Эбби Грин – Greek Affairs: In the Boss's Arms: Ruthless Greek Boss, Secretary Mistress / Kept by Her Greek Boss / Greek Boss, Dream Proposal (страница 1)

From boardroom to bedroom …

Meet these powerful and charismatic

Greek bosses with pleasure at the

top of their agenda!

Greek

Affairs

In the Boss’s Arms

Three glamorous and exciting novels by

three beloved authors: Abby Green,

Kathryn Ross and Barbara McMahon

Greek Affairs

In the Boss’s Arms

Ruthless Greek Boss, Secretary Mistress

Abby Green

Kept By Her Greek Boss

Kathryn Ross

Greek Boss, Dream Proposal

Barbara McMahon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Ruthless Greek Boss,

Secretary Mistress

Abby Green

About the Author

ABBY GREEN got hooked on Mills & Boon® romances while still in her teens, when she stumbled across one belonging to her grandmother in the west of Ireland. After many years of reading them voraciously, she sat down one day and gave it a go herself. Happily, after a few failed attempts, Mills & Boon bought her first manuscript.

Abby works freelance in the film and TV industry, but thankfully the four a.m. starts and the stresses of dealing with recalcitrant actors are becoming more and more infrequent, leaving her more time to write!

She loves to hear from readers and you can contact her through her website at www.abby-green.com. She lives and works in Dublin.

This is for Ann and Iona—getting to number ten

wouldn’t have been half the amazing journey

it’s been without either one of you by my side.

I’m indebted to both of you wonderful ladies

and writers and am looking forward to all of our

shared experiences to come! With much

thanks and love, for everything.

CHAPTER ONE

‘YOU’RE the coldest man I ever met. If you have a heart it’s made of stone. You’re cruel and contemptible. I hate you.’ The woman’s strident voice quivered dangerously on the last word and came through the heavy oak door with effortless ease.

There was silence, and then the ominously low rumble of a man’s voice. Short, sharp, succinct. Lucy could imagine only too well the glacial look that was most likely accompanying those indistinct words. She sighed as she heard the woman splutter indignantly, but then she was off again, her voice rising so high now that Lucy feared for the crystal decanter on the drinks board nearby. While Lucy was new to these scenes first-hand, she had to reflect that the rumours she’d heard over the past two years hadn’t been a myth after all. The voice was drawing her attention back to the present moment.

‘Don’t think that you can seduce your way back into my bed after treating me like this!’

Lucy had just enough time for a cynical smile as she reflected that if her new boss was to so much as arch an eyebrow this woman would undoubtedly be back in his bed in a heartbeat before the door was suddenly flung open. She looked studiously at her computer screen, trying to sink down in her seat and be as unobtrusive as possible.

Being unobtrusive was her trademark: it was what had got her this coveted job, along with her impeccable credentials and references. There was a lull, a pseudo-calm in the middle of the storm. Lucy didn’t look up, but could visualise the woman standing dramatically on the threshold of the palatial office. Tall, sleek and blonde. Stunningly beautiful, from the top of her shiny head to the tip of her expensively manicured toes, evident through the peepholes of a pair of sky-high heels. She was reputedly one of the most alluring women in the world, but apparently hadn’t managed to hold his attention for longer than a few weeks.

‘Needless to say you won’t be hearing from me again.’

The door slammed shut with such violence that Lucy winced. He wouldn’t appreciate that. Even though Lucy had only been working for him for two months she already knew that he hated scenes. A cloud of noxious perfume lingered in the wake of the tall woman’s exit. She hadn’t even glanced Lucy’s way.

Lucy breathed a sigh of relief and then heard a loud thump, as if a fist was connecting with a hard surface. She counted to ten, and on the count of ten the door opened. She looked up and willed any emotion or reaction from her face. Her boss stood there, filling the frame easily. Veritable sparks of energy crackled from his body.

Aristotle Levakis, CEO of Levakis Enterprises which encompassed all aspects of a dizzyingly successful global imports and exports business.

Tall, broad-shouldered, lean hipped. Every hard-muscled, dark olive-skinned inch of him adding up to a—currently bristling—Greek alpha male in his potent and virile prime.

His distinctive light green eyes skewered Lucy to the spot, almost as if the last ten minutes had been her fault. Instantly she felt breathless; her heart hammered. She hated that she was aware of him. But the best part of two years spent viewing him from a distance, along with every other ogling female in his thousand-employee-strong company, had done little to help diminish the devastating impact of working in such close proximity to him. A memory surfaced and familiar heat flooded her. If only she had been kept at a safe distance he might not be having this effect on her now—but there had been that moment in a lift, almost a year ago … Lucy ruthlessly crushed that memory stone-dead. Now was not the time.

But, much to her chagrin and dismay, she couldn’t halt her reaction. It was something about the way he’d obviously just raked a hand through his unruly ink-black hair, leaving it even more dishevelled, and the way his jaw was so defined and hard it looked as if it was hewn from granite. His cheekbones and that full lower lip softened the hard edges, giving him the look of a master of sensuality—which by all accounts he was. Yet dark brows drawn together over those deep-set, amazing eyes took away any lingering pretty edges.

‘Lucy,’ he rapped out, distaste for the recent dramatics etched all over his handsome face. ‘Get in here. Now.’

Lucy blinked and landed back to earth with a bump. What was she doing? Sitting here mentally listing her boss’s attributes as if he wasn’t standing there looking at her as if he wanted to throttle someone. Caught short, which she never was, she scrambled up somewhat inelegantly from her chair and walked towards him, but then, to add insult to injury, she dropped her pad and pen from suddenly nerveless fingers. She bent down to pick them up, cursing herself in her head, and cursing the fact that her skirt was too tight when it resisted her movement. She’d put it in the wrong wash and it had shrunk about two sizes; with no time to shop for a replacement it had had to do, but now she was terrified it might split at the seams. The thought of that made her go hot all over.

If Aristotle Levakis so much as guessed for a second that he had any effect on her she’d be out on her ear and replaced so fast her head would be spinning. She didn’t have to remind herself that was exactly what had happened to his last two unfortunate assistants.

Speed had been of the essence as his in-house head-hunters had scrambled to find the next best person. Lucy had since discovered that Levakis Enterprises was involved in a top secret series of merger meetings, and the luxury of extending the search to outside the company hadn’t been an option.

As luck would have had it, Lucy’s boss, Levakis’ senior legal counsel, had retired the very day of the last unfortunate PA’s demise. Lucy had been vetted and promoted within twenty-four hours to the most terrifying and yet exciting position of her career so far: Levakis’ personal secretary, heading up a team of five junior administrative assistants, not to mention staff in Athens and New York.

When she straightened up, taking care to breathe in, all this raced through her brain and she felt thoroughly flustered. She pushed her glasses higher on her nose and felt her cheeks grow even hotter. Aristotle moved back to let her precede him into his office, and she caught the look of exasperation that crossed his face as he articulated her own thoughts out loud with narrowed eyes, ‘What is wrong with you today?’

She burned inside with humiliation at her lack of control. She was no better than the swooning legions of girls who gathered in the kitchens on each floor of this impressive London headquarters to eulogise over his mythical sexual prowess and inestimable wealth.

‘Nothing,’ Lucy muttered, and called on every bit of training she had to regain her composure. When she heard him shut his door behind them and follow her in she closed her eyes for a split second and took deep breaths. She chastised herself roundly. This job was so important; the sharp increase in wages meant that she was finally able to take care of her mother properly.

She couldn’t jeopardise all that now by turning into a bumbling, stumbling, mooning idiot—no matter how gorgeous her boss happened to be. A voice mocked her inwardly. It wasn’t as if she even wanted a man like him to notice her. She had to control these wayward thoughts. They disturbed her more than she cared to admit, making her think of long-buried memories of her childhood.

It should be easy enough to do after witnessing that last little scene. Evidently Aristotle Levakis went for quivering, highly strung thoroughbreds, all lean and sleek with good bloodlines. Lucy Proctor was more along the lines of a … a placid cart horse, and her bloodline was considerably less blue than he was used to. More of a murky brown.