The Greek Tycoon's Tarnished Bride (Men of the Zodiac) Read online

  Beyond an open door she could see folded silky eiderdowns on a king-sized bed which also had a decorative drape cascading down from the back wall above the padded, floral headboard. “Good grief, even the dressing table has a frilly dress on,” she said out loud and laid her purse on top of a highly polished chest of wooden drawers.

  A log fire crackled in the black cast iron fireplace behind a heavy metal fire screen, one that looked childproof enough, she was pleased to note. Unlike the occasional tables dotted around. They looked pretty with their huge crystal vases full of fresh flowers and lace cloths that touched the carpet, but were a disaster waiting to happen once Nick got moving.

  Erica made her way through to the bedroom, which also had tall double aspect windows dressed with sheer net curtains for privacy. Tucked in the corner of the room next to one of the window seats was a pastel, crackle-finish painted crib. Its end panels were illustrated with bunnies scampering around an enchanted forest. The soft interior paneling and bedding was a mixture of pale blue and white polka dots. It was utterly charming and for a second she felt a pang of nostalgia, a yearning to be small and innocent again and snuggled into powdery scented softness where dreams were sweet and waking was always a joyous adventure. She looked down at Nick. He was awake and staring up at her with big inquisitive eyes the color of chestnuts, his rosebud mouth pursed thoughtfully.

  “How do you like the look of this lot, then?” She put the carrier on the bed, bent to unclip the fastening of the harness, and lifted his warm weight into her arms. She eased him against her chest and felt his head swivel from side to side taking in his unfamiliar surroundings and then a familiar moistness against her neck as he took a hank of her loose hair and shoved it into his Marmite-scented mouth. “Oh yuck,” she said with a giggle and lowered him down into the cot before handing over Bunny and his plastic key toy. “Be a good boy while I tidy up a few of these naughty flowers next door, yes?”

  Nick gurgled and seemed content to sit and play in the cot, but Erica knew it wouldn’t be long before he wanted her attention so she sprung into action immediately. She felt pretty sure she could pick up one of the phones that were in each of the rooms and dial for assistance, but it wasn’t in her nature to ask for help unless she absolutely had to and she certainly had no experience of dealing with “staff.” As she had suspected, a closed door in the corner of the bedroom opened to reveal a bathroom that was like something out of a luxury magazine shoot. It was as modern as the rest of the suite was antique and chintz, but not so high tech as to be confusing.

  The floor was stone effect vinyl that was soft and warm underfoot and astonishingly all the fixtures were curved. The enormous shower cubicle lined with gold and white mosaic tiles had a spotless curved glass screen, a lozenge-shaped bath with built-in water jets was illuminated by spotlights set into the ceiling, and an absolutely huge sink area made of marble had been shaped like a giant smooth pebble. Clever shelving underneath held fluffy white towels, bathrobes, matching slippers, and glistening toiletries. The whole room glittered with chrome fittings and mirrored glass. Nick was going to have a ball in here at bath time, she thought, and so was she! No nasty, sharp, cold corners to watch out for either, a world away from the chilly, chipped enamel and scale-stained bathroom she had left behind.

  In a matter of minutes she had transferred every single one of the heavy glass vases outside onto the bathroom sink. They would be safe from being pulled over by Nick in there, and she could easily shut the door on the flora for most of the time when she let him toddle around for a bit. She felt more at ease already, but had to smile at the over-the-top display she had created in the bathroom; the perfume of the lilies was quite intoxicating. She was reminded of a famous gay rock star who spent a thousand pounds a day on fresh-cut flowers in his home. “Eat your heart out, Elton,” she said with a laugh and then twitched with recognition as she heard Nick cry out. She turned round just in time to see his key set and bunny being hurled onto the floor accompanied by what sounded like shouts of victory as each one hit the carpet.

  He had hauled himself up the wooden railings of the cot and was gripping onto the top of the built-in teething bar. He smiled, and her heart melted at the sight of the six teeth he had already produced in the last few months with howls of fury and putrid nappies. “Uh oh!” he declared and then giggled as he peered over the edge of the cot at his handiwork.

  “Uh oh, indeed!” Erica picked the damp toys up and handed them back to Nick who promptly threw them straight out again with shrieks of delight. “I’m glad there aren’t any other guests staying,” she said with another laugh. “Or we’d get kicked out for making so much noise!” She looked around the room again, and it was glaringly obvious that the suite wasn’t particularly geared up for a family. The crib was gorgeous and no doubt cost a small fortune, but there were no toys and not very much could be wiped clean. She could already picture pureed vegetables being ground into the pale blue silk and golden velvets that were in abundance. She needed to get organized if they were to be staying here for a few days. Erica picked up the heavy, old-fashioned phone on her bedside table and dialed zero.

  “Good morning, Housekeeping Department,” came a cheerful female voice after a few rings. “How can we be of service to you, Miss Silver?”

  “Oh, um.” She really should have made a list before she rang. “I’d like something to eat. We would like something to eat and have you a high chair my son could use?”

  “Of course,” Housekeeping Department said with perfect pronunciation. “Something from the breakfast menu for yourself and something similar for Master Silver? Finger food perhaps? Or is it nearer young sir’s lunchtime?”

  “What do you have handy?”

  There was a brief pause. “There should be a welcome pack on the bed, Madam. It includes a standard menu, but that’s really only suggestions because Chef will prepare whatever you would like. The manor is well stocked with local, seasonal produce as one would expect, but if there is anything special you would like—”

  “Oh gosh no,” Erica blurted and was so glad there was nobody apart from Nick to see her cheeks flush. This was a world away from the life she had always led. Room service had never been an option for her. In fact, dining out anywhere but cheap restaurants on holiday and the odd takeout at home was as glamorous as it got. She grabbed the documents on the bed and flapped open the thick white menu card. The printing inside was script, intended to look like fountain pen and ink. God, this was all so posh. “I’ll have the eggs Benedict, a pot of coffee, and some orange juice. And…my little boy would probably really enjoy the mini sausages and mash. With some full fat milk, please. And some water. And a mess mat.”

  “A mess mat?”

  “Yes, he likes to feed himself but quite often he misses. He’s messy. Your carpets are very nice, and I don’t want to eat in the bathroom.”

  There was a sharp intake of breath from Housekeeping. “We would never expect madam to do that! And we have a full team of cleaners so you really don’t need to worry about any mess. But I will ensure something suitable is sent up with the high chair.”

  “Thank you.” She put the phone down and suddenly felt a bit guilty for being so sarcastic. She shouldn’t have been so snippy and the fatigue that was crushing her was no excuse for being bratty—she’d been on the receiving end of that kind of behavior herself. Although her part in the customer service industry was kind of different to this admittedly.

  Fifteen minutes later there was a timid knock at the door, and Erica opened it to a queue of people—all in uniforms that were the modern equivalent of Downton Abbey’s below stairs staff. Into the living room came a pretty wooden high chair and a trolley full of silver domes and drinks, including a brand new baby cup. Erica watched with amazement as a young butler unfolded a huge Union Jack flag and plonked the high chair on top of it. “Are you sure that’s not treasonous?” she said with surprise.

  The young man grinned and flicked the corner of it with h
is fingers. “Plastic, left over from the royal wedding celebrations. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

  Erica giggled and pressed a finger to her lips with a grin, and then two more men came in carrying a travel bag that seemed familiar and a rucksack. “Those are—”

  “Mr. Makris instructed us to bring up your luggage, madam,” the elder of the two men said solemnly, clearly not cut from the same cloth as the cheerful guy with the flag.

  “Ah yes,” she mumbled. It was likely the stuff from the apartment that she’d written down on that list she’d given Tito in the car. At least it meant Nick would have some familiar things around him, and she would have some clean underpants. The thought made her cringe inwardly—someone had been through her things and selected underwear from her mismatched collection. All the decent, pretty lingerie was strictly for work and stored in her locker at the club because she had no need for such things at home. Nick certainly paid no heed to what she wore, so it hadn’t mattered until now. And it still didn’t matter, she told herself crossly. She would never see these people again, and they didn’t give a hoot what her panties looked like.

  Just when she thought it was all over, two middle-aged women wearing dark blue jeans and lemon-colored polo tops carried in a huge box of pre-school toys that were still in the packaging. “Mr. Makris said these might be useful,” said the one with a neat blond bob. “And we can help your little boy play with them while you rest.”

  Erica’s hackles shot up—she wasn’t handing her child over to anyone, let alone someone she didn’t even know. Nick knew her and Kimmie and that was about it. “No, I don’t think so,” she snapped and crossed her arms. “Nick stays with me at all times.”

  The other woman with olive skin and a black ponytail smiled and to her horror patted her on the forearm. “Is quite all right. We’re professional nannies, the best, police-checked, and we have all our certificates and testimonials in the office for you to check.”

  Erica reckoned the woman must be Spanish judging by her accent, but she remained unconvinced. “Oh, really?”

  “It’s quite normal for mums like yourself to feel apprehensive if you’re used to doing everything for your child twenty-four–seven, but really, everything will be fine. My name is Mary, and my colleague here is called Fermina. We have cared for the children of world leaders and royalty so you have nothing to fear.”

  Fermina smiled gently in spite of the way Erica was trying to turn both women to ice with her glare of defiance. “Here, take this.” She took an iPod-sized tablet from her back pocket and handed it to Erica. “It’s all set up so that all you have to do is put in a password that is unique to you.”

  Erica smoothed her palm over the metal back of the device. “What is this exactly?”

  “It’s your eyes and ears. This suite is rigged up with CCTV which isn’t activated yet, but if you would like to do so via this control tablet, you will be able to see and hear everything that happens in this suite…while we look after Master Nick.”

  Erica shook her head. “Even so.” Her mind ran quickly over the facts. She didn’t like the idea but she had trusted Kimmie initially without all this spy gear. “I’m nervous about leaving him even for a couple of hours,” she said lamely.

  There was a rustling sound and yet another woman appeared. This one had a big, black, shiny beehive hairdo and thick cat’s eyes spectacles. Her voice had a hint of a bark about it. “It will be for a couple of hours while you eat some of the finest food in the country and drink vintage wine, wearing some of the finest couture available in the UK.” She pointed to the rack of clothes she had dragged in behind her with long red nails and smirked. “Dinner is at eight so you have plenty of time to decide what to wear.”

  Erica felt as if steam should be coming out of her ears, she was that annoyed. Tito was responsible for all of this, for ambushing her and Nick, for choreographing her every movement in this farcical nightmare and for subjecting her to this barrage of patronization. It was time to take back charge.

  “I’d like all of you to leave immediately,” Erica said in her iciest tone. “And I know to call if I need anything.”

  There was a stunned silence, then a few seconds of shuffling, and she and Nick were alone again. That was how Erica preferred it, just the two of them with nobody interfering. She lifted the silver domes on the serving trolley, and her mood improved at the sight of what Chef had prepared for them in such a short time. Bright green flecks of snipped chives scattered over deep yellow Hollandaise-dressed poached eggs and thick slices of hand cut ham were arranged with perfection over two toasted muffins. There was a dish of butter-fried wild mushrooms and an unctuous bowl of chargrilled plum tomatoes that glistened so prettily her mouth began to water.

  “Oh, Nick,” she said with delight as she lifted him out of the cot. “You are going to be excited when you see what the nice people have made for you.” His chubby hands stretched out and grabbed the outside edge of the highchair tray and tugged it vigorously as he growled with delight. “And it’s a good thing that high chair is reinforced for big boys like you!” She laughed and drew up the wooden chair she’d spotted nestled beneath a writing desk so she could sit next to him while they ate.

  Nick happily chomped at the mini sausages and had a good try at feeding himself mashed potato and baked beans with the soft plastic spoon that had been provided, but the mini pancakes and applesauce for dessert were the biggest hit. It struck Erica that a few hours ago she was going to have to go a little hungry herself in order to make sure her son was properly fed. Her gaze roved over the dinner trolley that was still heaving with fruit, rolls, preserves, and cookies and wondered at how their lives had changed so quickly and profoundly.

  Nick was going to be a very rich man one day, and she was going to be a rich Greek’s wife. Or was she? She shook her head as she tried to make sense of it all but suddenly felt overwhelmed. She needed to sleep and clear her head before she could even begin to make life-changing decisions. Or perhaps she needed to wake up because this was all a very strange dream! She dipped a chocolate-coated shortbread biscuit into the freshly-brewed coffee and bit into it. No, this wasn’t a dream, because if it was her mouth would be full of sawdust or something. That’s the way dreams turned out in her head most of the time.

  The only sound in the room at that moment was of Nick blowing bubbles and scraping his spoon about on the high chair tray. A dart of pain hit her in the sternum. Ever since Nick had been born she had stored up nothing but contempt for Yannis. Part of her had wished that Nick would never seek him out when he was older as a no good loser wasn’t the role model she would choose for her precious child. But all that had changed now. Her presumptions had been incorrect, and by a cruel twist of fate, her child didn’t even have the choice because his biological father was dead. Her only living family, Nick’s grandmother and her mother, wasn’t interested in either of them and had made it quite clear that she didn’t want to be a part of their lives. If only she had a brother or sister to talk to. But no, all Nick had in the world was her and that was a precarious position to be in, a position she had mentally shut out since his birth because it was simply too difficult to deal with practically and emotionally. What if something happened to her? What would become of him?

  Her mind was too muddled to process everything it had to deal with so suddenly and her throat tightened with the threat of tears. She needed to rest, her bones and head were screaming at her, but as was the way of things, Nick and his full tummy were ready to play. There had been so many times in the past when she had dreamed of having some childcare help, especially in the early hours of the morning, when it was dark and Nick was sucking the life out of her every two hours. Literally. Normal families would be there to help new mums—mothers, partners, siblings. Those painful hours were a stark reminder of how utterly alone she was in the world, but also that she was all that Nick had to cling to and the responsibility could be crushing when she was already low. Perhaps it was time for h
er to give a little ground and pick up the phone…

  Chapter Six

  “You look…amazing.” Tito stood up from his chair in the wood-paneled dining room and pulled out an antique chair upholstered in red silk as Erica approached. She was wearing a mid-length black dress that had silvery metal spikes dripping from the v-shaped neckline. Her hair was twisted up into a messy but elegant up do secured with a silver pin and her pointy stiletto shoes were deep scarlet velvet with silver spiked heels.

  “Thank you.” She glared at his hands holding the back of her chair. “You like the outfit?”

  “Of course.” He took the hint and let go of the chair. “It’s stunning on you.”

  He heard her take in a sharp breath before saying, “Hardly surprising that you approve since you chose it all.”

  So it appeared Erica hadn’t mellowed at all after a meal and a rest. Tito was glad he’d taken some time to refresh himself as well. Traveling in confined spaces was not on his list of favorite things, however spacious the vehicle. He had been relieved to find his suite was large and had plenty of windows and French doors onto a balcony that he had opened immediately to let the outside air circulate.

  Let battle commence.

  “Erica, you didn’t specify anything beyond clean underwear in your immediate requirement list, and I thought it would be unfair to expect you to come to dinner wearing jeans.”

  She took a napkin from the table and flapped it open before fixing him with an Arctic glare. “What’s wrong with jeans?”

  “Nothing, it’s just that most women would rather die than dine in a place like this without dressing up a bit. The chef they have brought in for us has a number of Michelin stars pinned to his restaurant, I believe. And these guys can get temperamental about their work being respected, especially when they are shipped in at short notice.”