.

‘Gentlemen …’ She paused. ‘And Mr Doukakis.’

There was grim humour in the smile that played around the corners of his mouth and despite her best intentions Polly found herself staring at the sensual curve of his lips. According to rumour, sexual conquests came as easily to him as the business deals. Doukakis was as ruthless, unemotional and calculating in his relationships as he was in the other areas of his life. Maybe that was why he was so protective of his sister, she thought numbly. He knew what men were like.

But so did she. And an inconvenient flash of chemistry wasn’t going to change her opinion.

As her eyes met his again, her tongue suddenly jammed against the roof of her mouth and her lips refused to form the words that had gathered in her brain. In that single moment she saw that he knew. He knew that her heart was racing and her entire body felt as though it had been turned into an electric circuit. He knew the effect he was having on her, from the sparks to the quiver in her belly. It was the same effect he had on all women.

‘Miss Prince?’

That cold, sardonic voice shocked her out of her stupor.

If she had harboured any hope that he’d forgotten her contribution to his sister’s educational experience, then those hopes now lay smashed in tiny pieces at her feet.

‘As you know, Polly is the daughter of our chairman and chief executive.’ Apparently blind to the unspoken communication, Michael Andrews finally found the courage to speak. ‘Her father always made sure she had a job here.’

The implication was that she was some sort of loser who couldn’t get employment without help, and Polly felt her temper rise at the injustice of that introduction. The anger was just what she needed to blast away those other feelings.

Relieved to be back in control, she tapped a key on the laptop and opened a file. ‘I’ve prepared a presentation outlining our business strategy and looking at our forecasts for the future. You’ll see that we’ve won six new clients already this year and those accounts are—’

‘We don’t need to hear this, Polly.’ Michael Anderson interrupted her hastily and Polly’s fingers paused on the keyboard. Yes, they did. Without her presentation the staff didn’t stand a chance of being kept on.

‘But you have to—’

‘It’s too late, Polly.’ With a glance at his fellow board members, Michael Anderson cleared his throat. ‘I understand that this is a very awkward situation for you, but your father no longer has control of this company. He’s always been unconventional, but now he appears to have disappeared completely. Even today, with rumours of the takeover all over the news, there is no sign of him, which just confirms that the board made the right decision to sell. The Doukakis Media Group is cutting edge. These are exciting times.’ He cast a fawning glance at the man who sat still and silent at the head of the table. ‘There’s going to be a shake up. We’ll be announcing redundancies to the staff later but I wanted to tell you personally as your father isn’t here. It’s tough, I know—’ he rearranged his drooping features into a look of sympathy ‘—but this is business.’

Polly felt as though she’d stepped into a parallel universe. Her brain was fuzzy and there was a buzzing in her ears. ‘Wait a minute.’ Her voice sounded robotic and nothing like her own. ‘You’re saying you’re going to make everyone redundant just like that, with no discussion? It’s your job to protect them—to show Mr Doukakis why they’re needed.’

‘The point is, Polly, they’re not needed.’

‘I disagree.’ Her fingers were suddenly ice-cold. Panic crept into her throat and lodged itself there as if she’d suddenly inhaled all her worst fears. ‘The accounts we’ve won, we’ve won as a team. And we’re a good team.’

‘Just leave the laptop, Polly.’ Michael Anderson tapped the end of his pen on the table. ‘If one of Mr Doukakis’s people wants to look at the presentation, they can.’

That was it.

They were dismissing her.

Every eye in the room was fixed on her, waiting for her to give up and walk out.

Her father’s company would be dissolved. One hundred people would lose their jobs.

‘It isn’t over.’ The words spilled from her lips and Polly stared directly at Michael Anderson, the man who had sold her father out and was now selling out her colleagues. Desperately, she tried to appeal to his conscience. ‘You have to stand up there and give this presentation.’

‘Polly—’

‘You have a responsibility! These people work for you. They put themselves out for you. You should be defending them.’ The exhaustion and stress of the past week overflowed like a river bursting its banks after heavy rainfall. ‘It’s because of their hard work that you’ve been living the high life. Why did you ask me to put together the presentation if you never intended to use it?’

‘You were anxious about your father.’ Michael’s tone was patronising. ‘I thought it would keep you busy.’

‘I’m not a child, Mr Anderson. I can keep myself busy. I’ve had no choice about that since the key players in this company do nothing but sit on their backsides eating and drinking their way through the profits.’ Dimly aware that she was burning every bridge, she stalked round the table and had the satisfaction of seeing Michael Anderson’s eyes widen in consternation.

‘What are you doing? Where are you—? I can see you’re angry, but—’

‘Angry? I’m not angry. I’m furious. You have one hundred employees biting their nails out there—’ Beyond caring about herself, Polly flung her arm towards the door. ‘One hundred people terrified of losing their jobs who right now are wondering whether they’re going to be able to afford to keep a roof over their heads and you’re not even going to fight for them? You’re a disgusting coward.’

‘That’s enough!’ His face was red and angry. ‘If it weren’t for the fact that you’re the boss’s daughter, you would have been fired long ago. You have a real attitude problem. And as for the way you dress—’

‘How a person dresses doesn’t affect their ability to do a job, Mr Anderson. Not that I expect you to understand that. With the exception of the board—’ she cast a derisive look around the boardroom table ‘—this is a young, vibrant, creative agency. I don’t need to wear a boring suit with an elastic waistband to accommodate a four-course business lunch paid for by your unsuspecting clients.’

Scarlet-faced, Michael Anderson looked as though he was at high risk of a stroke. ‘I’m going to overlook your behaviour because I know how difficult this week has been for you. And I’m going to give you some fatherly advice as your own father seems to take his responsibilities in that area so lightly. Take your redundancy money, go on a good long holiday and rethink your future. Apart from your extremely unfortunate temper, you’re a nice girl. Beautiful.’ Sweat beading his brow, he dragged his eyes away from her legs. ‘You’re only working on client accounts because of your father. In any other company you’d be a secretary. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,’ he said hastily as he saw Polly’s expression darken. ‘All I’m saying is that a girl with your looks doesn’t need to spend her nights with her head in a spreadsheet playing with business—isn’t that right, gentleman?’

A murmur of agreement spread through the watching board members. The only person not smiling was Damon Doukakis. He stayed silent, his eyes hooded as he watched the antics from the far end of the table.

Polly saw nothing through the red mist of anger that clouded her vision. ‘Don’t you dare criticize my father. And don’t you dare make those sexist, misogynistic comments when we all know who’s doing the work in this company. You sold out to the highest bidder for personal gain. You’re now multimillionaires and we’re unemployed.’ She tried and failed to keep the emotion out of her voice. ‘Where was your sense of responsibility? Shame on you. Shame on all of you.’

Michael Anderson’s mouth was slack with shock. ‘Who do you think you are?’

‘Someone who cares about the future of this company and the people who work for it. If you make one single one of them redundant before at least considering other options then I’ll—’ What? What could she do? Aware that she was utterly powerless, the anger suddenly left her and Polly turned and stalked back round the table, furious with herself for losing control. She felt spent and exhausted and utterly dispirited. She’d let everyone down. Instead of making things better, she’d made them a thousand times worse.

Damn, damn and damn. Why couldn’t she stay cool and calm like these fat, overblown men in suits? Why hadn’t she gone to bed last night? Being tired always lowered her burn threshold.

Deafened by the extended silence, Polly felt misery slide through her veins. Her anger had blown itself out, but not before she’d ruined everything. ‘Look—I’ll go, OK? I’ll walk out of here right now without a fuss. Just don’t make everyone redundant.’ Mortified by her behaviour, she directed her words at Damon Doukakis, who still hadn’t made a move. ‘Please don’t make anyone redundant because of me.’ Horrified to feel the hot sting of tears, she closed her laptop and was about to leave the room when Damon Doukakis spoke.

‘I want to see that presentation. Send it to my handheld.’ His voice hard and inflexible, his eyes locked on Polly with the deadly accuracy of a laser guided missile. ‘I want to see everything you’ve put together.’

Mute with shock, Polly couldn’t move, and it was Michael Anderson who recovered first.

‘She’s just a glorified secretary, Damon. Honestly, you really shouldn’t—’

Damon Doukakis ignored him. He was still looking at Polly. ‘You can tell the staff they have three months to prove their worth. The only immediate job losses will be the board.’ That unexpected bombshell sent ripples of consternation across the room.

As the meaning of his words sank home, Polly felt lightheaded. He wasn’t getting rid of the staff. They had a stay of execution.

Making a strange choking sound, Michael Anderson tried to loosen the collar of his shirt. ‘You can’t get rid of the board! We’re the engine of this company.’

‘If my car had an engine like you it would have been scrapped,’ Damon said grimly. ‘You revealed your commitment to the company when you sold me your shares. I don’t want anyone working for me who can be bought. Nor do I want to find myself slapped with a lawsuit for sexual discrimination, which will undoubtedly come my way if you stay with the company.’

Watching the other man crumble, Polly felt like cheering, but Damon Doukakis was still speaking, listing his demands with a complete lack of emotion.

‘I’m moving the entire operation into my London offices. I have two floors empty and a team ready to facilitate the move.’

Polly’s desire to cheer instantly faded. ‘But the staff have been here for ever and—’

‘I don’t deal in “for ever”, Miss Prince. In business, the best you can hope for is “for now”. My second in command, Carlos, will take over the day to day running of business for the foreseeable future.’

‘But Bill Henson has been in that post for—’

‘For far too long,’ came the smooth reply. ‘He can work with Carlos for the next three months. If we’re impressed, we’ll take him on. I never lose good people. But I run a meritocracy, not a charity.’

Michael Anderson’s face was a strange grey colour. ‘Damon—’ He cleared his throat. ‘You need someone to show you our systems. Explain how the company is run.’

‘It took me less than five minutes with your balance sheet to assess how the company is run. The word is badly. And I’ve already decided to keep someone on who has inside knowledge.’

Michael sagged and his smile was slack and desperate. ‘That’s a relief. For a moment there I thought—’

‘Which is why Miss Prince will come and work alongside me for the next three months.’

Work alongside him? Oh, no, not that. ‘I’m ready to step down, Mr Doukakis.’

‘You’re not stepping anywhere, Miss Prince. You and your laptop are going to be right by my side as we sort out this mess together.’ His words were deliberately ambiguous and Polly wondered which mess he was referring to—the company, or her father’s relationship with his sister.

‘But—’

‘My people will be here within the hour to organise the move into my offices. Anyone who would rather not move is, of course, free to leave.’

‘Wait a minute—’ Polly felt as if she’d been flattened under a heavy object. She’d assumed she’d be the first out of the door. She was ready and willing to make that sacrifice. In fact she was desperate to put as much distance as possible between her and Damon Doukakis. ‘I resign.’

His eyes locked on hers. ‘Resign and I’ll make the entire workforce redundant this afternoon.’ The suppressed anger in him licked through the room, sizzling everyone around the table to a crisp.

‘No!’ Polly felt dizzy with horror. ‘They haven’t done anything.’

‘Having glanced at your balance sheet, I find it all too easy to believe you. I’m asking myself what anyone in this company has done over the past year. It’s only fair to warn you that I don’t hold out much hope that these people will still be working for me in three months. I’ve seen more activity in a graveyard.’

Polly’s limbs weakened. She thought about Doris Cooper, who had worked for her father in the post room for forty years. Recently widowed, the woman made a habit of giving the wrong post to the wrong people, but no one wanted to upset her so they quietly reorganised everything when she wasn’t looking. Then there was Derek Wills who couldn’t spell his name but made lovely cups of tea to keep everyone going. If she walked out they wouldn’t even make three weeks, let alone three months. ‘Fine,’ she croaked. ‘I’ll work for you. But I think your behaviour is appalling.’

‘Your opinion of me is unlikely to be lower than mine of you.’ He came right back at her, the full power of his anger slamming into her shaking frame with the force of a hurricane.

Polly stood rigid, impossibly intimidated despite her attempts not to be. There was something terrifying about that splintering dark gaze and the raw power of the man in front of her. She didn’t need to see the contempt in his eyes to know he had a low opinion of her and even the heels on her boots didn’t help. He still made her feel small in every way possible. But none of that was as scary as the other feelings she was trying so desperately to ignore. The quickening of her pulse and the strange melting sensation inside her tummy. ‘You’re not being fair.’

‘Life isn’t fair.’ His tone was hard and uncompromising. ‘Like it or not, you’re all now part of my company. Welcome to my world, Miss Prince.’

CHAPTER TWO

HE’D never encountered such a shambolic operation in his life.

Infuriated at having landed himself with a company that offered him no benefit whatsoever, and angrier still at the wanton carelessness the Prince board had demonstrated towards people’s job security, Damon cleared the room with a single movement of his hand.

It frustrated him to have to deal with this situation when all he really wanted to do was track down his sister and protect her from the fallout of her own mistakes. Even after an intense week of reflection, he was no closer to understanding what had driven her to make such an appalling decision. Was her choice of Peter Prince just another ploy to prove her independence? Challenge him? He stood for a moment, bracing himself against the crushing weight of responsibility that had been his closest companion since he’d been forced to take charge of his sister’s welfare in his teens.

As Polly Prince stalked towards the door with the board members, he intercepted her. Slamming the door shut behind the last suited man, he turned on the woman he hadn’t laid eyes on for a decade.

‘Wherever you are, trouble is always close behind.’

She was taller than he remembered. Other than that, she didn’t seem to have changed much from the rebellious teenager who had stood sullen and defiant in the school office hearing her fate.

Damon scanned her from head to foot in a single sweeping glance, taking her choice of dress to be just another example of her careless, irresponsible attitude to life.

Everyone else had chosen to wear a dark suit to the meeting. It was typical that Polly Prince had favoured fashionable over formal, her short dress revealing incredibly long legs showcased in hot pink tights and black ankle boots. She looked fresh, young and—sexy.

The sudden explosion of primal lust was as unexpected as it was unwelcome and Damon dragged his gaze up from the heels of her cheeky black boots to focus on her face.

Accustomed to mixing with women who dressed with understated elegance, he was exasperated that the self-discipline he exerted over his own responses appeared to have deserted him. Even as he was telling himself that he had more sophistication than to feel sexual attraction for a girl with great legs, he was wrestling with a powerful urge to shrug off his jacket and cover those slender curves.

To kill those unwanted feelings stone-dead, he focused on the issue of his sister and her father. ‘Where the hell is he?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Then tell me what you do know.’

Her delicate features were set and determined as she stared directly at him. ‘I know you’ve taken over my father’s company. Clearly you’re a megalomaniac.’ Her cool remark threw petrol onto the fire that raged inside him.

‘Don’t take me on, Miss Prince. I’m a tough boss but I’m a tougher enemy. Remember that.’ He delivered the warning and had the satisfaction of seeing her face lose colour. ‘I don’t want to hear anything from that smart mouth of yours except answers to my questions. Where is your father?’

‘I have no idea.’

That unmistakably honest admission was a solid blow to his gut. He’d been relying on her to reveal her father’s whereabouts. ‘You must be able to make contact. How do you get hold of him in an emergency?’

‘I don’t.’ She sounded genuinely surprised by the question. ‘My father taught me to be self-sufficient. If there’s an emergency, I handle it.’

‘I’ve taken over your father’s company, Miss Prince. This is definitely an emergency and I don’t see you handling anything. I can’t believe that the CEO of a company can so readily abandon his responsibilities.’ It was a lie, of course. He’d seen it before, hadn’t he? Tasted first-hand the bitter after-effects of another man’s careless disregard for obligation. The memory of it had never left him. Even now, when success was his many times over, it was always there beneath the surface. It drove him forward from one deal to the next. It was the reason he had never relied on another man for employment.

In the midst of discovering that the past still had the power to destabilise him, Damon found his attention snagged by the wisp of pale blonde hair that had floated down from the haphazard, kooky hairstyle she wore. It seemed that even her hair was rebellious.

This girl, he mused, knew nothing about obligation and responsibility.

She selfishly pursued her own agenda with no thought to the casualties. Ten years before it had been his sister who had suffered. Thrusting aside the fleeting thought that Polly Prince couldn’t be held accountable for her father’s shortcomings, he subjected her to a cold appraisal which she returned with no visible display of nerves or conscience.

‘You offered an inflated price for the stock and the board members sold my father out. That was outside my control. My priority now is to do everything I can to protect our loyal staff from your predatory instincts.’

‘Cut the act. We both know that you have no interest whatsoever in protecting the staff. The only reason you care about the business is because it’s your meal ticket. No other company would be stupid enough to take you on. You’ve been bleeding this company dry for years, but it’s stopping right now. If you were hoping I’d give you a pay-off to leave, then you’re in for a shock because I don’t carry passengers. You may be the ex-boss’s daughter, but from now on you’re going to work for your money.’ The anger boiled up inside him, the past somehow mixing with the present. ‘You’re going to take your useless, lazy self and finally do a job. And if all you’re capable of doing is clean the toilets, then you’ll clean the toilets.’

Those sapphire-blue eyes were locked on his and then she made a sound that might have been a laugh. ‘You really don’t know anything about the company you just bought, do you? Mr Media Mogul who never makes a mistake in business—Mr Big Tycoon who is all-seeing and all-knowing—is suddenly blind.’ Her voice dripped contempt and Damon, who prided himself on his lack of emotion in all his dealings, found himself wrestling the temptation to throttle her.

‘My only interest in your father’s business is as a way of ensuring his co-operation.’

‘You have no choice but to be interested in his business. You own it. A fairly heavy-handed approach to a problem, I’d say.’

‘I’ll do what it takes to protect my sister.’ He’d been protecting her since he was fifteen years old—since that cold February night when the policeman had knocked on the door and delivered the shattering news. Losing both parents in such a brutal way had been devastating but Damon had somehow dragged himself through each day, driven by the knowledge that another person was depending on him. He was all Arianna had in the world and what had began as the most terrifying responsibility had become the driving force behind everything he did. Now, protecting Arianna was as natural as breathing. Nothing would destroy the web of protection he’d spun around her. ‘If you have any idea where they are, you should tell me now because I will find out.’

‘I have no idea. I am not my father’s keeper.’

‘Arianna is your friend.’ He watched with satisfaction as that barb slid home.

‘And she’s your sister. She’s as likely to confide in you as she is in me.’

‘She tells me nothing about her life.’ The words tasted bitter in his mouth. ‘And now I know why. Evidently she has much to hide.’

‘Or possibly you’re just not an approachable person, Mr Doukakis. Arianna is twenty-four. An adult. If she wanted you to know what she was doing, she’d tell you. Perhaps you should try trusting her.’

Worry fuelled his anger. ‘My sister is ridiculously naïve.’

‘Had you not been so over-protective, perhaps she would have developed some street sense.’

Damon was thrown once again by the contrast between her fragile appearance and the layer of steel he sensed in her. It had been the same ten years before, when she’d stood in the office in silence, steadfastly refusing to explain her appalling disregard for school rules and general good behaviour. Because of her, his sister had been forced to leave one of the best schools in the country. Damon had subsequently banned Arianna from seeing the appalling Polly Prince. That was before he’d understood how teenage girls worked. The ban had effectively spurred his young sister into full rebellion mode and Arianna had promptly doubled the time she’d spent with the Prince family. It was a decision that had triggered numerous high-octane explosions in the Doukakis household.

‘Arianna is a very rich woman. That makes her a target for all sorts of unscrupulous individuals.’

‘I don’t pretend to be an expert on relationships, Mr Doukakis, but I do know that my father isn’t with Arianna because of her money.’

‘Really? Then perhaps you have no idea just how much trouble this company is in.’ He wiped his mind of images of his young sister with an ageing playboy.

‘Has it crossed your mind that he might be with her because Arianna is warm and funny and my father finds her entertaining?’

The thought of what form that ‘entertainment’ was likely to take sent pushed his soaring anger levels from dangerous to critical. ‘Well, she won’t be entertaining him for much longer.’ Control slid from his grip. ‘How the hell can you be so calm? You should be completely mortified. Your father is—how old?—fifty?’

‘He’s fifty-four.’

‘And it doesn’t embarrass you to see his name linked with an endless string of young women? He is thirty years older than Arianna. He’s been divorced four times. That’s a sign of an unstable personality.’

‘Or a sign of an eternal optimist, Mr Doukakis.’ Her voice was husky. ‘My dad continues to believe in love and the institution of marriage.’

If it hadn’t been his sister they were talking about, Damon would have laughed. ‘The institution of marriage doesn’t require endless practice, Miss Prince.’ Her defence of her father drove his opinion of her lower still. ‘When I walk out of here, I’ll be giving a statement to the media. Within the hour news of my takeover will be all over the internet. Once he finds out I have control of the company, your father will make contact. When that happens, I want to know. And I want to know immediately.’

‘My father doesn’t like the internet. He says it inhibits the development of personal relationships.’

At the mention of personal relationships, sweat broke out under his collar. ‘Bad news has a habit of travelling fast and we both know I’m the last person he would want at the helm of his precious company.’

‘I agree. He won’t be pleased. He considers you to be a man whose only goal is profit. He didn’t like me mixing with you when we were teenagers.’

Transfixed by that altogether unexpected revelation, Damon stared at her with genuine astonishment. ‘He considered me a bad influence?’

‘My father has a real thing about people who only judge the world in financial terms. That isn’t the way he runs his life and it certainly isn’t the way he runs his business. To my father a successful business is as much about the people as the profits.’

‘It took me a single glance at your company accounts to work that out. Prince Advertising is afloat through good fortune and the accidental success of a few of your campaigns,’ Damon snapped out, noticing that a faint frown appeared on her forehead. ‘The company is in profit despite your father’s approach to business, not because of it. As for the people—your headcount is severely bloated and you need to slim down. You’re carrying dead wood.’

‘Don’t you dare describe these people as dead wood. Everyone here has an important part to play.’ Her voice shook. ‘Your fight is with my father, not with the innocent people working for this company. You can’t make them redundant. It would be wrong.’

‘Business tip number one,’ Damon said softly. ‘Never let your opponent know what you’re thinking. It gives them an advantage.’

Those narrow shoulders straightened. ‘You already have the advantage, Mr Doukakis. You’ve bought my father’s company. And I’m not afraid to tell you what I’m thinking. I’m thinking that you’re as ruthless and cold as they say you are.’ Her eyes shone and he wondered if he should warn her that it was dangerous to wear her emotions so close to the surface. And then he realised how hypocritical that would be because, for once, his own were similarly exposed.

Acting on an impulse he didn’t want to examine too closely, Damon reached out and caught her chin in his hand, feeling the softness of her skin under the hard pads of his fingers as he forced her to look at him. ‘You’re right. I am as ruthless as they say I am. You might want to remember that. And tears just irritate me, Miss Prince.’

‘I’m not crying.’

But she was close to crying. He recognised the signs and he could feel the betraying tremble of her jaw. She was the same age as Arianna and yet that was where the similarity ended. For a fleeting moment he wondered what her life must have been like—an only child brought up by her father, a notorious playboy.

‘I took nothing your board of directors did not readily give.’

‘You made them an offer they couldn’t refuse.’ Her emotional accusation almost made him smile.

‘I’m Greek, not Sicilian. And the people working for me would never sell me out, no matter how good the offer.’

He saw something flicker in her eyes and then she jerked her chin away from his grasp. ‘Everyone has their price, Mr Doukakis.’

And she should know, Damon thought grimly, remembering the reason she’d been excluded from school. Definitely nothing like his sister. ‘I’m afraid I have to politely decline your offer. When it comes to my bed partners I’m extremely discerning.’

For a moment she stared at him blankly and then her mouth dropped. ‘I was talking about business.’

Damon found himself looking at those lips. ‘Of course you were.’

‘You are so offensive. Have you finished?’

‘Finished? I haven’t even started.’ Damon slowly lifted his gaze and stared into her eyes. The chemistry was unmistakable but it didn’t worry him in the slightest. When it came to women he made his decisions based on logic, not libido. He had no time for people who were unable to exercise control over their impulses when the need arose. ‘At the moment the staff have their jobs. Whether or not they keep them is up to you and your father. I’ll expect you in my offices at two o’clock this afternoon. You’re going to start doing some work. And don’t waste time appealing to my emotions, Miss Prince. I never let emotions cloud my decision-making.’

‘Really?’ Those blue eyes locked on his and he saw the same fire and determination in her he’d seen that day in the school. ‘That’s interesting, because I’d say that your decision-making in this instance has been entirely driven by emotion. You’re using this takeover as leverage against my father. If that isn’t an emotional decision, I don’t know what is. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to organise the staff for the office move. If you really want all this “dead wood” transferred to your offices by this afternoon then I’d better get my useless, lazy self moving.’ She stalked towards the door, all long legs and youthful attitude as her dress swung tantalisingly round the tops of her thighs and the spiked heel of her boots tapped the floor.

Hauling his gaze away from the seductive curve of her bottom, Damon slammed the lid on that part of him that wanted to flatten her to the boardroom table and indulge in raw, mindless sex. ‘And do something about the way you dress. Theé mou, you look like a flamingo in your hot pink tights. I expect the people working for me to look professional.’

‘So you don’t like what I do and you don’t like the way I look.’ Her back to him, she stood frozen to the spot. ‘Anything else?’

He wondered if she kept her back to him as a gesture of defiance or because she was close to tears.

There was something disturbing about the fragile set of her narrow shoulders, but Damon was out of sympathy. If she really cared about the staff, the business wouldn’t be in the state it was in. Because of this woman and her father Prince Advertising was in a pitiful state and a hundred people now risked losing their jobs. A hundred families risked having their lives shattered. A chill spread down his spine as he contemplated the possible fall-out from that scenario. ‘I want all the system passwords handed over to my team so that we can access everything. If I’m going to unravel the mess you’ve created here I need to know what I’m dealing with. That’s it. You can go.’

He could have told her that he considered redundancies a sign of failure. He could have told her that he understood his responsibilities as an employer better than anyone and that he ran his business according to his own rigid principles.

He could have told her all of that, but he didn’t.

She’d contributed to this shameful mess.

Let her suffer.

‘I’m going to kill him. I’m going to put my hands round that bronzed throat and squeeze until he can’t utter another sarcastic word and then I’m going to cut holes in his perfect suit and squirt ketchup on his white shirt …’ Feeling powerless, Polly lowered her head onto her hands and thumped her fist on the desk. ‘What do women see in him? I cannot imagine voluntarily spending a single minute in his company. He’s a heartless, sexist monster.’ But that hadn’t stopped her being hyper-aware of him all the way through their confrontation. There was a sexual energy between them that seriously unsettled her. How could she find him attractive?

‘I don’t know about him being a monster. The man is smoking hot.’ Debbie put a stack of empty boxes onto the floor and started clearing the office. ‘At least we still have our jobs. Let’s face it, the figures are so bad he could have dumped us all and no one could really have blamed him.’

Knowing that it was true, Polly lifted her head and stared at her friend in despair. ‘Trust me, that might have been the better option.’

‘You don’t mean that.’

‘I don’t know what I mean, but I know I can’t work for that man.’ Exhausted and stressed, she tried to blot out images of his cold, handsome face. Cold, she reminded herself. Cold, with no sense of humour. ‘I’m not going to last a week. The only thing in doubt is whether I kill him before he kills me.’

‘You can’t walk out! The future of the staff depends on you staying!’

‘How do you know that?’

‘We were listening at the door.’

Polly sank down in her chair. ‘Have you no shame?’

‘This was a crisis. We needed to know whether to ring the job centre or not.’

‘Ring them anyway. You won’t want to work for him for long.’ Trying to galvanise herself into action, Polly tugged open the drawer in her desk and stared down at the jumble of belongings. ‘I need a different pair of tights. Hot pink clearly isn’t his favourite colour. I cannot believe I’m about to change my clothes because a man asked me to. How low can a girl go? I should have told him where to stuff his dress code but I’d already antagonised him more than I should have done.’

‘He didn’t like the tights?’ Debbie raised her eyebrows. ‘Did you tell him you’re wearing them because—?’

‘Tell him?’ Polly rummaged through the drawer. ‘No one tells Damon Doukakis anything. They just listen while he commands. This is a dictatorship, not a democracy. How the hell does the man keep his staff?’

‘He pays top rate and he looks bloody gorgeous.’ Debbie stacked books into the boxes. ‘Calm down. I know you’re angry, but look on the bright side—he fired the board. And you were brilliant.’

‘I lost my temper with Michael the Moron.’

‘I know. You were amazing. You really let him have it. Pow. Smack.’ Debbie abandoned the packing and punched the air like a boxer. ‘Take that you sexist pig. No more looking up our skirts. No more demanding cups of coffee while we’re all running round like demented baboons doing the work he’s too lazy to do. We were all cheering.’

‘There’s nothing to cheer about. Haven’t you ever heard the phrase out of the frying pan into the fire? Damon Doukakis is a macho control freak with serious anger issues—’ Polly silenced the internal voice that reminded her that he was protecting his sister. That was no excuse to go completely over the top.

‘You can forgive a man a lot when he looks like that.’

‘I’m not interested in the way he looks.’

‘Well, you should be. You’re young and available. I know you’re anti-marriage because of your dad, but Damon Doukakis scores a full ten on the sexometer.’

‘Debbie!’

‘Oh, chill, will you? You’ve been uptight all week. It’s bad for your blood pressure.’

Polly had her nose back in the drawer. ‘I don’t have any boring black tights.’

‘Just wear leggings. Here’s a box—start packing.’

She took the box and forced herself to breathe slowly. Even though she’d grown up knowing that sex and love were two different things, the sexual tension between her and Damon horrified her. ‘I wouldn’t touch the man with a long pole. Apart from the fact that I can’t be attracted to a man who doesn’t smile, I wouldn’t want to have sex with a guy who is about to make a load of innocent people redundant. It doesn’t show a caring personality.’

‘You can’t expect him to smile when he’s taking over a company as unusual as ours.’ Debbie closed the box she was packing and started on another. ‘Most people just don’t get the way we work here. I mean, I love it, but we’re not exactly conventional, are we? Nothing about your dad is conventional.’

‘Don’t remind me.’

‘Relax. When your dad finally emerges from wherever he is this time, at least he’ll still have an intact company even if it does belong to someone else. If Demon Damon was thinking of making everyone redundant immediately he wouldn’t be mobilising an army of removal people to transport us from economy city to Doukakis World.’ Debbie carefully lifted a plant. ‘I’m excited. I’ve always wanted to see inside that building. Apparently there’s a fountain in the foyer. The plants are going to love that. So are the fish. Running water is very soothing. He must care about his employees to give them something as lovely as a fountain.’

‘It’s probably there so that despairing employees can drown themselves on their way out of the building.’ Polly walked across to the noticeboard she had on her wall and started taking down photographs.

‘You always say that everyone has a sensitive side.’

‘Well, I was wrong. Damon Doukakis is steel-plated. There’s more sensitivity in an armoured tank.’

‘He’s super-successful.’

Polly stared at a photograph of her father standing on a table at a Christmas party with a drink in one hand and a busty blonde from Accounts in the other. ‘Whose side are you on?’

‘Actually, Pol, I’m on the side of the person who pays my salary. Sorry if that makes me an employment slut, but that’s the way it has to be when you have dependants. Principles are all very well, but you can’t eat them and I have two cats to feed. Careful with those photographs.’ Debbie looked over Polly’s shoulder and gave a nostalgic sigh. ‘That was a good night. Mr Foster had one too many. He’s been nice to me ever since that party.’

‘He’s a lovely man but he’s not a very good accountant. He won’t last five minutes if Damon Doukakis decides to analyse what he does.’ Overwhelmed with the responsibility, Polly carefully slid the photographs into an envelope. ‘I’m sure the Doukakis financial department are killer-sharp, like the boss. They’re not going to be impressed when they see Mr Foster using a pen and a calculator. It will destroy him to lose his job.’

‘Maybe he won’t. You’ve been teaching him to use a spreadsheet.’

‘Yes, but it’s slow going. Every morning I have to go back over what we did the day before. I was hoping we could sneak him past the inquisition without anyone actually wanting to know what he does but it isn’t going to be easy. I bet Doukakis knows if his staff stop to draw breath.’ The responsibility swamped her. ‘Debs, we can’t give him a reason to let anyone go. Everyone has to pull their weight and if they can’t pull their weight then we have to cover for them.’

‘So this probably isn’t a good time to tell you that Kim’s child-minder is sick. She’s brought the baby into the office because that’s what she always does, but …’ Debbie’s voice tailed off. ‘I’m guessing Damon doesn’t have a soft spot for babies.’

Swamped by the volume of work facing her, Polly tipped the contents of a drawer into the box without bothering to sort it. ‘Tell Kim to quietly take the rest of the day working from home, but get her to try and find childcare for tomorrow.’

‘And if she can’t?’

‘We’ll give her an office and she can hide in there. I suppose it’s a waste of time asking if my father has phoned? I’m going to fit him with an electronic tagging device. Did you phone any of those hotels I gave you?’

‘All of them. Nothing.’

‘I wouldn’t put it past him to have bribed some blonde hotel manager to keep his booking quiet.’ Polly put the photographs into a box. ‘We need to get the rest of this packed up. The barbarian hoards from Doukakis Media Group are going to be descending on us any minute to help us move.’

‘The takeover is headlines on the BBC. You dad must know by now.’

Polly paused to swallow two painkillers with a glass of water. ‘I don’t think he’s exactly watching television, Debs.’

‘Do you have any idea who he’s with this time?’

Yes.

Her father was with Arianna, a girl young enough to be his daughter.

Humiliation crawled up her spine as she anticipated the predictable reaction from everyone around her. Polly was no more eager to share the information with the world than Damon Doukakis.

For once in his life, couldn’t her father have picked someone closer to his own age?

‘I try not to think about my father’s love-life.’ Dodging the question, she crammed the lid onto the box. ‘I just don’t see how we can move our entire office in the space of a few hours. I’m exhausted. All I want to do is go to bed and catch up on sleep.’

‘So go to bed. You know how chilled your dad is about flexitime. He always says if the staff don’t want to be there, there’s no point in them being there.’

‘Unfortunately Damon Doukakis is about as chilled as the Amazon jungle. And he wants me in his office at two o’clock.’

Debbie’s eyes widened. ‘What for?’

‘He wants me to start working for my money.’

Debbie stared at her for a moment and then burst out laughing. ‘Sorry, but that’s so funny. Did you tell him the truth?’

‘What’s the point? He’d never believe me and he’s made it his personal mission in life to make my life hell.’ Polly ripped off a piece of tape and slammed her foot down on the bulging box to flatten the lid. ‘So far he’s succeeding beyond his wildest fantasies.’

Debbie picked up a stack of prospectuses from universities. ‘What do you want me to do with these?’

Polly stared at them and felt slightly strange. ‘Just shred them.’ If Damon Doukakis found those on her desk, he’d laugh at her. ‘Get rid of them. I should never have sent off for them in the first place.’

‘But you’ve always said that what you want more than anything is to—’

‘I said, shred them.’ She resisted the impulse to grab them and stow them carefully in a box. What was the point? ‘It was just a stupid dream.’

A really crazy dream.

Numb, she watched as her hopes and dreams were shredded alongside the paper.

Five hours later, exhausted from having supervised the packing of the entire building and seen the staff safely into the coaches laid on to transfer them to their new offices, Polly took her first step into the plush foyer of the Doukakis Tower. The centrepiece was the much talked about water feature, a bubbling monument to corporate success, blending seamlessly with acres of glass and marble. Blinded by architectural perfection, Polly could see why the building was one of London’s most talked about landmarks.

Directed to the fortieth floor by the stunning blonde on the futuristic curved reception desk, she walked towards the glass-fronted express elevator. From behind her she heard the bright-voiced receptionist answer the phone. ‘DMG Corporate, Freya speaking, how may I help you?’

You can’t, Polly thought gloomily. No one can help me now. I’m doomed.

Everywhere she looked there was evidence of the Doukakis success story.

Used to staring at a crumbling factory wall from her tiny office window, she felt her jaw drop in amazement as she saw the view from the elevator.

Through the glass she could see the River Thames curving in a ribbon through London and to her right the famous circle of London Eye with the Houses of Parliament in the distance. It was essentially a huge glass viewing capsule, as stunning and contemporary as the rest of the building. Damon Doukakis might be ruthless, she thought faintly, but he had exceptional taste.

Depressed by the contrast between his achievements and their comparative failure, Polly turned away from the view and tried not to think what it would be like to work for a company as progressive as this one. Everyone employed by him probably had a business degree, she thought enviously.

No wonder he’d been less than impressed with her.

She stared at herself in one of the two mirrored panels that bordered the doors of the elevator and wondered how she could prove to him that she knew what she was doing.

She was now working for the most notoriously demanding boss in the city of London. She still wasn’t really sure why he’d kept her on instead of just firing her along with the board. Presumably because he saw her as his only possible link with her father.

Or possibly just to torture her.

Once the shock of seeing the board of directors leave the building had faded, the staff had erupted into whoops of joy, relieved to still have their jobs. Surprisingly, even the thought of moving to new offices didn’t seem to disturb people. Everyone seemed excited about the prospect of a move to more exciting surroundings.

The only person not celebrating was Polly.

She didn’t know much about Damon Doukakis, but she knew that he didn’t do anyone favours. He was keeping people on for a reason, not out of kindness. When it suited him to let them go, he’d let them go. Unless she could persuade him that the staff were worth keeping.

All morning she’d multitasked, talking to clients via her wireless headset while packing up boxes and masterminding the move. Somewhere in the middle of the chaos she’d stripped off her pink tights and replaced them with black leggings. It was her one and only concession to the strict Doukakis dress code.

Now, she wondered if she should have avoided conflict altogether and worn a suit. Trying to summon sufficient energy to get through the rest of the day, she slapped her cheeks to produce some colour and ignored the hideous squirming in her stomach.

First days, she thought grimly. She hated first days. It was like being back at school. Whispers behind her back. Is that her? The humiliation of her father driving her to school in a flashy car with his latest embarrassingly young wife installed in the front seat. Giggles heard across the length of a playground. Mysterious collisions in the corridor that sent her books flying and her self-esteem plummeting. Standing alone in the lunch queue and then finding an empty table and trying to look as though eating alone was a choice, not a sentence.

Polly glared at her reflection in the mirror. If those days had taught her anything it was how to survive. No matter what happened, she was not going to let Damon Doukakis close down the company. Not without a fight.

Somehow, she had to impress him.

Wondering how on earth you impressed a man like Damon Doukakis, she pressed the button for the executive floor and the doors of the elevator slid closed. But at the last minute a gloved male hand clamped itself around the door and they opened again.

Her hope for two minutes peace dashed, Polly squashed herself back against the far corner as a man dressed in motorbike leathers strode into the lift. She caught a glimpse of wide, powerful shoulders and realised that it was Damon Doukakis himself.

Their eyes clashed and she had a sudden urge to bolt from the lift and use the stairs.

The temperature in the tiny capsule suddenly shot up.

He didn’t even have to open his mouth, she thought desperately. Even the way he stood was intimidating. Irritated by the fact that he looked as good in leather as he did in fine wool, Polly raised an eyebrow.

‘I thought we were supposed to wear suits?’

‘I had a meeting across town. I used the motorbike.’ He wore his masculinity like a banner, overt and unapologetic, and Polly was horrified to feel her insides liquefy.

‘So you don’t change into leather just to beat your staff.’

The glance he sent in her direction was both a threat and a warning. ‘When I start beating my staff,’ he said silkily, ‘you’ll be the first to know because you’ll be right at the top of my list. Perhaps if you’d had some discipline at fourteen you wouldn’t have turned out to be such a disaster. Evidently your father didn’t ever learn to say no to you.’

Polly didn’t tell him that her father had abdicated parental responsibility right from the beginning. ‘He had trouble handling me.’

‘Well, I won’t have trouble.’ His tone lethally soft, he took in her appearance in a single glance. ‘I’ll give you marks for being on time and for changing out of those fluorescent tights.’

For some reason she couldn’t fathom, his derision brought a lump to her throat. She had blisters on her hands from carrying boxes that were too heavy, her feet ached, her back ached, and she hadn’t slept in her bed for four nights. And just to add to her frustration her phone had stopped ringing. All morning clients had called her, but now, when she was desperate for a senior client to ring her for advice so that she could sound impressive and prove to Damon just how good she was at her job, it remained silent.

And there was no point in telling him, was there? He’d made up his mind about her based on that episode in her teens and the state of her father’s company.

The whole situation was made a thousand times worse by the fact that a small part of her knew she was deserving of his contempt. It was because of her that Arianna had been excluded from school. It didn’t surprise her that he had such a low opinion of her. What surprised her was how much she cared. It shouldn’t matter what he thought of her. All that mattered now were the jobs of the innocent people who worked for her father.

‘The headlines on the one o’clock news were pretty brutal. They’re calling you the hatchet man.’

‘Good. Perhaps it will bring your father out of hiding.’ His sensuous mouth curved into a grim smile as he hit a button on the panel and sent the lift gliding upwards.

Transfixed by his mouth, Polly felt her stomach drop. His features were boldly masculine, from the hard lines of his bone structure to the subtle shadow that darkened his jaw. Desperate, she looked for evidence of weakness but found none. ‘My father isn’t hiding.’

‘Miss Prince—’ his voice was a soft, dangerous purr ‘—unless you want to experience first-hand experience of the impact of my temper in an enclosed space, I suggest you don’t force me to think about what your father might currently be doing.’

Polly instinctively retreated against the glass. ‘I’m just saying he isn’t hiding, that’s all. My father isn’t a coward.’ London slowly grew smaller and smaller until it lay beneath them like a miniature toy town. By contrast, the tension in the capsule rocketed.

‘He’s allowed his business to decline rather than make the difficult decisions that should have been made. He needed to make serious cuts but he chose not to do it. If that isn’t cowardice, I don’t know what is.’

‘You shouldn’t make judgements on something you know nothing about.’

‘I run a multinational corporation. I make difficult decisions every day of my life.’ His innate superiority infuriated her almost as much as the fact that he was right. Her father should have made some difficult decisions. But the fact that it was Damon Doukakis who was now pointing that out somehow made it more difficult to hear.

‘I’m sure it gives you a real feeling of power to fire people.’

It happened so fast she didn’t see him move, but one moment she was standing with an aerial view of London and the next she was staring at wide shoulders and a pair of fiercely angry eyes. ‘Never before have I had to restrain myself around a woman, but with you—’ He drew in a shaky breath, clearly struggling with the intensity of his own emotions. ‘You are enough to provoke a saint. Trust me when I say you do not want a demonstration of my power.’

Polly stared at him in appalled fascination, wondering why everyone thought he was Mr Cool. He was the most volatile man she’d met. He simmered like a pan of water kept permanently on the boil. And he smelt incredible …

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