With love.
EPILOGUE
Thirteen months later
‘HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, Mrs Mazetti.’ Gio set the tray on top of the bedside cabinet, then climbed back in bed next to Fran.
‘Champagne and strawberries for breakfast?’ she asked.
‘It’s our wedding anniversary. And I’d like to draw your attention to a very romantic gesture. There’s a single red rose on that tray.’
She smiled. ‘For a student, you know, that’s terribly extravagant.’
He laughed, leaned back against the pillows and pulled her into his arms. ‘I’m not your average student.’
‘You’re not average anything,’ she murmured, kissing him.
‘Why, thank you, honey.’ He held her close. ‘It’s been quite a year. Getting married, starting up the Thursday jazz and classics nights in Charlotte Street, moving to Greenwich, opening a new branch here…’ He sighed. ‘Not to mention handing over a lot more of the control to the new partner in Giovanni’s. Who’s so damned efficient she leaves the office at five every night.’
‘Something had to give. Even you can’t do a full-time degree on top of managing a café chain,’ she said. ‘Especially as you have a new role to fulfil shortly.’
‘Oh?’ He frowned. ‘What’s that?’
‘I have an anniversary present for you too.’
He rubbed his nose against hers. ‘Mmm. I do hope it’s what I think it is.’
She laughed. ‘That’s for later. And you’re going to have to share this particular present.’
He looked at her in puzzlement. ‘How? And with whom, precisely?’
‘You’ll see when you get the present.’
‘“When” being the operative word,’ he grumbled.
She sat up and opened the drawer next to her. ‘Close your eyes and hold out your hand.’
He did so, and she placed a small white rectangular object on his palm.
‘OK. You can open your eyes now.’
He looked at it. Stared at her. Stared back at the item on his palm. ‘Fran, is this what I think it is?’
‘Sì, papà,’ she confirmed. ‘You’re going to have to learn to play some lullabies. Maybe compose some.’
‘When?’
‘About seven months.’
He whooped with joy. ‘A year ago, I thought you’d made me the happiest man on earth. But today I’ve learned I was wrong: it’s just going to get better and better. Every day, for the rest of our lives.’
Tears of sheer happiness pricked her eyes. ‘I love you, Gio.’
‘And I love you too, Francesca—my love, my life.’ He wriggled down the bed and dropped a kiss on her abdomen. ‘And the perfect family. Where we belong.’
‘The perfect family,’ she echoed.
Where she most definitely belonged.
Cathy Williams
TAKEN BY HER GREEK BOSS
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ONE
FOR Nick Papaeliou, the evening was beginning to take on a bizarre, surreal air.
For starters, he was not a man who enjoyed public scenes. He liked to exercise control over every aspect of his life, not least his emotions. And yet, what had happened less than an hour previously? His girlfriend, now relegated to the position of ex-girlfriend, had drunkenly initiated a confrontation that had heralded the demise of their relationship. Of course, he had known for a while that he would have to break off with Susanna, had heard the warning bells begin to ring when her hints had moved from the general arena of proper relationships to the more specific one of wanting to climb off the merry-go-round and settle down before her biological clock began really ticking. But had he listened? No. The intention to finish with her had hovered on the periphery of his consciousness, but he had been in the middle of a highly complex deal and he had stupidly relegated it to the back-burner.
And then the party tonight. Not just the usual boring model bash to which he had grudgingly agreed to go, knowing that it would be the last with her, but a lavish, private dinner hosted by a fashion-designer couple with a passion for social climbing.
The wine had flowed freely and how true it was that alcohol loosened tongues.
He thought back with distaste to Susanna, the tears, the shouting, the pleading—all conducted in front of an audience of roughly forty people.
Naturally he had left, with every intention of heading back to his penthouse apartment in Mayfair where he would be able to forget the nightmarish previous two hours in front of his laptop computer. It would have been the preferred conclusion to an aberrant evening, but…