‘Because I’m hoping it would persuade you to have lunch with me tomorrow,’ he replied.
His gaze flicked across the table. Although his expression didn’t change, she again sensed the tension that hovered on the edge of his civility. This man didn’t like her family. Which begged the question: what was he doing here investing in their company?
He swung that intense stare back to her and she lost her train of thought. Grabbing it back, she shook her head.
‘I’ll have to refuse the lunch offer, I’m afraid. I have other plans.’
‘Dinner, then?’
‘I have plans then, too. Besides, don’t you have business with my father tomorrow?’
‘Our business won’t take longer than me signing on a dotted line.’
‘A dotted line that gives you a permanent controlling share in my family’s company?’
His eyes gleamed. ‘Not permanent. Only until I have what I want.’
CHAPTER THREE
‘AND WHAT IS IT you want?’
‘For now? Lunch. Tomorrow. With you.’ Another pass of his thumb over her pulse.
Another roll of sensation deep in her belly. The temptation to say yes suddenly overcame her, despite the warning bells shrieking at the back of her mind.
She forced herself to heed those warning bells. Her painfully short foray into a relationship had taught her that good looks and charm often hid an agenda that would most likely not benefit her or her heart. And Theo Pantelides had metaphorical skull and crossbones stamped all over him.
‘The answer is still no,’ she replied, a lot sharper than she’d intended.
His lips compressed but he shrugged. As if her answer hadn’t fazed him.
And it probably hadn’t. He was one of those men who drew women like bees to pollen. He could probably secure a lunch date with half of the women in this room and tempt the other married half into sin should he choose to.
With his dark, exquisite looks and deep sexy voice, he could have any woman he chose to display even the mildest interest in.
The thought that he would do just such a thing punched so fierce a reaction in her belly that she suppressed a shocked gasp.
What on earth is wrong with me? She needed to get herself back under control before she did something foolish—like discard her plans for tomorrow in favour of spending more time with this infuriatingly self-assured, visually stunning man.
Giving herself a fierce pep talk, she pulled her hand from his grasp.
She folded her hand in her lap and wrapped her other hand over her wrist. But suddenly her own touch felt…inadequate.
She was saved from exploring the peculiar feeling when the lights dimmed and the projector started reeling pictures of miles and miles of rusted shingle roofs that formed the world famous Rio favelas.
Her father climbed onto the podium to begin his speech.
The tale of despair-driven prostitution, violence, gang warfare and kidnapping of innocents, and the need to do whatever was needed to help was one she’d heard at many fund-raisers and charity dinners.
She clenched her fist. Knowing that half the people in here, dripping in diamonds and tuxedos worth several thousand dollars, would’ve forgotten the plight of the favela residents by the time dessert was served made her silently scream in frustration.
The need to get up, to walk out almost overwhelmed her but she stayed put.
There would be no running. No walking away from the work she’d committed herself to, nor walking away from the formative minds that were depending on her.
Fierce pride tightened her chest at the part she was playing in the young lives under her charge. And the fact that she’d managed to change that part of her own life without her father or brother’s interference.
She refocused as her father finished his speech to rousing applause. The projector was shut off and the lights grew brighter.
She reached forward for her glass of wine and noticed that she was once again the focus of Theo’s gaze.
‘Should I be offended that I’m being so comprehensively ignored?’ he asked.
‘It’s not a state you’re used to, I expect?’ With her surroundings once more in focus, she noticed the looks he was getting from women on other tables. She didn’t delude herself that any of them were interested in his views on politics or world peace. No, each and every one of them would vie for much more personal, much more physical contact with the lean, broad-shouldered man next to her, whose hands casually caressed his wine glass stem in a way that made her think indecent thoughts.