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“Oh, Nassos—” Lys cried out in relief and anguish.
You have a massive inheritance from your father that will be given to you on your twenty-seventh birthday. He dictated that specific time in his will to make sure you’d be mature enough when you came into your money.
Lys was incredulous. She’d thought it had all been incorporated into the Rodino empire. Nassos would have deserved every euro of it.
Again, I have no idea how old you are now that I’m dead. I suspect you’re a very wealthy woman, hopefully married with children, maybe even grandchildren. And happy!
As you will have found out from Danae, she inherited everything with one exception...the hotel is your inheritance from me to own and run as you will.
Lys reeled physically and clung to the arms of the chair.
No. It wasn’t possible. The hotel should have been given to Danae, who understood the hotel business very well. It was Nassos who’d hired her away from another hotelier to come and work for him twenty-four years ago. How sad that even after his death, Nassos couldn’t allow her to continue in a career she’d enjoyed.
Lys’s eyes closed tightly for a moment.
Danae hadn’t contacted Lys yet. There hadn’t been time. How could Nassos have done this to the woman he’d loved? Wiping her eyes, she went on reading.
But you’re not the sole owner, Lys.
What? The shocks just kept coming.
Before you take possession, you must give the sealed envelope to Takis Manolis. You’ve heard me and Danae talk about him often enough. When he came to Crete periodically, we’d discuss business on my yacht where we could be private. I never did believe in mixing my business matters with my personal life. The two don’t go together.
You’ll know where to find him when the time comes. The two of you will share ownership for six months. After that time period, you’ll both be free to make any decisions you want.
By the time you read this, he’s probably married with children and grandchildren too. I’ve thought of him as the son I never had.
It was my thrill and privilege to be your guardian, friend and adoptive father for the child of my best friend Kristos.
Love always,
Nassos.
* * *
You can’t go home again.
Whoever coined the phrase was wrong. Yes, you could go home again.
In the last eleven years, Takis Manolis had made four trips a year to Crete and nothing had changed... Not the pain, not the landscape, not his family.
Naturally they were all a little older each time he flew here from New York and later from Italy, but everything had stayed the same if you looked at the inner vessel.
The village of Tylissos where he’d been born was still situated on the northeastern mountainside of Psiloritis near the sea. Time hadn’t altered it a whit.
Nor had it altered the views of Takis’s father or his elder brother, Lukios, who helped their father run the old ten-room hotel.
His family followed the philotimo creed for all Cretans to maintain their unflappable dignity even if their existence bordered on poverty when the hotel didn’t fill. They respected the rich and didn’t try to become something greater than they were. Takis was baffled that they didn’t mind being poor and accepted it as their lot in life.
Until recent years there’d been very little inherited wealth in Greece. Most of the Greek millionaires were self-made, but envy wasn’t part of his brother’s or his father’s makeup.
Takis’s older sister, Kori, married to a cook at one of the village restaurants where she worked, didn’t have to tell him that she and her husband, Deimos, struggled to make a decent living.
They had a little girl, Cassia, now three years old, who’d been in and out of the hospital after her birth because of chronic asthma and needed a lot of medical care. He was thankful that at least Kori kept the cash he’d given her for a belated birthday present, knowing she’d use it for bills.
Though the family accepted the gifts he brought whenever he came, pride prevented his father from taking any monetary help. Lukios was the same. Being a married man with a wife and two children, who were now four and five, he would never look to Takis for assistance to make life a little easier for his family and in-laws.
This centuries-old pride thwarted Takis’s heartfelt need and desire to shower his family with all the things of which they’d been deprived and caused him deep grief.
Early in life he’d known he was different from the rest of them, never going along with their family’s status quo. Though he’d never openly fought with his father or brother, he’d struggled to conform.
His mother knew how he felt, but all she could do was urge Takis to keep the peace. When he’d told her of his dreams to go to college to better himself, she’d said it was impossible. They didn’t have the money. None of the Manolis family had ever gone for a higher education.
Takis just couldn’t understand why neither his father nor brother didn’t want to expand and grow the small hotel that had been handed down from an earlier generation. He could see nothing wrong with trying to build it into something bigger and better. To be ambitious didn’t make you dishonorable, but his father and brother weren’t risk takers and refused to change their ways.
There were times when he wondered if he really was his parents’ birth child. Except that his physical features and build proclaimed him a Manolis through and through.
By his midteens, Takis had feared that if he stayed on Crete, he would turn into his brother, who was a clone of the Manolis men before him, each having so little to show for all their hard work. More and more his ideas clashed with his father’s over how to bring in more clients and build another couple of floors on the hotel.
Takis had worked out all his ideas in detail. One day he’d approached his father in all seriousness, wanting to talk to him man-to-man. But when he made his proposals, his father said something that stopped him cold.
Your ideas do you credit, my son, but they don’t reflect my vision for our family business. One day you’ll be a man and you’ll understand.
Understand what?
Pierced by his father’s comment, Takis took it to mean his ideas weren’t good enough and never would be, even when he became a man.
At that moment something snapped inside Takis. He determined to go to college despite what his mother had said.
So he bought a secondhand bike and after helping his father during the week on a regular basis, he rode the few kilometers to his second job at the famous Rodino hotel and resort in Heraklion on weekends to earn extra money. The manager was soon impressed with Takis’s drive. In time he introduced him to the owner of the hotel, Nassos Rodino, who had several talks with Takis about his financial situation.
One day the unimaginable had happened. Kyrie Rodino called him to his office and helped him apply for a work visa and permit to travel to New York. His best friend, Kristos Theron, the owner of a successful hotel in New York City, would let Takis work for him. He could make a lot more money there and go to the kind of college that would help him get ahead in the business world. He’d improve his English too.
Takis couldn’t believe anyone would do something so fantastic for him and returned home to tell his parents about the opportunity.
His mother kept quiet. As for his father, he listened and nodded. If this is what you want to do, then you must do it.
But how do you feel about it, Baba? Takis had still wanted his father’s approval.
His father shrugged his shoulders. Does it matter? You’re eighteen years old now and are in charge of your own destiny. At eighteen a man can leave his father and make his own way.
That isn’t the answer I was hoping for. His father hadn’t given him his blessing and probably resented Nassos Rodino for making any of this possible.
If you’re a man, then you don’t need an answer.
Takis had felt rebuked. His mother remained silent as he left the room with a hurt too deep to express. After the talk with his father, he’d had the feeling his parent had already felt abandoned before he’d even approached him.
Combined with the pain of having recently lost his girlfriend, who’d been killed in a bus accident, he finally made the decision to leave home. She’d been the one he could confide in about his dreams.
After all their talks, she’d known he’d been afraid to leave his family in case they thought he was letting them down. But she’d encouraged him and told him to spread his wings. They’d talked about her joining him in New York at a later date.
With her gone, he’d had no one who understood everything going on inside him. Her compassion had made her such an exceptional person, and he’d never found that incredible quality in the women he’d met since leaving Crete.
In the end, he’d made the decision to go after the opportunity that would enrich his life and he vowed, one day, that he would return and help his family in every capacity possible.
That was a long time ago.
On this cool March day, he held in the tears as he embraced his mother one more time. On this trip he noticed she’d aged and hadn’t exhibited her usual energy. That troubled him. “I promise I’ll be back soon.”
“Why don’t you come home to live? You can afford it. We miss you so much.” Her tears tugged at his heart.
His father didn’t weep, but Takis detected a new sorrow in his eyes. Why was it there? Why didn’t his parent speak the words of love and acceptance he longed to hear?
“Do what you have to do.” Those were similar to the words he’d said to Takis before he’d left for New York eleven years ago. “Be safe, my son.”
But his father still hadn’t been the one to ask him to come home or tell him he’d like him to work at the hotel with the family again. Had Takis done irreparable damage to their relationship?
“You too, Baba.” His throat had swollen with emotion. “Stay well.”
He turned to his mother once more. Was the sorrow he’d seen in his father’s eyes over concern for his wife? Was there something wrong with her? With his father? Something no one in the family was telling him?
This visit had troubled him with thoughts he didn’t want to entertain. He hugged everyone and kissed his nieces and nephews. Then he climbed into the taxi in front of the family-owned hotel that needed refurbishing. Heaven knew it needed everything. They needed everything.
His eyes clung to his mother’s once more. Had she been trying to tell him something? He blew her a kiss.
The flight to Athens would be leaving from Heraklion airport in four hours. First he would attend the funeral services for Nassos Rodino at the Greek Orthodox church in the heart of Heraklion. The recently divorced hotel owner, rumored to have a mistress, had suffered a stroke in the prime of his life—a stroke that had preceded his death. This had shocked Takis, who’d met with the man, who had given him so much, on his yacht to talk business when Takis had last come to Crete.
Most important to Takis was that he owed the hotelier a debt that bordered on love. His gratitude to the older man knew no bounds.
In truth he couldn’t think of another successful man who would have gone to such lengths to give Takis the chance to better himself, even to go as far as sponsoring him in the United States.
Once the funeral was over, he’d fly to Athens. From there he’d take another flight to Milan, Italy, where he was part owner, and manager of the five-star Castello Supremo Hotel and Ristorante di Lombardi.
But all the way to the church his mother’s words rang in his ears. Why don’t you come home to live. You can afford it. His mother had never been so outspoken in her thoughts before.
Yes, he could afford it. In the eleven years he’d been away, he’d made millions while his family continued to eke out their existence.
Was she telling him something without coming right out and saying it? Was she ill? Or his father? Death with dignity? Never saying a word? Damn that pride of theirs if it was true!
Neither Kori nor Lukios had said anything, but maybe his siblings had been kept in the dark. Then again maybe nothing was wrong and his mother, who was getting older, was simply letting him know how much they’d missed him.
He missed them too. Of course he’d come back in an instant if they needed him. But to come home for good? Even if his two business partners were in agreement and bought him out—even if he sold his hotel chain in New York, would his father allow him to work alongside him? What if he refused Takis’s help? What would Takis do for the rest of his life? Build a new hotel conglomerate on Crete?
His eyes closed tightly. He could never do that to his father and use the Manolis name. A son honored his father and showed him respect by never taking anything away from him.
Two years ago Takis had built a children’s hospital in his hometown village of Tylissos on Crete in order that his niece Cassia would get the kind of skilled medical help she needed. The hospital gave free medical care with no child turned away.
He’d kept his dealings anonymous, using local people who had no idea Takis had funded everything including the doctors’ salaries. It helped him to know he was doing something for his family, even if they weren’t aware of it.
Long ago Takis had lost hope that one day his father might be proud of him for trying to make something of his life in order to help them. His parent had never been anything but kind to him, but deep in his heart lived the fear that his family had always compared him to their ever faithful Lukios and would never see Takis in the same light.
In his pain he needed to get back to Italy and ask advice from his partners, who were as close to him as brothers.
“Kyrie?” The taxi driver broke in on his tormented thoughts by telling him they’d arrived at the corner of the square.
Takis had been in a daze. “If you’ll wait here, I’ll be back in an hour.” He handed him some bills and got out to join a crowd of people entering the church, where the covered coffin faced east.
Once he found a seat, he listened to the white-robed priest who conducted the service. After leading them in hymns and scriptures, the priest asked God to give Nassos rest and forgive all his sins. As far as Takis was concerned, the man had no sins. Because of him, Takis had been given a precious gift that had changed his life completely. But at what price?
Soon the bereaved, dressed in black, started down the aisle to go to the cemetery. One dark-haired woman in a black veil appeared particularly overcome with sorrow. Nassos’s ex-wife? Takis had never met her. Nassos had kept their few meetings totally private.
Because he’d arrived late, he’d taken a seat on the aisle at the back. While he waited for everyone to pass, his gaze happened to fasten on probably the most gorgeous young dark-blonde woman he’d ever seen in his life.
Her two-piece black suit provided the perfect foil for her stunning classic features only rivaled by violet eyes. Their color reminded him of the Chaste plant belonging to the verbena family that grew all over Crete. They peered out of dark lashes that took his breath. But he could see she was grief stricken. Who was she?
He turned his head to watch her walk out the rear of the church. If he weren’t going to be late to catch his flight, he’d drive to the cemetery and find out her name. Hers was a face and figure he would never forget, not in a lifetime.
CHAPTER TWO (#u6cba2419-f2d4-5aad-9bf7-10d04145a925)
FIVE DAYS AFTER the funeral, Lys left Giorgos, the manager of the Rodino Hotel, in charge. The paparazzi took pictures as she climbed in the limo taking her to the airport for her flight to Athens. It connected to another flight to Milan, Italy. Her destination was the Castello Supremo Hotel and Ristorante di Lombardi.
In the year before her father’s death, she’d heard her father and Nassos talking about a new employee at her father’s hotel named Takis Manolis. Nassos had made it possible for the younger man from Crete to get a work visa and go to college in the United States while working at her father’s hotel in New York. Lys’s understanding was that he was exceptional and showed real promise in the hotel industry.
Their interest had piqued her interest, but she’d never met him since she and her father had lived in their own home in the city. She’d rarely gone to the hotel for any reason.
After her father’s death, and the move to Crete to Nassos and Danae’s villa on Kasos, the name of Takis came up again. Nassos spoke fondly of him and she learned more about him. The Manolis teen had come from Tylissos and had needed help to escape a life that was close to the poverty line.
When Lys asked Nassos why he cared so much, he’d told her the young man had reminded him of himself at that age. Nassos, who’d gotten little help from his ailing grandfather, had to fish from a row boat and sell his catch at the market to support them. Lys’s father, Kristos, also dirt-poor, started fishing with him.
Both men had wanted more out of life and had gone after it. In time they built businesses that grew until Kristos decided to travel to New York and take over a hotel there.
Nassos was able to buy property in Heraklion and build a hotel on Crete. He’d made it into a huge success story. Nassos had seen that same hunger in Takis, who he said was brilliant and had vision in a way that separated him from the masses. Both men wanted Takis to realize his dream. That’s why Nassos had made it possible for Takis to travel to New York and work at the hotel Lys’s father had owned. Their hunch had paid off in a huge way.
Later on, through Nassos, Lys learned more about the enterprising Takis. His chain of hotels and stock market investments had turned him into a billionaire. She found herself fantasizing about him, and loved Nassos for his goodness. He was a saint who’d become the father she’d lost. Imagine making such a thing possible for the younger man, who was a homegrown Cretan like himself!
Though she couldn’t imagine how Takis Manolis would feel when he heard the news that he was the new half owner of the Rodino Hotel, she was excited to be able to carry out Nassos’s final wish. In truth she couldn’t wait to meet this twenty-nine-year-old man she’d heard talked about for so long.
She’d endowed him with her idea of what the perfect Cretan man looked like. It was very silly of her, but she couldn’t help it. Both her father and Nassos had made him out to be someone so unique and fascinating, she’d wouldn’t be human if her imagination hadn’t taken over.
As for her being the other half owner, she didn’t know how she felt about it yet. Everything depended on today’s meeting.
It was midmorning as Lys left her hotel in Milan dressed in a heavy black Ralph Lauren shirt dress she could wear without a coat. After setting out on her mission, she gave the limo driver directions to the castello outside the city. Then she sat back to take in the fabulous scenery of farms and villas lined with the tall narrow cypress trees indigenous to the region.
Mid-March felt like Heraklion, a cool fifty-eight degrees under cloudy skies. The only difference was that Milan wasn’t by the sea. According to Nassos, this refurbished Italian monument built on top of a hill in the thirteen hundreds—originally the home of the first Duc di Lombardi—was a triumph that Takis shared with two business partners. It had become the showplace of Europe.
Lys had come to Italy without letting anyone know where she was going, or why, only that she’d be out of the country for an indefinite period. It was heaven to escape Crete for a little while where few people would recognize her. If anyone knew her reason for coming here, it would make more headlines she didn’t want and would do anything to avoid.
Hopefully the press would leave her alone from now on. Though sorrow weighed her down, she intended to ignore any further publicity and carry on as Nassos had expected her to do.