The Millionaire's Marriage Proposal

by Joanne Walsh

  “Does that mean that you’re coming home?” he asked quietly.

  “Perhaps.” She hesitated. “There are a few other things we need to straighten out first.”

  “Okay,” he nodded, “I am listening.”

  “First of all, Selene—”

  “She is history,” he jumped in. “The reason why I was late today was because I went to Paragolis to sever our connection. I do not need her meddling in my private life ever again.”

  “Wow.” Sally’s eyebrows shot up. “Why—?”

  “She is gone. I don’t want to talk about her anymore. Tell me what else needs straightening up.”

  “Alright. I will be here to see through the final preparations before the grand opening, and then I will be manager until just before the baby is born, when I will take some maternity leave, after which I’ll be returning to work part time,” she replied firmly.

  “Okay.” His brow furrowed. “But part time?”

  “Yup.” She waggled his hand. “You’re not the only one who’s been doing some thinking. I love this place, but of course I want to spend time with the baby too, so, I’ll be looking to hire a manager for two or three days a week next year. Does that sound like a plan?”

  “It most certainly does, and it fits in perfectly with something I have to suggest to you. Agapi mou.” He released himself from her grasp and cupped her little baby belly. “How would you feel if we shared the care of this one between us?”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Standing back to admire her handiwork, Sally surveyed the shelves in front of her. The various bottles of Skalos olive oil looked so colourful and inviting—golden virgin next to the rich green of the rosemary infusion and the reddish tinge of the pepper flavour. Now the store was fully stocked with dry goods and ready to receive fresh from the end of next week, and then Sally’s would be in business, starting with the grand opening party. Feeling a surge of satisfaction, she flexed her back and checked her wristwatch. Time to return to Alison’s and pick up McTavish before going home for a long, hot soak in the tub.

  Home. Skalos Where her heart and soul were, along with Calliope’s. She’d suggested to Dimitri they create a little herb garden dedicated to his mama, full of fragrant plants, with a water feature and a bench, where he could go sit and reflect when he needed time out. He was already onto a landscaper to fix it.

  The bell above the shop door tinkled. Swinging around, she was surprised to see Selene Koutsopoulos standing in the doorway. Sally’s gazed narrowed. What did she want? To deliver another spiteful turn of her knife now that Dimitri had dispensed with her and her services?

  “Kalispera,” Selene said stiffly. “Since I was visiting the village to tie up some loose ends, I thought I would come by, see for myself how you are getting on.”

  “Very well, thank you,” Sally replied just as coolly. Instinctively, her hands went to cradle her tummy.

  Selene stepped inside and walked around, gazing about her, before pursing her red-painted lips and nodding. “Very smart.”

  Sally inhaled. “Selene, if you are here to cause more trouble—”

  Selene turned, and to her surprise, Sally saw the other woman’s eyes were glistening. “I wanted to ask you something—” Her voice suddenly cracked. “To ask you to take care of Dimi. He’s a wonderful person.”

  “I know he is,” Sally said, fighting to keep the irritation out of her voice at the other woman’s display of self-pity and the possessive way she was talking. “Look, Selene, you’ve got to let go, leave us be now—”

  “This is the last time you or Dimitri will see me.” Her chin raised, Selene gazed tearfully back at her. “I’m leaving Kathos. Diakos wants to return to his home island of Naxos and retire early. We’re getting married.” Abruptly, she plonked her purse on the nearby counter and, after retrieving a tissue and dabbing her eyes, pulled out some papers. “I found these when I was clearing my office.” She held them out.

  “What are they?” Sally frowned, taking the pages from her and peering at them.

  “Documents relating to an investment account that Dimitri set up in your name, ten years ago.”

  Sally glanced over the statement. Mrs Sally Souli…Ten thousand Euros? Her heart started hammering. What on earth—?

  “You know nothing of this, do you?” Selene said on an exhale. “Your late husband, Manos, went to Dimitri because he was in trouble. He said he’d got into a mess through a combination of falling profits at this store and putting his mother into a care facility. It was then that I believe he also revealed his heart problem to Dimitri.”

  Sally’s features creased into a deep frown. “But Manos’s mother’s house was sold to pay for her care. Oh no, he must have been wanting money to gamble.”

  Selene shrugged. “Your husband said the loan was to tide him over and he’d pay it back, but he never did, so I guess it’s reasonable to assume that’s what he wanted the money for. Of course, at that time, Dimitri had no idea of Manos’s problem.”

  “But what has that got to do with this account?”

  “Dimitri was concerned about what would happen to you if Manos’s heart condition proved fatal, so he asked me to set up this account for you. When your husband passed away, I contacted your lawyer to let him know of its existence.”

  Existence? Sally stared at her, feeling as if the air had been sucked from her lungs. But then it dawned on her: the investment account which had been discovered while settling Manos’s affairs, and which had kept her going financially! “When Manos died,” she said unsteadily, “an account did turn up in my name with around fifteen thousand Euros in it. I always assumed it was a portion of the legacy Manos’s father left that he’d invested for me.” She bit her lip. “Something that was tied up, which he couldn’t gamble away. Are you saying it was actually Dimitri’s donation with interest earned?”

  Selene nodded. “If you look at the later statements, you’ll see the accumulations.”

  Now Sally’s eyes filled with tears too. “If it hadn’t been for that account, this place would have gone under.”

  Selene’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Dimitri always takes care of the people and things he loves.” Briskly, she picked up her purse and snapped it shut. “I must go.” She turned on her wedge heel to leave.

  Still holding the statements, Sally stared after her. “Wait!” she called as Selene put her hand on the door handle. “Thank you. I appreciate you telling me—”

  But Selene kept going, firmly closing the shop door behind her.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Sally scrutinized the printout Frankie had handed her. Mr Alessandro Scuderi, a businessman from Sicily, was leasing 5 Dionysou Street from today until just before Christmas. In fact, Hannah was at the house right now giving him the keys and showing him around.

  “I’m sorry we didn’t have time to go through all of Mr Scuderi’s details with you yesterday when we spoke about his booking.” Frankie perched herself on the desk next to Sally’s. “As you know, his financial and character references checked out just fine, and he paid the full rental upfront. But I just wanted to reassure you I talked with him via a video call yesterday evening, and he was delightful. Very polite, charming, and—” she waggled her eyebrows, “rather good-looking.”

  Grinning, Sally pulled her gaze away from Mr Scuderi’s particulars. “As long as he’s paid the rent and doesn’t throw noisy parties, that’s good enough for me.” She leaned back in her chair. “It’s brilliant he’s taken the house for part of the winter. I didn’t think we’d get any takers until the spring.”

  “Did I tell you why he’s here? He’s spending a few weeks researching his mother’s family believing there was a link with this island.”

  “Sounds interesting. He’ll probably unearth something as lots of families here have connections with Italy going back over the centuries, don’t they?”

  “Maybe. Anyway, unless he turns out to be a secret raver, it looks as if you may just have land
ed yourself the perfect tenant.”

  “Fingers crossed.” Heaving out a sigh, Sally flashed Frankie a wistful glance. “I can’t quite believe today is my last at Ionian Villas. I’m going to miss working with you and Hannah so much.”

  “We’re going to miss you loads too. We’re looking forward to our new full-time assistant starting Monday, but we know she won’t be half so much fun. Oh, it’s going to be crazy busy next week, what with the new girl, the grand opening of Sally’s, and Hannah and Sergei getting married—”

  “Girls, you are never going to believe this!”

  “Hannah, whatever’s the matter?” Sally peered around her monitor as, pink-cheeked and breathless, her co-worker burst into the office.

  Swivelling around, Frankie exclaimed, “Oh, Han, don’t tell me something’s gone wrong at the last minute with the wedding preparations!”

  “Nothing like that.” Hannah puffed out her cheeks. “It’s the new tenant at Dionysou Street, Mr Scuderi. I went to meet him as arranged, and I was stunned when I saw him. It’s just so weird.”

  Frankie frowned. “In what way weird? I was just telling Sal how personable he was when I talked with him yesterday. Has he grown horns or something since?”

  Hannah gave an irritated shake of her head. “Very droll. Look, there’s nothing actually wrong with him, it’s just…” She shut her eyes. “This is going to sound insane, but I think he’s Marco.”

  *

  The front door was ajar, but all the same, Sally knocked lightly on it before popping her head round and calling out, “Hello?”

  “Accedere!” a deep, pleasant male voice came back.

  Stepping into the tiny hallway, she was instantly filled with a strange nostalgia for the good and bad times this house had hosted. But she had another mission today. Squaring her shoulders, she re-focused on the meeting that’d been arranged with Signor Scuderi to take him through how the heating system worked while, at the same time, quietly checking out Hannah’s mad insistence that he could be Marco.

  As she entered the living room, Signor Scuderi was placing his laptop on the coffee table in front of him. He hurriedly closed it, but not before she caught a glimpse of what he’d been looking at: the Finding Marco website! A shiver ran down her spine and she struggled to drag her attention back to him as he rose from the couch, only for an even bigger, deeper chill to bring her out in goosebumps. Those eyes…! She knew at once where she’d seen them before: in photographs while she’d looked after Finding Marco online. Big, brown and fringed by the longest dark lashes, they were so like Marco’s. Oh. My. God! Swallowing and rubbing at her arms, she forced herself to smile.

  “Signora Campbell, it is wonderful to meet you.” Holding out his hand, the young man greeted her in faultless, accented English.

  “C-call me Sally, please,” she said, as he delivered a brief, firm handshake. Get a grip of yourself! she admonished herself. Just because he has eyes similar to Marco’s doesn’t mean he is Marco—

  “And I am Alessandro. Thank you for sparing the time. Signorina Oliver did show me how the furnace works when I arrived, and left me with a sheet of instructions, but I am afraid when I came to adjust the heating, I couldn’t quite master the controls—”

  “Well, it is all in Greek. Um, why don’t we go through to the kitchen and I’ll walk you through it again, and if there’s anything else you’d like to know about the house—”

  “Eccellente. After you.” He made a gesture for her to lead the way.

  After demonstrating, Sally stepped back and watched as Alessandro tried working the digital panel for himself. He was the most amazing-looking guy, like an Italian prince in a Renaissance painting. As for his eyes…their haunting beauty had her mesmerised. Just as she had been by Marco’s when she’d pored over his pictures, wondering what had happened to that tiny boy who’d been snatched away nearly three decades ago. She mentally shook herself. She could absolutely see why Hannah had jumped to her wild conclusion, but how likely was it really that Marco would just suddenly pop up on her doorstep?

  “Okay, I think I have mastered it!” Turning to her, Alessandro grinned, sweeping a lock of dark, glossy hair from his forehead. “Sally, you have been very patient. Would you like coffee?” His deep brown gaze snagged hers again.

  “Oh, er…” She had come here partly to do a bit of sleuthing, and if only to finally disprove Hannah’s theory, she should take this opportunity to discover more about the handsome prince. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

  They settled in the living room with their mugs and Alessandro began firing off questions about the village. How long had she lived here, and what did she know about its history? He seemed interested when she told him she was about to reopen the store.

  “It belonged to my late husband’s family, but after he died, I struggled to keep it open until my fiancé, Dimitri Bekatoros, stepped in.”

  At the mention of Dimitri, Alessandro’s eyebrow raised, and for moments, her heart beat a little faster, but then returned to its normal rate when he said, “I have heard of him. He is a well-known exporter of good quality olives to Italy. My family own restaurants on Sicily—”

  Ah. “Do you work in the family business?”

  “Yes. Alongside my father, my older brother and younger sister. My grandfather founded the original Roberto’s in Ragusa, which is where I am from, and my brother and I worked to expand into two more venues in Palermo and Messina. We specialize in local cuisine.”

  So, Alessandro was actually a second-generation restauranteur from a solid Sicilian family. She felt herself deflate. But hang on a minute! What about his mother’s possible link with Kathos? She needed to hear about that before she reported back to Frankie and Hannah. Wondering how she could slip it into the conversation, she volunteered chattily, “I’ve always wanted to go to Sicily, but running a store is an all-consuming affair.”

  “Restaurants are like that too. This is my first vacation in a long time. But, of course, we are coming into the winter season so my family are okay with me taking a break.”

  She inhaled. This was her cue to ask about what he planned to do while he was here. Tilting her head to one side, she ventured carefully, “Mrs Kontarinis, who you spoke with when you made the rental booking, said you are here to research your mother’s possible connection to Kathos. Did she or her family live here at some point?” She sipped her coffee.

  “I’m not sure,” he replied, his eyebrows suddenly knitting together in a frown. There was a pause while he dropped his gaze and examined his hands. “I know almost nothing about her. I was adopted.”

  Sally nearly choked. Putting her mug down carefully, she reminded herself it could be a coincidence. “But you have some evidence that has led you here?” she probed gently.

  He raised his gaze. “I have found something.” He hesitated his body language signalling discomfort. “Sally, I am keeping you. I’m sure you need to get back to work.”

  Oh no, he was shutting down on her! “Actually, I’m in no rush this morning,” she replied casually. “Look, Alessandro, if there’s anything I can do to help you with your investigations, just let me know.”

  “That is very kind of you. I am going to take a few days to take a look around, see if I can find out more. But if questions arise, may I call you?”

  “Please do. I was planning to give you my mobile number so you can contact me directly if there are any issues with the house, but please do get in touch if you come across something during your search.”

  He opened his mouth as if he was about to reply, then snapped it shut and merely nodded. His whole body seemed to have stiffened up again.

  What had he been about to say and why was he looking so ill at ease? In that instant, she knew she couldn’t let it go. “Do you mind me asking you another question about who or what you’re looking for?”

  His eyes widening, he shrugged. “Sure. But as I already said, I know very little right now.”

  “When I came in, I s
aw you were looking at the Finding Marco website—”

  “It comes up when you google Agia Kalamaros,” he cut in.

  “I know,” she said smiling. “For a while, I was the site’s administrator and I know the story of Marco very, very well. And of course, I’m engaged to Mr Bekatoros, one of his brothers. Dimitri thinks about Marco every day. He and Marco’s other brothers, Nik and Sergei, have never given up on him. They believe he is still alive and would give anything if they could find him. They love and miss him so very much.”

  Something flickered across Alessandro’s features. “There is something I could use your help with,” he said, abruptly rising to his feet. “Please wait here. I just need to find a couple of things.”

  He left and went upstairs. Listening to his footsteps on the polished boards of the bedroom above, Sally gulped down the rest of her coffee, her mind racing. Was he looking for something to do with Marco? What did he know?

  “I want to show you this,” he announced as he re-entered the room. He was holding a tissue-wrapped parcel neatly secured with a ribbon. As he sat down and began to untie it, she noticed how the white paper was yellowed at the edges and the ribbon faded.

  “Okay.” He held up a worn-looking, toddler-size T-shirt printed with a design of a garland of flowers, inside of which was inscribed with the logo, Trapazakia Festival 1996.

  Her hand flew to her mouth. Marco had been dressed in exactly the same shirt when he went missing. “Where did you get that?” she gasped.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Intensity burning in his gaze, Alessandro fiddled with the garment. “Sally,” he said quietly, “we both know Marco was wearing a T-shirt just like this when he disappeared.”

  She swallowed. Was she really about to find out what’d happened to the long-lost child? She shouldn’t jump the gun here. Alessandro might have come by the T-shirt somehow and linked it to what he’d gleaned from the internet about Marco, yet know nothing about the little boy’s actual fate. “Alessandro, you do understand, don’t you, that if what you’re about to tell me has anything to do with Marco, I will need to pass it straight on to Dimitri and his brothers?”