The Greek's Innocent Virgin. Lucy Monroe

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gaze on Rachel, which effectively brought the attention of the other occupants of the room as well.

      Rachel squirmed inside at the stares directed her way.

      “The coroner was unable to determine which of the occupants of the car died first.” The lawyer’s gaze shifted to Sebastian. “However, I’m sure the family will not dispute you taking possession of your mother’s personal belongings.”

      Sebastian’s head shook in a slight negative.

      Rachel felt nothing, certainly no joy in possessing anything resulting from her mother’s misbegotten lifestyle. The one thing she would have gladly received from Andrea, the other woman had taken to the grave with her.

      The identity of Rachel’s father—a piece of information her mother had refused to part with throughout Rachel’s life.

      Sebastian looked up at the sound of a knock on the study door. It was open, but Rachel did not come in. She stood framed in the opening, her face cast in shadow by the light coming in from the hallway so he could not see her expression.

      He didn’t like that and he waved her inside impatiently, having expected this visit, but not pleased his cynicism had been proven right. As much as he knew she was Andrea’s daughter, he’d always wanted to believe she didn’t share her mother’s avarice.

      “Come in. You don’t have to stand in the hall.”

      She stepped forward, entering the room like a wary doe in the hunter’s sights. “I didn’t want to intrude.”

      “If I needed privacy, the door would be shut.”

      “Of course.” She took a deep breath, avoiding direct eye contact, her hands fisted at her sides. “Do you have a moment? I have some things I need to discuss with you.”

      He nodded toward one of the red leather chairs he and his mother had occupied when the wills were read earlier. “Have a seat. I know what you want to talk about and I’m sure we can come to an amicable arrangement.”

      Rachel had taken the news she’d inherited virtually nothing with too much calm acceptance earlier that day. Any offspring of the scheming Andrea would have expected a large settlement on the death of her wealthy stepfather. Rachel had to have been seriously disappointed.

      The small set of books on Hellenic culture Matthias had bequeathed to her had been nothing more than a sentimental nod to the evenings he had spent discussing Greek history with his stepdaughter. Even if she sold them, they would net her only a few thousand dollars.

      Sebastian saw no reason to refuse Rachel a settlement…in exchange for a vow of silence on her mother’s years as Matthias Demakis’s wife. He had no desire to read sleazy stories in the gutter press given credence by paid for interviews with Andrea Demakis’s daughter.

      Rachel slid into the red chair, its oversize winged back giving her the appearance of a child. Or perhaps a fairy queen. Children did not have curves that haunted men’s dreams and sparked their libidos. He knew Rachel did, even if the white pants and top she currently wore did nothing to reveal the hourglass figure he’d seen on the few occasions she’d swum with him in his great-uncle’s pool.

      She was as unassuming and conventional as her mother had been flamboyant and morally corrupt. At least on the surface.

      How much of that innocence was real?

      Considering the discussion they were about to have, he would have to assume a very small part.

      “I shouldn’t be surprised you expected me.” A smile briefly lifted the corners of Rachel’s mouth. “You’ve always seen things others tend to ignore.”

      “Certainly more than my uncle did when he looked at your mother.”

      An emotionless mask descended over Rachel’s porcelain features, all vestiges of her smile dissipating like mist under a warm sun. “No doubt.”

      “And I suppose this is what you wish to discuss with me?” The fact Matthias Demakis had finally wised up to his grasping, faithless wife leaving neither her, nor her daughter anything of real value in his will.

      “In a way, yes.” She sat up straight in the chair and then shifted her legs so that one crossed over the other. “I need to return to my job fairly soon.”

      “Yes?”

      “And there are my mother’s things to be gone through.”

      “Did you want to delegate that task to the servants?”

      “No.” Her mouth pursed as if in distaste at the thought. “That wouldn’t be right, but I need to know what you want me to do with them.”

      “Surely that is a decision you must make.”

      “I’d considered donating her clothes and jewelry to charity, but then I realized there was the possibility Matthias had given her family heirloom pieces. I’m sure you wouldn’t want them to go to strangers.”

      Ah…the first salvo. “And you would like me to buy them from you?”

      Her eyes widened, the distaste in her expression blatant this time. “Don’t be ridiculous. I simply need you to take a moment to identify which of the jewelry are heirlooms. If you don’t have the time, perhaps your mother would be willing to do it. Anyway, I can’t and I want to make sure your family takes possession of them before I dispose of the others.”

      “You propose to give me the family pieces?”

      “Yes.” She looked at him as if she was doubting his intelligence.

      It was a new experience for him and he almost found himself smiling.

      “It would actually help quite a bit if someone could go through all of the things in her bedroom with me to make sure anything of sentimental value to the family is kept before I have the removalists come.”

      “Removalists?”

      “I’ve been in contact with an international association dedicated to the welfare of children. They’ve agreed to take possession of Andrea’s things and sell them at auction to raise funds for their cause.”

      Reeling with the unexpected direction the conversation had taken, Sebastian’s superior brain took several seconds to compute the import of Rachel’s words. “You don’t plan to keep anything of your mother’s?”

      “No.” Rachel’s now completely dispassionate expression told him nothing of her thoughts.

      “But her clothes alone are easily worth over one-hundred-thousand American dollars.”

      “That’s wonderful news for the charity.”

      “But means nothing to you?” He refused to believe it. No one was this uninterested in financial gain. “And the apartment in New York. You plan to give that to charity as well?”

      “She owned an apartment in New York?” Rachel sounded more annoyed than overjoyed by that piece of news.

      “I suppose you’re going to tell me you want to donate

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