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It was Cristo. ‘Erin?’
‘Why are you waking me up at this time of the morning?’
‘A deputy editor I’m friendly with has just called me with a tip-off. Apparently there’s a story in the pipeline about you, me and the twins. The publication he named is particularly sleazy so I don’t think the article will contain anything that your family or mine would want to read.’
Erin’s face froze. ‘But why? Who on earth would be interested in reading about us?’
‘Erin …’ Cristo sighed, mustering patience for he was more accustomed to dealing with people who took tabloid attention in their stride and even courted it for the sake of their careers or social status. ‘I’m a very wealthy man, recently divorced …’
Lorcan darted through the bedroom door, scrambled under the duvet with his mother and tucked cold feet against her slim thighs. His sister was only a few steps behind him.
Erin was squashed up against the wall as Nuala joined them in the bed. ‘If it’s true, if there is going to be a story, there’s nothing we can do to prevent it.’
‘Yes, there is,’ Cristo contradicted. ‘I can get you and the children out of that house and put you somewhere the paparazzi can’t get near you for a photo opportunity. Then I can organise a PR announcement concerning my new status as a father and, once that’s done, the press will lose interest.’
Erin breathed in deep. She certainly didn’t fancy the press on her doorstep, but she was much inclined to think that he was taking the matter too seriously. ‘Cristo, I have a job. I can’t just drop everything and disappear.’
‘Of course you can. You work for me now,’ he reminded her. ‘Pack. I’ll make the arrangements. A car will pick you up to take you to the airport.’
‘But I haven’t agreed yet.’
‘I will do whatever it takes to protect you and the twins from adverse publicity,’ Cristo cut in forcefully, exasperation lending his dark deep drawl a rougher edge. ‘I don’t want some innuendo-laden piece appearing in print about us.’
‘We had an affair. I got pregnant. It’s not that unusual—’
‘Trust me,’ Cristo breathed. ‘You’ll be accused of having been a married man’s mistress and that is not a possibility I want to appear in print.’
A flash of temper and distaste at that prospect rippled through Erin because that was als
o a humiliating label that she did not want to be lumbered with. ‘OK. Where are you planning to send us … assuming I agree, which I haven’t yet,’ she reminded him.
‘Greece … specifically, my island.’
Erin rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, so you now have an island all your own?’
‘I inherited Thesos from my father when I was twenty-one.’
‘Well, you never mentioned it before,’ Erin remarked curtly, wondering how much else she didn’t know about him while trying to think frantically fast. ‘Look, I’ll consider going to Greece for a few days if you really think it’s necessary—’
‘I do.’
‘But before I leave I want the chance to speak to Sally Jennings. She does still work for you, doesn’t she?’
There was a moment of silence before Cristo responded expressionlessly, ‘She does. She’s now the deputy manager at the spa. Why?’
‘And I’m sure she’s very efficient. She was when I was working there,’ Erin commented stiffly. ‘I’ll call in on the way to the airport. I don’t want her to know I’m coming. I’ll drop the twins off with you at your office.’
‘There’s no need. I’ll meet you in the hotel foyer. But I don’t think this is a good idea, Erin. Very few people know about the money that went missing. I handled it very discreetly. I don’t think it’s wise to start making enquiries again this long after the event.’
‘This is the price of me going to Greece,’ Erin countered flatly. ‘I see Sally in London before I go or I don’t go at all.’
‘But that’s bl—’ Cristo retorted in a seething undertone.
‘Blackmail?’ Erin slotted in with saccharine sweetness. ‘You’re preaching to the converted, Cristo. Guess who taught me the skill?’
‘If I facilitate this meeting at the spa, you’ll come to Greece with me?’
‘Of course I will. I keep my promises.’ Erin came off the phone a minute later, feeling re-energised, and swept the twins out of bed to get dressed. It was past time she began calling some of the shots. Cristo became unbearable when he got his own way too much. But she was rather touched that he was willing to go to so much trouble to whisk them away from the perils of too much press interest. Honestly, Erin thought ruefully, sometimes Cristo could be naïve. Did he really think she couldn’t cope with journalists on the doorstep or some nasty article that tried to make her sound more exciting and wicked than she was? She was not that vulnerable. Life had taught her to roll with the punches. In any case the idea of travelling to Cristo’s private island intrigued her. He was finally going to take her to his real home and naturally she was curious.
