Page 5 of Loving the Greek Billionaire

“Will I see you later?” The words popped out before Rose could stop them. She was anxious to see him again.

He graced her with a tiny smile. “I hope our paths will cross this evening so you can fill me in on your adventures.”

“No bodyguard necessary today?”

“Kyrene has all the training needed to protect you.”

Rose raised an eyebrow. “And she got this training where?”

Stavros buttoned his coat. “Best not to ask.”

At precisely nine o’clock, the elevator chimed, and a woman about Rose’s height stepped out, dressed in a blouse, skirt, serious walking shoes, and a small rucksack slung over one shoulder.

“Kyrene, this is Ms. Rose Berret.” Stavros introduced them.

Kyrene placed kisses on both of Rose’s cheeks. “Pleased to meet you. Come, let us start,” she said in perfect French.

“You’re French?” Rose was delighted to speak her native tongue.

“Mama was French. Papa was Greek.Voilà.”

“Kyrene also speaks several other foreign languages,” Stavros supplied.

The women stepped into the elevator.

Rose gave Stavros a small wave before the door shut.

Kyrene said, “Did you receive the itinerary I sent?”

“Yes, it’s quite full.”

“Then I hope you had a good breakfast.”

“I did.” Rose reflected on her morning meal with Stavros. He’d doubled as the chef because Rose had declined the dining room again. She wondered where the cook was. He’d looked dashing in his apron and made the most divine eggs Benedict Rose had ever eaten. Stavros certainly seemed comfortable in his master’s kitchen and employ. She wondered if there was a bond beyond employer and employee, a connection in their past perhaps. In her experience with Robert’s family, a personal assistant/bodyguard wouldn’t dare cook in the kitchen, even if the family wasn’t there. She mused over the type of man Mr. P must be to allow such familiarity. Perhaps he wasn’t as black as she’d painted him.

Before she knew it, Rose was panting her way up the hillside to the Parthenon. Grateful for her hat to cut the beating summer sun, she slid her sunglasses into place. Perspiration had the glasses running down her nose. Bless the inventors of deodorant and sleeveless shirts, though neither prevented her shirt from sticking to her back. She looked at Kyrene’s skirt with a twinge of envy. A travel skirt was the way to go. She’d have to pick one up, today if possible. Her cropped linen pants were sticking in uncomfortable places.

“Unfortunately we won’t be able to go inside,” Kyrene said. “The structure is too fragile. We’ll walk around to a spot not undergoing restoration so you can get some good pictures.”

Rose nodded.

Kyrene rattled off all the pertinent historical information as they made their way around the building. “There were three incarnations of the temple before it was turned into a Christian church and then a mosque. In 1687 it was largely destroyed. Over time, looting of the decorative features added to its instability. Conservation and renovation have been on and off since 1896. Ah, here.” She gestured to Rose to stand in front of the ancient structure, or what was left of it.

Rose adjusted her hat, removed her sunglasses, and smiled for the camera.

“All pictures will be loaded on your tablet when you return to the hotel.” Kyrene stowed her tablet in the rucksack.

“He’s very thorough, isn’t he?” Rose slipped her shades back on.

“Mr. Papadakis?”

“Yes.”

“Very.” Kyrene smiled. “He likes to know what’s going on in all aspects of his life and the lives of those around him. Business partners, staff, and especially his children. He’s a dedicated father.”

“If he’s so dedicated, why doesn’t he spend more time with them, instead of being in meetings all over the world?” Rose bit the inside of her cheek to stop the bitter stream of words from becoming a river.

“You haven’t met him yet, have you?” Kyrene led them around the building at a leisurely pace.

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