The Maid's Best Kept Secret (The Marchetti Dynasty 1)

Maggie’s cheeks pinkened. ‘I guess that’s fair enough.’

It struck Nikos then that he was renowned for brokering huge deals with the most recalcitrant people in the world—and yet here, with Maggie, even that grudging concession felt like a massive victory.

The thought that he’d met his match in more ways than one made him edgy.

The seat belt bell pinged, indicating that it was okay to get up and move around, and Maggie undid her belt, and the one clipped around the baby, and stood up.

‘I’ll go into the back and feed and change Daniel.’

Nikos watched her walk down the aisle of the plane, Daniel safely in the crook of her arm. He wasn’t unaware of the irony that not so long ago it would have been a very different scenario for him on a jet like this—featuring him and a woman, sometimes even two, unencumbered by anything but the mutual desire to lose themselves for a brief moment.

Because that was all it had been—a brief moment of respite from his ever-present sense of rootlessness and dissatisfaction. And those moments had never filled him with anything but an aftertaste of ennui.

Sleeping with Maggie hadn’t felt like that.

No. She’d lingered on his body and his brain for months. Making him ache.

She was the woman he wanted. And she was the mother of his child.

When he’d found her at the Barbiers’ stud he’d had no idea about the secret she kept. His son. But he was nothing if not skilled at adapting.

He’d learnt young not to expect people to accept him or want him. But he knew Maggie’s reluctance for this marriage would turn to acquiescence when she saw the life he could provide for her and his son.

‘When you said “apartment,” I assumed you meant an actual apartment—not an apartment in a hotel.’

Maggie was standing at the wall of a terrace at the top of an ornate baroque building looking out at the Eiffel Tower. It was so close she could almost touch it.

She’d only been to Paris once before, on a school trip. She couldn’t quite believe she was here, in this sophisticated and beautiful city.

Ireland had been enjoying an unnaturally warm summer, but this heat was on another level. A trickle of sweat pooled between her breasts and at her lower back as she looked at people strolling on the plaza near the Eiffel Tower wearing little sundresses and eating ice-cream. She was envious.

‘Everyone local leaves Paris in August,’ Nikos had told her as they’d driven into the city. ‘They’ll return over the next few days and the city will come back to life after the vacances.’ He’d gestured to the crowds thronging the wide boulevards. ‘These are all tourists,’ he’d said, in a tone that signified disdain.

Maggie had been too distracted by the exquisite architecture, the tall and majestic buildings...

Nikos came and stood beside her now. ‘All my apartments are in hotels that we own. The MG Hotel Group. I’ve found it more...convenient.’

Maggie looked at him, glad of the sunglasses hiding her eyes. ‘You own this hotel?’

He nodded.

She should have guessed. When they’d arrived Nikos had been fawned over like visiting royalty.

She thought of something. ‘So the house in Ireland—that’s the only house you own?’

If she hadn’t been looking at him she might have missed the flicker of an expression she couldn’t decipher across his face, the slight tension in his body.

But he sounded nonchalant when he said, ‘Yes. Like I said, I bought it when I thought I might invest in horseracing.’

Maggie sensed he was being evasive and wondered why her question had pushed a button for him...

But now he stood back and said, ‘Let me show you around.’

Maggie followed Nikos back into the apartment. Daniel was asleep in his baby seat, so she left him where he was. It was much cooler in here, with the air-conditioning.

She tried not to let her jaw drop as Nikos showed her the vast apartment. The gleaming state-of-the-art kitchen had her hands itching to try out the ovens.

She said, ‘I suppose you don’t use this room much?’