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“I need you. You’re the best.”

Gratification flared inside of her but she held her ground. “We’re talking each other around in circles. My company is the best,” she admitted modestly. “And owing to that, our roster is full, and we have a waitlist from here to Timbuktu,” she added for good measure. “I’m already offering to put you high on the list, in the hope I can help you in the future, but besides that⁠—”

“I’ll pay three times your usual fee.”

She stared at him, trying not to react but failing. “You realise our prices start at a quarter of a million pounds?”

He dipped his head once in agreement. “I always do my research ahead of a meeting.”

“You’re honestly suggesting you’ll pay seven hundred and fifty thousand pounds to book us?”

“So?”

It was an obscene amount of money. She thought of what it would do for the foundation she’d quietly established when her business had first taken off. Like her company, that too had started small. Donations of Christmas gifts at shelters, that sort of thing. But with her roster of monied clients growing, Chloe had drawn a modest salary for herself, on par with what she paid her staff. The rest of the company’s profits went into her charity, which worked tirelessly to get people off the streets over the winter. And at Christmas, there were toys for children, hot meals, a chance to reboot their lives and find long-term shelters and support. Three quarters of a million pounds would help a lot of people.

“Why don’t you tell me about the job,” she suggested, already knowing that there was one person on the team who could squeeze in a last-minute booking, and now had no ability to refuse…and that was her. Chloe Merry was going to have to roll up her sleeves and take this job on, and the money for her foundation would make it all worth it.

CHAPTER 1

AND SO IT WAS THAT a week later Chloe found herself standing in front of the most exquisite Cotswold manor she’d ever seen in real life. And she’d seen a lot of grand houses. But this wasn’t just grand. Much like its owner, it had been embellished with an embarrassment of beauty—from its historical design to the perfect preservation of those features, to the manicured gardens out the front, the tennis courts to one side, the swimming pool to the other. The long, curved drive she’d traversed as she’d approached the house had been lined with poplar trees, and a huge pond had shown evidence of happy ducks enjoying the water.

It was her first visit to his estate, and though she’d googled it, she somehow hadn’t been quite prepared.

On this, her reconnaissance visit, she had intended purely to map out the scope of work, to see what she needed to source—what she even could source, at this late notice! But one look at the house told her she’d have to be realistic about how much of the property she could decorate. This place would take a team of people at least a full week to bring it up to her usual festive standard.

No wonder he’d offered such a huge fee.

Gravel crunched underfoot as she made her way to the stone-tiled steps which led to the double-wide front doors. Ancient timber, heavily polished. She lifted a hand to the shiny brass knocker and banged it twice then stepped back, as though she needed space between herself and whoever opened the door.

Just in case it was him.

Dimitrios. The man who’d become enough of a distraction she’d googled him before coming out here. Telling herself it was just the usual client research, even when she knew that not to be the case.

Information was relatively scarce and contained to his professional success. As Helen had said, he was the third son of a wealthy shipping family. Each of his brothers had gone on to make their own mark in the world, with Dimitrios’s success in the tech industry almost unrivalled.

His private life was exactly that: private. There was no mention of a wife or children, no photos of him dating. When he attended events, he was generally alone, but that didn’t mean anything necessarily. It had been a frustrating roadblock to her curiosity.

The door was pulled inwards by a smart-looking woman in a black suit, perhaps only a few years older than Chloe—maybe in her early thirties? Her makeup was impeccable, her skin that perfect ‘glass look’ that Chloe was forever seeing advertised on Instagram.

“Miss Merry?” The woman asked, bright red lips curving into a natural smile. “Please, come in. It’s freezing out there.”

There was something about the other woman’s manner that put Chloe immediately at ease. “Thanks,” she said, her southwest London accent briefly resurfacing. “It feels like snow’s coming.”

“It’s been forecast,” the other woman agreed, lifting her crossed fingers into the air. “I’m Jane. I run things around here. Sort of a housekeeper-slash-assistant-slash-nanny.”

Nanny! Well. That answered that. Why should she be so surprised? More urgently, why should she be so disappointed? It tightened in her gut like a spring, but she covered it with a forced smile. “Pleasure. Please, call me Chloe.”

“Right,” Jane gestured down the hallway. “He’s in his study, but why don’t you come through to the kitchen and I’ll make you a coffee first?”

He. Her pulse leaped despite the recent revelation of his being a parent.

“I’m okay,” she said, on a rush. “If it is to snow, I’d be better heading back to London sooner rather than later. Might as well get started.”

“If you’d like. I’ll go get Dimitrios. You happy to wait here?”

Dimitrios. Not Mr Konstantino, she noted with interest as she nodded.

“Great. Won’t be long.”