Pretending with the Greek Billionaire(3)

“Sir?” Joseph said, his brow furrowed.

Luca almost laughed at his confusion. It was probably the first time he’d ever been told cancel plans. Luca, however, was in no mood for the frivolous company of his friends at the moment. And the beautiful Tiffany would have no trouble finding someone else to escort her to dinner. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if she’d been meeting someone else later that night anyway.

“You heard me, Joe. Cancel everything.”

“Yes, sir.”

Luca tossed his sunglasses onto a table as he headed toward the back. With his so-called friends gone and the house peaceful and quiet, he could actually relax and think for a change, not something he generally liked to do, but he needed to come up with some way to get his father off his back that didn’t entail changing his entire life. Maybe a few minutes soaking up the sun and staring at the amazing ocean view he paid through the nose for would spark a few ideas.

His shirt and shoes followed his glasses and his pants were halfway unbuttoned when a shriek of laughter stopped him.

“Joe! I thought you got rid of everyone this morning.”

“I did, sir,” Joseph said, his forehead crinkling as the party-like sounds floated in from the backyard.

“Then what the hell…”

The nearer he got to the door, the more the shrieks and laughter filtered to him. Luca stepped off his back deck and down to the lower deck where the infinity pool looked out over the turquoise ocean and pristine white sand of his private beach. He stood, completely dumbfounded by the scene before him.

Half a dozen children splashed about in his pool while a woman in a white T-shirt and knee-length khaki shorts, wearing insanely ugly Velcro-strapped sandals, tried to haul them one at a time out of the water. She seemed to be succeeding more at soaking herself with water than she was getting the little heathens out of his pool.

“What is going on here?” he shouted.

The woman’s head whipped toward him, the movement loosening the bun that held her dark red hair atop her head. She tucked the escaping tendrils behind her ear.

“Out of the pool, girls, now,” she said, her voice brooking no argument.

The girls immediately obeyed, filing one by one from the water to stand behind their caretaker. Six pairs of young, terrified eyes looked up at him, a few pairs of lips quivering in the process. One little girl with a thick braid of black hair peeked out from behind the woman to stare at him. His eyes narrowed and she darted quickly back under cover.

The woman patted the girl on the head and whispered something to her as she pried the little one off her leg and handed her to one of the older girls. Then she straightened like she was off to face a firing squad and marched, chin in the air, toward him.

A grudging respect mixed with the anger coursing through him. There weren’t many women who could stare him down when he was angry. He crossed his arms and waited.

“I’m very sorry,” she said, her voice with its American accent somehow firm and soft all at the same time. “I realize we are probably trespassing…”

“Probably? How did you even get in here? Do you make a habit of sneaking onto other people’s property and—you! Get out of there!” He pointed at one child who was hip deep in his bushes, several flowers clutched in her hands. “Joseph, do something.”

“What did you have in mind, sir?” Joseph asked, eyebrows raised.

“I don’t know. Just…” He waved his hands like he could make the whole scene disappear. It didn’t work.

“Elena, get down from there! Put those down right now,” the woman said, hands on her hips like some anal-retentive schoolteacher.

“Look, I don’t know who you are…” Luca said.

“Constance McMurty,” she said, sticking her hand out like she was at some job interview.

He shook it automatically before he realized what he was doing. Her fingers were warm and soft against his own, but she shook his hand with a firm grip, no nonsense. Exactly two pumps and then she let go.

She looked at him expectantly with deep sapphire blue eyes that gazed directly into his. Those eyes narrowed and he realized she’d asked him something, but he hadn’t a clue what.

“This is Mr. Vasilakis,” Joseph said, reliable as always. “This is his property.”

“Luca Vasilakis?” Constance said before taking a slow, deep breath.

Good, she’d heard of him. Well, maybe not so good. None of the stories that circulated about him were entirely true. Most were grossly exaggerated if not downright fabrications, and none of them were flattering. Luca frowned, wondering where the sudden urge to put his best foot forward was coming from. What did he care what this woman thought of him?