“Show her the picture,” Una instructs, and Cristal takes out her phone, clicking to a photo that she holds up. It’s of her and Una with four very cute men, everyone smiling and holding up their Greek and German beers.
“This is last night at the bar,” Cristal says.
“They look like fun guys, but I can’t miss work.”
Una shrugs, but Cristal looks sad. “You have so many classes and so many hours at your internship when are you ever going to be able to enjoy being abroad?” she asks.
I flinch. She’s not the first one to say it to me. Cass has also wondered why I’m so overscheduled for a study abroad program. What none of them understand is that it’s to keep from having to pay tuition another semester. I’m trying my hardest to finish in four years, and also get real job experience so that I’m spared the fate of most recent college grads—working at Starbucks.
“I’ve got a plan,” I say. “And in order to achieve it I can’t afford to go without taking a full load of classes and getting the work experience.”
Una shakes her head. “Someone really needed to explain the idea of study abroad to you. It’s not about having plans, or meeting goals or getting experience inside a stale old office. You’re supposed to be soaking up the local culture, learning the language, enjoying your youth.”
Cristal laughs, “Leave her be. She’ll do all of it in her own time, and her own way.” I’m grateful for her taking the pressure off of me, but I can’t help but wonder if Una’s right. Am I letting an opportunity pass me by because I’m working so hard to be proactive, to plan for my future? Maybe sometimes you can be so focused on the future you don’t notice your present?
* * *
I’m standing in front of the Stephanos offices and I’m so nervous I’ve broken out in a sweat. I have no idea what Niko thought of me running off at the club this weekend. Following so closely on the heels of our disagreement Friday at lunch, I’m expecting that he’s not too pleased. But at least if he tries to fire me now I don’t have to have the additional humiliation of having slept with him. I don’t need that on my conscience, or in the company’s personnel records.
The front door to the building opens and Santo, the security guard who mans the lobby, pokes his head out. His accent is heavy, but like all the Stephanos employees he speaks enough English to do basic business.
“Miss,” he says, smiling. “You ready to come in?”
I start walking the last few steps toward the door. “Yes, Santo, I’m sorry, I was distracted.” I give him what I hope is a normal smile to counteract my crazy—standing in front of the building staring at it for five minutes.
“It’s good,” he answers as he holds the door open for me to walk through. “Mr. Niko asks you to go to his office first thing.”
My heart double pumps in my chest. “Um, okay. Did he say why?” I ask, swallowing my fear.
“No. Only to have you go to him right away. I’ve been watching for you.”
I nod. “Great. Thank you, Santo.”
He gives me a little tip of his hat and I make my way through the lobby, cold dread lodging itself in my gut like a chunk of ice.
When I get to the finance offices Juliet gives me the once over then announces with a look of pity, “Mr. Stephanos needs to see you immediately.”
I grit my teeth and try to sound polite. “Yes, Santo told me. Thank you.”
She rolls her eyes and I move on by, dropping my purse in my desk drawer before I go to Niko’s office and knock.
“Come in,” his deep voice calls out. I stifle a shiver that’s a strange mixture of fear and excitement before I turn the knob and walk through.
He’s sitting at his desk with the view of the water behind him. His ebony hair is a touch too long, curling up on the edges, and he’s wearing a blue dress shirt today, sleeves rolled up as usual. Its cut narrow, showcasing his broad shoulders and muscled torso. When his head lifts and I meet his blue eyes, sparkling in all of that Mediterranean gold skin, he nearly takes my breath away. Niko Stephanos is who the term “Greek god” was coined for.
His lips slide into a soft smile when he sees me. “You’re here,” he says as if he wasn’t sure I would be.
“Yes, I should be here by one most days. My classes are all in the mornings.”
He walks out from behind his desk, smiling warmly, but not coming too close. “Please, come have a seat.” He walks to the sitting area in his office and gestures to the sofa. I comply, sitting on the edge and folding my hands on my knees primly. He’s acting very strange, so I prepare to get fired, my head is buzzing and I’m fighting to stay professional, but I really want to cry.
He clears his throat, looking down for a minute before he pins me with those baby blues and my damn traitorous heart flutters in spite of how uncomfortable I am.
“I owe you an apology,” he says before pausing and running a hand through his hair. “I thought about what you said to me the other night, and I realized that you’re absolutely right. I’ve been unfair to you, I haven’t treated you the way I should treat my staff, and I’m truly sorry for that.”
I stare at him, not sure what to say now. I’m still back at being fired, my mind hasn’t caught up yet.
As if sensing I’m unable to speak, he continues. “I have spent most of my life in a very protected and narrow world. There are a lot of traditions in my family, certain ways things are done, certain things that are expected of the oldest son. What it all boils down to is that I’ve been given everything I wanted, and surrounded by people who live in the same world I do.”
I nod my head, to encourage him to continue. I’m breathless from the honesty he’s giving me, the view into his private self that I haven’t done a damn thing to deserve.
“When I realized the position I’d put you in this last week—” he stops, a blush rising to his perfectly stubbled cheeks, “—I was ashamed of myself. You were right, I don’t know what the people around me are thinking, or what their lives are like. I’ve been coddled and sheltered for far too long.”
Guilt cascades through me. I got pissed, gave the guy a hard time, and sent him into an existential crisis. “I never meant to judge you,” I say.
“But you were right,” he interrupts. “Everything you said was right, and even though my family spoils me, my father would never condone me harassing an employee. In fact, I have to be truthful and admit he’s asked me not to date them. One of the things we pride ourselves on in this company is taking care of our own. A good percentage of the employees are family, and the rest we treat that way. You’re a good employee, Tess. I’d like a second chance to be the kind of boss you deserve.”
He finishes by flashing that smile at me, the one that makes me doubt turning him down, though I know I didn’t have a choice.
“Thank you,” I tell him, not admitting that a part of me will miss Niko the cad.
“I’m wondering if you might be willing to do a special project with me?” he asks.
I raise an eyebrow.
“It’s personal, but not the way you’re thinking.” He takes a deep breath and I realize that he’s nervous about this. Who’d have thought the hot billionaire could be nervous about anything? “I want to be better—more in sync with the rest of the world. I need to understand the way normal people live. It’ll make me a better boss, and I have a feeling a better person too.” He gives me an adorable little shrug and smile and I groan to myself. Shit. Who is this all-new sweeter Niko? He melts my heart as much as alpha billionaire Niko melts my panties.
“I think that’s great,” I tell him, trying to sound encouraging since I’m not yet sure why he’s telling me all of this.
“And,” he pauses, his jaw flexing for a moment, “I want you to help me.”
What? He has to be joking. I find myself looking around the room as if there might be someone else there he could be talking to. “Um…”
He chuckles. “You’re real, Tess. You have a real life. Real friends. You’re not related
to me, you’re not Greek, you’re not impressed by all my crap. You weren’t afraid to give it to me straight, and I’m grateful for that. You’re the perfect person to help me get a much-needed dose of reality. I’m hoping we can be friends and you’ll show me the ropes.”
“You’re serious?” I ask.
He nods, hopeful smile in place. God, he’s so beautiful. It should be against the law for a man to look like him.
I give myself a mental shake. He’s asking for my help. He’s asking me to be his friend. I need to get the hell over my superficial appreciation of his looks and help him.
“So, the poor little rich boy needs a buddy, huh?” I temper the harsh words with a soft tone and a genuine smile.
He laughs softly. “Something like that.” He looks at me, intensity in his eyes. “Will you do it?”
Can I do this? Can I be nothing more than friends with my boss, a super hot Greek billionaire who sends my girl parts into a frenzy every time he looks at me? For whatever reason, I want to. I want to help him, I want to know him better. So I tamp down the misgivings about my ability to ignore my attraction and grin. “Yes. It would be my pleasure to be your real friend. I would love to show you what we regular people do with our lives.” I think for a moment. “But didn’t you go to college in Miami? I would have thought you’d have gotten a taste of the real world then?”
He huffs out a breath and grimaces. “You would think. However, my father has a house in Miami Beach. Christos and I lived there. We also had a ship docked at the private marina, and a jet on call twenty-four seven at the airport.” He shakes his head. “I used to fly the soccer team to away games in it, so we wouldn’t have to ride buses.”
I stare at him. “You’re kidding.”
He stares back. “No.”
I can’t help but smile at the ridiculousness of it all. “God, you really do need me,” I finally say.
He breathes deeply as if relief has enabled his lungs to work again. “Thank you,” he says. “Thank you for forgiving me and for agreeing to help me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“So what should my first assignment be?” he asks, excitement weaving its way through his deep voice giving me a glimpse at Niko as a boy. Darling.
“Um, I’m not sure. You want to do my laundry tonight?”
He laughs. Guess he’s not ready to get that real.
I think for a moment—something real, safe, fun. Then I have it. “I was invited to a boat party with some other kids from school this weekend.”
He raises an eyebrow at me. “I’ve been to a few boat parties in my lifetime,” he says, sarcastically.
“On anything smaller than that yacht in Miami?” I ask.
He clears his throat. “Well…”
“Ha! As I thought. This is a rental because we’re all from somewhere else, and it’s tiny because we don’t have enough money to get the bigger one. If you come you have to chip in ten Euros for the rental and bring your own beer.”
He looks at me like he’s trying to keep from laughing.
“I’m serious rich boy. No champagne, no having your staff pack caviar for your lunch. In fact, I’ll handle lunch if you buy the beer. And it needs to be beer that a regular person can afford. Whatever the Greek equivalent of Bud Light is.”
“Good God,” he sighs dramatically. “You’re going to kill me before we even get started.”
I stand and point a finger at him. “I’m a tough teacher, so if you want to do this you’re going to have to suck it up, buttercup. I mean it. A six-pack of cheap beer, a towel, your swimsuit. That’s all. I’ll bring your lunch and meet you at the marina at ten on Saturday morning.”
He stands and salutes me. “Yes, ma’am, you’re the boss.”
I cock my head and inspect him for a moment. “I’m proud of you,” I say. “You’re going to make a great regular guy.”
The look he gives me is almost tender, and I blink a couple of times before I mumble some goodbyes and hustle out of his office.
When I get back to my desk and sit down for the first time in hours, I slump back in my chair and try to do nothing but breathe for a few minutes. Friends. Niko Stephanos and me. What have I done?
Niko
I feel lighter. Lighter than I’ve felt in months, and all because Tess Richardson has agreed to be my friend. Or mentor. Something like that. I’m enthralled with the idea of being a normal guy. The kind of guy who gets to spend time with girls like Tess.
And I want to be the best student she’s ever had—maybe I’m the only student she’s ever had, but why not set the bar high? I want to show her that I’m taking this seriously and to do that I need a plan.
I start in the place where I spend the most time—Stephanos Shipping. In order to understand my average employees better I need to actually see some of them. Up until now, I’ve spent all my time with the heads of the various departments in the financial section. I know them. I know their assistants, I know a handful of other senior level staff. That means there are dozens of workers who are under my supervision that I’ve rarely met, and almost never talked to.
That changes now.
I begin by asking Annais to get me the schedules for all of the staff meetings my department heads hold with their own staff. The list is daunting, but I decide to do one a week come rain or shine, and that insures I’ll be done at the end of the calendar year.
I also decide to take any opportunity I can find to visit other parts of the company, and meet regular staff members. So when I find the scrap of paper with the number of the tanker ship I saw being mysteriously loaded, I decide that instead of having Annais call down to ask about it, I’ll walk to the shipping dock myself.
I walk into the shipping office that sits next to the docks, and no one is at the front desk. This is the nuts and bolts part of our operation, although the office here in Georgios is much smaller than most due to our limited traffic in and out of port.
I can hear noise from the back of the building, so I swing around behind the counter and make my way past the bare bones cubicles set up for the agents to log shipments into our databases. Then I walk through a set of double swinging doors to the back warehouse where smaller items that are shipped can be stored. The big shipping containers and tanks are kept in the yard outside.
When I walk in everyone is bustling around, moving crates identical to those I saw being loaded onto the tanker. No one notices me for a moment, and I absentmindedly brush off the dust on a crate next to me.
“Mr. Stephanos!” the head shipping clerk cries out as she sees me standing there.
“Magda.” I smile as I stride toward her and put out my hand. Her eyes dart around nervously for a moment, and I wonder why a woman who’s known me since I was old enough to toddle would be anxious to see me. I take her hand in both of mine and lean forward to kiss her on each cheek. “You’re looking as beautiful as ever,” I say.
She blushes and rolls her eyes. “You need to stop teasing old ladies, Mr. Niko,” she tells me. Then she pats my cheek. “But look at that beautiful face.” She keeps ahold of my hand and begins to walk us up to the front counter, chattering the whole time. The other workers keep their heads down, moving the crates from the warehouse to a trolley outside that will take them to the ship. As we leave the warehouse I look down at the crate next to me and notice Syria as a destination on the manifest.
“Now,” Magda says to me as we reach the front office and she sits on her stool behind the counter. “Tell me what brings you down here. You could have called you know.”
I give her my most innocent smile and shrug. “I need to get out of the office more, Magda. And I missed you. We haven’t had a company dinner in so long how else will I get to see you if I don’t come down here?”
“Oh, Mr. Niko. Next time you call and I will come up to see you. I’ll bring you some spanakopita that I make with my special recipe, yes?”
“That would be great,” I say, thinking that if there’s food as a payoff I
should have been visiting the regular staff a lot more often.
“Now. What did you need?” she asks.
I snap back to the task at hand. “I have a question—about a shipment I saw being loaded.”
She nods and taps at the keyboard for her computer.
I pull out the note I wrote with the ship’s number and the date. “It was a tanker, 430072, on the eighteenth. The guys were loading crates that looked a lot like the ones you have in back now. I couldn’t understand why they’d be putting crates on a tanker. Do we normally transport things other than liquids on those ships?”
She clicks away on the computer and then says, “Ah, yes. Here it is.” She turns the monitor toward me so I can see the screen. “On the eighteenth that ship was loaded with medical supplies.”
I squint at the information. A huge tanker, capable of carrying half a million barrels of oil was used to transport twenty crates, each less than eight feet square? Crates with what? Bandages and aspirin?
“What types of medical supplies?” I ask.
“It doesn’t say here. They’re usually medicines—” She seems to search for a word or idea. “Some kind of medicines I think.”
I nod, still wholly unconvinced. “Where did it come from and where was it going?”
She points to the screen again. “Los Angeles to Syria.”
Okay, medical supplies to a war-torn country. Nothing odd about that. They didn’t come from here though. We have medical supplies shipped into Georgios, not out. We certainly shouldn’t be taking the extra time and manpower to unload those crates from one ship here and load them onto another only to send them one to Syria. It’s a short trip, they should have kept right on going and delivered before turning around and docking here.
But, shipping routes aren’t Magda’s purview, only shipping records, so I give her my most benevolent smile and make a mental note to investigate this further. This looks like someone is trying to pad the shipping costs, and if that padding weren’t on the records, they could be pocketing the extra fee. That could add up really fast. Meaning someone or several someones could be getting wealthy off of my company. I grit my teeth. That can’t continue.
The Heir: A Standalone Greek Billionaire Romance Page 7