Page 35 of Reclaimed By His Billion-Dollar Ring

All he had to do now was find out how to achieve it.

He stepped into the executive lift that would whisk him straight up to Georgios’s office.

And by the time he left his dark eyes were glittering and the set of his mouth was aslant with satisfaction.

‘Calanthe, my dear, how well you look. Glowing as ever!’

The compliment coming her way was undeserved. Calanthe knew that despite her carefully applied make-up her cheeks were wan, her colour pale. But she smiled appropriately, greeting the wife of one of her father’s oldest friends, then turning to greet the next arrivals for the dinner party.

It would be slightly unbalanced in numbers, for her father had told her that the sister of one of his married guests was visiting Athens and had been included in the invitation. But they would be just under a dozen at the table, and since all the guests knew each other as well as they knew her father, Calanthe envisaged that her role would be minimal. She would probably slip away once coffee had been served in the salon after dinner, and leave her father’s generation to their own amusements.

With everyone present, and pre-dinner drinks consumed, dinner itself was announced, and she led the way through to the dining room. She gave a little frown. An extra place had been set. She was about to murmur to the staff that it should be removed when she heard the front door opening again. Heard a voice she would have paid a year’s salary—paid any amount—not to hear again.

Her eyes flew to her father. Dismay flooded her, as realisation did likewise. This was his doing—his! But he was busy settling the guest on his right-hand side, paying her no attention. Paying no attention to the arrival of this latest extra guest until he walked in.

And then: ‘Ah, my boy, I’m so glad you could make it! Such short notice... Come, come—here is your place.’ He smiled genially, encompassing both Nikos Kavadis and his daughter. ‘You two young people!’ he said, beaming, and gestured that Nikos should take the seat next to Calanthe.

There was nothing she could do. Nothing short of throwing a fit, or fainting, or simply charging out of the room, grabbing her handbag and her passport and heading for the airport to take the last flight that night to London—or anywhere else in the entire world that was not her father’s house in Athens, with Nikos Kavadis sitting next to her for dinner.

Frozen with numbness, she lowered herself jerkily into her chair. Nikos paused while she seated herself, then sat down beside her.

He turned to her with a smile.

Bland. Unreadable.

And it cut her like a knife.

She hadn’t known he’d be here. That was obvious. She looked as if she were about to pass out on the spot. As he smiled at her, two spots of hectic colour burned in her whitened cheeks.

‘So we meet again,’ he said pleasantly, shaking out his linen napkin.

She didn’t answer—only swallowed. Everyone around the table continued to chatter, their conversation easy and convivial. Obviously, all the guests knew each other well.

A sudden memory shafted through him. That first evening in the taverna, when he’d inserted himself into the throng of students spending their summer vacation excavating the site beside the resort where he had been working as a builder. The crowd there had been chattering and convivial, easy-going and sociable, welcoming him in.

All except Calanthe.

She’d tried to freeze him out.

Just as she would now, if she could.

But that wasn’t going to be possible, was it? Not at her father’s dinner table, in the middle of all his guests.

The woman at his left was addressing him, and he turned his attention to her, smiling politely, and answering what she’d asked about who he was, and how he knew Georgios.

And his daughter.

‘So nice of Georgios to have invited you for her!’ The woman smiled. A glint of open curiosity showed in her eyes. ‘Dear Calanthe...always so many admirers! But no one special as yet,’ she trilled.

The question hung in the air. Athens was a hotbed of gossip. And gossip could be a powerful engine sometimes.

Nikos smiled. ‘As yet,’ he echoed.

The woman’s glint came again. ‘Ah! So we must hope...’ she trailed openly. ‘I know just how much Georgios longs for the dear girl to settle down and finally make her choice. My own son married last year, and my daughter is engaged. It’s such a comfort to any parent, but for Georgios, without a son to take over...well, of course, Calanthe’s eventual choice will be so important—don’t you agree?’

‘Indeed,’ agreed Nikos dutifully, on cue.

He changed the subject, politely asking what line her son was in—he was a commercial property lawyer, it seemed, and her daughter worked for a management consultancy.

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