Her Greek Billionaire: Her Greek Billionaire, #2

By Anna Harte

Greek billionaire, Costas Voridis, is smitten by beautiful songstress Maya Morgan but secrets in her past threaten to drive them apart. 

Costas is accustomed to getting what he wants and he's never wanted a woman like he wants Maya. 

Only problem is...she's taken. 

Torn between two lovers, Maya doesn't know who to choose until a devastating secret is revealed

• Language: English
• Publisher: Everyday Press
• Release date: Oct 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781519930316

Book preview

Chapter One

The hotel phone began ringing just as Maya stepped out of the shower the next morning. She picked it up, wondering who it could be.

Hello, Maya Morgan?

Yes? Maya didn’t immediately recognize the man’s voice.

It’s Andreou Taxeri.

The Director of the Panagia Kaliviani Orphanage. Oh, good morning.

A twelve year–old girl has run away, he continued briskly, his tone tight with worry. She didn’t return to the orphanage after school and no–one’s seen her.

Oh, no. The news shocked her. I’m sorry to hear that.

An alert’s been issued but we were wondering.... The man’s voice trailed off.

Yes?

If, maybe, you’d agree to make a personal appeal this morning. On television. It’s just that, you see, the quicker she’s found, the higher the chances she’ll be fine.

Of course. Yes. I’ll do it. I came to Crete to help.

Mr. Taxeri breathed a deep sigh of relief. Thank you so much. I spoke to Costas first, but he said it was your decision to make, that it would be going beyond the terms of your contract.

Please, Maya broke in. I’m happy to do it and I’m glad you asked. What exactly do you need me to do?

Well, Athena can take you to Crete TV in Heraklion where we’ll do the taping. We think it will be more of a news item if you make the appeal with us. People pay more attention when celebrities are involved.

What was her name?

Sorry?

The girl’s name.

Thais Rallis. She’s been with us since she was six, after her parents died in a car accident. I’ll let Costas know so he can speak to Athena about collecting you at nine. The taping is at nine thirty.

I’ll be ready.

An hour and a half later, Maya was in the BMW being driven into Heraklion.

It’s nice of you to do the appeal, Athena said with a sidelong glance at Maya.

Maya grimaced. Twelve years old. She shook her head. Just a baby. Do you think––? She found it hard to put it into words. I mean, I’ve read so much about child trafficking. Kids taken to perform child labor or...or worse. You’d think on an island this size––.

What? That she couldn’t be taken? That someone would notice and say something?

Yes. The car stopped at a red light in what looked like a shopping area and Maya stared at the people crossing the street in front of her. It occurred to her that she hadn’t seen many children since arriving in Crete except for when Costas took her to the beach. They were either at home or, like now, in school, whenever she left the hotel. Maya thought of her four year–old niece, Sabrina, in the red and white velvet dress she’d refused to take off and had slept in after last year’s Christmas dinner. She could almost feel the little girl’s warm chunky body as she’d hurled herself at her Auntie Maya.

A lump rose in Maya’s throat and, all of a sudden, she felt a deep wrenching longing. When she went back to the States she’d fly to Atlanta and spend more time with her niece.

Sabrina was growing so quickly. Time flew by fast. One minute you were holding a tiny baby in your arms and then, the next minute, they were heading off to college. But always, always, you had to watch over them and protect them because you never knew when pure evil would strike and either take them from you forever, or hand them back as broken dolls.

My mom says people looked out for each other a lot more long ago but that Crete was changing even when she was a girl. She says people nowadays are just busy running after money. They don’t have time to care for each other anymore.

The village is now a big city.

Exactly. The village can’t raise the children because the village doesn’t exist.

Most missing children are taken by someone they know, Maya murmured. She’d read that somewhere or, maybe, heard it on the news. She found that so disturbing – that someone close to a child, someone around whom a child was supposed to be safe, would be watching and waiting for a chance to carry off his prey. The idea of that sickened her.

Mr. Taxeri was waiting for them in the reception area at Crete TV, clutching a file. After they signed in and