pressure of business than a wife happy for him to keep his sexual options open? Krista would be much too busy pampering and clothing her perfect body to feel neglected by her billionaire husband.
As soon as Giannis rejoined the party Krista sped to his side, to beg him to share another photo opportunity. Not an ounce of his impatience showed on his lean, aristocratic face. Although he detested publicity, he was prepared to allow her her way at their engagement celebration.
Relieved by his lack of objection, Krista tucked a hand over his arm and became chatty. ‘Is that horrid old crone in the corner from your tribe or mine?’ she asked with a giggle.
Giannis glanced across the exquisitely furnished room and his eyes stilled on the little old lady dressed in unrelieved black and sitting erect. Horrid old crone? As Dorkas seldom left the island of Libos she was rarely recognised outside the family circle. His brilliant but semi-veiled dark eyes flashed smouldering gold.
‘Why?’
‘She actually asked me if I could cook. Hello!’ Krista rolled her eyes with the supreme scorn of a young woman accustomed to being waited on hand and foot. ‘Then she asked if I would be waiting for you when you got back from the office! As if…’ she mocked. ‘Someone should’ve left that old biddy at home. She embarrassed me. I do hope she won’t be at our wedding.’
‘If she isn’t, I won’t be either.’ His response was smooth as silk.
Giannis watched his fiancée take a few seconds to comprehend what he was telling her. Shaken, Krista gave him an appalled look. Her long manicured nails dug into his sleeve in a panic before he could walk away. ‘Giannis, I—’
‘That old lady is my great-grandmother, and worthy of your deepest respect,’ Giannis delivered with cold emphasis.
Aghast at having offended him, Krista grovelled. To the list of her flaws he added the sins of vulgarity and insincerity.
CHAPTER ONE
IN THE best of moods, and ready for her second day temping at Petrakos Industries, Maddie bounced on to the bathroom scales and stilled to look hopefully down at the gauge. She winced at the reading. Possibly it hadn’t been a good idea to jump on them. She got off again. Shedding her nightdress and her watch, she reset the weighing machine and stepped on as lightly as possible. Disappointingly, the weight was identical.
‘You can’t keep body and soul together on that salad stuff,’ old Mrs Evans who lived on the ground floor had opined, when Maddie had joined her and her daughter for a delicious three-course Sunday lunch, complete with all the trimmings, just a couple of days earlier.
Perhaps the ‘salad stuff’ would have been safer? Or possibly the bar of chocolate she had eaten on the way home from the supermarket the night before had been an over-indulgence too far? Could extra weight go on that fast? In truth, the long hours she worked just to pay the rent raised her healthy appetite to starvation proportions, and she still did not earn enough to eat well. Her despondent green eyes travelled across the expanse of her full-breasted, generous-hipped reflection. Generous mouth tightening, she looped impatient fingers through her torrent of long red hair, then anchored it back with a clip and got dressed at speed.
The black jeans and white blouse had a closer fit than she liked over her opulent curves, and she frowned. When a fire had broken out at her last address she had lost almost everything she possessed. Although she was trying to build up a new wardrobe by buying from charity shops, it wasn’t easy on a low income. As she turned away from the mirror her attention fell on the photo of her late sister by her bed, and she scolded herself for being so precious about her appearance when she was lucky to have her health.
‘Look on the bright side,’ had been her grandmother’s most constant refrain while she was growing up.
‘Every cloud has a silver lining,’ her grandfather had often chipped in with determination.
Yet Maddie and her grandparents had known a lot of heartbreak in their lives. Suzy, Maddie’s beloved twin, had been diagnosed with leukaemia soon after the girls’ eighth birthday. The stress of coping with Suzy’s illness had destroyed their parents’ marriage. Their paternal grandparents had taken charge, supporting Suzy through her gruelling treatment, her period of remission, and finally the last stages of her life. And ultimately it had been Suzy’s fierce determination to get the most out of the time she’d had left that had taught Maddie the importance of hanging on to a cheerful outlook.
As she waited at the bus stop Maddie was struggling to subdue a juvenile tingle of excitement while she wondered if this would be the day she caught a glimpse of the legendary Giannis Petrakos again. Honestly, when she thought about him she felt more like a schoolgirl than a twenty-three-year-old grown-up! It was embarrassing to recall that she had once cherished a newspaper photo of the startlingly handsome Greek shipping tycoon. But she had been a teenager, and she’d developed a hopeless crush on him.
Petrakos Industries was a towering contemporary office block in the City of London. Maddie had never worked anywhere quite so imposing before, and the standards demanded of the staff were equally high. Even though she was only a temp, and generally entrusted with only menial tasks, her lack of qualifications had produced frowns on her first day. As always, she tried to compensate by being very hardworking and enthusiastic. She would have done just about anything to get a permanent job with such a company, because a decent salary would make a big difference to her life.
‘Another five hundred jobs are being moved to Eastern Europe to cut costs,’ a female voice lamented outside the room where Maddie was engaged in inputting onto a computer database. ‘The press will go mental over it—’
‘Petrakos Industries is in the top three most successful companies in the world,’ male tones chipped in reprovingly. ‘Giannis Petrakos may be a ruthless bastard, but he’s invincible in business. Don’t forget that his shark-like instincts are likely to deliver us an even bigger bonus this year.’
‘Do you ever think about anything other than money?’ the woman censured. ‘Petrakos is a super-wealthy guy with about as much human emotion as a piece of granite.’
Maddie was tempted to go to the door and protest that point. But in her guise as an unwilling eavesdropper she knew she could scarcely do so. What was more, while she might long to sing Giannis Petrakos’s praises, it was certainly not her place to talk about his private endeavours. Suppressing a sigh, she returned her attention to the database.
After lunch she and her agency co-worker, Stacy, were sent to the top floor to help out. A brunette manager called Annabel told Stacy that she would be serving refreshments at an afternoon meeting.
‘I’m a temp, not a waitress!’ Stacy declared pugnaciously.
‘Your role as a temp is to do as you are asked,’ Annabel retorted crisply. ‘Petrakos Industries requires a high degree of flexibility from all employees—’
‘I’m not an employee…I’m a temp—and I don’t serve the tea—’
‘Not to worry,’ Maddie slotted in hastily, keen to bring the battle to an end before Stacy argued both of them out of a job. ‘I’ll do it.’
In receipt of that offer, Annabel defrosted only marginally, and angled a pointed look of disapproval at Maddie’s jeans. ‘The company dress code doesn’t allow jeans, but I suppose you’ll have to do.’
‘You should’ve slapped that
