LYNNE GRAHAM: The Pregnancy Shock

Like a knife cutting through tender flesh, his blunt forecast tore through Billie and she looked back at him, focusing on the lean bronzed beauty of his features with furious condemnation. ‘You don’t know him!’

‘I know Damon very well. His family will never accept you and he hasn’t got the backbone to fight for you. He’s a nice guy but he does as he’s told. Cut your losses and ditch him now before you get in any deeper—’

‘I don’t want your advice!’ she shrieked at him in Greek.

‘Suit yourself,’ Alexei drawled silkily. ‘But whatever you do, keep your knickers on. All Greek men fantasise about having a virgin in the marriage bed.’

‘That is a disgusting thing to say!’ Billie launched back at him in a positive rage. ‘I love Damon—’

‘You’re seventeen. You’re not old enough to love anyone,’ Alexei derided, stopping outside her house and leaning across her to throw open the door as if he couldn’t wait to be rid of her. The male scent of his skin tinged by some expensive cologne wafted across her. She froze, rigid at that first taste of intimacy with a man, a fleeting intimacy that had the miraculous power to make her body prickle all over with uneasy awareness. That response shook her up because she had never reacted that way to Damon.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever disliked anyone quite so much,’ Billie snapped in as cold and controlled a voice as she could manage.

‘I’m always knee deep in women who are crazy about me,’ Alexei countered with amusement. ‘I doubt if I’ll notice the absence of one little girl from my hordes of fans—’

‘You’re so incredibly bigheaded!’ Billie flung, stepping out of the car in one electrified movement of rejection, her cheeks still burning hotly from that crack about keeping her underwear on.

A shockingly charismatic smile slanted across Alexei’s wide sensual mouth and his stunning dark golden eyes gleamed. ‘But still much more of a man than Damon will ever be…’

A YEAR later, Billie finished school and fought her mother hard for the freedom to go to university to study for a business degree. To survive, she had to work endless hours in a student bar where, mercifully, the low pay was matched with free meals. Aged twenty-one, she took her first job in a small import firm in Piraeus where, no matter how hard she worked, her male colleagues got the recognition and she got all the routine administrative tasks. When she saw Drakos Industries advertising a well-paid PA post on the Internet the following year, she wasted no time in applying.

Alexei Drakos had quickly tired of working for his billionaire father in the family shipping line. Breaking away, he had set up Drakos Industries at the age of twenty four, had made millions and was already well on the way to becoming a formidable tycoon in his own right. ‘The Shark,’ Time magazine had labelled him in an article marvelling at the speed with which he’d shaken off his reputation as a jet set playboy to demonstrate his worth as a shrewd entrepreneur.

As part of the application process for the job, Billie was one of the lucky few allotted a place in a day-long assessment. It was a gruelling experience comprised of working against the clock and handling difficult personalities but, forty-eight hours later, she learned that she had passed this first stage and had won an interview with Alexei. She was surprised he took so active a part in recruitment.

By the time she walked into his big fancy office in Athens clad in her smartest clothes, she was high on nerves. Sleek as a jungle predator in his black designer suit, Alexei surveyed her. ‘I was surprised to see your name on the shortlist.’

Billie looked steadily back at him, noting the toughness that time had added to his lean strong face. ‘I just want someone to give me a chance to do a proper job where I can use my brain—’

‘And you think I might?’ His brilliant dark eyes were nailed to her, his wide sensual mouth cool, discouraging.

‘I don’t think you will mark me down because I was born in England—’

‘A positive panoply of praise from someone who doesn’t like me,’ Alexei mocked lazily. ‘But you’re right. I don’t care where you came from, I’m only interested in who you are now. What could you offer me as an employee?’

‘I’m very discreet and I work fast and hard. I also have good ideas—’

‘Everyone’s got ideas. I don’t always want to hear them…’

‘I’m a great organiser and I can think on my feet.’

Alexei rested his unsettling gaze on her and she shifted uneasily, suddenly alarmingly conscious of her every physical flaw. It was as though his very masculine perfection highlighted her deficiencies. Her vibrant mane of hair was restrained in a French plait, her green eyes bright against her pale skin. Full as she was at breast and hip, she felt she lacked the height to successfully carry off her curves. Her waist was small though and her legs slim. Lauren had always refused to tell her daughter who her father was and Billie had wondered cynically if her mother even knew. Certainly, she had signally failed to inherit any of her mother’s leggy blonde assets.

‘The position on offer would entail working directly for me.’

Belatedly, Billie understood why she was receiving an interview from the boss himself. ‘I’d like to know exactly what the job is.’

‘The successful candidate will take care of everything I don’t have time for. He or she will often travel with me and the hours will be long. The job will cover everything from setting up appointments with my tailor to buying gifts on my behalf and barring women I don’t want to see or hear from any more,’ Alexei spelt out bluntly. ‘It is a post which demands considerable trust on my part. A confidentiality agreement will be included in the contract of employment, making it illegal to share any revelations about me or my lifestyle with the press.’

In truth, Billie was totally taken aback by the extent of what was being offered to her. Even if it didn’t sound like her role would have much of a business angle to it, any position working directly for Alexei would still add kudos to her CV.

‘I want to hire someone willing to turn their hand to anything I ask at any time of day—’

‘A slave?’ Billie quipped and then wished she could bite off her facetious tongue when his superb bone structure tensed and cooled.

‘A very well-paid one. I don’t work by the clock. Neither do I want someone who counts the hours or excludes certain tasks.’

Billie nodded, tantalised by the prospect of travelling and reasoning that she was free as a bird and well able to cope with such a demanding role. The following week, she was informed that she had got the job. The salary took her breath away being, even at a conservative estimate, twice what she had expected. On her first day she arrived neatly attired in her newest suit.

‘You need to smarten up your work wardrobe,’ Alexei informed her at the first glimpse he had of her. Seemingly impervious to the flush of mortification warming her face, he handed her a business card. ‘And this first time, you can do it at my expense—’

Billie stiffened. ‘That’s not necessary—’

‘Look in the mirror. You are a frump,’ Alexei countered bluntly, ‘and I always decide what’s necessary.’

Feeling cut off at the knees, Billie took the card and went that same afternoon to an upmarket store, where she was kitted out with the sort of figure-hugging clothing and high heels that she had always deemed unsuitable in a working environment. On the third day she wore a skirt well above her knees that outlined the curve of her hips and a jacket that nipped in at her waist, accentuating the shape and size of her breasts. She didn’t like her reflection; she thought it was unprofessional.