The Greek's Acquisition. Chantelle Shaw

      She had left her hair loose for once, instead of bundling it into a knot on top of her head, and she was wearing more make-up than usual; the smoky grey shadow on her eyelids emphasised the deep blue of her eyes and her scarlet lipgloss matched exactly the colour of her skirt and jacket. The diamond fleur-de-lis pendant suspended on a fine gold chain around her neck had been her grandmother’s. It was the only piece of jewellery she owned, and she had chosen to wear it in the hope that if her grand-mère, Céline, was looking down on her she would send her good luck.

      She had read somewhere that confidence tricksters were successful because they acted with absolute self-assurance. And so when the receptionist murmured that she would just check with Mr Kalakos’s PA, Louise laughed and tossed her blond curls over her shoulders as she strolled towards the lift. Many years ago she had visited Kalakos Shipping, when her mother had been Kostas Kalakos’s mistress, and she felt certain that Dimitri now occupied the luxurious office suite on the top floor of the building that had once been his father’s.

      ‘There’s no question that Dimitri will want to see me. And I promise you he won’t want us to be disturbed for quite a while,’ she drawled.

      The receptionist stared at her uncertainly, but to Louise’s relief she made no further attempts to detain her. However, the moment the lift doors closed her bravado disappeared and she felt as awkward and unsure of herself as she had been at nineteen. She could recall as clearly as if it had happened yesterday the bitter confrontation that had taken place between her and Dimitri seven years ago, and the memory of his anger and her humiliation induced a churning sensation in the pit of her stomach.

      The lift seemed horribly claustrophobic, but she took a deep breath and forced herself to stay calm. Dimitri represented her best hope of helping her mother, and it was vital she remained composed and in control of the emotions that had been see-sawing between apprehension and anticipation at the prospect of coming face to face with him again after all this time.

      She should have expected that getting past his PA would prove to be far more difficult than the receptionist in the downstairs lobby. To give Aletha Pagnotis—her name was on the door of her office—due credit, she did phone through to her boss and relay Louise’s request for five minutes of his time.

      The request was met with a blank refusal.

      ‘If you could tell me the reason for your visit, Miss Frobisher, then perhaps Mr Kalakos will reconsider his decision,’ the PA murmured, after half an hour had passed and she was no doubt as tired of having a stranger sitting in her office as Louise was tired of waiting.

      Her reason for wanting to see Dimitri was too personal and too important to discuss with anyone but him, but it suddenly occurred to Louise that on Eirenne she had been known as Loulou—the nickname her mother always called her by. And because she had a different surname from Tina maybe Dimitri did not realise her identity.

      His PA looked mystified as she double-checked the new message Louise asked her to give to her boss, but she duly disappeared into his office.

      The aroma of freshly brewed coffee assailed Dimitri’s senses and told him without him having to check the platinum Rolex on his wrist that it was 3:00 p.m. His PA served him coffee at exactly the same time every afternoon. Aletha had been with him for five years, and she ensured that his office ran with the smooth efficiency of a well-oiled machine.

      ‘Efkharistó.’ He did not lift his eyes from the columns of figures on his computer screen, but he was aware of her setting the tray down on his desk. Subconsciously he listened for the faint click of the door to indicate that she had left the room.

      The click did not come.

      ‘Dimitri—if I could have a word?’

      Frowning at the unexpected interruption, he flicked his gaze from the financial report he was working on and glanced at his PA. ‘I asked not to be disturbed,’ he reminded her, impatience edging into his voice.

      ‘Yes, I’m sorry … but the young woman who arrived earlier and asked to see you is still here.’

      He shrugged. ‘As I explained earlier, I don’t know Louise Frobisher. I’ve never heard of her before, and unless she can give a reason for her visit I suggest you call Security and have her escorted from the premises.’

      Aletha Pagnotis read the warning signs that the head of Kalakos Shipping was becoming irritated. Nothing was more likely to trigger Dimitri’s temper than disruption to his routine. But running a billion-pound business empire must put huge demands on him, she conceded.

      At thirty-three, Dimitri was one of the country’s most powerful businessmen. Even before he had taken up the reigns of Kalakos Shipping, after the death of his father, Dimitri had set up an internet company which specialised in selling designer goods to the rapidly expanding Asian market, and within only a few years he had become a self-made millionaire. His drive and determination were phenomenal, and his brilliance and ruthlessness in the boardroom legendary.

      Aletha sometimes had the feeling that he was trying to prove something to his father, even though Kostas had been dead for three years. The rift between father and son had been public knowledge, and she had always thought it a pity that they had never resolved their differences.

      Whatever was behind his motivation, Dimitri set himself a demanding work schedule, and paid his staff generous salaries to see to it that his life ran like clockwork. Ordinarily she would not have bothered him about a visitor who had turned up without an appointment and refused to explain why she wanted to see him. But beneath the Englishwoman Louise Frobisher’s quiet determination Aletha had sensed an air of desperation, which had prompted her to ignore Dimitri’s orders that he was not to be disturbed under any circumstances.

      ‘Miss Frobisher has asked me to tell you that you knew her several years ago by her nickname—Loulou. And that she wishes to discuss Eirenne.’

      Aletha was sure she had repeated the message correctly, but now the words sounded rather ridiculous, and she braced herself for an explosion of Dimitri’s anger.

      His eyes narrowed and he stared at her in silence for several seconds, before to her astonishment he said tersely, ‘Inform her that I can spare her precisely three minutes of my time and show her in.’

      It was so quiet in the PA’s office that the ticking of the clock seemed to be in competition with the thud of Louise’s heart. The window offered a spectacular view over the city, but the Athens skyline did not hold her attention for long. Her nerves were frayed, and the sound of a door opening made her spin round as Aletha Pagnotis reappeared.

      ‘Mr Kalakos will see you very briefly,’ the PA said calmly. She was clearly intrigued by the situation but far too professional to reveal her curiosity. ‘Please come this way.’

      Butterflies leapt in Louise’s stomach. If you act confident he won’t be able to intimidate you, she told herself. But the butterflies still danced, and her legs felt wobbly as she balanced on her four-inch heels and entered the lion’s den.

      ‘So, when did Loulou Hobbs become Louise Frobisher?’

      Dimitri was seated behind a huge mahogany desk. He did not get to his feet when Louise walked in and his expression remained impassive, so that she had no idea what he was thinking, but he exuded an air of power and authority that she found daunting. Her brain also registered that he was utterly gorgeous, with his dark, Mediterranean colouring and sculpted features, and as she met his cool stare her heart jolted against her ribcage.

      After his PA had slipped discreetly from the room Dimitri leaned back in his chair and surveyed Louise in a frank appraisal that brought a warm flush to her cheeks. She fought the urge to tug on the hem of her skirt to try and make it appear longer. It wasn’t even that short—only an inch or so above her knees, she reminded herself. But her elegant, sophisticated outfit, yes, a little bit provocative—chosen deliberately in the hope of boosting her self-confidence—was very different from the smart but practical navy suit she wore every day to the museum.

      Unlike her mother, who had been an