Kate Hewitt - A Di Sione For The Greek's Pleasure

She popped the cucumber in her mouth only to have it stick in her throat as Angelos answered, an edge to his smooth voice, ‘Very well, Talia. I want to ask you just why you came to Athens, and more to the point, to my office, since it obviously wasn’t to seek a position as nanny.’

CHAPTER FOUR

WITH THE CUCUMBER stuck in her throat, Talia erupted into an inelegant fit of coughing. Angelos poured her a glass of water and pushed it across the table, watching unsympathetically all the while.

Talia took a few sips, thankful that she’d managed at least to stop coughing. ‘Sorry about that,’ she said on a gasp.

‘You haven’t answered my question.’ Angelos’s gaze was narrowed, his lips compressed, his arms folded. He wasn’t exuding warm fuzzies—that was for sure.

Talia took another forkful of salad in order to give her time to think of a reply. How much to admit? She felt instinctively that if she were to talk about her true reason for coming to Greece now, Angelos would have her back on that helicopter so quick her head would be spinning as fast as the propeller blades.

And the truth was, she didn’t want to leave. Not just because she needed to find her grandfather’s book, but for Sofia’s sake as well. Already she was forming a picture of what the little girl’s life here on Kallos had to be like, lonely and isolated, with only a few elderly staff for company.

Kind of like yours, then.

The realisation gave her an uncomfortable jolt. She didn’t think of herself as either lonely or isolated, not with her work for stimulation and her grandfather for company. Perhaps Sofia was happy here, just as she was happy on her grandfather’s estate. Maybe she wasn’t as needed as she’d felt she was...which still left her with no idea how to answer Angelos’s question.

‘Talia? I am waiting.’

Talia jerked her unfocused gaze back to Angelos. He’d laid down his fork and put his hands flat on the table, his dark gaze fastened on hers, hard and unyielding. The man looked seriously annoyed, but even with the irritation flashing in his whisky-brown eyes Talia couldn’t keep from noticing the lean planes of his cheek and jaw, the warm olive tone of his skin. If he’d just smile a bit more, she might start seriously crushing on him.

But considering their situation, it was probably better that he didn’t smile.

‘You’re right that I wasn’t looking to be a nanny,’ Talia said finally, choosing her words with care. ‘I came to Athens for a...a different reason. But when you assumed I was there for the nanny position, it seemed...fortuitous that I apply. And accept.’ That much was true at least.

‘Fortuitous,’ Angelos repeated flatly. ‘How so?’

‘I like Sofia, Mr—Kyrie Mena. She seems a very kind girl. I want to help her, or at least be her friend.’

‘And yet with, by your own admission, absolutely no child-care experience, you think you have the ability, even the expertise, to help her?’

Talia blinked at his scathing tone. ‘I may not have child-care experience, but I know what it is like to be a child—’

‘As does every person on this planet.’

‘I know what it’s like to be lonely,’ she burst out, and then wished she hadn’t. She wasn’t lonely. She’d always told Giovanni she wasn’t, and she’d believed herself. She had.

‘My daughter is not lonely,’ Angelos informed her shortly. ‘She has everything she needs here on Kallos.’

‘Everything?’ Exasperated, Talia shook her head. ‘Then why did you hire me?’

‘I’m asking myself that question as well,’ he retorted. He sat back, taking a measured breath. Talia could feel the crackle of tension in the air. ‘The truth is,’ he continued, ‘I was running out of both time and options. And,’ he conceded grudgingly, ‘Sofia seems to have formed some kind of attachment to you. But I must confess, in our short acquaintance, you have not recommended yourself to me, Miss Di Sione.’

‘Talia.’

‘Talia. You have in fact seemed extraordinarily short-sighted and, dare I say it, flighty—’

‘I think you just dared,’ Talia snapped before she could think better of it. She felt annoyed and bizarrely hurt by his quick and brutal judgement. What did Angelos Mena know about her, really? Only that she hadn’t packed very much and she didn’t do well in helicopters. And for that he felt capable of dismissing her as a person?

‘You disagree with me?’ he enquired, and she let out a huff of disbelieving laughter. No doubt Angelos Mena expected her to bow and scrape and apologise—and for what? Coming over a little dizzy?

‘Of course I do. You don’t know me, Kyrie Mena. You didn’t know I existed until a couple of hours ago. How can you say I’m anything when you’ve barely met me?’

‘I am basing my opinions on what I’ve seen so far. I’m a consultant, Miss—’

‘Talia.’

‘Talia.’ He expelled her name on a hiss of breath. ‘It’s my job to come into a situation and assess it swiftly.’

‘Too swiftly, maybe. What are you basing your judgement on? That I didn’t pack more than one dress or that I was a little nervous in your helicopter?’ She raised her eyebrows in challenge, half amazed at her own daring. She didn’t normally pick a fight, but then she didn’t normally need to. She’d cocooned herself in safety and isolation instead. It felt kind of good to come out swinging. Strangely empowering. She’d much rather stand tall than shrink back. ‘Well?’ she challenged when he didn’t answer. ‘Which is it?’

Angelos leaned back in his chair. ‘I take your point,’ he said after a pause. His face was expressionless, his gaze implacable. Of course it would be too much to expect to see a glimmer of apology in those darkly glowing eyes. ‘But surely you can understand my concern,’ he continued. ‘I am entrusting my daughter, my only child, to your care.’

‘Of course I can understand your concern.’ Talia sighed, the fight going out of her. ‘If I had a daughter, I’d feel the same.’ Angelos had hired her without knowing anything about her. He had the right to ask some questions, to be a bit sceptical. And she was hiding something, just as he suspected. Perhaps if she admitted her interest in the book...but no. She needed him to get to know her first. ‘If you’d like to know more about me,’ she said, trying to smile, ‘then all you have to do is ask.’

He studied her for a moment, his gaze assessing and speculative. Talia suppressed the urge to squirm or fidget under his unnervingly direct and unblinking stare. ‘You’re American,’ he said at last, and she gave a shaky breath of relief at the innocuousness of that statement.

‘Yes.’

‘Where do you come from?’

‘Outside New York City.’

He nodded slowly. ‘You must be in your mid-twenties. You had a job before this?’

‘Yes, and I still have it. I’m an artist.’

‘An artist,’ he repeated, sounding decidedly unimpressed. He spoke as if she dabbled in finger paints in her free time.

‘A portrait artist,’ Talia clarified. ‘I work on commissions.’

‘I see.’

What he saw, Talia suspected, was that she was an unemployed airhead who traipsed around the world, being short-sighted and flighty. It was foolish of her to be so rankled, so hurt, by his assessment, and yet she was. No one had ever sized her up and dismissed her so thoroughly before. She’d worked hard for her reputation as a reclusive but talented artist. She hated the thought that Angelos was judging her, and so harshly at that.

‘You said you wished to help my daughter,’ Angelos said after a pause. Again with that direct stare, and Talia forced herself not to look away, to find some way to hide from Angelos Mena’s searching gaze and questions. Being the focus of his full attention felt like standing on a beach, watching as a tidal wave gained in towering power, readying to crash down on you. ‘How do you think you could help her?’ he pressed.