The Greek's Convenient Wife. Melanie Milburne
think our little arrangement could prove to be very entertaining, very entertaining indeed.’
Before she could think of a suitably stinging reply the door opened under his hand and he was gone, leaving her standing there with his business card tightly clenched in her hand.
She opened her palm and winced when she saw the tiny pinprick of blood one of the sharp edges had drawn from her soft flesh. She couldn’t help wondering if it were some sort of omen, or perhaps a warning specifically aimed at her; if she were to allow herself to get too close to someone like Demetrius Papasakis she would be, in the end, the only one to get hurt.
CHAPTER TWO
MADDISON had never known a week to go so quickly. As each day unfolded her panic grew steadily inside her until she began to feel as if she were on death row, waiting for the next cock’s crow to herald her imminent demise.
She hadn’t wasted the time available to her but had tried everything in her power to extricate herself from the clutches of Demetrius Papasakis—to no avail. As if to deliberately intensify her desperate circumstances, she had received a flood of bills in the space of days, one of which was a hefty speeding fine of her brother’s which she knew he wouldn’t be able to pay.
She spent a miserable weekend trying to think of a way out of her difficulties but in the end had to admit she was well and truly trapped. Her modest income from the second hand bookstore where she worked would hardly cover Kyle’s speeding ticket let alone a million-and-a-half dollar boat.
However, when she arrived at the bookstore on the Monday morning she received an even bigger shock. Her boss, Hugo McGill, looked at her over the top of his reading glasses, his white whiskers moving up and down restively.
‘Maddison, I have some unfortunate news.’
Cold dread trickled into her stomach at his ominous tone.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, not sure she really wanted to know.
‘I’m afraid I’m selling up.’
She blinked at him for a second or two. ‘This is rather sudden, isn’t it?’
‘Yes and no,’ he answered. ‘I’ve wanted a change for ages but I felt I should wait until I got a good price for the place. I had an offer at the weekend and, to put it rather bluntly, it was too good to refuse.’
She sat back in her chair as the realisation of her circumstances dawned. ‘I suppose the new owner has no plans to keep the business running?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘The building is going to be demolished to make way for a hotel.’
‘A hotel?’ She gaped at him.
‘A luxury one,’ Hugo said proudly as if somehow that made it better. ‘The fruit shop and the bakery have been sold as well to make room for it.’
Maddison had never felt so angry in all her twenty-four years. She knew without asking who was behind this sudden redevelopment plan but a perverse desire to hear her boss articulate the name urged her on.
‘Do you happen to know who’s behind this purchase?’
‘Yes, the Greek billionaire, Demetrius Papasakis. He was in the papers at the weekend over the loss of his boat. Did you happen to see it?’
‘No.’ She shifted her gaze uncomfortably. ‘I didn’t have time to look at the papers.’
‘It seems his luxury yacht was sabotaged one night last week.’
‘Did he say who he suspected of doing it?’ she asked, carefully avoiding his eye.
‘Not in so many words, but he did say he had the matter in hand. I feel sorry for whoever did it, to tell you the truth. Demetrius Papasakis is not the sort of enemy I would go out of my way to attract.’
‘I’m sure there are lots of people who would agree with you,’ she answered wryly.
‘He’s got an edge of cold ruthlessness about him,’ Hugo continued. ‘But I suppose when he’s got that amount of money who’s going to challenge him?’
‘Who indeed?’
‘Anyway, I’m sorry about your job. You’ve been a good girl, Maddison. I’ll write you a decent reference and if I hear of anything you might be interested in I’ll call you. I know it’s terribly short notice but business is business as they say.’
She gave him a wan smile as she pushed in the chair she’d been sitting on. ‘Yes, it certainly is.’
Maddison had six hours to get through before she announced her decision. She glanced at her watch repeatedly, her heart hammering with every passing minute as she thought about the phone call she had to make by five p.m.
She left the bookshop at four-thirty, surprising herself at her detached attitude as she walked away from it without a backward glance. She searched for a public telephone at four-forty-five, but each one she came to was out of order. She stood on yet another street corner and nibbled at the rough edge of a fingernail as she thought about what to do. In the end she decided a phone call was the cowardly thing to do, that the best way to approach the situation was head on. She wasn’t going to relay her message to Demetrius Papasakis via his secretary; she was going to have it out with him face-to-face.
She rummaged in her bag for the business card he’d given her and quickly memorised the address of his office tower, relieved to find she had just enough time to get there on foot if she hurried. She arrived somewhat breathlessly outside the imposing building in the north of the city, her hair sticking to the back of her neck and her white blouse clinging to her back where beads of nervous perspiration had collected. She brushed an errant strand out of her face and stabbed her finger at the call button of the lifts, trying to ignore the distinct flutter of unease in her belly.
The lift swept her up to the administration floor where she encountered a middle-aged woman guarding the reception desk.
‘Can I help you?’ the woman asked in a haughty tone.
Maddison brushed another wayward strand out of her face.
‘I’m here to see Mr Papasakis.’
‘Do you have an appointment?’
‘No, not really. I was supposed to call him, but at the last minute I decided to come in person. My name is Maddison Jones.’
The woman’s eyes swept over her. ‘You’re Miss Jones?’
‘That’s correct.’ Maddison lifted her chin in a token gesture of pride.
She didn’t care for the look the secretary was giving her, as if she was the last person anyone would expect Demetrius Papasakis to be associated with. She suffered no illusions about her out-of-date clothes and scuffed shoes, but she knew her figure was nothing to be ashamed of, even if her hair needed brushing and her lips a touch of gloss.
‘I’ll let him know you’re here.’ The woman reached for the intercom on her desk.
‘Thank you,’ Maddison responded politely.
She heard the deep burr of Demetrius’s voice on the machine as she stood waiting, and glancing at the clock on the wall saw the second hand tick down the remaining seconds—ten, nine, eight, seven…
‘He’ll see you now,’ the woman said, interrupting her quiet panic.
She followed the woman’s directions to his office and gave the solid door one small sharp knock.
‘Come.’
She opened the door and her eyes immediately went to his seated figure behind the huge expanse of his desk.
He got to his feet with languid grace and greeted her. ‘Maddison, and right on time too.’
She didn’t answer but stood in front of his desk with a fiery look in her clear blue