it gets out of hand.’
Sakis frowned. ‘It isn’t even remotely the same thing. For one thing, this is a surface spill, not a deep sea pipeline breach.’
‘But...’
His expression turned icy. ‘I’d also like to keep the media out of this as much as possible. Things tend to get twisted around when the media becomes involved.’
‘I believe this is the ideal time to bring them round to our side. I know a few journalists who are above-board. Perhaps, if we can work exclusively with them, we can get a great result. We’ve admitted the error is ours, so there’s nothing to cover up. But not everyone has time to fact-check and the public making assumptions could be detrimental to us. We need to keep the line of communication wide open so people know everything that’s going on at every stage.’
‘What do you propose?’ Sakis pushed his plate away.
She followed suit and fired up her laptop. Keying in the address, she called up the page she’d been working on. ‘I’ve started a blog with a corresponding social networking accounts.’ She turned the screen towards him and held her breath.
He glanced down at it. ‘“Save Point Noire”?’
She nodded.
‘What is the point of that, exactly?’
‘It’s an invitation for anyone who wants to volunteer—either physically at the site or online with expertise.’
Sakis started to shake his head and her heart took a dive. ‘Pantelides Shipping is responsible for this. We’ll clean up our own mess.’
‘Yes, but shutting ourselves off can also cause us a huge negative backlash. Look—’ she indicated the numbers on the screen ‘—we’re trending worldwide. People want to get involved.’
‘Won’t they see it as soliciting free help?’
‘Not if we give them something in return.’
His gaze scoured her face, intense and focused, and Brianna felt a tiny burst of heat in her belly. Feverishly, she pushed it away.
‘And what would that something be?’ he asked.
Nerves suddenly attacked her stomach. ‘I haven’t thought that far ahead. But I’m sure I can come up with something before the day’s out.’
He kept staring at her for so long, her insides churned harder. Reaching for his glass, he took a long sip of water, his gaze still locked on her.
‘Just when I think you’re out of tricks, you surprise me all over again, Miss Moneypenny.’ The slow, almost lazy murmur didn’t throw her. What threw her was the keen speculation in his eyes.
Brianna held his gaze even though she yearned to look away. Speculation led to curiosity. Curiosity was something she didn’t want to attract from her boss, or anyone for that matter. Her past needed to stay firmly, irretrievably buried.
‘I’m not sure I know what you mean, Mr Pantelides.’
He glanced down at the laptop. ‘Your plan is ingenious but, while I commend you for its inception, I’m also aware that keeping track of all the information flowing in will be a monumental task. How do you propose to do that?’
‘If you give me the go-ahead, I can brief a small team back at the head office to take over. Any relevant information or genuine volunteer will be put through to me and I can take it from there.’
The decisive shake of his head made her want to clench her fist in disappointment. ‘I need you with me once we get on site. I can’t have you running off to check your emails every few minutes.’
‘I can ask for three-hourly email updates.’ When his gaze remained sceptical, she rushed on. ‘You said so yourself—it’s a great idea. At least let me have a go at trying to execute it. We need the flow of information now more than ever and getting the public on our side can’t hurt. What do we have to lose?’
After a minute, he nodded. ‘Four-hourly updates. But we make cleaning up the spill our top priority.’
‘Of course.’ She reached for the laptop but he leaned forward, took it from her and set it down beside his plate.
‘Leave that for now. You haven’t finished your meal.’
Surprised, she glanced down at her half-finished plate. ‘Um...I sort of had.’
He pushed her plate towards her. ‘You’ll need your strength for what’s ahead. Eat.’
Her gaze slid to his own unfinished meal as she picked up her fork. ‘What about you?’
‘My stamina is much more robust than yours—no offence.’
‘None taken at all.’ Her voice emerged a little stiffer than she intended.
Sakis quirked one eyebrow. ‘Your response is at variance with your tone, Miss Moneypenny. I’m sure some die-hard feminist would accuse me of being sexist, but you really need it more than I do. You barely eat enough as it is.’
She gripped her fork harder. ‘I wasn’t aware my diet was under scrutiny.’
‘It’s hard to miss that you watch what you eat with almost military precision. If it wasn’t absurd, I’d think you were rationing yourself.’ His eyes were narrowed in that unnervingly probing way.
Her pulse skittered in alarm at the observation. ‘Maybe I am.’
His lips tightened. ‘Well, going without food for the sake of vanity is dangerous. You’re risking your health, and thereby your ability to function properly. It’s your duty to ensure you’re in the right shape so you can fulfil your duties.’
The vehemence in his tone made her alarm escalate. ‘Why do I get the feeling we’re talking about more than my abandoned salad?’
He didn’t answer immediately. His lowered lids and closed expression told her the memory wasn’t a pleasant one.
He settled back in his seat, outwardly calm. But Brianna saw the hand still wrapped around his water glass wasn’t quite so steady. ‘Watching someone wilfully waste away despite being surrounded by abundance isn’t exactly a forgettable experience.’
Her grip went slack. ‘I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to dredge up bad memories for you. Who do you...?’
He shook his head once and indicated her plate. ‘It doesn’t matter. Don’t let your food go to waste, Moneypenny.’
Brianna glanced down at the remnants of her meal, trying to reconcile the outwardly confident man sitting across from her with the man whose hands trembled at a deeply disturbing memory. Not that she’d even been foolish enough to think Sakis Pantelides was one-faceted.
She recalled that one moment during her interview when he’d looked up from her file, his green eyes granite-hard and merciless.
‘If you are to survive this job, I’d strongly urge you to take one piece of advice, Miss Moneypenny. Don’t fall in love with me.’
Her response had been quick, painful memory making her tongue acid-sharp. ‘With respect, Mr Pantelides, I’m here for the salary. The benefits package isn’t too bad either, but most of all I’m here for the top-notch experience. To my knowledge, love never has and never will pay the bills.’
What she’d wanted to add then was that she’d been there, done her time and had the tattoo to prove it.
What she wanted tell him now was that she’d endured far, far worse than a hungry stomach. That she’d known the complete desolation of coming a poor second to her mother’s love for drugs. She’d slept rougher than any child deserved to and had fought every day to survive in a concrete jungle, surrounded by the drug-addled bullies with vicious fists.
She held her tongue because to speak would be to reveal far more than she