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e; and their inevitable devastation when those hopes were dashed with a goodbye bouquet of flowers and an expensive trinket.
Alexis was the one who fielded frantic, tearful calls, patiently listened to wrenching, heartbroken sobs and pleas for her to intervene on their behalf. On one occasion she’d been shocked when a scorned lover had turned nasty and blamed her for Christos’s lack of interest.
She’d been equally shocked when Christos had plucked the phone from her hand and informed the unfortunate ex that should she ever threaten his assistant again, she would be sued for everything she owned.
It had never happened again and she hadn’t summoned the nerve to ask him whether the short-term liaisons that seemed to be his trademark were still ongoing. It was none of her business. Just as her personal life was none of his.
She snorted under her breath. Perhaps others would pity her that, at twenty-six, her personal life was non-existent. But she’d made the decision to keep clear of emotional entanglements.
The quiet but ever-present anguish of her abandonment topped by Adrian’s betrayal had only sealed that resolution.
As usual, she felt a hollow in her stomach as she thought of the woman who’d given her baby away.
If it’s possible, please name her Alexis.
Seven short words that summed up her beginning and her only connection to the mother who’d abandoned her. Before the familiar drag of anguish could squeeze her insides, she slammed that painful door shut, cringing when she realised she’d been staring into thin air for several minutes. Focusing on her email when it pinged, she stared at the message from Christos.
Demitri is calling in a minute. I want you in here with me.
She rose and re-entered his office, watched his towering six-foot-three figure stride from his window to the ringing phone on his desk, struck all over again by how effortlessly he shouldered the weight of his world.
Demitri Kyrios. The client who’d lost half of what he owned to his conniving, cheating soon-to-be ex-wife who, more importantly, had gained full custody of his legitimate child simply to spite him for the illegitimate one he’d recently acquired.
‘Drakakis,’ he announced into the phone with an air of unapologetic supremacy.
Alexis glanced at her tablet, determined not to watch him fold that streamlined body into his chair.
He listened for a handful of seconds, jaw set. ‘No, I trusted you to leave no part of your past undocumented, including every drunken night at university when the possibility that you could’ve fathered a child was real.’
‘But I didn’t know! And how the hell did my ex find out?’ Demitri wailed at the end of the phone.
Christos listened, his features tightening with each word. ‘I’m going to do everything in my power to ensure you regain custody of your child.’
The depth of that promise made Alexis’s heart lurch. On top of everything that had happened recently, the reminder that no one had fought for her felt too raw. While other DLG partners took on divorce cases where the welfare of the children was in question, she’d noticed very quickly that Christos rarely took those cases on himself, although he kept a ferociously keen eye on the progress. At first, she’d thought it was because he held a secret fondness for children or even harboured hopes of fatherhood.
She’d discovered otherwise when she’d heard him tersely enlighten a client that he had no intention of marrying or fathering children of his own.
And yet, when Christos took on a case where one parent was patently unfit, he’d ruthlessly gone after them.
He’d taken on Demitri Kyrios’s case because they had a history. As close a friendship as she’d seen Christos accommodate. Demitri’s soon-to-be ex was more interested in haute couture and basking in the adoration of her social media followers than in caring for their son. Kyrios’s sin was that he’d omitted to divulge the possibility that he’d fathered another child. One whose existence he’d initially attempted to hide, despite a paternity test proving the child was his.
‘Yes, you have my word,’ Christos said before slamming the phone down.
A string of very dirty-sounding Greek words seared the air.
‘How the hell did we miss the existence of a fifteen-year-old child in our investigation?’ he bellowed, spiking a hand through his hair.
Alexis shrugged. ‘Probably because not every woman crawls out of the woodwork when the man she slept with over a decade ago becomes a millionaire. According to the report the investigators unearthed this morning, she wanted to keep her child a secret, raise him on her own.’
His face clamped in a thunderous frown. ‘She didn’t think the father of her child deserved to know of his existence?’
‘She claims she had good reasons to keep the pregnancy from him. I guess we need to respect that.’
He swore again. ‘Her secret just ruined my case. Forgive me if the last thing I’m in the mood to do is respect that.’
Alexis nodded solemnly. ‘Of course. So did you want me to stay for something specifically or just to listen to you swear in a language I don’t understand?’
He glared at her. ‘I believe you still owe me five minutes of a so-called wallow? And while we’re at it, did we not agree that you would add learning Greek to your résumé?’
