Page 7 of Loving the Greek Billionaire

Kyrene laughed. “Don’t dismiss the rest of our native cuisine so quickly. You haven’t even tried yoursouvlasyet. And if you make it to Hydra, they peel the cucumbers there. This dish is often eaten at breakfast or lunch by farmers with whatever they have on hand.”

“The olive oil is smooth, and I like the hint of oregano.”

“You’ll eat better olive oil than this while you’re with Mr. Papadakis.” Kyrene took a bite.

“Yes, I understand Mr. Papadakis is in the olive oil business.”

“Empire is more like,” Kyrene said around a mouthful of salad. “Try thesouvlas.”

With her fork, Rose slid a cube of chicken off the skewer and popped it into her mouth. “This and the salad, all day, every day.”

“Both dishes are easy to get anywhere in Greece, but I’m sure Mr. P’s chefs will keep you well tempted and gastronomically satisfied.”

“Have you stayed with the family before?”

“From time to time, usually for a few days. Whenever Mr. P needs me to give a tour to guests or the children. We have a good working relationship.”

“Oh.” Rose still sensed there might be more to the story but let it lie. Kyrene and Mr. P’s personal life were none of her business. “What’s on the rest of the agenda?” With food in her stomach and an hour with her feet rested, she felt more confident that she could handle the rigors of sightseeing for a few more hours.

“The Acropolis museum. We can keep cool for a while. and with the worst of the heat over, we can see the Odeon of Herodes Atticus.”

Rose stood. “I’ll be ready after a trip to the bathroom.”

Kyrene nodded and stood. “Excellent idea.”

CHAPTER TWO

Athens Part II

Leonidas paced by the large window, waiting for Rose to return from her second day of sightseeing. His business had occupied him longer than anticipated yesterday, and they’d exchanged only a few words before she’d excused herself to collapse into bed. This time he made sure to be in the suite before his new nanny returned. Curiosity about her had interrupted his thoughts more than once. Since his wife’s death, no woman had piqued his interest, until Rose. He hoped to have dinner with her and find some answers.

Leo’s phone rang, and the real Stavros’s photo popped up. “Yes, Stavros?”

“The children’s arrangements are in place. They will leave their grandparents and meet you in Meteora an hour after you land tomorrow.”

“Excellent, Stavros. Thank you. Were you able to locate Nefeli’s pink bunny? She was quite upset about his disappearance when I chatted with her last night.”

“A staff member had taken the bunny to the wash, and neglected to have it dried in time for bed,” Stavros said. “Ms. Pinkberry Bunny is now clean and accounted for.”

“Good. And how did Adonis’s swim lesson go today?”

“He blew bubbles in the water.”

Leo smiled. “I got the pictures. Thank you.”

“Anything else?”

“Any more information on Ms. Berret?”

“No,” Stavros said. “Everything is on your tablet for your review.”

“Yes, thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Leo ended the call.

He pulled up Rose’s information. She was a film makeup artist, a widow, and sometimes nanny, just as her sister Marie had represented her. He closed the tablet. What the dossier didn’t explain was her resentment of the wealthy. While Leo appreciated all that his family’s wealth allowed him, it was also the very reason people treated him differently, either to gain access to his wealth or to disdain him for it. He wanted to be treated like a normal person.

After his wife died, every fortune-hunting woman had come out of the woodwork in the hope of being the next Mrs. Papadakis. From that point forward, Leo became an unphotographed recluse and swapped roles with Stavros. Only his home staff knew his real identity.

He rubbed a hand over his face, the scruff rubbing against his palm. Five o’clock shadow had set in.

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