Greek's Christmas Heir by Caitlin Crews

Author:Caitlin Crews
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2024-07-23T19:44:54+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

ANAX LOOKED UP from a long, satisfyingly brutal stretch of hours at his desk to find his sister haunting his doorway.

He sat back, glancing at his watch to determine how long he’d been poring over the documents on his desk, looking for the sorts of secrets that he knew too well his opponents and their legal teams liked to hide in contracts where they thought no one would look. Throw enough clauses into the mix and people assumed they’d gotten the gist of all of them without actually reading them all.

Anax knew different. From experience on both sides of said clauses.

“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?” demanded Vasiliki in her usual half-scornful, three-quarters disrespectful manner.

Truth was, he found it heartwarming. No one else treated him in exactly the same way she always had. There was nothing on this earth that affected his sister or her responses to things—except, perhaps, how discomfited she looked in the presence of Stavros, the security head. Anax assumed that was because she also disliked having her movements curtailed. No matter what good reasons there might be for it.

“Not one word,” he agreed now, as close to cheerful as he got, because he knew it annoyed her. “And had I known you were here, I would have ignored you even longer. To make a point.”

She only rolled her eyes at that as she consulted the tablet she held. “All the holiday invitations are rolling in again. It’s all the usual suspects, as expected.” And then she rattled off a list of charities, holiday balls, events, and the like. “Your company is graciously requested and eagerly anticipated at all of the above, of course.”

“Don’t you normally answer for me without consultation?” He stood up from his desk and allowed himself to stretch, looking out at the bustling streets of Athens far below, gleaming in the December dusk. Something about the lights prodded at him, and he didn’t like it. It reminded him of a firelit night, and a whispered question in a darkened hallway—in the promise he made himself that he had nearly broken. He turned back to his sister. “You are the one who tracks my contributions and packs my calendar with these obligations, are you not? Why is this discussion necessary?”

“This year is different.” Vasiliki lifted her gaze to his with an air of surprise when he did not reply to that. “This year you have a wife, Anax, or have you forgotten that?”

“Am I known for being forgetful?” He was aware that she would not find that an adequate response, and sure enough, she frowned at him.

“Stavros says you haven’t been out to the island in two weeks.” Vasiliki lifted a brow in that way she had that suggested others found it precisely this irritating when he did the same thing. “Trouble in paradise, my brother?”

“What I cannot imagine is what you imagine you are doing with this bizarre conversational gambit.” He considered her for the sort of long, thoughtful moment that would have anyone else at this company quaking.

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