A sharp knock at the door jolted me from my spiraling thoughts.
“Just a minute!” I called, scrambling for the complimentary bathrobe. I cinched it tight, nearly braining myself on the marble countertop in my rush out of the bathroom.
I cracked open the door, revealing a young woman in resort livery. She held out a crisp white shirt on a hanger and a small wicker basket. “Compliments of Mr. Mavridis, ma’am.”
I blinked, confused. “I... um, thank you.”
Oh. Shit.
I accepted the items, muttering another thank you as I kicked the door shut with my foot. I held up the shirt. It wasn’t an exact match for my ruined blouse, but it was close enough. And definitely designer.
The basket smelled utterly divine. I flipped the lid to find an assortment of freshly baked pastries and savory rolls stuffed with herbs and cheese. My stomach rumbled appreciatively.
A folded note rested on top. I popped a biscuit into my mouth and reached for it, noting the bold, masculine scrawl.
Ammunition.
That’s all it said. One word.
I barked out a laugh, equal parts surprised and relieved. It seemed the big bad minotaur had a sense of humor after all.
And, apparently, the ability to make peace offerings.
I’d seen Kotos Mavridis in interviews. Watched him charm talk show hosts and dazzle tech conferences. But that public persona was a far cry from the man who’d threatened to have me thrown out. I didn’t know how to reconcile the note-and-favors with the fury in those dark eyes as he’d snarled up at me.
Who was the real Kotos? The suave businessman? The snarling beast?
And why the hell did I care?
I shoved another biscuit in my mouth. It didn’t matter. He was my boss, nothing more. And orders were orders.
I grimaced and pulled up the resort’s app on my phone. Andreas had graciously rescheduled the partnership meeting until the following day to give us time to check out the amenities. Most of them made me want to gag. Gingerbread house decorating with wood nymphs? Hard pass. Reindeer-themed mini golf? I’d rather eat glass.
But there, nestled between “Santa’s Workshop Spa” and “Elf Aerobics,” was something that caught my eye. “Magical Skiff Excursion.”
Perfect. A nice, quiet boat ride. Maybe I’d even get some work done while enjoying the scenery.
Twenty minutes later, clad in what I hoped would be good boat wear, I made my way down to the docks. The salty breeze tugged at my hair, carrying the scent of the sea. For the first time since I’d arrived, I felt myself start to relax.
Then I rounded the corner, and my steps faltered.
There, leaning against a post with casual grace, was Kotos fucking Mavridis.
He stood there looking unfairly gorgeous in shorts and an open shirt. Muscles rippled with each movement, broad chest tapering to trim hips. The sea breeze tousled his dark curls, and those curved horns gleamed in the morning sun.
Not to mention his thighs. Bigger than my head.
I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. Forget pastries. His whole body was an offering fit for the gods.
His wide, flat nose gave a twitch right before his attention snapped to me. Deep brown eyes met mine, swirling with some unreadable emotion.
Heat flooded my cheeks as I became acutely aware of my attire—or lack thereof. A skimpy bikini top and shorts that mayas well have been the bikini bottoms were practically required garb for island resorts, but within two miles of your boss?
I fought the urge to cross my arms over my chest.
“Ms. Scanlon.” His low rumble slid over me, igniting a wave of goosebumps. “What a... pleasant surprise.”
I tore my gaze away, pretending to watch the waves. Anything to distract me from the way his muscles flexed with each step. He certainly had no problem with flaunting. “Mr. Mavridis. I didn’t expect to see you here.”