Page 9 of Penniless Cinderella for the Greek
Women had fallen for him since he was a youth, and more so since he’d become wealthy, he acknowledged cynically. What would they say if he told them that he was toxic? He had killed his parents and ruined his sister’s life. How would Savannah react if he admitted the truth? He had never told her anything about the car accident. He’d never spoken to anyone about what had happened and his belief that it had been his fault.
Dimitris’s jaw clenched. He was unlikely to ever see Savannah again. For years she had hovered on the periphery of his consciousness. He had convinced himself that he remembered her because she was the only virgin he’d slept with. He preferred his lovers to be experienced and his no-strings rule was non-negotiable.
He switched on his phone and cursed when the screen remained blank. Savannah’s outrageous behaviour when she’d dropped his phone into the batter mixture had fired his temper, and in those moments of heightened emotion a mixture of anger and desire had seen him pull her into his arms. Thank God he’d come to his senses before he had kissed her.
The young woman he had known years ago had been sweet and shy and had adored him with a puppy-like devotion that Dimitris had been bitterly aware he did not deserve. This new Savannah had an attitude and a temper. She was even more beautiful and decidedly sassier than she’d been at eighteen, and she tested his self-control like no other woman ever had.
Determinedly shoving the past back where it belonged, Dimitris returned to the studio and found his assistants and technicians setting up for the photoshoot. Philpot’s PR executive Tara Brown looked tense.
‘The agency sent another photographer instead of Savannah O’Neal, as you requested,’ she explained. ‘There seems to be some confusion about why Miss O’Neal came to the studio today. Unfortunately, her replacement was involved in an accident on his way here and has been taken to hospital. I am trying to arrange another photographer, but I’m afraid it means a delay to the start of the photoshoot. The alternative is to postpone until another day.’
Dimitris did not favour delaying the shoot. His sister had flown to Athens that morning, in need of sympathy from a friend who was to have been her chief bridesmaid. He was keen to return to Rhodes and break the news to his grandmother that the wedding was cancelled before Eleni arrived at the villa.Yιαγι?Hestia’s well-meant fussing would be too much for his sister right now.
The solution to get back on track was obvious, but he was reluctant to suggest that Savannah could take the photographs. He had a curious feeling that his life was about to change for ever. Impatiently, he reminded himself that he was in control of his destiny. His reaction to Savannah,that near-kiss, had stemmed from his shock at seeing her again.
‘Rather than delay the shoot, you could ask Miss O’Neal to take the photos for the magazine. I might have acted too hastily when I asked for a different photographer.’ He correctly interpreted Tara Brown’s confused expression. ‘I’ve had a second look at Miss O’Neal’s portfolio and decided that I like her style of photography.’
Tara did not hide her relief. ‘I saw her leave the studio a few minutes ago. I’ll go after her.’
‘She can’t have got far.’ Dimitris glanced at his watch. ‘The shoot is already behind schedule, and we need to make a start.’
He was puzzled by Savannah’s claim that she needed the Philpot’s assignment. It couldn’t be for financial reasons. When she’d turned twenty-five she should have come into a great deal of money that had been held in a trust fund managed by her father.
He recalled, with a mixture of bitterness and distaste, the meeting he’d had with Savannah’s father ten years ago. The offer of money as a bribe had been humiliating. But he’d been persuaded to break off his relationship with Savannah to protect her fortune after Richard O’Neal had threatened to remove her as a beneficiary of the trust fund and cut her off financially. Dimitris wasn’t proud that he’d accepted the money, but he had done so to prevent Savannah learning the truth about Richard.
Fate had conspired to throw them together again, he brooded. But he only had to get through today, and thankfully his emotions were back under control. Although the uncomfortable throb in his groin when Savannah walked into the studio a few minutes later mocked his belief that he was unaffected by her.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘MISSO’NEAL...’
Savannah heard a voice behind her and slowly turned around to see Philpot’s PR executive hurrying down the driveway. She braced herself for a showdown, convinced that Dimitris must have made a formal complaint about her behaviour.
‘Thank goodness you hadn’t left. We want you to stay for the photoshoot after all.’ Tara Brown sounded flustered. ‘The other photographer sent by the agency can’t make it. Apparently he fell down the escalator at the tube station and has a suspected broken wrist.’
‘Mr Kyriakou won’t want to work with me,’ Savannah said with certainty. Not because she had stupidly damaged his phone, but because Dimitris had wanted to kiss her. The self-disgust in his eyes when he’d set her away from him had heaped more humiliation on her.
‘It was Dimitris’s idea to call you back.’
Savannah wondered if the replacement photographer had really been involved in an accident. Perhaps Dimitris had set her up to humiliate her publicly for her unprofessional behaviour. But if there was any chance she could salvage her career and professional reputation she would be a fool not to take it. Still she hesitated, reluctant to face Dimitris again. It would be safer on her emotions if she walked away.
‘Miss O’Neal?’ the PR woman prompted.
‘Okay,’ Savannah said quickly before she could change her mind. She needed the money, and all she had to do was work with Dimitris for one day. ‘I’ll stay for the shoot.’
Her heart thumped as she followed Tara Brown across the garden, and she took a deep breath before she stepped into the studio. The oxygen escaped from Savannah’s lungs in a whoosh when the first person she saw, the only person she saw in fact, even though the room was full of people, was Dimitris.
Her gaze collided with his and she noticed that his eyes were the same shade of navy-blue as the shirt he’d changed into after she’d wiped batter over him. The top couple of buttons were undone to reveal a vee of olive-gold skin and a sprinkling of black chest hairs. He was lethally beautiful, and it occurred to her that she might not survive him a second time.
For a split-second she was tempted to run back to her car and break the speed limit driving away from Richmond. Food photography entailed working in close proximity to the creator of the dishes. She would have to stand beside Dimitris and photograph each stage of him preparing his recipes, but how on earth would she be able to hide her treacherous body’s response to him?
‘Miss O’Neal. Savannah. Welcome to River Retreat studio,’ Dimitris greeted her smoothly. He glanced around at his assistants, mostly young women who gazed at him like adoring concubines in the presence of their sultan. ‘We have a busy day ahead, but before we get down to business I prepared breakfast for everyone. Help yourself to Greek style pancakes with honey and walnuts. I made a fresh batch of pancake batter,’ he added drily when Savannah sent him a startled look.
She felt herself blush as an assistant pushed a serving plate across the counter towards her. The thick, fluffy pancakes drizzled with golden honey and sprinkled with crushed walnuts looked divine, but although she was hungry her stomach rebelled at the idea of putting food into it. She doubted she’d ever look at a pancake again without cringing with embarrassment.
She unpacked her camera equipment and read through the schedule of dishes that she would be photographing. The art director and food stylist introduced themselves and discussed ideas for props to be used in the shoot. Dimitris strolled over to join in the conversation and Savannah hoped he did not notice her stiffen as she struggled to ignore her awareness of him.
‘Thank you for giving me the chance to prove the quality of my work,’ she murmured after the stylist and director had walked away.
