‘Then someone must have gate-crashed the ball.’
At this, Giannis’s head of security spoke up. ‘Every guest was checked off on the system.’
‘Then the system must have been faulty or someone forged an invitation.’ He hadn’t explained why he thought this. Giannis hadn’t explained himself to anyone for years. Unless you counted his sisters, who pried into his life with a thoroughness that would make a Russian spy envious.
‘Every invitation was inspected and the names ticked off electronically. The only way it could have been done was for someone to steal an invitation but there were no reported thefts. Everyone who should have been there was there and accounted for. There was only one no-show: an elderly Swiss gentleman who was hospitalised after a fall that day.’
Giannis drummed his fingers with more force against the file, thinking hard.
Tabitha had vanished without a trace. Were it not for the earring left on his pillow and his missing shirt—had she taken it?—he could have believed he’d been under a real enchantment and imagined the whole encounter.
He’d had unplanned one-night stands before but never had he had a woman run out on him as Tabitha had done.
That was if she was even called Tabitha.
Somehow, a woman had foiled the ball’s tight security. She had made a fool of his security system and made a fool of him.
It brought a rancid taste to his tongue to imagine how she must be laughing at him.
He would have let the whole thing go, put it down to experience and forgotten all about her...were it not for the strong suspicion that she’d been a virgin.
Pushing his chair back, Giannis got to his feet. ‘I’m going to take a swim. Josie, call my flight crew. Tell them we’ll be returning to Santorini in two hours.’
Leaving his PA to make the arrangements, he left his office and strolled through the lobby of his hotel.
What a waste of a valuable day. He could have read the thick dossier of guests from the comfort of his home, should have distrusted his gut which had nagged him that being here at his Viennese palace hotel would bring him closer to Tabitha.
Now he intended to do what he should have done the moment he’d found her gone—forget about her.
Striding down the long, wide corridor that led to the hotel’s luxury leisure facilities, he saw in the distance a couple of chambermaids talking, their heads bowed over something.
When he was three doors from them, the chambermaids separated, one entering the room to the left, the other the room to the right. By the time he passed they were wheeling their trolleys loaded with fresh bedding and cleaning products in behind them.
There was something about the blonde one...
Unbidden, his feet ground to a halt and he turned around, only to catch a glimpse of a swishing blonde ponytail before the suite’s door closed behind her.
His heart suddenly pounding, Giannis stared at the shut door for a long moment before he blinked some sense into himself and carried on his way.
He had to accept that the woman he’d shared the most miraculous night of his life with was some form of confidence trickster and the chances of him ever finding her were slim.
It was time to forget about her.
* * *
Tabitha, her back resting against the door of the suite she’d just entered, held her trembling hand to her beating chest, hardly daring to breathe.
Had he seen her?
Worse, had he recognised her?
Legs shaking, she slid down the door until her bottom reached the floor and dragged long gulps of air into her lungs.
When she’d been told by a panicking colleague that the big boss had unexpectedly turned up she’d been grateful to have her trolley to hold on to. It had stopped her visibly swaying. She’d felt the blood pooling from her head down to her feet.
The two weeks since the ball had been awful, her feelings alternating between guilt at running away from Giannis and terror that he would discover who she really was. A lowly worker. Not the rich woman he’d assumed and which she’d let him believe. Every time there was a knock on her bedroom door in the staff quarters fear would grip her that her identity had been discovered. Visions of being unceremoniously escorted from the palace hotel plagued her.
Guilt consumed her too. Recalling how she’d been swept away by the romance of the ball, by the attraction that had blazed between them, by the consumption of all that champagne, didn’t change a thing.
The champagne had lowered her inhibitions but it hadn’t acted for her.
She should have left the ball and returned to her quarters the moment Giannis had showed an interest in her.
But if she had then she would never have shared such a wonderful night with him.
She hugged her knees, wishing she could run after him, explain herself and apologise but there was no way she could do that and keep her job. He would be rightly disgusted with her.
She was disgusted with herself, a disgust that had grown ever since she’d used the staff computer to seek pictures of him. All she’d wanted was to see his face again but all she’d done was unleash a whirl of new emotions within herself. The first pictures that came up in the search were of Giannis and his dead wife. There had been many pictures of the happy couple together.
Tabitha had stayed glued to that computer for so long, her eyes had become gritty.
Anastasia Basinas had been the sexiest, most beautiful woman Tabitha had ever seen, a stunner with thick, glossy raven hair and a knowing gleam in her cat-like eyes. There had been a particular picture of the two of them together on their lavishly celebrated wedding day. Giannis had looked at his new bride with what could only be described as devotion.
They had clearly been madly in love.
Anastasia’s death, which she read had occurred in a car crash five years ago, must have devastated him.
The mild nausea that had been swirling in her belly since she’d taken her break intensified and she forced herself back to her feet and propelled herself to the bathroom, where she heaved the contents of her lunch up.
* * *
‘You’re looking very peaky, dear. Are you not feeling well? You’re not still worrying about the earring are you? I did tell you not to.’
Tabitha managed a smile and shook her head. She did still feel guilty about the lost earring but that wasn’t the reason she looked peaky.
Mrs Coulter gave a stern stare. ‘Then eat something. You’re going to waste away.’
To stop the elderly woman worrying, Tabitha took a small bite from a cheese and cucumber sandwich.
‘That’s better. What time do you finish today?’
‘Midnight. I’ve got four hours off from three.’
‘You should use that time to rest. You look exhausted.’
Tabitha swallowed the small morsel and prayed her stomach would keep it down until she’d left Mrs Coulter’s suite.
It had been the same thing now for two whole weeks. Every day at around the same time, she became nauseous. What she’d initially thought was shock at Giannis’s unexpected appearance at the hotel had become a daily occurrence. As had the strange exhaustion that cloaked her, which Mrs Coulter had picked up on.
And then had come the realisation that her period was five days late.
She’d taken the test three days ago. Then she’d taken another.
For three days she’d felt as if she were living in purgatory. She was sure Mrs Coulter would give her a sympathetic ear but she’d resisted confiding in her.
The first person she needed to tell was Giannis. And that was who she was going to see as soon as her shift was finished.
He’d flown into Vienna that morning and, as far as Tabitha was aware, was staying for one night only.
It was too late to worry about her job. Too late to worry that she could hit rock bottom ag
ain.
She’d already hit it.
* * *
The knock on Giannis’s office door interrupted his perusal of the palace hotel accounts. When he was satisfied that everything was in order, he would read through the guest book for feedback from the people who really mattered. The paying guests.
‘Come in,’ he called.
Josie, his PA who travelled everywhere with him, entered the office, a crease on her usually unflappable brow. ‘I have a young lady here to see you. I’ve told her you’re not to be disturbed but she won’t take no for an answer.’
‘I’m too busy,’ he dismissed. Once he’d finished his monthly appraisal of the books and guest satisfaction he had his monthly meeting with the hotel senior management team to chair, followed by a dinner date with his sister, who’d turned up at his villa that morning announcing she was coming to Vienna with him.
‘She says to tell you her name is Tabitha.’
His heart inflated like a hot air balloon, punching the air from his lungs, and he had to grind his feet to the carpeted floor beneath him to stop himself jumping out of his chair.
She was here?
Tamping down the eruption that had exploded inside him, Giannis nodded curtly. ‘Give me two minutes then let her in.’
Josie, betraying no surprise, nodded and slipped back out of the office.
Once the door was closed, Giannis rested back in his chair and sucked a lungful of air back in.
His throat had run dry.
He poured himself a glass of water and drank it in three swallows.
Once he’d regained a little of his equilibrium, he bent his head over the accounts spread out on his desk, dragging more air into his lungs, trying to establish regular breathing.
By the time the next knock on his door echoed, he was prepared.
‘Come in.’
The door opened.
A petite figure appeared, dressed all in black, blonde hair tied back.
His heart slammed against his ribs.
She pushed the door shut behind her.
Cornflower-blue eyes met his.
His heart slammed again.
Not a word was exchanged between them.
Blood whooshed in his head as Giannis stared at the face that had haunted him this past month.
His efforts to forget her had been spectacularly unsuccessful.
This was the woman he had shared the most incredible night of his life with, the woman who had then run away and stayed away...until now.
She was much paler than he remembered. More fragile looking. But, even in ordinary clothing, every bit as beautiful.
Slowly he let his eyes drift over her and as he did so he noticed other details.
Like that the ordinary clothing she wore was the black trousers and black polo shirt with his hotel’s motif embroidered on the left side of the chest that all his hotel’s cleaning staff wore.
He flattened his hands on the desk and leaned forward, hardly able to believe what his eyes were telling him. ‘You work for me?’
Hands wringing together, she pulled her lips in and nodded.
Incredulous, he swept his eyes again over the anonymous uniform designed to make the predominantly female staff who cleaned his hotel’s rooms and suites feel safe. ‘How long?’
She closed her eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘How long?’ he repeated icily. The shock and elation that had suckered him at the first mention of her name was steadily morphing into anger.
He had spent weeks searching for this woman. He’d thrown numerous resources at the futile attempt to locate her and then, when he’d made the choice to abandon his search, had still found her lodged in his thoughts. She’d become an earworm he could not rid himself of.
The throat he had run his tongue down moved. ‘Six months.’
Six months?
She’d been in his employ and under his nose all along?
His anger ratcheted up a notch.
‘How the hell did you get a ticket for the ball?’ he asked in the same icy tone. ‘Did you steal it?’
‘I was given it.’
‘Someone gave you a forty-thousand euro ticket?’ he mocked. ‘What extra services did you have to do to receive that?’
Colour slashed the rounded cheekbones. ‘Nothing like you’re thinking.’
‘And how do you know what I’m thinking, Tabitha...is that your real name? Or something else you lied about?’
‘It’s my real name,’ she whispered then, hands still wringing together, paced to the small sofa in the corner of his office.
‘I did not invite you to sit down,’ he snapped.
Slim shoulders rose in a shrug and she sat regardless and hunched forward, forearms resting on her thighs. ‘I’m sorry for lying. I was given the ticket and the dress.’
‘By who?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Tabitha was struggling to breathe. She’d entered Giannis’s office full of resolve and determination but then she’d found herself engulfed by his spicy scent and everything inside her had cramped and tightened, all except for her heart, which thundered hard beneath her ribs.
She had dreaded this moment. She had longed for it too. Longed to see him again.
How could you miss someone when you’d shared only one night with them? One night out of over the eight thousand she had spent on this earth but it had altered her place on this earth.
The most wonderful night of her life. With the most unimaginable consequences.
She could feel the antipathy radiating from him. She couldn’t blame him for it. She deserved it. Her behaviour, especially when she had run out on him without a word of goodbye, had been unforgiveable.
If she could live that night again she would do everything differently but wishing for the past to rewrite itself didn’t change the facts of today.
She’d expected to be met with anger but she couldn’t deny the faint hope that had lived inside her that he would be happy to see her.
The clear blue eyes that had stared into hers with such hunger were icy cold as he leaned forward. ‘I want to know who gave a chambermaid of my hotel a ticket for my ball when the guest list was by strict invitation only.’
She clamped her lips together. The darkness emanating from him made her think she would be better off protecting Mrs Coulter from this. Her wonderful friend didn’t deserve to have Giannis’s ire turned on her.
Tabitha had shared one magical night with this man but she didn’t know him. From his reputation, she knew he had a ruthless streak. She would not risk turning that ruthlessness onto an elderly woman who’d wanted only for Tabitha to have one night of fun.
His eyes narrowed at her silence. ‘Then you leave me no choice. Hotel staff were warned the ball was for paying guests only and that any attempt to infiltrate it would lead to the termination of their employment. On that basis, you’re fired.’
‘I’m pregnant.’
The words blurted from her tongue before she could stop them. They’d been hovering there since she’d walked into the office, waiting for the right time to be uttered.
But there had been no right time. What right time could there be for two virtual strangers to learn they were going to have a baby?
Never had she seen the colour drain from someone’s face so quickly.
Clear blue eyes ringing with shock stared at her. ‘What?’
‘I’m pregnant.’
‘Pregnant?’
She nodded and finally expelled the breath she’d been holding.
‘Who’s the father?’
Those three words landed like individual slaps to her face but she didn’t drop her gaze. ‘You are.’
He stared at her for the longest time and then, to her utter astonishment, Giannis threw his head back and laughed. The maniacal quali
ty to it made her want to cover her ears.
‘Please, don’t,’ she beseeched.
Still laughing, he pushed his chair back and got to his feet. Striding to the door, he opened it. ‘Your time is up. I will let Giselle know your contract is to be terminated with immediate effect. Either you leave voluntarily or I call security and have you escorted out.’
‘Giannis, please.’
The humour vanished. ‘If any of what you say is true then a DNA test will prove it once the so-called baby is born. Until that time, your benefactor can deal with it. Now, get out before I throw you out.’
‘You don’t believe me, do you?’ she whispered, hugging her arms across her chest to stave off the chill that had enveloped her.
‘Believe you?’ Without any warning, he slammed the door he’d been holding open for her shut, making her jump with the force of it. When he looked at her there was nothing but contempt to be found in his stare. ‘You let me believe you were a real guest and a woman of wealth.’ Anger thickened his accent. ‘You shared my bed then ran out on me and now you expect me to believe you’re pregnant even though we used contraception?’
‘We didn’t the second time.’
The memory of reaching for her in his sleep suddenly flashed in Giannis’s mind and his blood chilled.
He hadn’t used a condom to begin with. He’d groped in the dark for one when he’d already been deep inside her.
The memory alone was enough to heat the sudden chill and thicken his loins.
It didn’t matter that she was a liar of extraordinary talent, better even than Anastasia, who could have won a gold medal for deceit. His awareness for Tabitha had not abated in the slightest.
He remembered when he’d discovered that Anastasia had been playing him for a fool. Every lick of desire for her had been extinguished in that instant.
Tabitha was every bit as bad as his wife had been but the ache to haul her into his arms and taste those delectable lips anew thrummed inside him.
Never in a thousand years would he have believed her to be anything but a woman of breeding and wealth. She must have practised that cut-glass accent. The nerve it must have taken to tell the barefaced lie that she’d attended Beddingdales, one of the most exclusive all-girls boarding schools in Europe... She hadn’t skipped a beat. It had been a prepared lie, just as everything else had been.
The Greek's Pregnant Cinderella Page 5
