A Ring to Secure His Heir

‘That’s a relief. I should be getting on now,’ Rosie said rather awkwardly. ‘Thanks for all your help.’

‘I’m not finished yet—I’m taking you home,’ Alex announced, addressing the man already waiting outside the car in Greek and catching the keys that were tossed to him.

‘There’s really no need for that. I’ve taken up enough of your evening.’

Alex Kolovos gazed down at her, high aristocratic cheekbones taut, black lashes low over his unnervingly bright eyes. ‘I want to take you home,’ he informed her levelly.

Colour surged into Rosie’s cheeks in receipt of that forceful statement. She didn’t know what to say, how to react. Why was he putting himself out like this for her benefit? Was he attracted to her or simply a good Samaritan? Why on earth would he be attracted to her? she scolded herself irritably. She was small, flat as a pancake out front where it mattered: men didn’t turn their heads to look when she walked by. Embarrassed by her own thoughts and a growing sense of utterly ridiculous inadequacy, she slid into the passenger seat of the saloon car and did up the belt. He drove off but seemed to have difficulty with the gears and cursed only half under his breath when the engine conked out at the traffic lights.

‘It’s a new car. I haven’t driven it much,’ he commented in his own defence, cursing the fact that he so rarely drove himself anywhere. From childhood he had had a chauffeur and had only enjoyed the freedom of driving his own car while at university.

Rosie tried not to smile at the excuse. Just about everybody she knew got around the city on public transport. She wondered if his was a company car and if so, did that mean that even though he had to share an office, he was a bigger wheel than she had appreciated in STA Industries? Glancing out of the window, she finally realised that they were travelling in entirely the wrong direction.

‘Sorry, I should have given you my address first,’ she said and did so.

He hadn’t a clue how to get there: that was immediately obvious to her, although he tried to hide it. She gave him directions and tried not to wince as he wrenched at the gears like a learner driver every time they had to stop at traffic lights.

‘Will you join me for a meal?’ he asked casually when after several wrong turns—she was lousy at giving directions—they finally were within minutes of her bedsit.

Surprised by the invitation, Rosie glanced at him in dismay. At the same time her empty tummy emitted an embarrassing growl and she coughed in the hope of masking it. ‘A meal?’ she prompted.

‘By the sound of it you’re as hungry as I am,’ Alexius remarked, his amusement unhidden.

So, the cough hadn’t worked. Rosie reddened yet again. She could not remember ever being so self-conscious in a man’s company before and it exasperated her. Circumstances had thrown them together and his was a spontaneous invite. Why not? It wasn’t as though he was asking her for a date.

‘There’s a place just round the corner from my bedsit,’ she volunteered. ‘It’s not fancy but the food’s good.’

‘That’ll do.’ Alexius parked the car, noting in the driving mirror that his security team were following in the car behind him. They had probably laughed their socks off every time the car stalled on him, he reflected wryly. But having got into Rosie’s good books again, he had every intention of staying on target, even though he knew that he no longer had his godfather as an excuse to spend time with her. He would do as he liked; Alexius always did as he liked. When he saw the restaurant, a shabby, brightly lit beacon in a rundown street, he was taken aback. He had never eaten in such a place in his life. The sheer scale of the gulf between their daily lives finally penetrated and disconcerted him. Pretending to be someone else was bringing challenges he had not foreseen.

It was a relief for Rosie to know that she would have no need to cook when she got home. She smothered a yawn as he followed her into the self-service restaurant, popular with shift workers for its long opening hours. She lifted a tray and turned to see Alex scanning his surroundings with wide-eyed attention.

‘We serve ourselves?’ Alex enquired, a black brow quirking at the concept.

Without fanfare, Rosie handed him a tray and joined the queue. Across the room three women at a table were giving Alex the eye. He seemed quite unaware of their blatant interest as he studied the menu on the wall. He did attract attention though, Rosie conceded, deciding that he was too good-looking for his own good. It was a thought she was familiar with and it had occurred to her the first time she saw a photo of her very handsome blond, blue-eyed father, Troy Seferis. She had always been wary of very attractive men and for the first time it occurred to her that that was a rather unreasonable bias. Alex had waded in to tackle Jason for her sake and she had no reason to think him vain, shallow or self-serving, in fact, the direct opposite. Her green eyes rested on him assessingly. With his black hair, tall, well-built body and that lean, strong-boned face sheathed in bronzed skin, he was extremely eye-catching … and he was with her. Her narrow shoulders suddenly straightened and she smiled.

At the checkout Rosie tried to insist on paying for her own meal, which seemed to totally bewilder her companion.

‘No woman pays for herself in my company,’ he breathed with arrogant finality, passing money literally over her head to conclude the matter.

Rosie gritted her teeth at being overruled. As she grabbed cutlery and a napkin he hovered with his own tray as if he didn’t know what to do. As a last resort, she lifted cutlery and a napkin for him and asked him if he wanted water. For a fully grown adult male he could occasionally exude the strangest hint of helplessness, she thought in bewilderment.

‘Why didn’t you want me to pay for your meal?’ he demanded once they had found a table.

‘I always pay for myself when I’m with a guy,’ Rosie admitted stiffly. ‘That way there are no misunderstandings.’

His black curling lashes screened his disconcerted gaze. Socrates was going to like her, oh, yes, Socrates was going to like her a lot, he decided with suppressed amusement. But the concept of a woman paying for herself was entirely foreign to Alexius and he didn’t like it at all. ‘Tell me about that thug, Jason,’ he urged. ‘Who is he?’

‘Until about ten days ago, I shared a flat with a friend called Melanie. Jason was Mel’s boyfriend. One night he grabbed me in the kitchen and tried to kiss me and Mel walked into the middle of it,’ Rosie recited, rolling her highly expressive eyes heavenward at the unpleasant memory. ‘She blamed me totally for it and said I must’ve led him on and she told me to get out of the flat. I thought she would have seen sense and cooled down by the next morning but instead she stomped into my room, called me a man-stealing cow and started packing my stuff for me. She threw me out …’

‘And Jason?’ Alexius watched in fascination as she tucked hungrily into her Irish stew like a woman who hadn’t eaten in at least a week. She might be thin but, seemingly, she had a healthy appetite.

‘He was forgiven on the spot … or so I assumed, but tonight he said that they’ve broken up,’ Rosie told him wryly. ‘Whatever, I still don’t want anything to do with him.’

‘Bearing in mind his obvious anger management issues, that’s wise,’ Alexius commented.

‘Are you Greek?’ she asked suddenly. ‘I recognised a couple of the words you used speaking to the guy that drove us to the doctor’s.’

He tensed. ‘You speak Greek?’

‘No, only a few words, tourist stuff,’ she proclaimed, her head tilting, pale blonde hair feathering round her cheekbones in artless waves. ‘I signed up for classes once but only went to a couple. It’s a more difficult language than I expected.’

‘Why Greek?’ Alexius realised in surprise that he was actually quite content to sit in the dump of a restaurant if it meant he could watch her amazingly animated face, linger on her sparkling eyes and the brightness of her fleeting smiles.

Rosie studied him. He was getting a five o’clock shadow, dark stubble marking his hard angular jaw line and defining his beautifully sculpted mouth. On him, it was an incredibly sexy look. Her tummy turned a somersault inside her as he focused those curiously light eyes on her full force. ‘Why Greek? My father was Greek,’ she admitted a little shakily, disturbed by the knowledge that he attracted her as if she were iron filings and he were a magnet. That was a scary first for her. ‘I never knew him, though. He broke up with my mother before I was born and died soon afterwards.’