Hell, no.
His fists curled, willing his body’s unwanted reaction away. It had been a while since he’d indulged in a mindless, no-holds-barred liaison. But this was most definitely not the time for a physical reminder, and the instigator of that reminder was most definitely not the woman he would choose to end his short dry spell with.
He exhaled in a slow, even stream, letting the roiling in his gut abate and his equilibrium return.
As he made his way down the stairs to join the guests, the deep-seated certainty that he was meant to be here—in the right place at the right time—flared high.
If Pietro da Costa’s love of excess hadn’t led him down the path of biting off more than he could chew, this time in the form of commissioning a top-of-the-line Pantelides super-yacht he could ill afford, Theo wouldn’t have flown down to Rio to look into the da Costas’ finances three years ago.
He wouldn’t have become privy to the carefully hidden financial paper trail that had led right back to Athens and to his own father’s shady dealings almost a decade and a half ago.
He wouldn’t have dug deeper and discovered the consequences of those dealings for his family. And for him personally.
Memory stirred the unwanted threads of anxiety until it threatened to push its way under his control like Japanese knotweed. Gritting his jaw, he smashed down on the poisonous emotion that had taken too much from him already. He was no longer that frightened boy unable to stem his fears or chase away the screaming nightmares that plagued him.
He’d learned to accept them as part of his life, had woven them into the fabric of his existence and in doing so had triumphed over them. Which wasn’t to say he wasn’t determined to make those who’d temporarily taken power from him pay dearly for that error. No, that mission he was very much looking forward to.
Focusing his gaze across the room to where Benedicto and his son held court among Rio’s movers and shakers, he strategised how best to approach his quarry.
Despite the suave exterior he tried to portray with his tailor-made suit and carefully cropped hair, Benedicto could never mask his lizard-like character for very long. His sharp, angular face and reptilian eyes held a cruelty that was instinctively felt by those around him. And Theo knew that he honed that characteristic to superb effect when needed. He bullied when charm failed, resulting in the fact that half of the people in this room had attended the fund-raiser tonight just to stay on Benedicto’s good side.
Five years ago, Benedicto had made his political aspirations very clear, and since then he’d been paving the way for his rise to power through mostly unsavoury means.
The same unsavoury means Theo’s own father had used to bring shame and devastation to his family.
Grabbing a glass of champagne, Theo sipped it as he slowly worked his way deeper into the room, exchanging pleasantries with ministers and dignitaries who were eager to find favour with the Pantelides name.
He noticed the moment Benedicto and Pietro zeroed in on his presence. Bow ties were surreptitiously straightened. Smiles grew wider and spines straighter.
He suppressed a smile, deliberately turned his back on the father and son and made a beeline for where the daughter was smiling up at Alfonso Delgado, the Brazilian millionaire philanthropist, who was her latest prey.
‘If you want me to host a gala for you, Alfonso, all you have to do is say the word. My mother used to be able to throw events like these together in her sleep and I’ve been told that I’ve inherited her talent. Or do you doubt my talents?’ Her head tilted in a coquettish move that most definitely would’ve made Theo snort, had his eyes not been drawn to the sleek line of her smooth neck.
Alfonso smiled, his expression beginning to closely resemble adoration.
Forcing himself not to openly grimace, Theo took another sip of champagne and brushed off an acquaintance who tried to catch his eye.
‘No one in their right mind would doubt your talent. Perhaps we can discuss it over dinner one night this week?’
The smile that started to curve her full, glossy lips forced another punch of heat through him. ‘Of course, I would love to. We can also discuss that pledge you made to support my father’s campaign…?’