Page 37 of Reclaimed By His Billion-Dollar Ring

She felt anxiety nip at her. It reminded her, painfully, of how she’d tried to rally her mother in her final days, intent on keeping her going, not letting her succumb to the dreaded disease gradually taking her over from the inside.

It had been a losing battle...

But this battle for her father must not be lost!

There was no reason for it to be lost. Many men survived bypass surgery well—he would too, surely?

Her father shook his head. He seemed fretful, as if he was waiting for something, but she knew not what.

He looked at her, eyes searching. ‘Are you going back to London sometime?’ he asked.

She shook her head. ‘I’ve taken indefinite compassionate leave,’ she said. ‘I want to see you well first.’

‘What are you doing this evening?’ her father asked, as if her assurance that she would not be leaving Athens any time soon was what he’d wanted to hear. ‘Anything nice?’

‘Yes,’ she said, trying to rally him. ‘I’m having dinner with you, Papa.’

He made an impatient sound in his throat.

‘You should go out!’ he said. ‘Night after night you are in...’

‘Of course I am,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t dream of abandoning you!’

‘I have staff to look out for me—and that nurse you insisted on!’ he said. ‘But you—you should be out and about. Choosing a man to marry.’

Calanthe’s heart sank, but her father was speaking still.

‘I’ve had my warning!’ he told her. ‘The next attack could finish me off.’

‘Oh, Papa don’t speak like that!’ she said immediately.

He ignored her. ‘So I want it settled! Is that too much to ask?’

Calanthe looked at him in consternation. He was not putting this on. He had never been manipulative of her in such a way—had never used emotional blackmail on her.

‘Papa—’ she began, dismay in her voice. And then broke off. What could she say to him? What could she possibly say when what he wanted was impossible?

The house phone on her bedside table was ringing and Calanthe picked it up. Her earlier conversation with her father was still in her head, fretting at her. The voice at the other end of the line wiped it from her thoughts.

‘Before you hang up on me, listen—please.’

Nikos’s voice was brisk and businesslike. That, and that alone, kept her on the line.

‘Well?’ she replied, her voice tight.

‘I want you to have dinner with me.’

Her hand clenched over the handset. ‘Are you mad?’

‘Far from it.’ The brisk, businesslike tones were clear down the line. ‘There’s a matter I need to discuss with you.’ There was an infinitesimal pause. ‘It concerns your father.’

She stiffened even more. ‘In what way?’

‘I shall discuss that with you over dinner.’

He gave the name of the restaurant, set the time, and rang off.

Calanthe stared at the phone in her hand, then slowly lowered it.

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