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‘What?’ She blinked at him, shocked even now that her husband could have been so foolish. So stupid. ‘So now that I have inherited Petra Innovation...how much of it do I actually have?’
‘You have roughly forty per cent.’
‘All right.’ She took a deep breath, forced her thoughts to calm. ‘That still must be a majority. The other sixty per cent of shares will be owned by many different people, surely—’
‘No,’ Metaxas contradicted her, his voice gentle. ‘The other sixty per cent is now owned by one person. Your husband didn’t realise it—the investments were made quietly, slyly even, under different corporate names, over the last few months. But the man at the source was the same.’
Iolanthe stared at him, her hands clutched together so tightly her nails were making half-moon marks in her palms. ‘And who is this man?’
‘Another tech wizard. Alekos Demetriou.’
She drew her breath in sharply, her nails digging in even deeper, but other than that gave away no reaction. In truth she was so stunned she didn’t know how to react. Alekos Demetriou. She had schooled herself not to think of him these last long ten years. Tried to pretend he was not Niko’s father, that his name meant nothing to her. All of it lies. All it had taken was for Metaxas to say his name to have her hurtling back to that wonderful, terrible night, when she’d known both pleasure and pain so acutely.
And now Alekos Demetriou owned her father’s company? Her company? Except of course it wasn’t hers at all.
‘What does this mean exactly?’
‘I don’t know,’ the older man admitted. ‘Demetriou only just revealed that he has a controlling interest. I requested a meeting with him to discuss the future of the company.’
Iolanthe’s stomach soured. ‘So the future of Petra Innovation is up to Alekos Demetriou?’
‘In a word, yes.’
Abruptly she rose from her seat and paced the room, stopping in front of the window that overlooked Athens’ business district. She barely saw the wide boulevard, the neat buildings, busy people going to and fro. In her mind’s eye she saw Alekos as she’d last seen him, in his own drawing room, his face cold and closed and forbidding, as he’d demanded she leave.
And so she had.
‘Kyria Callos, I realise this news comes as a shock.’
‘You have no idea,’ Iolanthe admitted with a harsh laugh. What would Alekos do with the company? With her son’s—his son’s—inheritance? ‘Do you think it likely that he will simply allow things to continue as they are?’ Even as she spoke the question she knew it was a ridiculous hope. A naïve one, and she’d put naïvety behind her long ago. She’d had to. She knew how bent on revenge Alekos had been back then. A decade didn’t seem to have changed things. He still wanted to get back at her father, her family, or maybe even her. Why else would he have bought controlling shares?
‘I really don’t know what Demetriou will do,’ Metexas answered. ‘I don’t know why he has essentially initiated a takeover of Petra Innovation. But the fact that he was secretive about it concerns me, of course.’
Iolanthe nodded numbly, her unseeing gaze still on the city street.
Metaxas cleared his throat. ‘Do you have any history with Demetriou?’ he asked.
‘Me?’ Iolanthe turned around, her expression once more composed, closed. ‘What are you asking? I married Lukas when I was twenty.’
‘Of course, of course, forgive me. I only meant, perhaps, between the families...’ Metaxas trailed off as Iolanthe regarded him coolly, giving nothing away. She hoped.
‘Demetriou was in a race with my father a long time ago,’ she said. ‘Something about a software system. My father beat him to the invention—I think Demetriou was angry about it.’ So angry that he’d seduced his daughter, all for a petty, pointless revenge.
‘So you think he has bought the company as some sort of payback?’
‘It seems like him.’
‘You know him, then.’
‘I know his deeds,’ Iolanthe corrected crisply. ‘And what my father told me. He is not an admirable man in any shape or form.’ That she knew all too well.
Metaxas sighed heavily. ‘This doesn’t bode well for Petra Innovation. But I expect Demetriou will inform us of his plans when I meet him tomorrow.’
Iolanthe tensed, shock like an icy flame rippling through her body. ‘He agreed to a meeting?’
‘Yes—’
‘With you,’ Iolanthe said, repeating his words. Metaxas, like her husband and father before him, intended to cut her out of any business decisions. Before Lukas’s death she’d made herself be content to stay at home, out of the way. But not any longer. Not when her son’s inheritance was at stake. ‘I want to be present at that meeting.’
Metaxas looked startled. ‘If that is your wish,’ he said after a pause. ‘But as you know it had always been your husband’s desire for you not to be bothered by business concerns—’
‘And look where that got us,’ Iolanthe finished. The thought of coming face-to-face with Alekos Demetriou again filled her with both terror and dread, but she would still do it. She wanted to know exactly what Alekos intended for her father’s company—and for her son.
* * *
‘Kyrie Metaxas and Kyria Callos will see you now.’
Alekos’s mouth twisted in wry bitterness as he strode into the CEO’s office at Petra Innovation. He might have been kept waiting like a supplicant, but he was one no longer, neither lackey nor slave. Petra Innovation, to all intents and purposes, belonged to him. And he found he was looking forward to informing Iolanthe Callos of that fact.
The receptionist opened the doors and he stalked through them, stopping abruptly at the sight of Iolanthe standing by the window, the sunlight gilding her dark hair. Looking upon her after so many years felt like a punch to the solar plexus, and he found, to his surprise and irritation, that he was suddenly breathless. Memories assaulted him, a kaleidoscope of images and sensations that he’d long ago determined to forget. A white silk mask, the petal-pink curve of a smooth cheek. The touch of her lips, the breathy sigh of her pleasure.
Resolutely he moved his gaze from the woman by the window to the other occupant of the room: her solicitor, Antonis Metaxas. Alekos gave one brief nod.
‘Kyrie Metaxas.’
‘Kyrie Demetriou.’
The silence stretched between the three of them, taut and brittle. Alekos glanced at Iolanthe again, determined not to react to her as he had before. At that first burning glance he’d thought she looked the same, but now he saw that she was older, just as he was. He glimpsed faint lines by her eyes, and, although she looked pale, he saw a composure to her that had not been there before. She was thirty years old and recently a widow. He noticed she wore a pale grey suit, a suitable colour for mourning. The jacket was belted around her slender waist and the pencil skirt emphasised her lithe figure. Her hair was caught up in a neat chignon and it made him remember how those inky locks had felt tumbling through his hands as he’d drawn her towards him for a deep kiss...
‘Kyria Callos. May I offer my condolences on the recent loss of your husband?’ He would observe the niceties.
Iolanthe inclined her head in regal acceptance of his words. She didn’t speak. Her face looked as if it had been made of marble, as blank as a statue, no expression visible in those mist-silver eyes.
‘I have informed Kyria Callos of your controlling interest in the company,’ Metaxas said. ‘She would like to know what your intentions are regarding Petra Innovation.’
Alekos’s gaze snapped to Metaxas. ‘And can Kyria Callos speak for herself?’ he asked with deliberate mildness. He moved his gaze back to Iolanthe, surprised and strangely gratified to see a flash of ire in her eye; the statue was gone.
‘Yes, Kyria Callos can,’ she informed him shortly. The sound of her voice was another surprise; gone was the girlish lilt, replaced by the crisp tones of a grown-up woman in control of her life, if not her business.
‘Very well.’ Alekos gave her a nod, just as she had given him. ‘What is it you wish to know?’
‘I wish to know why you have bought controlling shares in my father and husband’s company,’ she said, and he heard the dislike in her voice, mixed with contempt. The realisation that she scorned him made his resolve for revenge harden inside him, a core of steel that had been the basis of every choice and desire for his entire adult life. ‘And were so secretive about it,’ she added, tossing the words like an insult.
‘If you had cared to dig a little deeper, you would have found that I was not as secretive about my purchases as you seem to think. It was simply that your husband did not care to look closely into the matter.’
A small gasp escaped her before she pressed her lips together. ‘How dare you?’
‘How dare I?’ Alekos arched an eyebrow, coldly incredulous. Her fake posturing of outrage and hauteur he could handle; this he could dismiss. ‘I did not realise I was daring anything at all. I was merely stating a fact. Your husband was desperate, Kyria Callos.’
‘At least he was honourable,’ Iolanthe shot back before she drew in a quick breath and composed herself. ‘Something you’ve never been.’
‘Kyria Callos—’ Metaxas began, clearly shocked by this unprecedented exchange.
‘Iolanthe and I have some history,’ Alekos informed the solicitor with curt politeness. ‘As you have most likely surmised.’ He glanced back at Iolanthe; her eyes looked like lambent silver, shining with suppressed fury—and remembrance. Was she recalling, as he was, how explosive they’d been together? Ten years on and he still remembered how she’d felt and tasted. How irresistible she’d been to him, so much so that he’d thrown caution and common sense to the wind in order to possess her.
Thank goodness he’d learned a little self-control in the last decade. Of course, he’d made sure never to cross paths with Iolanthe again.
Now Metaxas shot Iolanthe a troubled glance, but she said nothing. ‘Kyria Callos is naturally concerned about the nature of your business dealings—’
‘My actions towards Petra Innovation have been completely legal,’ Alekos cut him off smoothly. ‘Which is more than I can say for Talos Petrakis or Lukas Callos.’
Metaxas stiffened with affront. ‘Are you implying something—?’
‘Implying, no. Merely stating fact. Again.’ Alekos moved his gaze to Iolanthe once more. She was pale with shock, but her eyes snapped with fury, her mouth compressed. She still had her spirit, then. Why did that thought please him? Nothing about Iolanthe Callos pleased or even interested him. He had not thought of her in ten years. At least, he had made himself not think of her.
‘So after initiating a hostile takeover of my father’s company, you cast aspersions on him and my husband’s character?’ Iolanthe shook her head, her features pinching with dislike. ‘I suppose I should have expected nothing less from you. Next you will be insulting me as well.’
‘As far as I can tell, you are the only one casting insults.’
‘I really think this has gone far enough,’ Metaxas intervened. ‘Perhaps we can keep to discussing what Kyrie Demetriou intends for Petra Innovation—’
‘Of course.’ Colour flared in Iolanthe’s pale cheeks, making her look even lovelier. She was like a tall, dark flame, standing so straight and proud, refusing to be cowed. Alekos felt an unsettling mix of pity and admiration. Even so, her courage wouldn’t keep him from dealing the lethal blow he’d intended for so long. He only wished Talos Petrakis were alive to see and feel it.
‘I am more than happy to inform you both of my intentions for Petra Innovation,’ Alekos stated. He’d been responding emotionally to Iolanthe; it was time to stick to facts. To savour them, and the sweet revenge he’d now enjoy to the full, cold as it was. ‘My intention for Petra Innovation is to close the company and liquidate all of its assets.’ He glanced at Iolanthe, registering the lovely mouth that had dropped open in shock, the hands hanging slack and useless by her sides. ‘Forty per cent should keep you in relative comfort, although I’m afraid the company is not performing nearly as well as it once was.’ Not like when it had been flogging the software system he had designed. Tech wizard Callos might have been, but he had not ever been able to match Alekos’s inventions. Just copy them.
‘You can’t,’ Iolanthe whispered.
‘I can,’ Alekos informed her flatly. ‘Indeed I have already begun the process.’
‘You’re going to fire all the employees—’
‘Are you so concerned for those nameless faces, or is it your own position that worries you?’ Alekos cut across her, a new fury firing his voice. He’d thought he’d put this anger far, far behind him. But now, seeing Iolanthe here, knowing she had profited from his inventions, his work and life’s blood, all the while married to that leech Callos, sleeping in his bed—
Rage was not a strong enough word.
It had taken a while for him to realise that Lukas Callos was the technical genius behind Talos Petrakis’s business savvy; to understand that Callos had been the one to copy his design, at Petrakis’s behest, all those years ago. And Iolanthe had been sharing his bed, the pampered, spoiled wife.
‘How dare you accuse me?’ Iolanthe whispered, the words a breath of fury. ‘You, of all people—’
‘Clearly you hold me in low regard,’ Alekos drawled in a bored voice. ‘But it is of little consequence. The liquidation will go forward immediately.’
‘I think we should all take a moment to—’ Metaxas began, but Iolanthe cut across him, taking a step towards Alekos, one slender hand balled into a useless fist.
‘You can’t. Petra Innovation belongs to me.’
He stared at her, unmoved. ‘Not any more.’
‘My whole life, my son’s life—’
He’d heard she’d had a son by Callos. He’d never seen the boy, of course, and didn’t even know his name. And what did he care of his enemy’s birthright? His own had been taken from him when Petrakis had kissed him on both cheeks and then stolen his idea. His illusions had been ripped away first by the father, and then his daughter. He had none left.
‘I hope you are both adaptable,’ Alekos said coolly and Iolanthe let out a choked cry.
‘When I first met you, I thought you were a good man. You have proved me wrong again and again.’
Alekos stamped down on the flicker of regret he felt, a tiny, unfortunate flame that he quickly quenched. ‘Then perhaps you are a fool,’ he said coldly. ‘To believe something when the evidence proves otherwise. Or,’ he suggested, iron entering his voice, ‘perhaps you should question which is the good man and which is the bad in this scenario. Good day.’ Not trusting himself to say any more, he nodded tersely to both Metaxas and Iolanthe before turning to leave the room.
CHAPTER FIVE (#u092481c9-424c-5d75-945c-d978a99a5052)
‘HOW WAS IT?’
Amara, Iolanthe’s housekeeper and closest confidante for the last ten years, having cared for her since she was a child, met her at the doorway of the town house near the Plaka that she’d lived in since her marriage.
‘Terrible.’ Iolanthe only just managed to choke out the word. An hour after meeting Alekos and she was still caught between fury and fear.
Amara’s face paled as she took Iolanthe’s coat. ‘Let me get you a warm drink.’ Amara’s solution for everything was a cup of Greek mountain tea, considered a panacea in the region of central Greece from which she came. Over the years Iolanthe had learned to like the herbal tea, made of ironwort and flavoured with honey and lemon.
‘Thank you, Amara,’ she said as she moved past the housekeeper to the kitchen, the heart of the house. ‘But I’m afraid a cup of tea is not going to solve my problems now. Where is Niko?’
‘Upstairs, on the computer.’
As he so often was. Her son spent most of his time either reading, playing with his electrical gadgets, or on the computer. People and social situations were a continual struggle, despite Iolanthe’s determined and increasingly desperate attempts to have him socialise.
She sank into a chair at the kitchen table and pressed trembling fingers to her temple. She was shaken in more ways than she cared to admit by seeing Alekos again. Not just by his awful plans for the company, but by the sheer presence of the man himself. He was just as darkly and devastatingly attractive now as he’d been ten years ago, when he’d stolen both her heart and her innocence. Even more so, more forbidding, with no hint of a smile to curve that once mobile mouth, no promise of laughter to lighten those topaz eyes. He’d looked like an angry god from the old myths and legends, someone come down from the stars to wreak his vengeance. And he had. Oh, he had. How could she lose Petra Innovation?
Amara busied herself at the range, plucking the roots and stems of the ironwort plant she always kept in supply and boiling them in a little brass pot on the stovetop. ‘What has happened?’ she asked as she plucked a mug from the rack and squeezed lemon juice and honey into it. ‘I thought you went to speak to the solicitor as a matter of course.’
‘So did I.’ Iolanthe leaned back in her chair and briefly closed her eyes. It felt like an age since she’d taken a taxi to Metaxas’s office, blithely thinking he would simply number her assets. Instead he’d told her she might as well not have any.
‘Well, then?’ Amara asked, a touch of impatience adding to the anxiety in her voice. She’d been part of Iolanthe’s household for her entire marriage. ‘Tell me what has happened.’
‘Alekos Demetriou has taken over Petra Innovation.’ Amara’s eyes widened with surprise. No one knew that Alekos was Niko’s father, no one save her, her father, and Lukas. It had been an agreement they had made when Lukas had agreed to take Iolanthe as his wife. He would raise Niko as his own, and to the whole world they would present a happy, united front. Or at least try. In the end, Lukas had not tried very hard at all.
‘And what does this Demetriou intend to do with it?’ Amara asked.
Briefly Iolanthe told her. Amara listened in silence, setting the mug of hot, fragrant tea in front of Iolanthe before sitting across from her with her own cup.
‘Very well,’ she said when Iolanthe had finished. ‘But it is not so terrible, surely? Forty per cent should see you and Niko cared for, and you never had anything to do with the company.’
‘The company is Niko’s birthright,’ Iolanthe returned with feeling. ‘My father lived for that company, and so did Lukas.’ She took a sip of tea, swallowing the honey-sweetened liquid along with her bitterness. ‘Niko has always looked forward to being a part of it.’ Talos had, in the last years of his life, mellowed in his disappointment and anger towards Iolanthe, and he’d sometimes taken Niko to work with him, shown him the inheritance that shimmered so promisingly. Lukas had always ignored his cuckoo son, and Iolanthe suspected that Niko cared so much about Petra Innovation because he wanted to impress the man he believed to be his father. Now Lukas was dead, and the company was all her son had. ‘I can’t give it up without a fight. For Niko’s sake I need to try.’ She glanced up at Amara, forcing back the threat of tears. ‘You know what it means to him.’
Amara sighed. ‘Yes, but he is only nine.’
‘All he has ever wanted is to work for Petra Innovation,’ Iolanthe answered. ‘To make his father and grandfather proud.’ The tears she had blinked back now thickened in her throat. Niko had so many struggles, and only one hope. How could she take it from him?
‘And if you have no choice?’ Amara asked grimly.
‘I do have a choice,’ Iolanthe returned, and then closed her eyes against the realisation. She could tell Alekos that Niko was his son. Would he keep Petra Innovation for his own son? Could she gamble on some hidden compassion and softness that Alekos had yet to show her? And it was a gamble; she didn’t know if she dared risk whatever repercussions such an admission would cause. Everything felt fraught.
