The Prince's Fake Fiancée Page 19

  Earlier that day, while away on business he had called his brother Nikos on their home island of Talos for an update on The Korinna renovations, expecting to be told of yet another hiccup. Instead Nikos had announced—with a large dollop of unwarranted self-congratulation—that the renovations were officially complete and the hotel was ready to reopen.

  Nikos had gone on to assure Loukas that he wasn’t joking and then had shouted down the phone that he wasn’t exaggerating and that as Head of Project Management for the Christou Group he should ‘damn well know’.

  Loukas had growled back that it was about time. And not for the first time had pointed out to Nikos that the reopening of The Korinna was a fortnight behind schedule.

  It was at that point that Nikos had hung up on him. No surprise there.

  At least The Korinna would open in time for Pascha—the Easter celebrations. Their guests were to arrive on Megali Pempti—Holy Thursday—and would be a mixture of loyal customers and specially invited travel journalists and bloggers. All would have sky-high expectations of their stay at the five-star hotel.

  With less than a week to test all the facilities, and iron out the inevitable issues that would crop up following the extensive renovations, Loukas had decided to cut short his trip to some of the other hotels in the group to come home to Talos early.

  Beyond the laneway, in the shade of the resort’s avenue that led to the hotel which was carved through a pine forest, he yanked off his tie and opened his shirt collar. The successful reopening of The Korinna was about more than just his ambitious plan to renovate all their existing hotels and acquire other iconic premises throughout Europe to add to their stable of five-star hotels. It was also about the Christou siblings working in co-operation for once...and mending the fractures that Loukas, both in his role as head of the family and CEO of the group, had failed to heal since their parents had died eight years ago.

  It was a co-operation that would be vital if they were going to survive in the demanding luxury hotel market. To date, that reconciliation hadn’t exactly been going to plan—as witnessed by his call with Nikos earlier.

  Towards the end of the avenue he paused and glanced down to his left. Beyond the hotel’s candyfloss orchard of flowering orange, lemon and peach trees was the family villa. A rocky outcrop separated the villa from the rest of Talos Town. Originally a sea captain’s mansion, it had sat on twenty acres of land when first built. But Loukas’s father had seen its potential and, after purchasing the villa, had built The Korinna on the land.

  He really should go down to the villa and drop off his weekend bag, have a shower, and something to eat. But, keen to see the completed hotel, he rushed on down a sharp incline in the avenue until the pine forest gave way to the vista of The Korinna itself.

  A new two-storey extension had been constructed on one side of the hotel—a reception area on the ground floor, the headquarters for the Christou Group on the first. The sea-facing hotel restaurant and the bars at the front of the original building had uninterrupted views of the Saronic Gulf, as had the seven levels of bedrooms above them.

  For a brief moment, taking in just how well the architects had married the old hotel with not only the new reception but also the new spa that stood on the crest of the hill above the hotel, he felt the constant heavy weight in his chest lift. Maybe the endless building problems, the significant hit to his profit line, the tense calls with his banks, the disruption of his business and the arguments with Nikos and his other siblings would be worth it.

  But that moment proved to be very brief. Nanosecond-brief, in fact.

  He narrowed his eyes and moved closer to the reception area. The sliding entrance doors didn’t budge. No wonder, as they were firmly locked shut.

  And that, no doubt, was because the floor beyond them was only half tiled, the walls still unpainted and none of the bespoke Italian furniture was in place.

  He sucked in some air.

  Nikos had obviously been banking on him not returning to the island until the weekend, as he had originally planned, so he would not to have to admit that once again they had missed their deadline.

  He was going to throttle Nikos. No. In fact he was going to banish him to a monastery on some remote island where he’d have no access to women or drink.

  He peered through the reception area doors again.

  Was he even more stressed than he’d thought he was? Was he losing his mind?

  He would have sworn he’d just seen a pirate saunter through the lounge area beyond Reception, waving a cutlass in the air.

  Sudden ear-splitting music startled him and he whacked his head on the reception door’s glass pane.

  Ready to murder someone, he twisted around, holding a hand to his throbbing forehead, and instantly knew where to find his party-loving brother.

  But then, having taken no more than two steps in the direction of the music, he had come to a complete stop.

  In the name of all the saints!

  Hurtling down the steep incline of the avenue on a bicycle, her long blonde hair flowing behind her like a jet stream, wearing nothing but a silver bikini top and a scrap of blue material that revealed every tantalising inch of her long golden legs, a woman appeared to be about to crash into the door. Into a glass pane that had cost a fortune and had added to the renovation delays by being delivered weeks behind schedule.

  Inches from the precious window, she came to a screeching halt. Then, without a care, she hopped off and placed her bicycle in the bike rack to one side of the doors. With an air of ease and happiness she unravelled the scrap of material from around her hips, the deceptively long length of fine blue silk gauze catching in the light sea breeze and floating out behind her like the train of a sea goddess. Beneath she was wearing nothing but silver bikini bottoms.

  He should look away. Be a gentleman. But his eyes remained glued to the way her hips twirled seductively as she began to wrap the material around her narrow waist and then down over her beautifully curved hips. She continued smoothing the material over her thighs, and didn’t stop until she had bound her ankles together. Thus wrapped, from the waist down, she straightened up and adjusted the material whilst staring at her reflection in the window and giving an excited smile.

  Why was she dressed as a mermaid?

  Again, what on earth was going on? This was a five-star resort, not some theme park.

  Only able to take tiny steps, the mermaid inched her way towards where he was still concealed by a canopy pillar. He was about to step forward and make her aware that he was there, but before he could do so she turned, her mouth dropping open when she spied him.

  Then, in the quickest recovery he’d ever seen, she gave him a smile and a wave, her eyes shining with delight. ‘Oh, hi! I’m so glad you were able to make it back in time for the party. Did Nikos call you?’

  Baffled by her question, he asked, ‘What party? Why would Nikos call me?’

  Her dark brows pulled together. ‘Nikos had to leave unexpectedly this afternoon, but he had organised a staff party for this evening, to celebrate the reopening of the hotel... He asked me to host it in his absence.’

  He pointed behind him to the unfinished reception area, his index finger stabbing the air, his frustration with Nikos and his frustration over the fact that despite his best efforts he could never manage to control any of his siblings leaking out in growled response.

  ‘A party? The hotel isn’t even finished. Now is not the time for a party!’

  The mermaid’s smile dimmed. ‘He thought that the staff deserved a thank-you.’ She pointed vaguely in the direction of the terrace. ‘I’d better go and check that everything’s going okay. I’m running late and by the sounds of it the party has already started.’

  He stepped closer to her, trying to keep his eyes from drifting down to her softly curved body. Her smile wavered even more as his eyes duelled with hers
.

  He yanked his gaze away. Cracked his jaw. And then he asked bluntly, ‘Who are you?’

  She hesitated for a moment, as though confused by his question, and then with a laugh stepped towards him.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve seen so many photos of you and heard so much about you from your siblings that I forgot we have never met.’ She held out her hand to him. ‘I’m Georgie Jones. Your new PA.’

  * * *

  Given Loukas’s dismayed expression, it took a Herculean effort for Georgie to keep her smile in place. Heartbroken or not, Nikos Christou was going to get a piece of her mind when he got back to Talos.

  ‘My what?’

  She dropped her hand at his aghast tone.

  Crikey, Loukas was very different from his brothers. Even more so than the family photos suggested. Sombre, intense, dark... And he was enormous—at least six foot four. With the build to match.

  Light golden-brown eyes, a classically handsome face, thick dark brown hair... The only flaw in his perfection was the seriously hacked off tension emanating from his every pore—that and the murderous glint in his eye.

  Her move to Talos wasn’t supposed to be ending up like this, with her broke and at the mercy of a Greek god who looked as if he had reached the end of his patience.

  Moving to Talos had been her dad’s dream. After living in endless countries with her restless father, Georgie had been sceptical about his declaration that this was where he wanted to settle. Last summer, when she had finally agreed to visit this small island off the coast of Athens in the Argo-Saronic Gulf with him, she had been sure that this would be yet another failed quest by him to find happiness.

  But from the moment she’d seen Talos she had understood why he had fallen in love with this island of emerald waters, golden beaches and dense pine forests. Fallen in love with the whitewashed, blue-shuttered, terracotta-roofed houses that tumbled down the island’s craggy coastline. Fallen in love with its tranquillity, with the way time slowed down here.

  And as her dad had drawn up his plans to renovate the run-down farmhouse he’d been in the process of buying she had seen first-hand how the island had transformed him. The light, the heat, the stunning sea view from the farmhouse...

  The friendliness of their new neighbours and the slow pace of the island had eased her dad’s perpetual nervous energy. At the end of their week-long visit, she too had believed that he had finally found a place he could be happy in.

  But her poor dad had never got to fulfil his dream. A fatal ruptured aortic aneurysm a month after he had bought the property had ended it all.

  Georgie needed to fulfil his dream for him. It was going to be her last goodbye to her soft-hearted dad, who had never got over her mum walking out on them. She intended to keep the house, run it as a guest house. She would run a sea-swimming business during the summer months and leave the island during the winter months for work elsewhere.

  Three months ago—just four weeks after her dad had died—she had left her job in Spain and moved here, convinced that her savings would enable her to renovate the property and establish her business.

  But unforeseen building delays had eaten up the emergency fund she had factored into her budget and she was rapidly running out of money. The building work was coming to an end, and she had the funds to pay for that, but not for the final payment on the furniture she had ordered for the guest rooms.

  She needed to work for a few weeks to earn enough for the final instalment, otherwise she would be forced to cancel her summer bookings and move elsewhere to rebuild her funds.

  She flexed her hands, feeling her broken nails from weeks of endless gardening and DIY pinching the callused skin of her palms, and faced her new boss. Well, she hoped he was her new boss.

  Keep smiling, Georgie. You need this job. There’s no other work on the island at the moment.

  ‘Didn’t Nikos tell you? He recruited me while you were away. It’s only a temporary role, to tide you over until a permanent replacement can be found.’

  She gave him a friendly smile, keen to build bridges with her new boss and neighbour, but that only made his scowl deepen further.

  For a brief second his gaze moved down over her body. And then he looked away, as though irritated with himself. He shuffled the beaten-up-looking soft tan leather weekend case he was carrying into his opposite hand.

  ‘Where are my other siblings?’

  ‘Marios had a scuba-diving appointment and Angeliki has gone to Athens. I think she has a date tonight.’

  His long fingers rubbed against his temple, as though he were defeated by her answer. She gave him another small smile, wishing she could think of something to say that would help. That would ease the lines of tension pulling at the corners of his eyes.

  ‘Nikos owes you an apology. He had no authority to recruit you. Let’s talk in my office.’

  Though her heart plummeted to the floor at Loukas’s job-terminating-sounding tone, she had to think of the party, and the staff members who had been so excited for days about the celebration.

  ‘I’m supposed to be hosting the party. Can we talk tomorrow?’ She paused and then, unable to stop herself, she added, ‘Nikos’s costume is in his office. You could wear it for the party... It’s a Captain Hook costume. I think it would suit you.’

  He looked at her incredulously, and then his eyes narrowed as he realised that she was teasing him. His scowl told her that, unlike Nikos, he wasn’t one for playful banter. He really was different...unfortunately.

  ‘I’ve work to do. I need to wrap this party up. There’s too much that still has to be completed before we open. I will speak to the staff and then we will talk in my office,’ he said, before heading in the direction of the hotel terrace along a path lined with thickly blossoming lavender.

  She chased after him but her mermaid tail slowed her progress. Unable to catch him, she shouted out in desperation. ‘Loukas! No!’

  He turned around and stared at her, clearly peeved. Under his unimpressed gaze she waddled towards him, feeling less like an elegant mermaid and more like a hung-over duck.

  ‘The party has only just started. The staff will be so disappointed. They’ve put huge effort into designing their costumes.’

  His gaze travelled down over her costume and then he looked back up with a raised eyebrow. As if to ask, And precisely why should I be worried about any of this?

  But then his gaze moved back down over her body again, this time lingering at her breasts, at her waist. His eyes darkened.

  Pinpricks of awareness flooded her body. This was her boss. Her neighbour. Her friends’ brother. She had no business being so aware of him physically.

  She stepped back, overwhelmed by his size, by the heat licking her insides.

  At her movement, the dark appreciation in his eyes turned to annoyance. His mouth twisted unhappily.

  For long seconds he studied her coolly. ‘I won’t stop the party but you and I still need to talk.’

  And then, much to her consternation he held out his arm.

  ‘Let me help you.’ Those brown eyes stared at her intently. ‘You seem to be floundering out of your natural habitat.’

  He was messing with her...wasn’t he?

  His expression remained stern as he waited for her to respond. She wanted to say no, that she’d manage, but to do so would somehow feel as if she was giving in to him. That she would be admitting to feeling like a mermaid out of water around him.

  She flashed her best sassy smile at him, clasped her hand with intent on his tanned forearm, and gritted her teeth as the nerve-endings on her fingers tingled at the warmth of his skin, the strength of his flexed forearm.

  ‘Mermaids belong in the sea, Miss Jones. I hope you manage to survive the evening.’

  Her eyes shot over to study him. He had to be joking this time... Maybe he was as capable
of teasing as his siblings were, but yet again his expression gave nothing away.

  At an excruciatingly slow pace and in silence they made their way around the corner to the hotel’s sun terrace.

  The terrace—so elegant with its borders of lush shrubs interspersed with olive and citrus trees, the bright pinks and purples of bougainvillea and pelargonium trained along the external walls, and its plush outdoor seating areas—was crowded with all the hotel staff, dressed for the nautical themed party.

  They separated and she detoured to speak to The Korinna’s head chef, Jean-Louis, who was dressed as Poseidon, complete with curly wig, beard and golden trident.

  As she laughed with Jean-Louis over their respective costumes, and then checked with him that all was okay with the catering for the event, she found herself tracing Loukas’s progress through the crowd as pirates, sharks and surf babes eagerly stopped him to chat. It was clear that he was respected and liked by his staff. Why was his relationship with his three siblings so different, then? All three had variously grumbled about him in the past, describing him as everything from a control freak to a nightmare with zero sense of fun.

  Loukas was the consummate host, giving his complete if rather serious attention to those he spoke to. But as she was dragged into having her photograph taken with some of the hotel’s personal trainers Georgie sensed a growing tension, a greater unease in him as he made his way towards the terrace steps where the party DJ was stationed.

  Once there, he spoke to the DJ, who immediately ended the song blasting out of the speakers. He waited until the crowd grew silent before he started to speak.

  ‘The Korinna reopens its doors next week. Thank you for all your hard work and co-operation so far in completing the renovations. We now need to give one final push over the coming days to complete the work so we can deliver the five-star service we always promise our valued guests.’

  He moved out to the edge of the steps to get closer to the crowd. His deep voice—which was in keeping with his hulking size and delivered little punches to her stomach every time he spoke—dropped to an even lower grave timbre.