want to know now, does he?’ Leanne sniped, and soon after that Katie thought it wisest to thank the brunette for looking after the twins and go.
Mid-morning the following day, a young man in casual clothing came to her door. ‘Are you Katie Fletcher?’
At her nod of confirmation, he extended a mobile phone to her.
‘I’m a solicitor, engaged to represent a certain person’s interests, Miss Fletcher,’ the brisk voice on the phone informed her. ‘I’m sure you’ll understand the need for discretion in this case. Are you willing to undergo DNA testing?’
Katie was taken by surprise, but recognised that such speed of action was essentially an Alexandros Christakis trait. ‘Yes…’
‘Then sign the consent form and the matter will be taken care of immediately, with the minimum of disruption.’
An envelope and a pen were passed to her, the phone returned. Her caller departed. She drew out a brief document, scanned it with strained eyes and then scrawled her signature. Alexandros was doing what came naturally to him. It was insulting and humiliating, but also a necessary evil if she was to prove her claim. Within half an hour a doctor arrived with a medical bag. He explained that the test consisted of painless mouth swabs being taken from her and the twins. In a matter of minutes he had carried out the procedure and smoothly taken his leave again.
She walked the floor that evening, trying to soothe Toby. Although it was barely nine o’clock, someone banged on the wall to complain, and a man knocked at the door and asked her to keep her kids quiet because he was a shift worker trying to get some sleep. Tears were tracking down Katie’s weary face while she struggled to quieten Toby, who seemed to have no more notion of sleeping at night than an owl. It was impossible for her not to look back and wonder how her life had drifted so far off the course she had assumed it would follow…
After Katie’s English father had died, her mother had taken her daughter back to Ireland to live. Katie had enjoyed a happy childhood in a small town where everyone had known everyone else. Armed with an honours degree in Economics, she had been ecstatic when she’d got her first job as a PA in London. But when her mother had fallen ill she had had to resign and return home.
In spite of her ill health, Maura Fletcher had insisted on keeping up a couple of part-time jobs. Fearful of losing her livelihood, the older woman had only been persuaded to take the doctor’s advice and rest when Katie had agreed to stand in for her until she regained her strength.
Maura had acted as caretaker and occasional housekeeper at a superb contemporary house which overlooked a sea inlet a few miles from their home. Owned by a German industrialist and rarely occupied, the property lay down a long gated track and enjoyed an incredibly private and beautiful setting. Katie had one day prepared the house for the occupation of a single mystery guest. A car accident had put the two domestic staff travelling with Alexandros out of commission and the rental agency, unaware that Katie was doing her mother’s job for her, had recommended her parent as temporary cook and cleaner.
A fax had followed, detailing more exact requirements, and Katie had been staggered by the number of rules she was expected to observe, ranging from meals to be served at rigid hours and a duty on her part to being both invisible and silent. On the other hand, the salary offered had been generous enough to bring a delighted smile to her mother’s anxious face, and the cutting-edge equipment being installed in the office with a sea view and a balcony had suggested that the guest would be much too busy to pay heed to the amateur level of the household help. Of course, accustomed as Alexandros was to perfection in every field, he had refused to settle for less, and Katie, secretly resenting the role of servant, had refused to be suitably humble. That they should clash had been inevitable.
No passage of time could eradicate Katie’s memory of her first glimpse of Alexandros. After he had arrived by helicopter, he had gone straight down to the seashore. From about twenty yards away she had watched him, dumbstruck by his sleek, dark, masculine magnificence. Clad in jeans and a husky grey cashmere sweater, and even with his black hair tousled by the breeze and designer stubble obscuring his stubborn jawline, he had bewitched her. She had never known a man could be that physically beautiful, or seem so alone and isolated. Wanton desire and longing had leapt up in her that very first moment, and she had never been able to overcome it…
Someone rapped at the door and she studied it in dismay, fearing another complaint just when Toby had mercifully subsided to the occasional long-drawn-out whimper of dissatisfaction. Tiptoeing over, she eased the door open a crack, for she was dressed in her pyjamas, and then fell back in complete confusion.
‘May I come in?’ Alexandros asked grimly, his dignity having been severely ruffled by Cyrus’s insistence that it was necessary for his employer to enter the building in a clandestine manner and via an alley full of dustbins. An instant later Alexandros’ irritation had vanished into the ether—a triviality when set next to the cold shock of his surroundings…
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