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“There is more,” Georgios said gently. “But the rest of your family will be here soon. I asked you to come early so I could raise this matter delicately. It is, naturally, up to you to decide how you’d like to proceed.”
Anastasios stared at Georgios, but he was lost in thought. If his mother learned the truth of this, she’d be devastated. That didn’t necessarily mean he shouldn’t tell her, only that nothing was served by doing so now.
“She is grieving the loss of my father. At this point in time, this stays between us. But Georgios? I want to hear everything, to know everything.”
On the afternoon of the funeral, Georgios took the space at Anastasios’ right, his demeanour tense. “I need to speak with you.”
Anastasios turned slowly, regarding the other man carefully. “And from your body language, I gather I’m not going to like what you have to say.”
“A wise assessment.”
Anastasios returned his gaze to his family, crossing his arms over his chest. “Then tell me whatever it is quickly. I can’t say how long we’ll have before being disturbed.”
“Your father’s estate is complex,” Georgios began. “There are the business assets, but also many personal accounts and properties, and he was very specific in how they were to be distributed. As you’ll learn, at the reading of the will this afternoon, most everything is split equally between you and your brothers. Your mother’s fortune was set up independently a long time ago.”
Anastasios was familiar with these provisions.
“There are two more things you should know.”
Anastasios gave no hint of the sense of trepidation that was stealing through him.
“I have received a letter from the solicitor of Annie Westbourne.”
Anastasios lifted a brow, the name meaning nothing to him.
“The woman we discussed in my office, last week?”
A single breath hissed between Anastasios’ lips. Somehow, having her name made it all the more real.
“She is seeking a share of your father’s wealth, an amount that she says was promised to her.”
“Is this the…mother? Or the daughter?”
“The mother,” Georgios said with delicacy.
So she was a fortune hunter, then? What excellent judgement his father had, he thought with sarcasm, before a sense of disloyalty chewed through him. Whatever else Konstantinos had been—and it was becoming clear he’d lived a secret life all these years—he was still Antastasios’s father, and he loved him.
“I see.”
“While the letter does not carry a threat, per se, I get the distinct impression the matter is at risk of becoming public, unless payment is made quickly.”
Dislike coated his insides. He had grown up with money at his fingertips, but was still capable of understanding how it motivated people. He knew that wealth had a habit of bringing out the worst in just about everybody, particularly those who craved it.
“Email me a copy of the letter. Do it yourself—no secretaries. This cannot leak out from our end.”
“Of course not.” Georgios was miffed. His firm dealt with only the upper echelon of Europe’s elite and was renowned for its discretion. “What will you do?”
“Whatever it takes to ensure her silence. For now.”
Georgios tilted his head thoughtfully. “You intend to tell your mother.”
“We will forever be over a barrel unless I do—and I do not particularly relish the idea of being in a position of weakness. Yes, I’ll tell her, but when the time is right. Not now. It would devastate her if the news were to break.”
“So you’ll pay Miss Westbourne?”
“No. I’ll enter a dialogue with her—through you. Allow me to read the letter before I advise you further.”
Georgios nodded.
