Honey's Greek Billionaire

By Jean Adams

In an effort to stop his embarrassing flirtations, Honey Preston jokingly asks her billionaire boss, Paris Magdalinos, to marry her. Much to her surprise, he accepts, and no amount of wriggling on her part will induce him to let her off the hook. Besides, she doesn't believe she's good enough for him. Paris has his own agenda. He's using Honey's innocent proposal to help him out of a sticky situation. And their marriage will only be for a short time...until he kisses her and discovers she's the woman he's been seeking. She's perfect for him, and he wants to stay married. But Honey's beliefs are hard to shake.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Jan 27, 2017
• ISBN: 9781509212361

Jean Adams

Jean lives in the North Island of New Zealand, but she originally came from England. She loved the movies when she was growing up. That's probably where her love of storytelling started. In fact it didn't stop there. A few years ago, she went to Cornwall (her most favourite place in the whole world) and sat spellbound amongst the other kids while the resident storyteller at King Arthur's Castle at Tintagel told about Cornish folklore. She once worked for an airline (several actually) and was lucky enough to travel for next to nothing - France, Spain, Portugal, India, the USA, Barbados, Australia, and of course, back to the old country. After realizing that there was a serious lack of support for budding writers in my area of the world, she founded Romance Writers of New Zealand in September 1990.

Book preview

Inc.

Do you believe in love at first sight?

Heavens, she hadn’t meant to blurt it out quite so forcefully. And now she had started he wouldn’t let her back out even if she wanted to.

Paris smiled up at her. Of course I do. I’m Greek.

You can do it, Honey. In for a penny… Then I…I have to say this now, or I never will, and then it will be too late.

His grin broadened, showing off the perfect white teeth against his bronzed skin. What will be too late?

She took another deep breath, conscious of the tightness in her chest. I fell in love with you the moment I first laid eyes on you.

Eyes wide, he stood slowly and placed his hands on his hips. Honey?

It threw her, but she couldn’t falter now she had come this far. And…and you have made it clear by the things you say that you like me, too. A lot, she added for emphasis.

He rested his hands squarely on his hips. I do.

Why did she feel like she was heading for the guillotine on the tumbrel? Courage, mon brave. Then. Her stomach churned mercilessly, her heart raced out of control, and she rubbed clammy palms down the sides of her skirt. Sir. Mr. Magdalinos. Paris. She lifted her head and looked him squarely in the eye. Will you marry me?

Honey stood still. Paris stood still. Time stood still.

Oh help! What have I done?

A grin spread slowly across his face. Why, thank you, Honey. I would be honored.

Honey’s

Greek Billionaire

by

Jean Adams

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Honey’s Greek Billionaire

COPYRIGHT © 2017 by Jean Drew

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Champagne Rose Edition, 2017

Print ISBN 978-1-5092-1235-4

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1236-1

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

To everyone who believes in love at first sight

Chapter One

Paris Magdalinos strode into the room, taking possession. One by one, recognition dawned on the faces of the staff as they lifted their gazes from their desks to look at him. He glanced around the room and smiled.

Good afternoon, everyone.

Twelve members of staff rose to their feet and greeted him with applause while his gaze quickly scanned the faces. Everything was as he remembered. Apart from the dead man, there had been only a couple of staff changes.

One cute blonde in particular caught his eye. Hmm. She was new. Interesting face. Heart-shaped, surrounded by unruly blonde curls. In his experience, blondes usually looked wishy washy, and this one had the worst taste in clothes he had ever seen. She wore a pale pink top and ill-fitting brown trousers. He managed to control a shiver of distaste. He preferred dark-haired women who wore bold, dramatic colors. This woman offended his sense of style.

Until her eyes caught his full attention. Zeus! They were stunning. Bright, clear turquoise that reminded him of deep caverns of Antarctic ice, the thought of which chilled his blood. Then he remembered ice could burn.

Good afternoon, Mr. Magdalinos, the staff echoed, almost in unison.

He eyed them all with a hint of suspicion. Was this a complete den of thieves, or… It’s good to see you again. He smiled, seeking any surprise expressions of guilt. Seeing none, he narrowed his eyes. Although he smiled briefly, his gaze didn’t stop working the room. Someone must be on the defensive, be bound to think he suspected collusion. Which, of course, he did. Accusations could fly in all directions. Not that it mattered what they thought. It was his money that had been spirited away.

Once employed, people rarely left the Magdalinos Corporation. He prided himself on that. He was a fair boss, and the staff was well looked after, an ethic his father had instilled in him when he took over the reins of the company. So how could anyone steal from him? Naturally, he could do nothing about the dead man, but his retribution would be swift when he caught his accomplice, or accomplices, who had played the company false.

****

Honey Preston gasped as the Greek boss, the one she had heard so much about, strutted into the office like the powerful potentate he was. His presence filled the whole room. He halted in front of them, a smile plastered over his handsome face.

So that was the man himself. The one they drooled over when anyone mentioned a man to die for. He was that, all right, no doubt about it. And didn’t he know it?

Honey’s gaze flicked around the room. Good grief. Some of the women were practically dissolving at his feet.

She’d seen pictures of him in staff magazines and now admitted, grudgingly, that the photographs—usually taken of him looking amazing, tanned and healthy, seated at the boardroom table in Athens—didn’t do him justice.

There were other pictures, too: women clad in nothing more than skimpy bikinis on the deck of his superyacht, Aphrodite, usually moored at his island home of Limnos. She was willing to bet he more than earned his playboy reputation. A yacht so aptly named had to have some high-old shenanigans going on there on a regular basis.

He was usually pictured in dark suits, with a few black hairs peeking over the top of an open-necked shirt. Today was different. He wore a cream suit teamed with a pale gold-colored shirt and matching tie. She was forced to admit, reluctantly, that his cheeky, sexy grin would make a toothpaste advertisement look dull. His smile lit up the entire room, like much-needed sunshine on this wintry-gray day.

She took every opportunity to study him under her lashes while he engaged others in conversation. He was the kind of man every woman dreams about, and yes, she had to admit in a weak moment, herself included. Luckily, men like Paris Magdalinos with dark good looks, million-megawatt smiles, and money to burn were way out of her league.

He wasn’t merely boss of the London office. He was head of the entire company worldwide. And he had come all the way from his sunny Aegean home base to take over the reins of this investigation for however long it took to trace the stolen money.

A shiver of awareness scooted down her backbone. She was the one who would have to work closely with him.

Mr. Mortimer’s death last week had thrown the accounts office into complete disarray, with only her to do the work. For the past week, she had been overwhelmed, staying late to keep up with the workload. On top of that, she guestimated it could take several weeks of solid detective work to unravel all the transactions with which Mr. Mortimer had defrauded the company. But where had he stashed two million pounds of Magdalinos money? That was what Paris Magdalinos was here to find out.

Although Honey had been the one to make the discovery, she had not been able to establish exactly where the two million pounds had gone. Now they had to trace not only all the intricately woven threads of the fraudulent transactions but also discover where they led.

And this is Honey Preston, Mr. Magdalinos.

Snapped out of her daydream, she focused on Brian Armstrong, the overall office manager. Oh lord, she was about to be introduced. Should she offer her hand for a handshake? She hoped she didn’t do anything stupid like curtsey. She started to raise her hand, then surreptitiously lowered it again, hoping no one had noticed.

It was Miss Preston who alerted me to the problem. She was Mortimer’s assistant for a year and a half.

Honey? The chocolate-colored gaze collided with hers.

Her face burst into instant flame. Oh my goodness.

Paris Magdalinos gave a short nod and bestowed on her a sexy smile that no red-blooded woman could misinterpret, before his amused, sparkling eyes moved on to the next person.

Even though there was a tinge of the outside temperature in the air, her own temperature rose. A small bead of perspiration ran down her cheek, and the need to fan her face became an urgent priority. But she didn’t dare move so much as a finger in case any movement, however slight, attracted his attention again. She wasn’t sure she could handle another helping of his dark-eyed scrutiny.

But anonymity was not to be.

As though drawn by a magnet, his chocolate-colored gaze swung back to rest on her face. Your name is Honey? His gorgeous smile wasn’t helping.

Oh heavens, this is embarrassing.

Yes, sir. She cleared her throat of the frog that had suddenly taken up residence and repeated, Yes, sir, a little louder than she would have liked.

So…Honey, you and I will be working together, yes?

Um…

Coal-black eyebrows lifted in her direction. Yes?

Um. What kind of an answer is um? Yes, sir.

What did he see when he looked at her? Was she gaping?

Maybe a big spot had suddenly appeared on the end of her nose.

Perhaps he was hung up on her eyes. The bane of her life. She hated that they were such an unusual color. Bright and clear. She did everything in her power to disguise them. Why did everyone she met feel the need to remark on them, as though she had no idea they were such a brilliant color?

Or was he wondering whether she had been privy to old Mortimer’s creative bookkeeping? Some in the office had. Maybe even that she was the other woman with whom Mr. Mortimer had planned to skip the country. After all, she had been his assistant for the past eighteen months.

Yes, that was probably it. This gorgeous Greek suspected her of being a part of the plot to steal his money. Suspicion was the reason his gaze kept straying in her direction.

Having finally spoken to everyone else, Paris Magdalinos came back quickly to settle at her side. So, Honey, shall we adjourn to our office? His English was impeccable.

Um…yes. Drat! She’d said um again. Follow me, Mr. Magdalinos. Sir.

She sensed everyone’s gaze following their two-person procession across the room to the corner office. Conscious of him closer behind than she would have liked, Honey became painfully aware that she was slouching. She squared her shoulders, straightened her back, lifted her chin, and quickened her pace.

At the office door, she stood aside to admit him. Here we are, Mr. Magdalinos.

Call me Paris. His voice was deep, well modulated. After you, Honey.

She wasn’t sure she liked his tone every time he said her name. Perhaps his lilting accent made it sound like an innuendo.

You are the boss.

He inclined his dark head. I am also a gentleman.

She doubted that but chanced a smile, secretly pleased when he returned it. Of course he wasn’t smiling at her as a woman, more as an accountant who was about to reveal where his two million pounds had been stashed. She was hardly his type, and for some reason, that thought annoyed her.

This might be a good time to ask him a few relevant yet noninvasive questions. Get some kind of dialogue going between them. Did you have a good flight?

Getting people to talk about their travels was usually a good way to start a conversation. And she had her reasons to get him talking. Wanted to get on his good side.

He looked across and smiled at her. This time there was no mistaking the predatory gleam in his eyes. Heat rose up her neck and into her face.

Thank you, it was very pleasant, although a little cramped even for first class. I prefer to travel on my yacht. He unbuttoned his jacket and took a hanger from the coat stand by the door. It is much more civilized to travel by sea.

Just as she’d expected, there it was. The arrogant rich man put-down of the lowly masses. She fought the urge to bite back, but now was not the time. It’s all right for some, she commented under her breath. Unfortunately, her words were not as quiet as she thought.

He glared at her, and she realized he’d heard the note of bitter envy in her voice. Of course it is, he returned, but some are not willing to put in the effort it takes to get the wealth they deserve.

She wanted to come back on that but decided to refrain. If she wanted him to give her Mortimer’s job, she’d better come down off her high horse and make the effort to be more pleasant. At least until he decided what he was going to do about the vacancy.

She smiled. Sweetly. Nice if you’ve got the time is all I meant.

He inclined a quick nod in her direction. I usually try to make sure I have plenty. However, sometimes it is expedient to be flexible.

She moved toward the desk, saying over her shoulder, Like when someone has stolen two million pounds of your fortune.

Precisely. He shrugged out of his jacket and placed it on the hanger. Good grief. His jacket looked as arrogant as the man himself. It didn’t even look travel rumpled!

He marched across the room and dumped his briefcase on the floor beside a chair.

He moved smoothly and gracefully around the office, like a panther on the prowl. He looked in cupboards, opened cabinet drawers, and flicked through files. All the while he said nothing, just moved about with brief, economical movements. His off-handed manner hinted that he’d forgotten she was there.

She cleared her throat. If I knew what you were looking for, maybe I could help.

If I knew what I was looking for, I’d ask. He finally stopped his search and turned to smile at her. The cold, hard smile didn’t reach his eyes. Just looking for whatever clues I can summon up. But I think, after all, we’ll find everything we need online.

That’s where I found the original errors, yes, she reminded him with sarcastic bite.

He stopped his searching and turned his head to look at her. I realize that. But criminals are notoriously stupid. They leave clues all over the place. Especially when they don’t expect to drop dead in harness, as it were. He flopped elegantly onto the chair in front of the monitor.

Did you find any? Clues? She made a point of glaring at him.

Not yet. He pressed a button, and the screen lit up. Were you working on anything important when I arrived?

No, just getting final figures for the day.

Then I can close down what’s here?

Yes. She brushed a stray hair back behind her ear. So where’s your yacht today? Languishing in some glamorous Aegean port? Good grief. She didn’t mean to say that. Why was she suddenly fixated on his yacht? Especially since it was totally irrelevant to his reason for being here.

He leaned back, a wide grin stretched across his lean cheeks. Obviously, she had chosen a subject close to his heart. "Aphrodite? His grin broadened. Our goddess of love."

She knew who Aphrodite was. Normally, it wouldn’t bother her, but somehow the words coming from his lips, hinting at innuendo, were more than she wanted. Her face heated at the mere suggestion.

Intimidating black eyebrows lifted in question. His smile wasn’t helping. His eyes searched hers with amusement. You are acquainted with our goddess?

She cleared her throat. Not personally.

I find that hard to believe. Was he probing? Looking for chinks in her armor.

Why? she demanded, then wished she hadn’t. But I’ve read a little Greek mythology.

He raised his eyebrows before he settled deeper into the soft leather chair. I’m pleased to hear it. He paused briefly. Even the fabled beauty of the goddess, I’m sure, cannot hold a candle to you.

Was that his way of saying she looked a mess? Mandy always said that when a man teased a woman it was because she was