A Ring to Secure His Heir Read online

  On the Friday, her boss, Vanessa, phoned to tell her that the following week she would be working somewhere else. The job at STA Industries was finished and she would not be returning there. But although that temporary contract was now at an end, STA Industries had offered Vanessa’s cleaning service a more lucrative twelve-month contract at another one of their companies. So that was that, Rosie thought numbly that weekend. She would never see Alex Kolovos again. He had obviously sent her the flowers out of some misplaced sense of guilt while aware that he had no intention of contacting her again.

  Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am, she reflected painfully, astonished by how much his rejection hurt and made her question herself. She had taken a risk, had awarded her trust to a man she barely knew and she had suffered accordingly. Let this be a lesson to you, she told herself squarely, exasperated by how torn up she felt about the disrespectful way he had treated her. Alex had only wanted to get her into bed and, having achieved that so easily, he had had no desire to repeat the experience. Now that she knew he had gone for good she allowed herself to recall how disconcerted he had been to become her first lover. Clearly an amateur between the sheets had little appeal for him.

  At the end of the second week, Rosie was concerned when her period failed to arrive because she was usually as regular as clockwork in that department. She reminded herself that she was on the pill and very unlikely to be pregnant but the fact that she had slept with Alex still loomed large in her mind. One anxious week after that she made an appointment to see her doctor and was sent straight off for a pregnancy test.

  ‘But I’m taking the contraceptive pill—I thought I was protected!’ Rosie exclaimed when the doctor broke the news that she had conceived.

  The doctor was kind, understanding and he asked her several specific questions, one of which was had she suffered from any stomach upsets. And then she remembered that night she had been ill and her eyes locked with the doctor’s in sudden dismay and comprehension.

  ‘You probably threw up your pill and that compromised your protection. You should have taken other precautions for the rest of the month,’ he pronounced with a sigh.

  Rosie left the surgery in a daze, barely able to believe that what she had been told was true. It didn’t seem possible to her that what she had shared so briefly with Alex could result in an actual child, but there was something very realistic about the numerous leaflets on pregnancy that she had had pressed on her at the surgery. A baby, she thought sickly. How on earth would she ever be able to cope with a baby when she could barely afford to feed and clothe herself?

  It occurred to her that Alex Kolovos was equally responsible. Why hadn’t he used a condom? Why had he relied on her precautions? Why should he get away scot-free in ignorance while her life was plunged into chaos? Bitterness scythed through Rosie. Why did she have to be caught the one and only time she had strayed from the straight and narrow? And what chance did the unfortunate little mite she had conceived so carelessly have of a happy life? Rosie had been planning to go to university in the autumn. She had two offers from good universities conditional on the results of her exams, which she was due to sit in a couple of weeks. She wanted to study business management but how was she going to manage that with a baby in tow?

  Alex should be told, Rosie decided unhappily that evening while she cleaned offices in another company belonging to the STA Industries group. He had the right to know: it would be his child as well. No doubt he would be displeased, if not downright annoyed. Rosie could not find it within her heart to feel sorry for him on that score. A child would wreak less havoc on his life than on hers.

  The next morning before she could lose her nerve, Rosie caught the tube to the headquarters of STA Industries, got into the lift and travelled up to the top floor. The svelte receptionist viewed her with polite curiosity as she uttered her request to see Alex Kolovos.

  ‘There’s no one of that name working here,’ the young woman responded drily.

  ‘Oh, there is. I met him two … three weeks ago. He worked late a lot,’ Rosie specified, her cheeks warming as the receptionist frowned at her. ‘I’ll sit down and wait while you track him down.’

  ‘I can’t track down someone who doesn’t exist,’ the woman retorted crisply. ‘I know every member of staff and there is no one of that name employed here.’

  Rosie sank down gingerly on the edge of one of the sleek leather sofas in the luxurious waiting area. She was tense and uncomfortable, conscious that she looked out of place in her jeans and jacket when everyone else, both men and women, wore smart dark suits. Could Alex have lied to her? Given her a false name? My goodness, could that photo on his desk have been his, after all? Was it possible that the man she had slept with was married? Paper-white and sick at that sudden appalling suspicion, Rosie watched the receptionist make a phone call and noticed that she was deliberately not looking in her direction and talking very quietly. Was she the subject of that phone call or was she being paranoid? All of a sudden the woman shot her a startled glance and frowned.

  ‘Someone is coming to help you with your request,’ the receptionist announced with perceptible discomfiture.

  Had she called building security to have her thrown out? Rosie’s face turned red as fire. Was Alex married? Had he given her a fake name?

  An older man in a suit strode into Reception. ‘Miss Gray?’

  Rosie stumbled upright. ‘Yes? I can show you the office Alex worked in—’

  ‘That will not be necessary, Miss Gray. Er … Alex is waiting to see you,’ he informed her. ‘Come this way …’

  Her smooth brow indenting, Rosie caught the stunned expression on the receptionist’s face and wondered what on earth was going on. Had the receptionist lied to her? She pushed a stray strand of pale hair off her hot face and grabbed her bag to follow the older man down a short corridor she had only vacuumed before, for the door at the end led into the big boss’s office and it, not having been included in the cleaning schedule, had been kept locked while she had worked there.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Rosie prompted tautly.

  Without answering her, he thrust open the imposing door. ‘Miss Gray, sir.’

  Rosie stepped into a huge light-filled office and blinked nervously, the tip of her tongue snaking out to moisten her lower lip as her attention fell on the tall male poised beside the glass desk. Behind her the door closed, welding her into the awful buzzing silence.

  ‘Alex?’ she whispered uncertainly.

  He stepped out of the sunlight. ‘My full name is Alexius Kolovos Stavroulakis,’ he drawled. ‘In an effort to be discreet I gave you only part of it. Fortunately, Titos, the head of my security team, recognised the name you gave to the receptionist.’

  Stavroulakis? Even Rosie knew that the S in STA Industries stood for Stavroulakis. He wasn’t an employee, he was the boss and a very wealthy and powerful man, yet he had deliberately misled her as to his identity. In the bemused frame of mind she was in, her tension surged so high as that shock hit home hard and she felt horribly dizzy.

  ‘Stav-vroulakis?’ she stammered almost incomprehensibly as she swayed, fighting off the waves of giddiness assailing her and making it impossible to focus on him. ‘But why would a guy like you come after a woman like me?’

  In the stark daylight she was white as a sheet, her eyes pools of shock and uneasiness. He saw her sway and strode forward, but not fast enough to catch her as she dropped to the floor in a heap with a tiny little moan.

  With a presentiment of doom unequalled in his experience, Alexius Kolovos Stavroulakis bent down and lifted her slight body up into his arms. He could think of only one reason why Rosie might have taken the trouble to seek him out and he was very much hoping that he was wrong.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ALEXIUS surveyed Rosie where she lay on the sofa in his penthouse apartment. She was coming round again, her slight body shifting, a sigh fleeing her lips. She looked like a doll, a doll dressed as a teenager in jeans, striped swe
ater and jacket. A woolly hat with a bobble actually stuck out of one jacket pocket. The canvas shoes on her feet were badly worn, the fabric backing showing through in places. Thee mou, what the hell had he been thinking of when he bedded her? And the answer was that he had not been thinking at all. Finally, he let his attention rove to her delicate profile, the lashes fluttering now, faint pink warming her cheekbones as natural colour drove away the extreme pallor she had worn only minutes earlier. Her soft pink mouth pouted and he hardened in a reaction as predictable as a wave hitting the shore, he decided wrathfully. He could still feel the hot tight embrace of her body, but even better did he recall the look of wonder in her eyes afterwards. No woman had ever treated Alexius to a look quite like that. Indeed, for three long, endless weeks, Alexius had been reliving that night, trying to sleep with an erection that wouldn’t quit, dreaming about her, waking up still unsatisfied and still angry with himself.

  He had got involved, something he never did with a woman, and it looked as if that error of judgement was going to pay off in spades in record time.

  Rosie opened her eyes on a great wall of glass that she didn’t recognise and sat up in dismay to glimpse a rooftop view of London that could only belong to someone who inhabited a hugely privileged world. Her head swam and she grimaced at the discomfort.

  ‘Don’t try to get up while you’re still feeling woozy,’ Alex advised smoothly.

  Not Alex, Alexius, she reminded herself doggedly, finally turning her head to look at him. There he was, standing straight and tall, arrogant black head tilted back, and it was a moment when he looked every inch what he was: a very well-dressed rich and powerful businessman with silver eyes as sharp as a laser beam. He was so beautiful it hurt her to look at him and she dropped her gaze again, protecting herself from her weakness. But those lean, darkly handsome features of his were breathtakingly beautiful and she no longer marvelled at the ease with which he had got her into bed. He was uber-temptation, way beyond what an ordinary girl could expect to meet up with and withstand.

  ‘Where am I?’ she asked.

  ‘This apartment is above my office. I wanted privacy in which to talk to you.’ His voice was concise, cool, measured. His complete calm gave her a horrendously strong desire to slap him.

  ‘You lied to me about who you were.’

  It begins, Alexius thought fatalistically. ‘I didn’t lie. I merely omitted certain portions of the truth.’

  Rosie swung her feet to the smooth wooden floor. Her attention skittered across smoked glass tables, luxury furniture and several very impressive paintings and the dazed feeling she was suffering from returned in full force. She was a fish out of water in such opulent surroundings. ‘Semantics and I just bet you’re a master of them! What the heck kind of a game were you playing with me?’

  ‘Sit down again, Rosie,’ Alexius urged. ‘It wasn’t a game. Your grandfather—’

  ‘I don’t have a grandfather—’

  ‘Your father’s father, Socrates Seferis, is still very much alive,’ he countered.

  ‘My mother told me that my father had no living relatives,’ she replied argumentatively, chin lifting in challenge.

  Even with her hair scraped back in a no-nonsense ponytail, she was quite astonishingly pretty, Alexius reflected grimly, not best pleased to have noticed the fact. Quite deliberately he thought of the sort of woman who usually attracted him. Tall, curvy, dark-haired and ladylike, and here was Rosie, tiny, boyish in shape, quick-tempered and cheeky and quite irresistibly appealing on some level he couldn’t penetrate.

  ‘Your mother knew very well that your grandfather existed because she applied to him for financial help after your father deserted her when she was pregnant with you,’ Alexius told her. ‘He gave her money.’

  Rosie had paled and slowly she sat down again. ‘But I never saw any money.’

  ‘That may be so. I’m aware that you grew up in foster care but nonetheless the fact remains, your grandfather did care about what happened to you and did what he could to ensure that you were raised in comfort and security.’

  Rosie stared at her canvas-shod feet. She had never had security, even at Beryl’s house when she was aware that she could be moved on to other carers at any time. But she was now recalling a period in her life when her visits with her mother had been almost exciting. Jenny had had loads of photos to show her daughter of foreign beaches and fancy hotels and she had worn colourful flashy clothes and skyscraper heels. Later, with hindsight, Rosie had assumed that her mother must’ve had a rich boyfriend providing her with those luxuries. But what if the money that had financed Jenny’s designer wardrobe and frequent travels abroad had come from Rosie’s grandfather, Socrates, instead? It was certainly possible that Jenny Gray had lied. If she had accepted money to help her raise the child she was not actually raising, it would have been an act of fraud that could have got her mother into serious trouble, Rosie reasoned ruefully. What was more, even as a child Rosie had realised that her mother commonly told lies when it suited her to do so. It made sense that Jenny would have concealed Socrates’s existence to cover her own tracks. Alexius’s version of events might well be the truth as Rosie had never known it but what she could not comprehend was why Alexius Stavroulakis should be discussing her unknown grandfather with her.

  ‘What’s your place in all this?’ Rosie demanded with spirit. ‘What connection do you have to my grandfather? How do you know these things about my background?’

  ‘Socrates Seferis is my godfather and a very old friend.’ Alexius breathed in deep and slow, relieved that she seemed calm for all the air of bewilderment that clung to her. ‘He asked me to get to know you and tell him what you were like.’

  ‘Get to know me?’ Rosie repeated, studying him in frank astonishment. ‘Why would he do that?’

  ‘He wanted to know what sort of woman you were before he invited you to visit him in Greece and he trusted my judgement. It should interest you to know that I’ve already informed Socrates that you are everything he could hope for in a granddaughter,’ he delivered with patronising cool.

  ‘ And that’s why you started talking to me, helped me out with Jason, took me for a meal?’ Rosie guessed sickly, her heart sinking down to her sock soles in the strained silence. It had all been a lie, everything from his first taking notice of her to his seeming interest and the amazing pleasure he had introduced her to in bed that same evening.

  ‘Naturally the sex wasn’t part of the plan,’ Alexius remarked with perceptible distaste.

  White as milk, whipped by that distaste, Rosie gazed back at him, big green eyes pools of distress and censure. Her small hands balled into defensive fists.

  ‘I took advantage of you when you were vulnerable. That was wrong,’ Alexius murmured even though it was a challenge for him to sound suitably humble. He had no intention of apologising for the best sex he’d had in a decade but he was well aware it had been inappropriate in the circumstances.

  Rosie stared at him through her cloaking lashes, her heart thumping far too fast for comfort. With shame she felt the clamour of her awakened body respond to him, the tightening tingle of her nipples and the surge of damp awareness between her legs. He had taught her to want him and now that deceptive sense of intimate connection was ready to betray her. But he was not the guy she had believed he was: he really was a stranger. She refused to think about him taking advantage of her because that made her feel small and out of control of her own destiny. That was a humiliating appraisal of their intimacy that she just did not need at that moment.

  ‘That cash that supposedly got caught up in the vacuum cleaner? Was that some sort of a test?’ Rosie pressed bitterly.

  ‘A rudimentary but effective one. I needed to know for my godfather’s sake if you could be trusted,’ Alexius declared smoothly. ‘Please accept that I did not intend to injure you in any way when I approached you. I was trying to help out a close friend at his request. Have you no questions to ask about your grandfather?’
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  Picking up on the hint of reproach in that query, Rosie stiffened even more. ‘Should I have? A man whom I didn’t even know existed until five minutes ago? A man who knew I existed but who has never tried to meet me? And a man who asked you to check me out for him, rather than get to know me himself?’

  That was a cooler and more critical appraisal of the situation than he had expected to receive from a woman who had already admitted that she was keen to have a family. Alexius frowned, disappointed by her response. ‘There is some excuse for his behaviour. Socrates had major heart surgery only a couple of weeks ago and he is currently recuperating at his home in Athens. He is in no shape to fly over here to meet you in person.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that, but since he was so keen to have me vetted behind my back to see if I was the sort of person he was willing to know, I can’t say much more,’ Rosie countered curtly. ‘I think this is a horrible way to find out that I have a grandfather. You lied to me—’

  ‘I didn’t lie,’ Alexius shot back at her icily. ‘My full name is legally Alexius Kolovos Stavroulakis.’

  Her triangular face froze as if overnight frost had struck it pale and tight. ‘You lied,’ she said again. ‘You wanted to mislead me as to who you really were and it worked. I was so stupid, I fell for it!’

  Alexius stiffened, fiercely resisting an urge to move closer. The distress in her darkened eyes struck him like a slap in the face. ‘I’m sorry but I hope you will forgive me when you meet your grandfather—’

  ‘I’m not planning to meet him,’ Rosie told him flatly. ‘I’ve got enough trouble in my life without going out on a limb to meet some old man who tried to judge whether or not I was worth knowing before he even met me.’

  ‘Socrates has asked me to bring you to Greece. Don’t let the offence I have caused be laid at his door,’ he advised grimly. ‘If you do, I believe you will live to regret it. You are a kind-hearted woman.’