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CHAPTER ONE
She was a plain creature, Loucas thought with a disapproving scowl. From behind his reflective office windows, he observed the woman who’d arrived, unexpected, and unwelcome, at his office in Athens.
Unexpected intrusions into his life were not tolerated.
Ever.
Loucas owned one of the biggest transport companies in the world, and he didn’t have time for diversions or distractions.
He let out a long, slow sigh. Like it or not, he was in the midst of a diversion though. The little boy who had come to Greece a month earlier, thrust upon him without warning or preparation, was precisely the kind of diversion Loucas couldn’t stand.
Under his hawk-like watch, the woman closed her eyes and appeared to take in a deep breath. Her ample chest swelled, so that the blouse she wore strained a little. A button looked in imminent danger of freeing itself from the flimsy cotton and popping across the room.
He stifled a groan of annoyance then stood. Sharply, he strode across the plush carpet, unaware that, even to an empty room, he conveyed a sense of power and magnitude that would cause most people to quake.
“Miss Jones,” he announced into the cavernous reception area, waving his personal assistant away when she would have escorted the woman in. For reasons he couldn’t fathom, he wanted to speak to the woman privately. Now, which one was Miss Jones? He’d left much of the hiring to the child’s Nanny, though he had, of course, made sure each member of the team was vetted by his security agency. The last thing he needed was someone of dubious morality working in close quarters with the heir to the Aleksandros fortune.
She stood and ran a hand down the denim jeans she was wearing. The eternal uniform of the student, he condemned silently, his frown deepening. He had been assured that the professionals hired were all first rate. This woman looked little more than a child herself, and hardly capable of unscrewing a stubborn lid off a jar of raspberry jam.
Her eyes were a shade of blue that Loucas had never seen in real life. So bright and translucent that someone could have mixed turquoise and glitter and painted it into her face. He was momentarily thrown off balance when her direct stare locked on his own coal-black eyes, and held his glance without fear. Her lips, they were rather artistic too, he thought, quirked into a small smile of derision. He knew it was derisive, because her mouth perfectly expressed an emotion that was very familiar to him.
“Do come in,” he invited, his voice lacking even a hint of warmth.
“Thank you.” Hers was similarly cold.
He stood back into his office, waiting impatiently while she seemed to dawdle across the vast reception area. He had been wrong to assess her as plain. She was passably pretty, he saw, up close, with her clear skin and sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose. The figure which, while seated, had looked boxy and over-generous, he now saw was simply voluptuous. Her hair, pulled up in a harsh bun, was as fair as the honey his grandfather had collected many years earlier. Let loose, he imagined it would be quite a sight.
As if she could read the direction of his thoughts, her bow shaped lips quirked from derisive to withering, as she sailed past him into his corner office.
She stopped in her tracks when her eyes fell upon the view. Wall to wall windows revealed the stunning backdrop of Athens at dusk. The sky was tinged with pinks, purples and streaks of flaming orange; the buildings in the business district had taken on the colors, and stood like peach and plum sentinels to the sky. Even in her current state of agitation, Mikey couldn’t help but be awe-struck by the beauty of this grand old dame of a city.
She turned to face the man she had, over the last four weeks, come to loathe with a passion. Though she’d never met him, she had all the information necessary to form her judgement. Her eyes, always so expressive, easily conveyed this information to Loucas. The effect was to inspire a slightly sardonic raise of his thick, dark brows as he took his time continuing his insolent inspection of her.
And though he was everything she despised in a person, Mikey was powerless to control the way her skin seemed to flush beneath his eyes. He scanned her face, seeing every nuance of expression. Her body he subjected to a similarly thorough scrutiny. She wished she’d put a little more thought into her clothing. But she’d stormed out of the house as soon as Andrew had been engaged with his dinner and bedtime routine, knowing she had only a brief window before she would again be required to help him find the brief peace that sleep alone could offer. And even then, the peace was not reliable. The nightmares had been particularly wrenching to witness, of late.
“Ms Jones.” His voice was deeper and more accented than she’d expected. “How can I help you?”
Mikey Jones waved a hand through the air with dismissive impatience. “Call me Mikey, Mr. Aleksandros.”
“Mikey?” His disapproval was clear.
“It’s short for Michael.”
His scowl was brief. She’d been cursed with less than spectacular looks and a man’s name. It was not her fault though. He shrugged, but the scowl had perfectly expressed his disapproval. “As you wish. How can I help you, Michael?”
On his lips, her name sounded dainty, and almost pretty. With his thick accent, it sounded more like May-keel, and she liked that. It was the first time anyone had been able to take the rather masculine moniker and soften it. The thought was a red herring. There were far more important things at stake than how he made her name sound. She spun around to give him her full attention. And wished she hadn’t. He was tall. And broad. Big and powerful. Dark, handsome. Commanding. Adjectives kept tripping over themselves in Mikey’s brain, as she searched for the word that best described this Greek-God-Come-To-Life. .
“Mikey,” she corrected firmly. May-keel was just a little too seductive sounding, on his lips. “I’m sure you can guess my reason for coming.” He knew, from her file, that she’d grown up in California. Her voice was unmistakably American, and so too was her brashness.
“I am not a mind-reader,” he contradicted, forcing the shadow of a smile to his face. He was swamped. Practically groaning under the weight of the work he had to do. He thought again how inappropriate it was for this woman to have arrived at his office like this.
Mikey’s eyes narrowed. “And nor are you an idiot. You don’t have to be psychic to know that our only common interest is Andrew.”
“Andrew.” He nodded, comprehension dawning. His twin sister Helena’s child. The nephew that was now his to raise. “Is the boy okay? What’s the matter?”
“The boy?” She snorted sarcastically. “The boy, as you call him, is not okay. No.”
Not by a flicker on his face did Loucas convey any emotion at this. “Oh?” He moved b
ehind his executive desk and sat down in the leather chair. He indicated with a nod of his raven dark head that she should do likewise. But Mikey was too agitated to sit. Instead, she braced her palms on the edge of his desk and leaned forward, so that she could stare him straight in the eyes. Distractingly enigmatic eyes, she noted, wide set, almond shaped and rimmed in curling, dark lashes.
“In what way is my nephew unwell? Apart from the obvious?”
His cold detachment in matters of business was legendary, but she had expected more from him with regards his own flesh and blood. “The obvious?” She spluttered. “Your nephew is four years old. Two months ago he lost his mother, and his father, and then his home, when you chose to bring him to a foreign country to live.”
Loucas locked onto her phrasing and immediately interrogated, “And you do not approve of my decision to bring Andrew to Greece?”
Mikey grimaced. She had intended to be circumspect. To keep emotion out of it. She had wanted to present the bare facts, and nothing more. “I…” she gnawed on her full lower lip, unaware of how distracting the innocent gesture was to the powerful billionaire opposite. “I think a gentle transition period would have been preferable.”
Loucas’s mouth was a grim slash in his face. “It was simply not possible for me to move my business command center abroad. I am sorry if that displeases you, Miss… Jones… but there you have it.”
She narrowed her eyes in a scathing stare. “Don’t even think about dismissing me, Mr. Aleksandros. You might be used to calling the shots in here,” she gestured to the lavishly furnished office, “but you hired me to speed Andrew’s recovery along, and I’m telling you, I can’t do that without your help.”
Something uncomfortable lodged in his chest. Loucas shook his head. “You mean, I presume, help beyond providing the child with a mansion, and an army of staff to cater to his every need? Beyond managing his trust fund and investing on his behalf? Beyond ensuring he goes to the best schools money can buy, and lives comfortably and well for all his days?”
Mikey had the distinct impression she was speaking to an alien. “Surely you don’t think those material things matter at all to a four year old? Even you can’t be so obtuse.”
Loucas leaned forward, and his large, hulking frame seemed intimidating somehow. “Obtuse is a word that has never been applied to me, Miss Jones, and I don’t much care for its use now.”
She planted her hands on her hips, in an unknowingly provocative gesture. “I don’t much care what you care for,” Mikey said tersely. “What I care about is Andrew. He might be your nephew, but he’s my patient, and I’m telling you, there’s a limit to what I can achieve without your cooperation.”
He slowly lifted his eyes from Mikey’s waist which, he could now appreciate, was neatly tucked in. “And what cooperation can I possibly offer you?”
She opened her mouth to enumerate the list she’d made, but a shrill ringing interrupted her. Mikey watched, incensed, as he lifted the receiver from the cradle and pressed it to his ear. Without so much as a smile of apology, he began to speak in rapid fire Greek, all the while making notes on a leather bound notepad on his desk. He spoke at length. Long enough for Mikey to pace his office several times, surreptitiously studying each and every object d’art, or should that be d’affluence, as she went. Such obvious signs of wealth were unimpressive to Mikey, especially when they were obviously valued above truly important things, and people.
“You were saying, Miss Jones?” He prompted impatiently, having disconnected the call.
She turned away from the view over Athens. “My time mightn’t be as valuable as yours, Mr. Aleksandros, but when we’re discussing your nephew, I’d appreciate it if you’d at least pretend to be interested.”
“O thee mou,” he cursed under his breath. “How dare you say that I’m not interested in my nephew?”
