The Greek's Penniless Cinderella

‘He wants,’ he said, ‘to merge our families.’

There—he’d said it. And it was like setting a match to dry tinder.

The grey-green eyes—her undeniable heritage from Stavros—flashed like knives.

‘He informed me—’ she bit out every word ‘—that apparently every woman in Athens would envy me when I became your wife.’

The deep, vicious sarcasm in her voice was coruscating.

Beneath his breath Xandros cursed fluently and expressively.

Stavros’s daughter ploughed on. ‘And he told me that if I did not choose to arouse that envy in the breast of every woman in Athens I could take myself back to my London slum and I would never see a single cent of his precious bloody money!’

He saw her jaw set like iron, her eyes stony.

‘Which is exactly what I am doing,’ she finished bleakly. ‘I wish to God you had never found me!’ There was a tearing sound in her voice now. Her features twisted. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that was the only reason you’d trekked to London? To bring me here so you and he could cook up some insane way to seal a business deal?’

There was incredulity in her voice, as well as anger.

‘It wasn’t like that,’ Xandros said, his voice tight. ‘Your father wanted that, but I...’ he took a heavy in-breath ‘...I never had the slightest intention of doing what Stavros wanted! My sole aim in going to London at his bidding was to make it clear to you that whatever your father might have told you about his ambitions for a marriage-based merger I, for one, would not be cooperating!’

He paused again, and then went on. He had to say this next bit...

‘As for why I ended up bringing you out here after all,’ he went on, hardening his voice automatically, ‘bear in mind that I’d naturally assumed that, as Stavros’s daughter, you would be living the kind of affluent life similar to your sister’s here in Athens.’ His expression darkened. ‘Once I’d seen—to my absolute shock and disbelief—that the daughter of one of Greece’s richest men was living in the kind of poverty she should never have had to endure, how could I leave you there?’

He took another breath.

‘So I resolved to bring you to Athens,’ he went on. ‘In the hope that once you knew the truth about your father, just how rich he is, you might...well...’ he gave a shrug ‘...if not shame him into providing for you, at least you get something out of the brutal fact that Stavros Coustakis is your biological father! As for the merger... All I want is a business merger. Believe me!’ he finished feelingly.

He glanced away, out over the promenade to the sea beyond, then looked back at her again. He had to say the rest of this now. She deserved as much.

‘The reason your father wanted you brought from London,’ he said, ‘was because your half-sister also refused to go along with his scheme.’

He saw her eyes widen in shock.

‘He wanted you to marry Ariadne?’

He nodded. He would keep this as brief as possible. ‘She refused. Left the country.’ He watched her expression change. Become bitter.

‘So, after ignoring my existence all my life, he found I was suddenly useful to him...’ Her voice was hollow, and the bleakness was back in it.

Xandros reached for his coffee, which he needed now more than ever. ‘That’s about it,’ he agreed tightly.

He found himself thinking that Stavros would have assumed that, unlike Ariadne, who had her mother’s family to turn to, this East End daughter he’d knowingly and deliberately kept poor would be open to both his bribery and his threats.

Well, Rosalie Jones had rejected both all the same. She was, or so it seemed, prepared to return to her grim, impoverished life rather than be subject to her father’s machinations in exchange for a life of ease. He felt admiration for her resolve fill him. Yet he knew it was a resolve that would cost her dearly.

He set his drained coffee cup back on the table. ‘Are you really set on going back to London?’ he asked.

She nodded, her mouth set, her expression bleak at the prospect—and who could blame her?

The image of how he’d found her, looking exhausted and worn down, reeking of bleach and worse, that mop and bucket in her rubber-gloved hands, was suddenly and vividly—unacceptably—in his head.

I can’t let her go back to that!

‘No.’

The word fell from his lips, instinctive and automatic. Adamant. A frown flashed across his face. No, she would not go back to that appalling, poverty-stricken life! It was unthinkable—unthinkable for the daughter of one of Greece’s richest men! Surely he could help her get some degree of recompense from her father—find her a lawyer ready to take up her cause? Or a tabloid journalist? Or both?