The Greek Tycoon's Secret Child Read Free

one eye on the figure hurrying up the dark street, about to spin round a corner.
    It took a bit of swift moving, swift enough to leave him insufficient time to ask himself what precisely he was doing, and then the gap was closing between them. He caught up with her just as she was about to cross the road, then he reached out and stilled her by placing his hand on her arm.
    Mattie swung around instantly. It was after midnight and, although the streets were still busy, so were all the muggers. This was their time of night, when people were scurrying to catch cabs and buses, very likely with wallets poking out like beacons from jacket pockets and abit too much drink in their blood for them to do much about a running assault.
    â€˜You!’ Her eyes widened, then narrowed in angry suspicion.
    An understandable reaction, Dominic thought belatedly, releasing her and drawing back.
    â€˜What the hell are you doing? Following me?’ She had only seen him sitting down. Now she realised just how tall he was. Well over six feet. Much taller than she was, and she was no shortie at five feet eight. He was also a lot more powerful close up. Under the well-cut jacket, she could sense a finely honed, muscular body.
    â€˜If I told Harry about this, he would have your head for breakfast!’ She didn’t think that anyone, including any of Harry’s very efficient bouncers, could have this man’s head for breakfast, and he obviously was of the same opinion, because he shot her a look of frank disbelief.
    â€˜I accept tips from the punters, mister, but that is all you’re entitled to!’ She whipped back around to discover that he was still following her. Although following would have been the wrong word. More like accommodating his long stride to match hers, to keep up perfectly at her level, until they had both crossed the road, at which point she turned to him again, eyes blazing, letting him know in no uncertain terms that he could take his arrogant and more than likely drunken self up some different road, any road that was not the one she happened to be on!
    â€˜I’ve seen your type before, let me tell you, and you disgust me!’
    â€˜My type?’ Dominic was finding, to his own bemusement, that his instinctive ability to control conversations was being very thoroughly flattened by the spittingblonde in front of him. She had her hands stuck angrily in the pockets of her jacket, only removing one to shove some of that fabulous fair hair away from her face.
    He had pursued her because something about her had turned him on. A lot. And he had wanted to apologise for the uncultured oaf he had been inside the nightclub, looking at her with a suggestiveness he knew she had recognised and been repulsed by. Quite rightly.
    However, her attack on him was taking its toll on his temper, never that long at the best of times.
    â€˜My type?’ he repeated, in a voice that had sent many a high-powered business rival ducking for cover. On her, however, it appeared to have less than zero effect.
    â€˜Yes, your type!’ Surprisingly, Mattie found that she was enjoying this. Actually enjoying this! The initial shock of seeing him, the passing fear that he had followed her for a purpose, had somehow retreated. Obnoxious, patronising, arrogant boor he might very well be, but somehow she knew that he was not going to shove her down a dark alley so that he could have his wicked way with her.
    She felt absolutely free to yell her lungs out at him and it was feeling very good to do just that. She hadn’t yelled like this in a very long time and she should have. Instead of just accepting what had been going on in her personal life, instead of just submitting to the worse kind of emotional abuse at the hands of Frankie King, she should have released her pent-up rage and misery in a good old screaming match. It helped that she was doing it now. Wrong person but right sentiment.
    â€˜Sad losers with too much