Page 60 of Reclaimed By His Billion-Dollar Ring

She looked up at Nikos, still not understanding. ‘So?’ she said.

His voice was hollow as he answered her. ‘Agreement to build the new airport was made public a fortnight after my grandmother sold her olive grove to Venture Land. Had she waited a mere two weeks it would have been worth what Old Stavros got for his—way more than she received!’

Calanthe swallowed. ‘That is wretched,’ she allowed. ‘But if no one knew whether the airport would get planning permission when she sold, then wasn’t the buyer taking a risk buying her land at all? He might have ended up with just another olive grove.’

‘Unlikely.’ Nikos’s voice was hard as iron.

He drew out another document—this time, Calanthe could see, it was the printout of an email.

‘You see, the date stamp on this email shows that the sender had received private information—a copy of a signed document from a key member of the planning committee saying that the airport was definitely getting the go-ahead. The vote had already been taken and, crucially, the exact site it would occupy confirmed. It was just a question of timing the announcement. The sender, therefore, had inside knowledge. As, therefore, did the recipient.’ He thrust the email printout at her. ‘Take a look at who that is.’

She saw the name—it meant nothing to her. But then she saw who the email had been copied to.

Her eyes flew to Nikos. Stricken. ‘My father?’

Her voice was as stricken as her face.

‘The very same.’ There was a dark savagery in Nikos’s voice.

She dropped the printout as if it were toxic. ‘But...but... Venture Land...’ She floundered, trying to make sense of it. ‘I’ve never heard of it. What’s it got to do with Petranakos?’

‘It’s a subsidiary. A small one—one of several. A major company such as Petranakos, Calanthe, can find it...useful sometimes not to declare an interest in a particular piece of land. After all,’ he went on, with the same savagery in his voice, ‘if someone turned up at your door to buy a perfectly ordinary olive grove and they were from Petranakos Property... Well, even the simplest person might wonder what their interest was. But if it was just a small company called Venture Land, operating in just these few islands, who said they had an interest in working with olive oil producers—nothing large-scale, just adding to their holdings here and there as plots became available... My grandmother had already made clear in the village that hers was for sale—why would she think anything of it? She was offered a fair price for an olive grove of that size, number of trees and general yield. Why would she refuse?’

His voice changed. ‘You see,’ he said, ‘she wanted to make it easier for me to pursue my studies. Architecture is a long course, and she knew it would take me a long time to qualify.’

‘She sold the grove to help you,’ Calanthe said.

She could feel her stomach churning, things rearranging themselves in her head. Things she did not want to be rearranged.

‘Yes. I didn’t want her to, but she was adamant. She was so proud that I’d got on the course—a village boy, on a top architectural course! I was already at university when she went ahead with the sale.’

Calanthe saw his fists clench.

‘She did it without telling me. Without warning me. If I’d known—’ He broke off.

Something in his eyes made Calanthe blench.

‘She was a simple, decent woman. An honourable woman. Selling part of her inheritance for my sake... Selling it, so she thought, for a fair price, to a fair buyer... And all along—’ He thrust the contract of sale for Stavros’s holding at her. ‘This was the fair price of her land! This was what Stavros held out for! He saw how much my grandmother got and sat tight. Refused to part with his land.’ He inhaled sharply. ‘He didn’t sell until the announcement was made confirming the airport would be built and the site. Then the price of his land rocketed. And Stavros got the true market value.’

He sat down abruptly, yanking the box file closed, replacing everything he’d taken out of it. Then he looked at Calanthe.

‘I find it ironic,’ he said, ‘that it is only because I now have access to all the Petranakos business records that I can present you with the evidence I needed to show you. Oh, I’ve got my grandmother’s paperwork for this and all her other affairs, such as they were, in a safety deposit box in the local bank here. But without proof that Venture Land is part of Petranakos—without their copy of the contract of sale for Stavros’s holding and without the email trail showing that Venture Land and Petranakos had insider knowledge about the airport—you would just have dismissed all this.’

He paused, laying his hands flat on the closed box file.

‘Perhaps there is one other thing that it may be...helpful...for you to know.’

He rested his eyes on her as she stood there, stomach still churning, thoughts in chaos, dismay roiling within her. His gaze was dark and cold, and it cut her like a knife.

‘My grandmother sold her olive grove for the sum you saw on her contract. Stavros sold his for the sum on his. Take one from the other. What number comes up? You do the maths.’

He paused—a deadly pause.

‘Does that precise amount sound familiar to you?’

She shut her eyes. There was a drumming in her ears.

‘It’s what my father paid you,’ she said.

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