Greek Passions - A Greek Billionaire Box Set

by Holly Rayner

  “Welcome to Melinda Forde Singles, my dear. Please allow me to say that your performance in Marble House moved myself and my daughter to tears. ‘Jenifer Swan’s brief and tragic music career is portrayed to perfection by Ms. Knightly’,” she said, quoting a review she had read in the Times. “I just hope our agency can perform as well for you as you have for your adoring public. A client like you deserves only our finest, most experienced matchmaker.” So saying, Melinda had taken the former actress back to Zoey’s stylish, well-appointed rear office.

  The train came to a halt, and Zoey inwardly celebrated as the rotund man saw his stop and left the train. She swore in her head when that gentleman was replaced by a fossil of a woman that smelled strongly of liniment.

  Zoey had settled on reading A Study in Scarlet, but between the smell and her thoughts, she was finding it hard to concentrate. In her mind’s eye, she saw herself sitting at her desk. Emma Knightly sat across from her, sipping a glass of complimentary champagne. Zoey was asking the actress a series of question and plugging her curt responses into her computer. The answers, and Emma’s dismissive nature, were grinding her nerves, but Zoey kept her composure. That was her job, after all. Within five minutes, it was perfectly clear what Emma wanted: a wealthy man who would be mesmerized by her beauty and put his fortunes at her command. It was obvious Emma didn’t care about love in the slightest, and the moment she realized that, Zoey knew she should have sent the woman away, or at least tried to get her to consider something other than her materialistic desires, but even back then, Zoey had known there was precious little point.

  Zoey had long ago learned that trying to argue with customers was more trouble than it was worth. She’d scanned the system until her eyes landed on Edward Alva Brooks Jr., a man that fit the bill perfectly. She was sure the fifty-five-year-old would be attracted to Emma’s body, and that Emma would be attracted to his money. They had nothing in common, no shared values, nothing two people could build a lasting relationship on, but Zoey didn’t argue. She simply made the match.

  She forced herself to keep reading her Sherlock Holmes mystery. She knew it was the only relief she was going to have for several hours. In a few moments she would transfer to another train, which would take her the rest of the way to the Manhattan offices of her mother’s relationship services agency. From the moment she arrived until four-thirty that afternoon, Zoey would be tasked with ignoring her own emotions, lying to people, and above all, turning a profit.

  All day long, she would listen to women—almost always former actresses and models—complain about the men that had formerly been in their lives. How they neglected them, how they lied and cheated, how they never earned enough money, and on and on. Men came though Melinda Forde’s doors as well, with complaints of draconian women, gold diggers, and unfaithful lovers. Each of these people would tell Zoey they were looking for true love, but when she questioned them, she always found that was the last thing they sought. And on it would go, hour after hour, until the hypocrisy became a physical weight upon her heart. Each day, it became harder and harder to suffer through, and Zoey was sure that soon, quite soon the way things were going, something in her mind was going to snap.

  A sudden thought cut through her misery like a laser, and all at once, Zoey felt a small welling of hope within her. She only had to make it to the end of the day, and then something wonderful would happen, because for the first time in forever, she had a date of her own that evening. She’d had to sneak behind her mother’s back and use the Ember dating app to accomplish that much, but she felt that the ends justified the means.

  The guy she would be meeting, Blake Howard, didn’t seem obsessed with hooking up, and it was obvious to Zoey that he’d taken the unusual step of actually reading her profile before he messaged her. None of his messages went along the usual line of Ember conversations, which generally boiled down to “when can we hook up?” He was handsome, intelligent, and soft-spoken, but a streak of mischief ran through him that Zoey had to admit she found exciting. She had enjoyed every one of their conversations, and was really looking forward to finally meeting him.

  “Maybe all of this bullshit has a silver lining,” she murmured to herself, and the fossil sitting beside her gave her a strange look.

  TWO

  Even after all the time she’d spent on the train, Zoey still had six blocks to walk before she reached her mother’s building. The creepy guy from the subway could have been trying to follow her surreptitiously, so she walked directly toward the first NYPD officer she saw. He broke off his pursuit, and Zoey pointed him out to the police, before heading toward the miserable day that waited for her. She tried to focus her mind on her upcoming date, and cling to the tiny bit of hope it afforded her.

  Eventually, she arrived at a block that was dripping with affluence. Every building featured impressive aesthetic touches; elegant hanging plants and outdoor torches. Each building had a clean, modern look that was somehow appealing, despite the fact that everything inside them was ungodly expensive. Zoey glanced at a fashion accessories store across the street from her workplace, wincing as she remembered, from personal reconnaissance, that the cheapest thing in there was priced at eighteen hundred dollars.

  Zoey turned to face Melinda Forde Singles, a striking building fronted with gold-flecked black marble. The name was written in letters of burnished gold above the brass-handled glass doors. Zoey let herself in, determined to push through the day as fast as possible.

  Inside, the agency looked a lot like the lobby of a boutique hotel. An intricately-patterned carpet, handmade by an association of women in Afghanistan, covered the floor along one wall. Generally, even the most conceited of Melinda’s customers couldn’t help commenting on its beautiful design, and as she passed it now, Zoey could see why.

  On top of the carpet was a long white sofa that customers regularly reported was unbelievably comfortable. Round, glass end tables sat on either side of the sofa. These bore gorgeous porcelain lamps that shimmered in the artificial light they produced. A glass table was just in front of the sofa, standing on curved, brass feet.

  The entire space gave an impression of sophistication, and even Zoey, who knew that an impression was all it was, had to resist being sucked in by everything. Despite the marble-topped receptionist’s desk and the oak-paneled walls, she knew she was walking toward her own little prison.

  Along the rear wall, the paneling gave way to a frosted glass door with golden block letters placed at eye level. “Zoey Amelia Forde,” they proclaimed. “Senior Relationship Services Expert.” The title sounded official enough, but Zoey knew it was mostly bullshit.

  She walked into her office and booted up her laptop, determined to get through her personal emails before her mother came through to spy on her.

  Zoey’s computer sat on a smaller writing desk that was built into an elaborate wall unit made of handsome ebony wood. The cabinet doors were arched at the top, and a metal that looked like silver made lace patterns across the glass. Leather-bound books and dozens of curios filled the cabinets in neat arrangements. Very few of them actually belonged to Zoey, however—most of the books and trinkets were her mother’s idea of creating atmosphere.

  She quickly logged in to her email account and began sifting through her inbox. She was happy to see a message from Blake confirming their date that evening. With a small smile she skimmed through the other emails, a mixture of thank you notes from her previous clients, charity appeals, and sales alerts from stores she had shopped at recently. She archived some of the messages and spent a few minutes replying to others until a sharp series of knocks rang out against the wooden frame of the door.

  Before Zoey could say anything in response, the door swung open to reveal her mother.

  Melinda Forde still looked every bit the striking beauty queen she had been two decades ago. Her long, jet-black hair shone under the light. Her eyes were intense, radiating a fierce pride. The deep, golden-brown irises always made Zoey think of semi
precious stones. Her thin, beautifully-angled face was nearly flawless, with only a few frown lines and a tiny bit of puffiness under the eyes. In the flowing, crimson dress she was wearing, she looked like nothing less than royalty.

  “Good morning, Zoey dear,” she said, as Zoey guiltily clicked away from her inbox. “I thought I would bring your first client of today through personally. You’ll find the gentleman listed in the registry. Over the past few years, he has become something of a leader in his field, and I’ve assured him that, as our finest expert, you will be best placed to address his needs.”

  With that, Melinda turned to face someone standing in the corridor. “I hope you have a pleasant day,” she said as she swept back through the door.

  By this time, Zoey had turned to her office desk and the company PC perched upon it. Scanning the registry, she saw that her first client that day was a man called Alexis Manolas.

  The gentleman that entered was nearly six feet tall and wore a light tan. His black hair was slicked back and crowned a strong face that looked at once rugged and spangled with boyish charm. He wore slacks, a black turtleneck, and a brown jacket through which Zoey could easily spot a toned midsection.

  Not bad at all, she thought appreciatively as he shut the door and took a seat on the black leather ottoman angled in front of her desk.

  Under Zoey’s desk, tucked out of sight, was a mini refrigerator. Reaching into this, she produced a chilled glass of champagne.

  “A complimentary glass of champagne, Mr. Zakiridis?” she asked, holding it out to him.

  He accepted the offering with a small laugh. “I suppose the assumed name was pointless. I apologize for the deception, but the Post and the Daily News would have had a field day if they found out I was here.”

  “You can rely on our complete discretion,” Zoey replied, extending her hand, “Welcome to Melinda Forde, Mr. Zakiridis.”

  The man claiming to be Alexis Manolas was, in fact, Mr. Stelios Zakiridis, a property magnate who had emigrated from Greece as a child. Around eight years ago, as best as Zoey could remember, he had taken over his family’s business, the Dolphin Realty Group, and in his short tenure as CEO, had overseen unprecedented growth, making him one of New York’s youngest billionaires.

  “When there are billboards with your face on them all over the city, you need more than a name to disguise your identity,” Zoey said with a smile.

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right about that,” Stelios answered mirthfully. “I’m afraid your mother failed to explain how this process works.”

  “Why don’t you begin by telling me what you’re looking for in a partner?”

  “Well, I’ve just turned thirty-two, so I feel I’m getting older, and when I think about it, I begin to question what I’ve been doing all this time. I’ve spent so much time in the salt mines that it didn’t occur to me until recently that I’d like to have someone to share my life with. I’d like to meet an intelligent woman with a winning personality who will appreciate me for who I really am.”

  Boy, are you ever in the wrong place, Zoey thought, but she didn’t allow the smile she was wearing to waver.

  Her mother’s agency catered specifically to the wealthy, and Zoey was used to sitting across from millionaires on a daily basis. Even by Melinda Forde standards, however, Stelios was a huge client—one that could take the entire agency to new heights, if handled correctly. Zoey had to ignore the knot that had formed in her stomach at hearing Stelios speak so plainly about his needs. She knew that very soon she would have to saddle him with one of the women on her list, any one of whom could quite easily ruin his life and shatter his faith in love.

  “That’s a very nice sentiment, Mr. Zakiridis,” she said with fake perkiness. “I’d like to ask you a few questions so I can build a profile for you. That way, through a combination of experience, and our patented algorithm, I can match you with someone who will fit your needs exactly.”

  The words flowed from her mouth like water, as they did every day, but not a single one of them was true. The only algorithm that existed at Melinda Forde was Zoey making a best-guess selection. She asked Stelios her standard questions, noting down his responses, but the more he talked, the guiltier she felt.

  He’s in the wrong place, she tried to tell herself. A grown man—a billionaire—should know better than to trust a dating service to help him find love. It’s like getting financial advice from psychic friends: if you’re dumb enough to fall for it, you can’t blame people for taking advantage of you.

  No matter what she told herself, however, she couldn’t help feeling horrible about what she was about to do. A sudden thought filled her with disgust: a year ago, she wouldn’t even have considered causing someone misery for the money. Now here she was, trying to justify it.

  “I can’t do it,” she mumbled bitterly. “Not this time.”

  “Did you say something, Ms. Forde?” Stelios inquired gently.

  “Yes, I did, Mr. Zakiridis. I need to be completely honest with you, even if it really isn’t good for business. I truly hate to disappoint you, but all of the women we currently have registered are more interested in wealth than anything else, and it’s my professional opinion that dating them for any length of time would make you perfectly miserable.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Stelios replied, unable to quite believe his ears.

  “I’m afraid not,” Zoey replied sullenly.

  “Well, I appreciate you being honest with me,” he said, getting to his feet with a somewhat bemused expression on his face.

  Zoey let him out of her office, and in a moment or two, he had left the building altogether.

  Triumph blared through her heart for a few seconds; for the first time in more than a year, she had gone against her mother, and spared someone weeks—months, even—of bitterness and disappointment. But it all came crashing down the moment her mother opened her office door.

  “Zoey, what in God’s name have you done?” Melinda asked, struggling to keep her voice under control. “You simply needed to match him with any one of the women on our rolls. That’s literally all you had to do, Zoey. It isn’t complicated, which is why I want to know why the receptionist saw him leaving here so quickly.”

  “Well, Mother,” returned Zoey, “there was no one on those rolls he could have had any sort of relationship with. Those women would only use him for his money. They wouldn’t care about anything else.”

  “I’m using him for his damn money!” Melinda returned hotly. “We aren’t running a charity here. When someone comes through those doors, they need to leave with a date. That’s your job, Zoey!”

  “I thought my job was ‘Relationship Services Expert’,” she said sarcastically, “helping people to find actual love. And yet so far, no one I’ve matched has lasted longer than a year!”

  “Darling, actual love is for fairy tales, songs on the radio, and nitwits with small brains and huge bank accounts. You’re not nine years old anymore, so don’t give me that talk about true love. You’ve just let millions of dollars’ worth of business, advertising and influence walk right out of my door! Why did you do that? Because of some stupid fantasy?”

  “Because I didn’t want to be as cynical as you!”

  Zoey didn’t know where the words had come from, or why she had shouted them with such ferocity, but Melinda moved toward her so quickly, the woman might as well have been gliding. She lowered her voice and glared at her daughter with cold anger in her eyes.

  “Let me tell you something. This ‘cynical’ woman is the only reason you have anything right now. Every scrap of food that passes down that disrespectful little throat of yours is there because I allow it to be, and unless you want me to throw your lazy ass out on the street, you’re going to wrap up this sentimental nonsense and do your job!”

  Zoey thought she could hear people gathering outside the door, but her mother didn’t seem the least bit worried about who could hear what she was saying.

  “Not another wo
rd, girl. I’m your mother, and I’m not asking, I’m telling you what you’re going to do. You’re going to call Zakiridis back, and you’re going to tell him you’ve found a woman good enough for him to marry. If you haven’t done that by noon today, you’ll be gone. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Crystal!” Zoey growled through clenched teeth.

  Without another word, Melinda stormed out, leaving her daughter seething in her wake.

  Zoey’s insides were writhing with hatred, and the worst of it was, as much as she hated to admit it, her mother was right. If she was fired, she only had enough saved to last her a few weeks. After that, if she couldn’t find work, things would get difficult for her extremely quickly. Every cell in her body was against calling Stelios back, but in lieu of a surprise lottery win, she simply had no better options.

  “Let’s just get this over with,” she said, picking up the office phone. Checking her records, she found the Greek’s number and dialed, swearing liberally as she did so.

  “Good morning, Mr. Zakiridis,” she said when he answered. “This is Zoey calling from Melinda Forde Singles. Sir, after our meeting this morning I went through our records with a fine-tooth comb because I simply hate to have to disappoint our clients. I discovered that I was wrong earlier, and that I do in fact have a woman that matches your profile. Her name is Brie Hudson. She was formerly a backing singer for the rhythm and blues group Nu Vogue, and now she’s an up-and-coming reality star. Brie exudes each of the qualities you listed,” Zoey lied. “I think you’ll make an excellent match.”