A Perfect Wife: International Billionaires V: The Greeks by Caro LaFever Read Free Book Online Page B

blunt fingers drummed on his laptop. A look of annoyance crossed his face as he replied to one of his seemingly endless emails.
    Another curse. Or perhaps an order. She watched as his gold-flecked dark brows frowned in furious concentration at his computer screen.
    The man could not possibly be human. Not for a moment had he slept or relaxed or looked away from his work. He’d traveled across the country last night to confront her. He’d worked throughout the day as they flew towards his homeland, flew into the darkness of the spreading night. Twenty-four hours? More likely at least thirty-six hours of being awake. He’d undoubtedly spent the previous day flying through enormous mounds of work. Even in the brief time she’d been with him, she’d spotted one dominant trait.
    The man lived to work.
    He hadn’t glanced her way once through the entire trip. The harsh demand of her to come with him to Greece had been the last words he’d thrown her way. His focus had never strayed towards her; instead, his eagle-eyed gaze narrowed on his cell, his laptop, and his paperwork.
    Not that she cared.
    She’d rather he glance, demand, focus on anything or anyone other than herself. The moments he had zeroed in on her in his bedroom had caused so much emotional and physical strain she’d cheerfully never go through the experience again.
    His hair gilded gold in the overhead light. The curls were ruthlessly suppressed by the severe haircut, yet they hinted at their existence in the waves around his ears, the wisps on his forehead. They lent him an almost boyish air. A stark distinction to the jut of his male nose and strong, clenched jaw. A jaw now sporting a five o’clock shadow, a dusting of honey-colored hair.
    Something inside her tugged taut.
    Nat forced herself to look away, focus back on her thoughts.
    She was going to Greece. One of the myriad places she’d put on her list of must-sees back when she’d been young enough to believe in a future filled with travel.
    Back before her mother had fallen ill with breast cancer.
    There hadn’t been any choice, honestly. She’d loved her mother. With her father dead and her brother too involved with his buddies and running around, she’d been the only person her mother had. Loyalty and love had kept her frozen and trapped in New York. Getting a copywriting job was the best she’d been able to do in the mecca of journalism excellence. She couldn’t take the TV job offer in Nashville. Nor the newspaper one in Birmingham. Both had offered her a start, a foot in the door. All the offers, though, had been impossible. Leaving her mom at her most desperate hour wasn’t possible. Thus, for the last four years, she’d traveled back to Brooklyn every night to be her mother’s nurse and companion.
    But when her mom had finally died three months ago, she’d thought… Well, she’d begun to dream anew. Only to be hit with her brother’s death and the threat to her existence.
    “ Skatá !”
    His voice entranced her. Unwillingly. Even when he swore.
    Whether he was rattling off instructions in his native tongue or rolling his accent around the English commands he barked into his phone, his voice spun around her and into her. Rich and vibrant. The long vowels, the crisp cadence. The deep, masculine growls when he was displeased. The sibilant timbre of his tone when an employee pleased him.
    What would he sound like in bed?
    She wrenched herself away from the thought. What the heck was wrong with her? She’d barely survived their argument in his bedroom with her confidence intact. Imagining a wholly different kind of scenario, in a bedroom with him, would be a recipe for complete annihilation.
    Smoothing her hands down her black leggings, she tried to ignore the nagging zig and zag of attraction zipping through her blood. Thank God it was only his voice attracting her. Nothing else did.
    Not true, not true , her libido whispered.
    She refused to acknowledge the thought. Men were