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If that were so, Pippi couldn’t help wondering, then why let her know?
The answer to this was simple, although much time was to pass before she would learn of it. Wickham, as Pippi had correctly guessed, was very used to killing. A war veteran with a mercenary past, he had met Acheron Simonides while the latter was still in his teens and on the rise in Athens’ little-known underworld of crime and violence. Wickham had always been good at reading people; it was what had saved his life countless times in Iraq, and later on it was what had convinced him to work for Simonides.
It was also the same reason, Wickham thought, he trusted Ms. Pippilotta Jones at first sight. He had a good feeling about her, and an even better feeling when he thought of the woman and his boss together.
It was close to nine by the time Pippi made it home, and the slight trembling of her fingers made Pippi realize belatedly that it had been hours since her last meal. In her panic over the CEO’s condition, she had actually forgotten to have her dinner.
This revelation, shared with the rest of the family over the kitchen table, had everyone gasping with exaggerated surprise.
“But you always go to pieces when you do something out of schedule,” Vik, born one year after Pippi, protested with feigned confusion. “To do something so unheard of…is it possible you might have fallen for your—”
Pippi’s eyebrows shot up in warning. “Bite your tongue, missy!”
The rather old-fashioned expression had everyone laughing. It was one of the family’s long-standing jokes, with Pippi and her younger sisters having grown up listening to her great-aunts speak like extras rehearsing for a Downton Abbey episode. The conversation then took different turns after this, with the matter of the eldest Jones daughter once rescuing a billionaire in distress all but forgotten.
Or at least it was so in the Jones’ home.
Chapter 2
Breakfast reading normally consisted of stock reports and feasibility studies, but today was different. Today, his enforced convalescence had come to an end – and he could finally make a decision about the mysterious Pippilotta Jones.
His gaze returned to the dossier before him, opened to his assistant’s cover sheet for the girl’s background report.
Age: 23
Address: Bougainvillea Street, Isla de Flores
Family: Father, unlisted; mother, single without any prior marriages and self-employed by managing family-owned bed and breakfast; siblings, 3 (all female, younger, single); three other maternal great-aunts residing in the same domicile
Education: Undergraduate (Business Administration), took a leave of absence in her second year at the University of Miami
Work History: A teller at Banco de IDF (19 y/o), hired by Simonides Inc. as administrative assistant (20 y/o) and later promoted to executive secretary in the marketing department (21 y/o)
Acheron flipped to the next page, which contained a full-length photo of the girl, taken for one of the company’s newsletters. Pippi Longstocking in person, he mused. Perhaps her parents had foreseen their daughter’s resemblance to the fictional character, hence her charming name?
She had an elfin face with the lightest smattering of freckles, clear blue eyes, and dimples. Her most arresting feature was her hair – gold under the sunlight, and red in the night. She was neither beautiful nor unattractive. Sensible-looking was the best way to describe her, and he couldn’t remember such a type ever capturing his interest.
Until now, of course.
Acheron caught sight of Wickham studying him with disapproving eyes from his usual position in the room, and his lips curved. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one intrigued by Timothy Collins’ top-notch secretary.
“Quit it, Wick. You’re acting as if I’m about to steal your daughter’s chastity.”
“She’s the decent type,” Wickham muttered. “It’s not right, your plans for seducing her.”
“Who said anything about seducing her?”
“You don’t have to,” Wickham retorted. “I’ve heard from Charlie himself. You’ve gotten rid of your current mistress – and you only do so when you’ve already found a replacement.”
Anyone else who dared speak out of line with him would have typically earned Acheron’s wrath, but since he and Wickham went a long way back, he merely ignored the last bit, saying, “I just want to get to know her better.”
Or so that was the plan, but Acheron ended up spending much of his morning in a state of frustration and impatience. He kept thinking that it was only a matter of time before the girl made up some excuse and found her way to his office. A billionaire was in her debt, after all, and now was her chance to cash in on it.
But the hours ticked by, and come lunchtime, Acheron was forced to concede he had underestimated little Pippilotta.
When Charlie informed him about the whole company being unaware of both his illness and the girl’s involvement in his recovery, he had thought it was only because she had enough common sense to understand that his personal health had a reciprocal impact on the company’s stock value.
