He joined the Greek Navy right out of school. After his service was up he took over the family business and spent a few years building up the connections in the US and the UK. His English is adequate, but not as fluent as Christos and I, who grew up speaking it in boarding school and college.
“Pop, I know you didn’t call me here to pressure me into getting married.”
He looks at me and leans back in his chair, CEO style.
“Your receptionist was in my office a few days ago.”
I sigh. God, why me? “Yeah, she might have mentioned she was going to do that.”
His brow furrows, bringing his salt and pepper hairline further down his forehead. He looks more like a grumpy bear than usual now.
“You know I let you boys be boys. I understand there are lots of pretty women around, lots of chances for you to enjoy being young.”
I nod, knowing what’s coming next.
“Which is why you don’t need to include the staff in your office as part of the pool. Go swim somewhere else, Niko.”
I slouch in the chair, lying my head on the back and rolling my eyes to the ceiling. “Okay, I get it Pop. The woman is nuts, you know, it’s not like I’m slowly making my way through the office defiling every female we employ.”
He chuckles. “She was, what’s the expression? Wound tight?”
“Yes,” I answer. “That.”
“And I’ve assured her that her job is safe, and you won’t do anything mean to her, so be nice—not too nice—and my guess is it’ll pass.”
I sit back up straight. “Okay, I got it.”
“But, no more dating your staff, right?”
I think about Tess, her beautiful smile and sexy curves flash through my head, causing a tingle to work its way up through my gut.
“Right. I hear you,” I answer, not making any promises I can’t or won’t keep.
“Good boy,” Dad says, standing and walking with me to the door. “I’ll tell your mother you’re coming to dinner after church next Sunday. You and Christos take it easy on the parties Saturday night, yes?”
“Yeah, Pop. We will.”
He grabs my head with one hand and looks me in the eyes. “You’re my heart, you know that, right?”
I smile. “Yes, I do.”
He kisses me on both cheeks again. “Good. Go make me proud.”
“I’ll do my best, old man.”
Tess
At lunchtime Christos shows up at my desk first. He’s a nice guy, a fun guy. Definitely not someone you’d ever consider as boyfriend material or anything, but the kind of guy you can flirt with and hang out with and not have to worry he’d take you too seriously or have expectations. Sort of the opposite of his cousin.
He leans a hip against my desk and crosses his arms.
“What are you doing?” he asks, a grin on his face.
I smile up at him. “I’m waiting for some guy in my office to come get me for lunch. I was about to gnaw my own arm off.”
“So sorry,” he says with his charming mixture of UK, US, and Greek accent. He and Niko both have that. A hint of Greek and British thrown in with their mostly American English. It’s mysterious and only adds to their hotness of course.
I can’t help but glance at the door to Niko’s office. Maybe he didn’t tell Christos and we can slip out of here before he realizes.
I put on my most upbeat smile. “Let’s go before I faint.”
Christos suddenly looks a bit uncomfortable as he pushes away from my desk and stands straight. His eyes dart to the door of Niko’s office. “We uh, need to get—”
Right then, the door opens and out strides Niko, his jacket gone, his shirtsleeves rolled up, tan forearms flexing as he lifts his designer sunglasses to his face. He stops at my desk, looking first at Christos, whose lips press into a thin line momentarily, then at me, before he slides the sunglasses into place.
“Everyone ready?” he asks.
I swallow and look at Christos who shrugs in response, as if to say, what can I do? Right. What can he do?
“Yeah man,” he tells Niko. “Let’s go.”
We walk along the waterfront for a few blocks until we reach a tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurant with a seating area literally on top of the water. If you lean too far one direction in your chair, you’ll end up in the harbor.
Christos is quiet most of the way, while Niko spends the whole time pointing things out to me—different buildings, their history and role in the community. I have to say I’m impressed with his knowledge of the island. I don’t know half as much about the town I grew up in.
When we get to the restaurant, Niko politely asks if there’s any type of food item I’m allergic to or can’t stand. I tell him no—I really like most food, probably a little too much if my ass is any indication. He says he’ll choose for me since the menu’s in Greek, and I’m fine with that. He and Christos get me settled at a table on the edge of the patio and go on up to the counter to put in our order.
I look out at the small harbor, the sun glinting off of the azure blue waters. I can hear the voices and noises of the town behind me, but the water has a sort of unique quiet to it—waves lapping at the concrete pilings of the building I’m in, breeze puffing softly across the surface. Even the sounds of the gulls looping up and down over the ocean are muted.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Niko asks as he sits down across from me.
I nod my head. “It is. Do you get immune to it? Living here all the time?”
He thinks for a moment. “Not really. You don’t notice it every minute of every day, but there are always these moments—when you’re sitting outside after a long day at work, or you’re watching your nieces and nephews play at the beach…” he pauses, “when you see a gorgeous woman sitting next to the waterfront…”
I know I’m blushing. And I shouldn’t be. I should shut him down with a disapproving glare or something, but oh my. He is hard to resist. Instead I go with a wry smile and one eyebrow lifted.
He chuckles. “Those moments are when you see it like someone new does, and you’re reminded all over again that it’s one of the most beautiful places on earth, and you’re very fortunate to live here.”
His gaze is so sultry, and so genuine, that I’m desperate to veer away from it. This can’t happen, and I can’t resist it if I’m trapped in those eyes that are as blue as the ocean he sits next to.
“Where is Christos?” I ask, taking a sip from the soda he brought me.
His eyes lose the softness. “He’s waiting for our food.” He gestures toward the counter where they ordered. Christos is leaning over it chatting up some girl about our age who’s obviously happy to have him flirt with her.
“Does he always do what you tell him?” I ask before I can stop myself.
He twitches a touch, his lips falling into a grim line, stern and unforgiving. This is the other side to the billionaire I think. The part that probably looks exactly like his father. I haven’t met the man, but I can imagine that anyone who can manage a multi-billion-dollar company has to be made of steel. Right now, Niko looks made of steel.
“Christos is my deftheri,” he says, his voice deep and unforgiving. “It’s his job to do what I ask.”
“What does that mean? Deftheri?”
His eyes roam out over the ocean next to us and he breathes deeply of the sea air. “It’s a counselor, an advisor. Your right-hand man is a term you’d be familiar with. But it’s not a job you get paid for, it’s a job you’re given for life, and it’s a great honor in our family.”
“He’s your consigliere?” I ask, blown away that things like this actually exist—in 2015.
He huffs out a sharp laugh. “You’ve watched The Godfather I guess?”
I nod. “Are you kidding? My dad’s a district attorney and my brother is with the FBI. I’ve watched every organized crime film put out in the last fifty years. And then had to listen to all the things that were unbelievable and wrong with them.”
He chuckles. It vibrates through parts of me that it shouldn’t and I shift in my seat to tamp down the reaction.
“Wow, so you’re from a crime fighting family. That’s really interesting. And yes, I guess comparing a deftheri to a consigliere is a good way to get a handle on it. But trust me, it’s not related to organized crime. Just an old family tradition.”
He pauses as Christos arrives at the table, platters of delicious smelling food in hand. My mouth waters as he sets one in front of me. It has two kabobs of grilled meat on a bed of rice with vegetables, roasted potatoes, and salad. Yum.
“So how long has your brother been with the FBI?” Niko asks as I thank Christos and we all settle in to start eating.
“FBI?” Christos gives me a sharp look.
“Yeah,” I smile. Everyone’s always so impressed when they hear about Nate. It doesn’t bother me at all, I’m really proud of him. “He graduated from Quantico about three years ago. That’s the FBI training academy.”
I hear Christos mutter something that sounds like, “What are the odds?” but at the same time Niko asks, “Does it scare you? That he might get shot or something?”
I laugh. “No, not at all. He’s actually not a field agent. He’s an analyst. Sits around at a computer all day tracking hackers and cyber terrorists. It’s not too dangerous from what I can tell. The bigger thing for him is that he’s responsible for other people’s safety. It’s hard sometimes. When he has information that he needs to get to a field agent to keep them safe, or he knows something that he can’t share with people who could be in danger.”
Niko nods around a mouthful of rice pilaf. “That would be rough. Especially if it’s people you know—friends from work, that kind of thing.”
“The good thing is, other than that though, he loves it.”
“And what about your parents?” Niko asks. “Your father’s a district attorney?”
“Yes, the Green County District Attorney and my mom’s a consultant with the police department.”
Christos goes into a coughing fit then, practically spewing fried potatoes all over the table. Niko whacks him on the back, but Christos holds up a hand indicating he’s okay, and stands, making his way to the men’s room.
After Christos leaves, Niko leans forward and picks up my hand from where it rests on the table. I tense, but don’t pull away because I don’t want to offend him, and also his skin is warm and it makes my whole arm tingle.
“What do you say we let Christos go on back to work and I’ll show you around downtown for a while.”
His fingers stroke across my palm and I barely contain the sigh that wants to escape my lips.
I pull my hand away as gently as possible and keep my tone light. “I wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings,” I say. “He’s been talking to me about the big tour since Monday.”
A furrow appears between Niko’s eyebrows. “Trust me, he won’t be offended.”
“I don’t think it’s such a good idea.” My heart is pounding, but I don’t know whether it’s because I’m afraid of him pushing for involvement or because he’s so incredibly gorgeous.
“Why not?” He looks at me as though he’s trying to solve a puzzle.
“Niko—”
“Do you know that’s the first time you’ve said my name?” he asks. “I like it. Say it again.”
I roll my eyes. If only he weren’t so damn charming on top of it all.
“Mr. Stephanos—”
“Nooo.” He pretends to be wounded in the heart, clutching his chest for all he’s worth, head tipped back, eyes screwed shut.
“God, you’re impossible.” I try to sound stern but don’t really pull it off. “Niko then. You know we shouldn’t be doing things alone, the two of us, outside the office. If Christos comes with us, that’s fine, but otherwise I’ll have to decline.”
He looks at me like I’ve grown an extra head. He seems genuinely perplexed. How can he not get this?
“Why?” he asks, face like a little boy’s when he’s had his favorite toy taken.
“You’re my boss,” I answer succinctly.
“Ah.” He nods. “I see. Let me put your mind at ease then. We don’t have the same types of personnel rules here that you’re used to in the US. You won’t be breaking any laws if you chill with your boss.” He leans forward and captures my hand again. “And your boss would very much like to spend some time with you. Preferably alone.”
Oh. My. God. Could he get any more inappropriate? Or any hotter? My throat is dry, my armpits are sweating, and I feel like I’ve run a marathon it’s so hard to catch my breath.
I clear my throat. “But that’s not true. You do,” I say. “It’s right in chapter two of your company personnel rules. Page twenty-six in fact.”
He starts to chuckle, and before I know it he’s outright laughing, his face lighting up, shoulders shaking. I scowl at him, embarrassed, but not sure why. He’s the one who doesn’t even know his own policies. He should be ashamed. Some CEO he’ll be.
Once he gets a grip on himself again he whips off his sunglasses and looks me in the eyes. “Princess. When I had you read those policies it was only to keep you entertained. The fact is, you’re probably only the second person to ever read them. That binder has sat there for five years without being touched. My cousin wrote them, and she did it because she was getting an MBA and she needed to do a project for class, so my dad let her write up those policies. They’re meaningless.”
I stare at him. Uncomprehending. He can’t be serious.
“They’re not meaningless. They’re…” I sputter, searching for the right words. “They’re the rules. I mean, rules are the rules. You can’t simply decide when you’ll follow them and when you won’t. If your dad didn’t want them followed he wouldn’t have had your cousin write them. Or at the very least he wouldn’t have gotten them printed up and put into an official manual for employees.”
“Look, princess. My dad—” he pauses, seeming to choose his words carefully. “My dad doesn’t care what’s in that book. He cares about people being happy. As long as everyone’s happy he’s good with it. And I promise, I’ll make sure you stay very happy.” He raises an eyebrow at me and even brings out one of the dimples. Fucker.
“No one’s going to enforce the so-called rules, therefore they don’t matter. I promise you, they’re meaningless.”
My pulse races and I feel a surge of adrenaline that comes not from being turned on, but being angry. Sheer raging pissed. And humiliated. He belittles what I believe in, where I come from. It’s part of who I am. My family has devoted their lives to making sure the rules—the laws—are followed. How can he say that’s meaningless?
I stand up, leaning over the table as I glare at him. “It must be easy to act like rules are meaningless when you have your daddy’s billions behind you,” I hiss. “But where I come from we care about things—people, reputations, order, rules. I follow the rules because I can’t afford not to. You could never understand that, because you’ve never been ordinary, but I am. And ordinary people have to do things that billionaires think are meaningless every single day.”
Then I turn and walk away, vibrating with anger, embarrassment, and the terror that I may have just lost my job.
Niko
The sun is still floating above the horizon when Christos comes out of his room and finds me watching television, shirtless, sprawled across the leather sofa his mother picked out for us when we moved in. I’ve got a glass of ouzo in my hand and I’m watching the US men’s soccer team get their asses handed to them by Argentina.
“No mezedes with that?” Christos asks, eyeing my glass critically.
“Nope,” I answer, referring to the fact that I’m not eating the typical olives, seafood and fried appetizers while I drink the ouzo. The shit is powerful and can knock you on your ass when you least expect it. I don’t really give a damn right now though. I’ve been in a stupor for over twenty-four hours. Ever since Tess Richardson said I was spo
iled and entitled and didn’t understand ordinary people.
“Are you still pouting over that bullshit Tess said to you?” Christos asks as he flops down on the end of the sofa. “She’s hot, but she’s not worth this. There are plenty of other hot chicks out there. Chicks who won’t go all judgmental on you. Who needs that shit anway?”
“You did, apparently, since you were after her too until I told you to back off.” I glare at him then turn back to the TV.
He sighs. “Like I said, she’s hot. I thought I’d tap that, but I wouldn’t have wanted to if I’d known she was such a pain in the ass. Nick,” he calls me by the name our soccer teammates in Florida did. “Seriously. Remember who you are, and who she is. That you’d care at all about what she thinks is…well, it’s…”
I sit up, tossing back the remainder of the ouzo, then I stand, glowering over him where he lounges on the sofa.
“It’s what?” I ask, my voice rough, and my temper rising. “And what the hell do you mean ‘who she is and who I am’? Are we too good for college girls now? Or maybe it’s American girls? Oh, but wait…did you mean poor girls?”
I look down at him, and I see it again, that flash of something foreign, something I never used to notice when he looked at me. I’m not sure what to label it, but it’s ugly and dark, and it sets all my nerves on edge.
But as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone.
“Bro, I’m sorry,” Christos says, standing and tentatively placing a hand on my arm. “I didn’t mean to be a dick, I just hate to see you tear yourself up over something a girl you hardly know said in the heat of a moment. All I meant was that she’s not from here. She’s not one of us, so she doesn’t understand who we are—who you are. You can’t let her lack of understanding get to you. That’s why we have the family around us. They understand. They know you. Outsiders will never get it.”
The Heir: A Standalone Greek Billionaire Romance Page 5