The Greek Tycoon's Forbidden Affair

  THE GREEK TYCOON’S FORBIDDEN AFFAIR

  Clare Connelly

  All the characters in this book are fictitious and have no existence outside the author’s imagination. They have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names and are pure invention.

  All rights reserved. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reprinted by any means without permission of the Author.

  The illustration on the cover of this book features model/s and bears no relation to the characters described within.

  First published 2014

  (c) Clare Connelly

  Photo Credit: dollarphotoclub.com / captblack76

  Contact Clare:

  Website: www.clareconnelly.co.uk

  Blog: http://clarewriteslove.wordpress.com/

  Email: Clareconnelly@outlook.com

  Follow Clare Connelly on facebook for all the latest; or on

  twitter, if you’re more of the tweet-tweet persuasion.

  CHAPTER ONE

  She was a plain creature, Loucas thought with a disapproving scowl. From behind his reflective office windows, he observed the woman who’d arrived, unexpected, and unwelcome, at his office in Athens.

  Unexpected intrusions into his life were not tolerated.

  Ever.

  Loucas owned one of the biggest transport companies in the world, and he didn’t have time for diversions or distractions.

  He let out a long, slow sigh. Like it or not, he was in the midst of a diversion though. The little boy who had come to Greece a month earlier, thrust upon him without warning or preparation, was precisely the kind of diversion Loucas couldn’t stand.

  Under his hawk-like watch, the woman closed her eyes and appeared to take in a deep breath. Her ample chest swelled, so that the blouse she wore strained a little. A button looked in imminent danger of freeing itself from the flimsy cotton and popping across the room.

  He stifled a groan of annoyance then stood. Sharply, he strode across the plush carpet, unaware that, even to an empty room, he conveyed a sense of power and magnitude that would cause most people to quake.

  “Miss Jones,” he announced into the cavernous reception area, waving his personal assistant away when she would have escorted the woman in. For reasons he couldn’t fathom, he wanted to speak to the woman privately. Now, which one was Miss Jones? He’d left much of the hiring to the child’s Nanny, though he had, of course, made sure each member of the team was vetted by his security agency. The last thing he needed was someone of dubious morality working in close quarters with the heir to the Aleksandros fortune.

  She stood and ran a hand down the denim jeans she was wearing. The eternal uniform of the student, he condemned silently, his frown deepening. He had been assured that the professionals hired were all first rate. This woman looked little more than a child herself, and hardly capable of unscrewing a stubborn lid off a jar of raspberry jam.

  Her eyes were a shade of blue that Loucas had never seen in real life. So bright and translucent that someone could have mixed turquoise and glitter and painted it into her face. He was momentarily thrown off balance when her direct stare locked on his own coal-black eyes, and held his glance without fear. Her lips, they were rather artistic too, he thought, quirked into a small smile of derision. He knew it was derisive, because her mouth perfectly expressed an emotion that was very familiar to him.

  “Do come in,” he invited, his voice lacking even a hint of warmth.

  “Thank you.” Hers was similarly cold.

  He stood back into his office, waiting impatiently while she seemed to dawdle across the vast reception area. He had been wrong to assess her as plain. She was passably pretty, he saw, up close, with her clear skin and sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose. The figure which, while seated, had looked boxy and over-generous, he now saw was simply voluptuous. Her hair, pulled up in a harsh bun, was as fair as the honey his grandfather had collected many years earlier. Let loose, he imagined it would be quite a sight.

  As if she could read the direction of his thoughts, her bow shaped lips quirked from derisive to withering, as she sailed past him into his corner office.

  She stopped in her tracks when her eyes fell upon the view. Wall to wall windows revealed the stunning backdrop of Athens at dusk. The sky was tinged with pinks, purples and streaks of flaming orange; the buildings in the business district had taken on the colors, and stood like peach and plum sentinels to the sky. Even in her current state of agitation, Mikey couldn’t help but be awe-struck by the beauty of this grand old dame of a city.

  She turned to face the man she had, over the last four weeks, come to loathe with a passion. Though she’d never met him, she had all the information necessary to form her judgement. Her eyes, always so expressive, easily conveyed this information to Loucas. The effect was to inspire a slightly sardonic raise of his thick, dark brows as he took his time continuing his insolent inspection of her.

  And though he was everything she despised in a person, Mikey was powerless to control the way her skin seemed to flush beneath his eyes. He scanned her face, seeing every nuance of expression. Her body he subjected to a similarly thorough scrutiny. She wished she’d put a little more thought into her clothing. But she’d stormed out of the house as soon as Andrew had been engaged with his dinner and bedtime routine, knowing she had only a brief window before she would again be required to help him find the brief peace that sleep alone could offer. And even then, the peace was not reliable. The nightmares had been particularly wrenching to witness, of late.

  “Ms Jones.” His voice was deeper and more accented than she’d expected. “How can I help you?”

  Mikey Jones waved a hand through the air with dismissive impatience. “Call me Mikey, Mr. Aleksandros.”

  “Mikey?” His disapproval was clear.

  “It’s short for Michael.”

  His scowl was brief. She’d been cursed with less than spectacular looks and a man’s name. It was not her fault though. He shrugged, but the scowl had perfectly expressed his disapproval. “As you wish. How can I help you, Michael?”

  On his lips, her name sounded dainty, and almost pretty. With his thick accent, it sounded more like May-keel, and she liked that. It was the first time anyone had been able to take the rather masculine moniker and soften it. The thought was a red herring. There were far more important things at stake than how he made her name sound. She spun around to give him her full attention. And wished she hadn’t. He was tall. And broad. Big and powerful. Dark, handsome. Commanding. Adjectives kept tripping over themselves in Mikey’s brain, as she searched for the word that best described this Greek-God-Come-To-Life. .

  “Mikey,” she corrected firmly. May-keel was just a little too seductive sounding, on his lips. “I’m sure you can guess my reason for coming.” He knew, from her file, that she’d grown up in California. Her voice was unmistakably American, and so too was her brashness.

  “I am not a mind-reader,” he contradicted, forcing the shadow of a smile to his face. He was swamped. Practically groaning under the weight of the work he had to do. He thought again how inappropriate it was for this woman to have arrived at his office like this.

  Mikey’s eyes narrowed. “And nor are you an idiot. You don’t have to be psychic to know that our only common interest is Andrew.”

  “Andrew.” He nodded, comprehension dawning. His twin sister Helena’s child. The nephew that was now his to raise. “Is the boy okay? What’s the matter?”

  “The boy?” She snorted sarcastically. “The boy, as you call him, is not okay. No.”

  Not by a flicker on his face did Loucas convey any emotion at this. “Oh?” He moved b
ehind his executive desk and sat down in the leather chair. He indicated with a nod of his raven dark head that she should do likewise. But Mikey was too agitated to sit. Instead, she braced her palms on the edge of his desk and leaned forward, so that she could stare him straight in the eyes. Distractingly enigmatic eyes, she noted, wide set, almond shaped and rimmed in curling, dark lashes.

  “In what way is my nephew unwell? Apart from the obvious?”

  His cold detachment in matters of business was legendary, but she had expected more from him with regards his own flesh and blood. “The obvious?” She spluttered. “Your nephew is four years old. Two months ago he lost his mother, and his father, and then his home, when you chose to bring him to a foreign country to live.”

  Loucas locked onto her phrasing and immediately interrogated, “And you do not approve of my decision to bring Andrew to Greece?”

  Mikey grimaced. She had intended to be circumspect. To keep emotion out of it. She had wanted to present the bare facts, and nothing more. “I…” she gnawed on her full lower lip, unaware of how distracting the innocent gesture was to the powerful billionaire opposite. “I think a gentle transition period would have been preferable.”

  Loucas’s mouth was a grim slash in his face. “It was simply not possible for me to move my business command center abroad. I am sorry if that displeases you, Miss… Jones… but there you have it.”

  She narrowed her eyes in a scathing stare. “Don’t even think about dismissing me, Mr. Aleksandros. You might be used to calling the shots in here,” she gestured to the lavishly furnished office, “but you hired me to speed Andrew’s recovery along, and I’m telling you, I can’t do that without your help.”

  Something uncomfortable lodged in his chest. Loucas shook his head. “You mean, I presume, help beyond providing the child with a mansion, and an army of staff to cater to his every need? Beyond managing his trust fund and investing on his behalf? Beyond ensuring he goes to the best schools money can buy, and lives comfortably and well for all his days?”

  Mikey had the distinct impression she was speaking to an alien. “Surely you don’t think those material things matter at all to a four year old? Even you can’t be so obtuse.”

  Loucas leaned forward, and his large, hulking frame seemed intimidating somehow. “Obtuse is a word that has never been applied to me, Miss Jones, and I don’t much care for its use now.”

  She planted her hands on her hips, in an unknowingly provocative gesture. “I don’t much care what you care for,” Mikey said tersely. “What I care about is Andrew. He might be your nephew, but he’s my patient, and I’m telling you, there’s a limit to what I can achieve without your cooperation.”

  He slowly lifted his eyes from Mikey’s waist which, he could now appreciate, was neatly tucked in. “And what cooperation can I possibly offer you?”

  She opened her mouth to enumerate the list she’d made, but a shrill ringing interrupted her. Mikey watched, incensed, as he lifted the receiver from the cradle and pressed it to his ear. Without so much as a smile of apology, he began to speak in rapid fire Greek, all the while making notes on a leather bound notepad on his desk. He spoke at length. Long enough for Mikey to pace his office several times, surreptitiously studying each and every object d’art, or should that be d’affluence, as she went. Such obvious signs of wealth were unimpressive to Mikey, especially when they were obviously valued above truly important things, and people.

  “You were saying, Miss Jones?” He prompted impatiently, having disconnected the call.

  She turned away from the view over Athens. “My time mightn’t be as valuable as yours, Mr. Aleksandros, but when we’re discussing your nephew, I’d appreciate it if you’d at least pretend to be interested.”

  “O thee mou,” he cursed under his breath. “How dare you say that I’m not interested in my nephew?”

  The last little shred of her patience evaporated in a puff of angry smoke. “And how dare you say that you are?” She challenged, marching haughtily across the office and standing right before him. If she hadn’t been so cross, she might have realized that she was only inches away from him. That she actually stood within the triangle formed by his legs.

  He looked up at her, his emotions at war. Outrage and fury battled with a strange sense of physical attraction. Strange, because he didn’t find her at all attractive. Sure, she had her good points, but she wasn’t the kind he usually went for. And yet this curvaceous pocket rocket had inspired in him a strong and undesirable burst of desire. He forced himself to ignore it, and instead, focus on the insults she was determinedly hurling at him.

  “He is my sister’s child. My dead sister’s child.” His voice was hollow, his words rich with his pain. “Of course I am interested in him. Of course I care for him.”

  Mikey was not impressed. She threw her hands in the air in exasperation. “Caring is as caring does.”

  “Meaning?”

  She slapped her palm to her forehead. “For someone who’s reputed to be so smart, you sure are slow on the uptake.” At his continued silence, she expanded, “I mean that you’re nowhere to be seen. I’ve been on Nisi Ourano for a month now and I haven’t so much as set eyes on you.”

  Loucas might have made a flirtatious observation here, about her wanting to see him, except that she was actually shaking with anger. The effect he usually exerted over women was noticeably absent with Mikey Jones.

  With a seemingly casual pose, he enquired silkily, “And this is a problem?”

  “Andrew has lost everyone and everything he cares for. You are the only family he has left. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  “I am a busy man, Arnaki. As much as I would like to play nursemaid to my nephew, I cannot. That is what I have employed you for.”

  Mikey had never hit another person in her life, but her fingers tingled to slap him now. She clutched her hands together, simply to prevent herself from striking. “Yes, yes,” her voice was clearly scathing. “You’ve got your four men of the emotional apocalypse.”

  Despite himself, and the tension emanating from Mikey, he felt a hint of amusement. He had brought four specialists to Greece to assist the boy in his recovery. It was an amusing description for the team of experts.

  Mikey was still talking. “…But that’s not the same thing. You have your sister’s eyes. Just like your nephew does. He should be able to look into them from time to time.”

  He swore now, bitterly, as he dragged himself up to standing. He braced himself against the table. “What do you know of Helena’s eyes?”

  Mikey jumped at the bitterness in his voice. She’d said something terribly, terribly wrong. All of the anger fizzled out, and in its place, remorse and compassion lingered. “Only what I’ve seen in photographs.”

  “Photographs? There are no pictures of Helena at Nisi Ourano.” He’d made sure of that. When she’d gone against his wishes and married The American, Chad Washington, Loucas had expunged her from his life. Being named legal guardian of the boy was as shocking to Loucas as his sister’s death had been.

  “No, I noticed.” She took a step backwards, faltering a little. “In any event, Andrew is a scared little boy who’s been through an unimaginable trauma. He needs to connect with someone.”

  “So let him connect with you.”

  Loucas’s voice was implacable, his face frozen like a stone. Mikey slowly scanned his handsome features, wondering at what had happened to this man to make him so cold and heartless.

  “I am not heartless, Ms Jones.” He commented with a harsh shake of his head. She hadn’t realized she’d spoken her thoughts out loud. Embarrassed color flushed her face. “Nor do I appreciate being spoken to so frankly by someone who doesn’t even know me.”

  Now it was Mikey’s turn to feel angry. “I know plenty about you,” she snapped. “Like the fact that you have a nephew on the brink of a complete emotional breakdown and you don’t care enough to spend even a moment of your time with him.”

&nb
sp; When Loucas expelled a long breath, his nostrils flared, and he looked truly terrifying. Unknowingly, Mikey took a step backwards, lodging her hip against the hard edge of the large desk in the process.

  “I don’t want to see him,” he ground out, a muscle flexing in his jaw.

  “Why not?” She pushed, though she knew she was skating on very thin ice. “What can a four year old have possibly done to inspire this level of resentment in you?”

  Loucas dropped his gaze. “It’s none of your damned business, lady. I am paying you to help Andrew learn to speak again. That is it. I do not need someone like you to psychoanalyse me.”

  How wrong he was, she thought with a small, inward smile. He needed psychoanalysis like nobody’s business. How could anyone be so cruel to a small child? Especially a small child like Andrew – all sweetness vulnerability, sadness, and downy cheeks? Who had suffered such a terrible tragedy? Mikey knew that she had already become far too in love with Andrew, but it had been out of her hands. He was so sweetly pathetic, and so emotionally needy, that the writing had been on the proverbial wall from the moment she’d first met him.

  “Didn’t anyone ever teach you about manners?” She fixed him with a withering, disapproving glare.

  The subtle reproach caught him off guard. His mother Anna had been a stickler for manners and respect. And it was true, Loucas had become rather slack at employing his training in that department.

  Still, the last thing he needed was for this woman to be taking up his valuable time with criticisms. “Again, that is none of your business.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Have it your way.” She turned around and grabbed her handbag up off the chair. “I had heard you described as an arrogant piece of work, but I had hoped I would find some human decency in you. That I might be able to appeal to your basic goodness, and enlist your help. I see now how foolish I was. Not everyone has a streak of goodness, and you most certainly do not, Mr. Aleksandros. In fact, if anyone asked, I’d say you’re pure evil.”

  He watched, jaw practically scraping the floor of his office, as she strode angrily across the room. Her shoulders were set square; she was fuming.