Page 7 of The Greek Billionaire's Email Bride

A foreclosure notice.

"I didn't want to worry you before you left," Edith was saying miserably. "But the bank called again yesterday. The drought the last two seasons..." Edith continued, her voice strained with false cheer. "You know how it is. But don't you worry. Frank's talking with the credit union about refinancing."

Hope stared at the numbers on the page. The Bartons were three months behind on their mortgage. The property they'd scraped and saved for—the only real home she'd ever known—was at risk.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice came out smaller than intended.

"What could you have done, sweetheart? You've done enough for us over the years. We didn't want to burden you."

The irony twisted in Hope's chest. If only they knew that their financial troubles had given her exactly the push she'd needed to contact Heart's Match. The agency's promise of a generous settlement after a temporary marriage arrangement had seemed like the answer to prayers she hadn't even voiced yet.

"I have some money saved," Hope lied. "I could—"

"Absolutely not. We're just fine. You focus on that handsome man of yours."

Hope closed her eyes, guilt and determination warring within her. Colin's payment would be more than enough to savethe farm. All she had to do was play the perfect wife until after the reunion.

"I love you, Mom."

"Love you too, sweetheart."

The call ended, leaving Hope clutching the foreclosure notice. She tucked it into her underwear drawer, beneath practical cotton briefs that seemed hopelessly outdated in this palace of luxury.

A knock at the door made her jump.

"Mrs. Soukoulis?" A woman's voice. "Dinner will be served in thirty minutes."

"Thank you," Hope called back, frantically searching for something appropriate to wear. In the end, she settled on something simple but classic: a little black dress to makeherfeel like Audrey Hepburn...even if she actually looked the opposite.

In the bathroom, Hope scrutinized her reflection before slowly pulling the pins from her bun.

You should wear your hair down more often. It suits you.

When she came down, the dining room took her breath away with its vaulted ceilings and modern chandeliers. He had told her earlier he lived in a farmhouse. And maybe it was that. The world'sposhestfarmhouse, that was.

Colin was already there, and she did her best not to squirm as his gaze swept from her loose hair to the simple dress, lingering in a way that made her skin warm.

He pulled her chair out, and she belatedly hurried to take her place on the table.

"You look different."

"Different good or different bad?"

"Just different."

She had feared and hoped at the same time that he would close to her. And he actually did, which left her feeling terriblyself-conscious and excited. But when their first course arrived, and she had her first sip of her soup—

Wow.

Hope took another spoonful, aware of his gaze still on her. "This is amazing. Is everything in this soup..."

Colin nodded. "Homegrown. And the meant, plant-based."

"I need to correct myself then. I thinkyou'reamazing, too, with everything you've created. Your groundbreaking work in sustainable farming, the advancements in—" Hope broke off upon noticing how Colin was staring at her. "Did I say something wrong?"

"You're saying everything right," he drawled, "which is not what I expected. Most women would only care to know about my net worth."

"I'm not most women," Hope said lightly.

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