she’d created for herself. The whole situation with his brothers and all their kids, the number of secrets kept from him... It grated in a way Demitri didn’t like to dig into, so he slid his attention back to the blonde threatening his sister’s happiness and latched on to ensuring she didn’t try anything further with Gideon.
Better that than dealing with Gideon’s demands.
“The date is in my calendar. I’ll try to make it.” Demitri dismissed him lightly.
Gideon folded his arms. His roots as a dock-rat sailor were visible in the piercing glint of his eyes. “Is there a reason you won’t make it a priority?”
Given that Gideon had been part of the family for several years, Demitri didn’t think he had to explain why these reunions Adara kept trying to organize were about as appealing to him as an impacted wisdom tooth.
“I’ll do my best,” he lied.
“Would you?” Gideon said flatly. The words just for once were silently tacked onto the end, loud and clear.
And here came Reason One why he had no desire to be around his family. What are you doing with your life? Hold the baby. Isn’t he adorable? When are you going to quit chasing skirts and settle down?
Demitri mentally projected two words back at his brother-in-law, punctuated them with a tight smile before he walked away. Wasn’t it enough that he had stepped up when Adara was pregnant? Hell, the only reason he’d gone into the family business was for her and Theo. Maybe he’d kept his own hours in the early years, but these days he showed up all the time, and kicked ass, if none of them had noticed. They could all play white picket fences with their new babies if they wanted to. He had zero interest in becoming a family man—and would make a terrible one—so they could all back the hell off.
Irritated, he glanced toward the Italian starlet watching him like a spaniel that had heard the car keys. As much as he would welcome the diversion of sex right now—lovemaking was his go-to coping strategy for any sort of tension—he was oddly disinterested in taking her upstairs. The blonde filled a bigger space in his mind, niggling at him.
Maybe she hadn’t meant to cause this brief altercation with Gideon, but animosity toward her still bled into him like adrenaline. He wasn’t so immature he couldn’t figure out that he was blame shifting. Every time familial obligations tugged at him lately a wave of anger and rebellion came over him. Dark, miasmic thoughts sent him in search of self-destruction on one level or another.
Usually he subscribed to being a lover, not a fighter. Forced himself to stay on the sane side of violence, too aware of the streak of it in his father. But nameless rage sat in him whenever he confronted the fact that his only real family, his brother and sister, the two people he trusted unequivocally, had kept him out of the loop on the existence of their eldest brother.
Had they not trusted him? Why had they cut him out like that? The betrayal sliced down the center of connection he felt toward them and pushed him out in the cold. If he didn’t keep a lid on his emotions, his temper would mushroom out like a radiation cloud. It made for a lot of pressure. A cold, hard, dark feeling deep in his core that he refused to deconstruct, afraid of what he might find.
Instead, he channeled it into a wave of icy energy that carried him past the curious looks from the registration desk through to the administration offices, where he found the blonde Canadian in a chair cozily nudged up against the hotel manager’s. The guy wasn’t looking at where she pointed on the computer monitor. He was gazing down to where her breasts strained against the fabric of her shirt.
“I need to speak to you,” Demitri said.
* * *
Natalie glanced up and felt the full impact of Demitri Makricosta, the youngest brother of the family that employed her. The one with the scandalously disreputable reputation. She’d seen him in person before, but always from a distance. Never like this, with his dark brown eyes pushing her back into her chair and then making a proprietary inspection of her buttons.
He was incredibly attractive. That fact was legendary across the hotel chain and impossible to ignore when he was barely ten feet away.
She tried comparing him to his older brother, Theo, who bore a resemblance but was more polished, kept a low profile and remembered every name and number he came across.
But there was no minimizing this man. All she could think was how Demitri was known for the wicked streak that was evident in his winged eyebrows and distant smile. Also for the women he picked up effortlessly, not to mention his utter disregard for little things like policies and procedures. Greek by birth but raised in America, he had a Mediterranean warmth to his skin tone under a shadow of stubble. He dressed like a citizen of the world in tailored pants and a suit vest buttoned over his shirt that accented his very fine shoulders and trim waist. He looked like the hottest of the 1920s gangsters.
Bad. He looked very, very bad. Full to the brim with sin.
She glanced up from taking him in and her gaze tangled with his. One of his superior brows went up in challenge of her checking him out. This was definitely a different kind of man from any she’d ever known. Sharp and far too knowing. How mortifying to be so obvious.
Decorum, Natalie. You’re a mom.
Swallowing her discomfiture, she glanced at Monsieur Renault as she rose. A blush stung her cheeks.
“I’ll go back to my office and you can call me when you’re done. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Makricosta,” she said as she approached the door, expecting him to move aside and give her a dismissive nod.
“It’s you I want to talk to, Miss...?” He held out a hand.
Shock made her hesitate before she placed her hand in his and was jolted by the warm grip that enclosed hers. “Adams,” she provided in a jagged, baffled voice. “Me? Are you sure?” Who did he think she was?
“I’m sure. Show me to your office.” He released her and waved her into the hall.
Brushing past him and cooking in self-conscious warmth, she walked ahead of him down the narrow hall to her shared office. Her coworkers were away from their desks. That had been perfect at lunch when she’d connected with her daughter on one of her daily webcam calls. Zoey was having the time of her life with Grandma, not missing Natalie at all, which was a relief, but it still broke Natalie’s heart. She’d shed a couple of tears after she’d disconnected, missing her girl dreadfully, and thankful for the privacy to do so. Now, however, her office mates’ absence left an isolated mood in the small, musty-smelling room with its rain-blurred windows.
When he closed the door behind them, she felt as though all the oxygen was pulled out. “I’m not sure—?”
“Leave my brother-in-law alone,” he said flatly.
“I— What?” The accusation was such a missile from the blue, she could only stare, insides flash-freezing. “Gideon? I mean, Mr. Vozaras?” she stammered.
“Gideon,” he confirmed, but there was an underlying stealth to the word. As though he thought she was overstepping by using the man’s name.
“What makes you think there’s something going on between us?” She was so shocked she couldn’t process how appalling the accusation was.
“I don’t think there is. I know him and I know my sister, but I saw you flirting with him in the lobby, asking for his email. Back off or I’ll have you fired.”
“He showed me a photo of his son! The email is about work.” Affront arrived, pushing into her face as a hot flush, straining her tone with the strident notes of the wrongly accused. “I don’t go after married men! That’s a disgusting thing to suggest. Especially when his wife was kind enough to give me this opportunity. That’s the only reason he spoke to me at all. She asked him to pass along a message about a report she wants me to write. I said I hoped their son had got over his cold, and he showed me a photo of the boy after he’d found his way into the refrigerator.”