Her Guardian's Christmas Seduction

Every cell in his body froze.

It was a photo of her out walking. There was nothing particularly exciting about the snap. She had shopping bags, and the newspaper had written a pithy paragraph about her high-end habits. But Stavros didn’t really take the words in. He could only stare at the picture. She wore skinny jeans and a thick white coat. Her hair was long and loose down her back and she had over-sized sunglasses in place which he ached to reach in and remove, so that he could see her expressive eyes and know what she was feeling.

She was smiling in the photo but he knew it to be a forced smile.

He swore and slammed the iPad down.

He had to remove himself as her guardian. It was not healthy to continue in the role, knowing he would never be able to see her again.

Most lawyers shut over Christmas but Aresteides Enterprises had its own cache of in-house attorneys. He could email some papers over and get the ball rolling. The sooner she was out of his life, the better, he told himself.

He’d decided to leave all his custodian arrangements here, at Barnwell, for ease. He kept them in a drawer in his office that he hadn’t looked at in years. He stormed through the house once more, up to his office, ignoring the fact that this very desk was where they’d first made love.

He focused only on the task at hand.

He pulled the drawer open and lifted out the two binders of folders, scanning the guardianship agreement with a heavy sigh. His signature was at the bottom, alongside Christopher’s.

“I’m sorry, my friend,” he muttered, shaking his head and acknowledging how badly he’d failed the man. Perhaps if Stavros had been more involved in Claudia’s life, this would never have happened. Perhaps he could have stopped the rot from setting in.

He flicked through the folder absently, not bothering to look at the sections as he went. He vaguely remembered the dossier being put together. Her medical records from birth, her mother’s information, the exact components of her inheritance.

And finally, her school correspondence. He flicked through it without reading, until a single word caught his eye and he froze, his eyes returning to the page with a sense of utter shock.

Dyslexia.

He lifted his gaze to the top of the page and forced himself to read the thing in its entirety.

Dear Mr. La Roche,

Sir, this is the fifth letter I have sent to you on the matter of your daughter’s dyslexia. While I understand your schedule is busy and requires you to frequently be out of the country on professional commitments, I remind you that I am unable to enroll Claudia in the occupational therapy sessions I feel she would benefit from without your written consent. While she will likely always be functionally illiterate, it is possible that with time and the right attention, she will see some small improvements.

As you would know, Claudia is a young woman with a keen intellect. In all other subjects, she excels and we struggle to find ways to challenge her within the curriculum. I trust you will help us find ways to help Claudia manage her dyslexia.

Yours sincerely,

Ronda Burns.

Functionally illiterate.

Stavros was hot all over then cold. He jerked out of the chair and swore a string of angry curses, furious curses.

Functionally illiterate? That meant she couldn’t read? Or write? He had no idea of the exact parameters but it sure as hell didn’t sound good.

Every single faux pas he’d made slammed into him. The book he’d given her in Bath and the way she’d reacted so very badly. Not to the title, after all, but to the fact he’d given her a book. That he was teasing her with something out of her reach and comprehension.

God, the newspaper situation in London had been the worst.

Why hadn’t she told him?

Are you dumb? Do you not understand English?

The way she’d react

ed, as though he’d held a gun to her head.

His breath was coming in fits and spurts and more recollections were forcing themselves upon him. The registration form at the reception desk of the hotel; the way she’d covered it by being the ultimate heiress.

He’d been right. She was acting a part, but because she hadn’t wanted him to know about the dyslexia?