Cathy Williams - The Greek Tycoon's Secret Child

He cleared his throat, sat up straighter. ‘As I mentioned, that’s a part of what I do.’

She found she wanted to hear more. Wanted to find out more about him. It wouldn’t do. Time to rectify a situation before it became too dangerous.

‘Sounds very important. So…how did you manage to just land up doing that? It must cost an absolute fortune to go into the property business. Mustn’t it? Especially in London.’

‘I studied economics at university,’ Dominic said abruptly. ‘Went into finance before I got into the property side.’

‘You must have made a great deal of money in finance in that case. To enable you to have the capital to play with.’ Mattie pretended to muse on the conundrum of this.

Dominic gave her a long, narrowed look which she met with widely innocent eyes. ‘I’ve always had a fair amount of money at my disposal.’

‘Ah.’ Of course he would have. He was a man born into money. It sat on his shoulders like an invisible cloak. And she had wanted him to say it. Out loud. So that she could remind herself of yet another reason why she should get out of this place and fast, before his sexy face and ability to listen and smooth-talking charm got the better of her caution.

‘So…what did your parents do?’

‘Is this really relevant?’

‘It is to me.’

‘My father is in shipping.’

‘Builds them, you mean?’

‘You know exactly what I mean.’

‘My mum was a cleaner. She died ten years ago. My dad was a carpenter, except not many people seem to want handmade things these days. He lives in Bournemouth now. He still makes bits and pieces for himself, but his full-time job is supervisor at a furniture factory.’ Mattie stood up and smiled politely.

She felt disproportionately hurt at the fact that she would never see him again, but she had had to do it. Had to make him see the one difference between them that would always be there.

‘Well, thanks for the coffee. No, please, I can get a taxi home myself.’ She just couldn’t face the underground just now. And before he could say another word she was hurrying out of the door, up the stairs and through the chic foyer that looked as though it had stepped straight out of a magazine.

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