Attending the conference in Athens had been a complete waste of time in that respect. From a professional point of view it couldn’t have gone better. He’d networked, held discussions and drawn up agreements. People had congratulated him on his new role and he’d been able to answer their questions about his plans for the country, for the first time feeling confident that he knew what he was talking about. But while all that had been going on he hadn’t been able to get Laura out of his head and it was driving him demented. Much more of this tension and this aching, this clawing kind of need, and he’d snap. He’d start making mistakes and the Sassanians would wonder what the hell they’d done in voting in favour of him to restore their battered country. Maybe he should just give in and suggest a fling. A fling didn’t mean a relationship, did it? A fling just meant lots of the mind-blowing sex he’d been missing and very little conversation. Matt stalked into his dressing room, yanking his tie off and undoing the top button of his shirt.
