Erin rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, so you now have an island all your own?’
‘I inherited Thesos from my father when I was twenty-one.’
‘Well, you never mentioned it before,’ Erin remarked curtly, wondering how much else she didn’t know about him while trying to think frantically fast. ‘Look, I’ll consider going to Greece for a few days if you really think it’s necessary—’
‘I do.’
‘But before I leave I want the chance to speak to Sally Jennings. She does still work for you, doesn’t she?’
There was a moment of silence before Cristo responded expressionlessly, ‘She does. She’s now the deputy manager at the spa. Why?’
‘And I’m sure she’s very efficient. She was when I was working there,’ Erin commented stiffly. ‘I’ll call in on the way to the airport. I don’t want her to know I’m coming. I’ll drop the twins off with you at your office.’
‘There’s no need. I’ll meet you in the hotel foyer. But I don’t think this is a good idea, Erin. Very few people know about the money that went missing. I handled it very discreetly. I don’t think it’s wise to start making enquiries again this long after the event.’
‘This is the price of me going to Greece,’ Erin countered flatly. ‘I see Sally in London before I go or I don’t go at all.’
‘But that’s bl—’ Cristo retorted in a seething undertone.
‘Blackmail?’ Erin slotted in with saccharine sweetness. ‘You’re preaching to the converted, Cristo. Guess who taught me the skill?’
‘If I facilitate this meeting at the spa, you’ll come to Greece with me?’
‘Of course I will. I keep my promises.’ Erin came off the phone a minute later, feeling re-energised, and swept the twins out of bed to get dressed. It was past time she began calling some of the shots. Cristo became unbearable when he got his own way too much. But she was rather touched that he was willing to go to so much trouble to whisk them away from the perils of too much press interest. Honestly, Erin thought ruefully, sometimes Cristo could be naïve. Did he really think she couldn’t cope with journalists on the doorstep or some nasty article that tried to make her sound more exciting and wicked than she was? She was not that vulnerable. Life had taught her to roll with the punches. In any case the idea of travelling to Cristo’s private island intrigued her. He was finally going to take her to his real home and naturally she was curious.
Her mother got up while the twins were eating their breakfast and, when she realised that her daughter was to leave the house in little more than an hour to travel abroad, she urged Erin to go and start packing. Before she did so, Erin rang work and requested a week’s leave.
‘Do you think you’ll meet Cristo’s parents?’ Deidre asked hopefully.
Erin grimaced, in no hurry to meet Appollonia Denes, who had cut her off on the phone while making it very clear that she did not think Erin was good enough for the little boy she had raised to adulthood. Cristo had been born into a substantial fortune, the only child of two young, rich and beautiful Greeks, both from socially prominent families. Vasos and Appollonia had become Cristo’s guardians when he was orphaned at the age of five, after his birth parents died in a speedboat accident. Vasos had been a trusted employee in the Donakis empire and Cristo’s godfather. The older couple had had no children of their own. Erin recalled that Cristo had mentioned Appollonia having a nervous breakdown and during that phone call she had decided that the older woman was more than a little off the wall. So, she hoped she wouldn’t be meeting the older couple. Things would be challenging enough without having to deal with people who had disliked and disapproved of her even before they had met her. No doubt Vasos and Appollonia would find the news that she was the mother of Cristo’s twins a source of severe embarrassment and dissatisfaction.
The twins fell asleep in the limo that carried them to London, waking up with renewed energy to bounce up the steps of the Mobila hotel. Garbed in a grey pinstripe dress and jacket, her pale hair curving round her cheekbones, Erin was apprehensive as she walked into the opulent foyer.
‘Daddy!’ Lorcan cried, tearing his hand free of his mother’s to pelt across the open space.
‘Kisto!’ Nuala exclaimed, for she would not call her father Daddy, even though he had asked her to do so.
Erin focused on Cristo, seeing the manager of the renowned hotel anchored to his side and reckoning that so public a greeting from his secret children could scarcely be welcome to him. But Cristo was grinning, that wide wonderful smile she had almost forgotten flashing across his lean bronzed features in a transformation that took her breath away as he swung Lorcan up into his arms and smoothed a comforting hand over Nuala’s curly head as she clung to his trouser leg with toddler tenacity.
As Erin looked at the drop-dead gorgeous father of her children a tingle of heat pinched the peaks of her breasts to tightness and arrowed down into her pelvis to spread a sensation of melting warmth. All her hormones, she registered in dismay, were in top working order and threatening to go into overdrive.
‘Miss Turner.’ The hotel manager shook hands with every appearance of warmth. ‘What beautiful children.’
‘Erin, I’ve arranged for Jenny to look after the twins in the crèche while we’re visiting the spa,’ Cristo explained, and a young woman stepped forward with a smile and proceeded to chat to Nuala.
‘So, you’ve opened a crèche here now,’ Erin remarked, her professional interest caught by that idea because she had first floated it to Cristo.
‘It’s very popular with our clients,’ the manger advanced with enthusiasm. ‘Many of them have young children.’
‘The facility pays for itself,’ Cristo explained, a lean hand resting to Erin’s taut spine to lead her in the direction of the spa. She was filled with dismay at the realisation that he intended to accompany her, for she had not thought that far ahead and she was convinced that his intimidating presence could only injure her chances of success.
Momentarily. Erin glanced back anxiously at the twins. Lorcan was making a phenomenal noise with the toy trumpet the wily Jenny had produced while Nuala was trying her hardest to get her hands on the same toy.
‘Are you certain you want to go ahead with talking to Sally?’ Cristo pressed in a discouraging undertone. ‘I don’t agree with it. What the hell can you expect to gain but embarrassment from such a meeting?’
‘Sally is the only person who knows the whole story. I don’t have a choice,’ Erin replied tightly, her nervous tension rising as Cristo bent down to her level and the rich evocative smell of his cologne and him ensnared her on every level.
‘Don’t do this for me, koukla mou,’ Cristo urged suddenly, staring down at her as they came to a halt outside the door that now bore Sally’s nameplate. ‘It doesn’t matter to me now. A lot of water has gone under the bridge since then. You were young. You made a mistake and I’m sure you learned from it—’
‘Don’t you dare patronise me, you … you … you toad!’ Erin finally selected in her spirited retort. ‘And don’t interfere.’
‘Toad?’ Cristo repeated blankly.
‘I’d
