Page 2 of Reclaimed By His Billion-Dollar Ring

‘Just pottery so far,’ Georgia managed to get out, scrambling to her feet.

Calanthe found she was doing likewise, suddenly burningly conscious that her comfy but baggy shorts were covered in soil, her own tee shirt damp with sweat, and her plaited hair screwed up unflatteringly on the top of her head.

Who was this guy? she found herself thinking, then answered her inchoate question herself. Pretty obviously, he was one of the workmen from the hotel construction site nearby. A second later she confirmed it—he was holding a yellow hard hat in one hand. However, what he was doing over here at the dig she had no idea. The excavation was out of bounds to all but the archaeology team.

‘You’re not supposed to be here,’ she heard herself saying. It came out in a clipped voice, but that was from disconcertion, not in reproof.

Had he taken it as the latter? Something about his face seemed to harden a fraction, and even though he was wearing sunglasses Calanthe felt his gaze pierce her. She gulped, like Georgia, though hopefully more quietly.

‘I was curious,’ he informed her, in the same laconic fashion with which he’d asked his original question. ‘This is, after all my country’s history you’re digging up,’ he went on, and now his voice was less laconic, ‘Not your own.’

Calanthe felt the pointedness of his remark and her chin lifted.

‘Perhaps your country,’ she said, echoing his tone deliberately, ‘might show that it values its history more by banning the building of hotels all over it!’

This time the veiled gaze was definitely directed at her.

‘The excavation site is being protected,’ he shot back. ‘And modern Greeks have to earn a living. Tourism is a major revenue source, so hotels are not a luxury but an essential necessity.’

His glance went to Georgia, and Calanthe felt as if she’d been dismissed from his attention. She wanted to bristle—but what he’d said was true.

He was speaking again, his voice back to being laconic now. ‘I was wondering if you could do with another volunteer, maybe, when I get off my shifts?’ He glanced back at Calanthe, who felt herself flush again, and hated herself for it. ‘Given the tight time scale you’re working under.’

‘You’ll need to ask Prof,’ Georgia said. ‘He’s over there.’ She pointed.

The stranger nodded. ‘Thanks. I will.’

He strode off, and Calanthe sank down on her knees again, deliberately not watching him stride away.

Georgia did, though—quite shamelessly.

‘Oh, wow!’ She heard Georgia sigh. ‘Whatever he’s got, he’s got it two hundred per cent!’

‘He’s just a brickie,’ Calanthe snapped.

Georgia’s eyebrows rose. ‘That sounds pretty snobbish,’ she observed.

Calanthe shrugged. ‘Well, what would some guy off a building site know about what we’re doing?’

‘He’s interested,’ Georgia said. ‘Give him a chance.’

To do what? Calanthe heard the question in her head and didn’t like that she’d asked it. Or wondered what the answer was.

‘He could be wanting to filch stuff,’ she argued. ‘After all, he asked if we’d found gold or jewellery!’

‘Everyone always asks that at digs,’ Georgia replied mildly. ‘Anyway, we’re not going to find gold and jewellery—just pots. Speaking of which...let’s see if we can find the rest of that pot. Come on—get stuck in!’

Calanthe did so with a will. It helped to put out of her head the workman who’d just volunteered to help out. But not, to her annoyance, very effectively.

Georgia, damn it, had been right. Whatever the man had, he had two hundred per cent of it...

His name, so Georgia informed her that evening, when they set off with the other students to the cheap taverna near the harbour, was Nik.

‘He’s going to be working with Dave and Ken—when he can spare the time from being a brickie,’ she said, pointedly using Calanthe’s snobby description to mock it.

‘Rather them than us,’ answered Calanthe.

‘Oh, come on—you’re transparent!’ Georgia quipped. ‘You’re only saying that because you fancy him rotten and don’t want to admit it!’

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