Claiming His Hidden Heir: Claiming His Hidden Heir

Everyone knew Luka’s track record with women.

But they didn’t really know Luka—there was a private side to him that no one, and certainly not his PA, had access to.

From what Cecelia could glean, Luka had led a very privileged life. His father owned a luxurious resort in Xanero. The famed Kargas restaurant there was now the flagship venue of its own very exclusive brand in several countries. Luka, though, focused more on expanding the hotel side of things and lived life very much in the fast lane. He dated at whim and discarded with ease and all too often it was Cecelia mopping up the tears or fielding calls from scorned lovers.

Yes, he was a playboy in the extreme.

And he unsettled her so.

Cecelia had once glimpsed that life.

Her mother Harriet’s death had been intensely embarrassing for her well-to-do family for she had died as she’d lived and had gone out on a high—knickers down and with the proverbial silver spoon up her nose.

Harriet had left behind a daughter with whom no one had quite known what to do. Her father’s name did not appear on the birth certificate and Cecelia had glimpsed him just once in her life.

And she never wanted to see him again.

Cecelia’s staid aunt and uncle, who had always sniffed in disapproval at Harriet’s rather bohemian existence, had, on her death, taken in the child. With tangled curls and sparkling green eyes, little Cecelia had been a mini replica of her mother, but in looks only.

The little girl had craved routine.

In fact, it had been a very young Cecelia who had kept any semblance of order in her mother’s life.

She had put out her own school uniform and taken money from her mother’s purse to ensure there was food, and she’d always got herself up in the morning and made her own way to school.

After an unconventional start, Cecelia now lived a very conventional life and was efficient and ordered. Even though she travelled the globe with her work, she was generally in bed by ten on weekdays and eleven at weekends.

She had perfectly nice friends, though none close enough to remember her birthday, and this time last year she had been engaged.

Gordon and the break-up had been the only problem she had caused for her aunt and uncle, who could not fathom why she might end things with such a perfectly decent man.

It hadn’t been Gordon’s fault, and she had told him so when she’d ended it.

It was bloody Luka’s!

Though of course Cecelia hadn’t told Gordon that.

Still, there wasn’t time to dwell on it this morning.

She pulled on her flesh-coloured underwear and then glanced out of the window where the sun split a very blue sky, and found she simply could not face putting on the navy linen suit that she had laid out last night.

To hell with it!

Given that Luka wouldn’t be in the office today, and that she wouldn’t now be sitting in on meetings, Cecelia made an unplanned diversion to her wardrobe.

She wasn’t exactly blinded by colour. But there was the dress she had bought to wear to a friend’s wedding she had recently attended.

It had been a rare impulse purchase.

It was a pale cream halter neck, which Cecelia had decided as soon as she’d left the boutique was too close to white and might offend the bride.

She loved it, though, and, maybe because it was her birthday, she decided to wear it.

While it showed rather too much of her back and arms, she took care of that with the pale lemon, sheer, bolero-style cardigan she had bought on the same day.

The dress was mid-calf-length so she didn’t bother with stockings, and then she tied on some espadrilles.

Yes, perhaps because Cecelia knew she would soon be leaving Kargas Holdings she was finally starting to relax.

As she closed the front door to her flat, Cecelia decided that despite Luka’s absence she would still be giving in her notice today. It would be far easier to do it over the phone or online.

‘You’re looking very summery,’ Mrs Dawson, her very nosy neighbour, said as she passed her in the hall. ‘Off to work?’

‘I am.’

The pale lemon bolero didn’t even make it past the escalators to the underground. It was hot and oppressive and as she stood, holding a rail, she saw that Luka’s weekend escapades had made headlines on the newspaper a commuter held.

She looked at the photo beneath the headline. It was of Luka on the deck of his yacht moving in on a sophisticated, dark-skinned beauty. His naked chest and thick black hair were dripping water over the woman and though their bodies did not touch it was an incredibly intimate shot.

Cecelia tore her eyes from the picture and stared fixedly ahead but that image of him seemed to dance on the blacked-out windows of the Tube.

Having left the underground, Cecelia walked towards the prominent high-rise building that housed Kargas Holdings. She smiled at the doorman and then entered the foyer and took the elevator. She had a special pass that allowed her to access the fortieth floor, which was Luka’s in its entirety.

There weren’t just offices and meeting rooms, there was also a gym and pool, though Cecelia couldn’t recall him using them—they were more a perk for the staff.

And there was a suite that was every bit as luxurious and as serviced as any five-star hotel. When in London, Luka often slept there when he chose to work through the night or had a particularly early morning flight.

Yes, it was his world that she entered, but knowing that he wasn’t there meant Cecelia breathed more easily today.

It was just before eight and it would seem that she had beaten Bridgette, the receptionist, to work. There were a couple of cleaners polishing windows and vacuuming and the florists had arrived, as they did each morning to tend the floral displays.

Cecelia made a coffee from the espresso machine before heading to her desk that was housed in a large area outside Luka’s vast office.

The gatekeeper, Luka called her at times, though she felt rather more like a security guard at others.

As well as greeting his clients and guests, Cecelia was the final hurdle for his scorned lovers to negotiate if they somehow made it past the security in place downstairs.

Occasionally it happened, though generally Cecelia fielded them by phone.

And there it was again, springing to mind—the sudden image of him, wet from the ocean and dripping water, and Cecelia shook her head as if to clear it.

She hung her little cardigan on a stand and was just about to take a seat when his voice caught her completely unawares.

‘Is that coffee for me, Cece?’

Cecelia swung around and there, strolling out of his office, was Luka. Apart from being unshaven there was little evidence of his wild weekend on display. He wore black pants and a white fitted shirt that showed off his toned body and his thick black hair, which, though perhaps a little tousled, still fell into perfect shape.

And he was not supposed to be here.

‘I thought you weren’t coming in today,’ Cecelia said.

‘Why would you think that?’

‘Because you texted me in the middle of the night and told me you weren’t.’

‘So I did.’

He looked at the usually poised and formal Cece caught unawares. To many it might seem no big deal—she was simply holding a coffee and wearing a summer dress. Usually she was buttoned to the neck in navy or black, but it wasn’t just her clothing that was different today.

‘Thanks,’ he said, and took from her hand the coffee she had made.

‘It’s got sugar in it,’ she warned as she took a seat at her desk, ‘and, please, it’s Cecelia, not Cece.’

‘Habit,’ he said.

‘Well, it’s a very annoying one.’

Good, Luka thought.

Her cool demeanour incensed him.

His choice of name for her was deliberate, for he loved to provoke a reaction, even if it was only mild.

‘How was your weekend?’ she asked politely, pretending of course that she had heard nothing whatsoever about it.

‘Much the same as the last,’ he answered, and then came over behind Cecelia’s desk and, to her intense annoyance, he lowered himself so that his bottom was beside her computer. ‘Do you ever get bored?’ he asked.

‘Not really,’ Cecelia lied, for she had realised she had been bored with Gordon.

He had also worked in the City and they had fallen into a pattern of meeting for drinks on Wednesday, allowing time to catch up with friends on a Friday. It had generally just been the two of them on a Saturday, followed by a vague hint of an orgasm that night and generally a boring drive on Sunday with a pub lunch somewhere.

And then perhaps another anti-climactic tryst that night.

It hadn’t been Gordon’s fault.

Cecelia held back in sex just as she held back in life.

In fact, the fault lay with the man now lounging against her desk, for he had opened her eyes to sensations that should surely remain unexplored.

Oh, she should never have taken the job, Cecelia thought as Luka persisted with a conversation she would rather draw to a close.

‘But don’t you ever get tired of doing the same old thing?’ he asked.

‘I like the same old things,’ Cecelia answered.

He glanced at her neat, ordered desk and knew that the inside of her drawers would look exactly the same.

And then, just to annoy her, just to provoke some reaction, he picked up her little pottery jar that held her pens and things and moved it to the other side of her desk. ‘Live a little.’

‘No, thank you.’ She smiled grimly and moved the jar back where it belonged. As she did so he got the scent of freshly washed hair.

That was it.

Cecelia didn’t wear perfume; there were no undertones that he could note, and not just in her scent.

She was impossible to read, unlike any woman Luka had ever met. He had long ago given up flirting with her—the disapproval in her eyes kind of ruined the fun.

And as reckless as he was, Luka only ever played with the willing.

‘You look nice,’ he told her, and he felt the scold of her slight frown for daring to comment on something personal. Cecelia kept things very strictly business, yet she responded politely.

‘Thank you.’

But Luka did not leave it there. ‘You’re wearing a dress.’

‘That’s very observant of you, Luka.’

‘I’m just mentioning it because you don’t usually.’

‘Well, it’s been a long, warm weekend. I couldn’t face wearing a suit.’

‘No, but—’

‘Luka,’ Cecelia interrupted him, ‘if you have an issue with me dressing more casually than normal, then please just say so and it won’t happen again.’

‘I have no issue with you wearing a dress.’

‘Then there’s nothing to discuss.’

‘Are you sure about that?’ Luka said. He hadn’t intended to address this today but clearly the moment was upon them.

‘What I wear—’ Cecelia started to say, but then Luka cut in.

‘Do you have another dental appointment today, Cecelia?’ His voice had changed and he delivered his words with a threatening edge by using her correct name. ‘A final interview perhaps?’

He was rather certain that she was leaving, and more certain now because to her pale cheeks there came a very rare flush.

PAs came and went.

Luka was very used to that.

He was an exceptionally demanding boss and was aware that few could keep up with his impossible schedule for very long.

Usually all he required was for the incumbent PA to train the next one to standard before she left and ensure that the handover was seamless.

That Cecelia might be about to leave, though, brought a sense of disquiet like nothing he had known.

He liked her in his life, Luka realised, and he didn’t want her to be gone. But three prolonged dental appointments in recent weeks had served as ominous signs, and he’d been certain of it when she had avoided discussing the renewal of her contract.

‘Is there something you’ve been meaning to tell me?’ he asked.

‘Actually, yes.’ She took a breath and then glanced over at the sound of the elevator door opening and saw that Bridgette had arrived.

Cecelia did not want an audience for this.

‘Would it be possible to have a word in private?’

‘Of course,’ Luka said. ‘You know my door is always closed.’ When she didn’t smile at his little joke he stood from the desk. ‘Come on through.’

Luka decided he would have to talk her out of it.

And he knew just how to do it.

CHAPTER TWO

IT FELT LIKE a very long walk to his office.

Luka led the way and Cecelia actually felt a little sick because she still wasn’t certain that it was the right thing to do.

Cecelia was very career minded and knew that by resigning she was throwing an amazing role away—Luka’s empire was rapidly expanding, with hotels in New York City and Singapore on the cards, and to be a part of it would be amazing on her résumé.

But as he held open the door and she walked in, Cecelia knew she had little choice but to leave.

She could feel his eyes on her back.

On her skin.

They most certainly were.

Cecelia had the drabbest wardrobe he had ever seen.

Granted, she was always groomed and elegant, but Luka had long ago decided that she could make a modest outfit out of a handkerchief.

Not so today.

On the day she would tell him that she was leaving, he got the first glimpse of her spine.

Her back was incredibly pale, and he wondered if she should check her Vitamin D levels because he was sure that body rarely, if ever, saw the sun.

Luka had run into her out of work once and she’d been dressed in much the same monotonous, drab tones.

It had been at a museum exhibition a couple of weeks after she had started working for him, and not quite by accident. Luka had heard her discussing going with her fiancé and he’d wanted to see what made Cecelia tick, sexually speaking.

Pale English men, with skinny legs apparently.

They hadn’t even been holding hands and had stood as politely as two strangers while admiring an incredibly erotic work of art.

She’d jumped when she’d seen him, though! And blushed just a touch as she’d introduced Gordon to him.

And all the more Luka had wanted to know her in bed.

‘Please,’ he said now. ‘Take a seat.’

Luka gestured to a chair and then went around his desk while Cecelia took her seat.

And then she faced him.

He really was a very beautiful man.

Aside from fancying him rotten and everything, Luka Kargas really was exquisite to look at.

Those velvet eyes awaited hers but she could not quite meet them and she took in the high cheekbones and full plump mouth.

Cecelia liked mouths.

Gordon’s had been a bit small and pinched but she had only really thought that after she had seen Luka’s.

No, she should never have taken the job in the first place.

The very second she’d entered his luxurious office and he had stood to greet her, Cecelia had known she should turn and run.

Until that point, she and Gordon had seemingly ticked every box, yet that had changed the moment she’d shaken hands with Luka.

She had known that she had to end her engagement the night she had come back from the museum and while being intimate with Gordon had found herself imagining Luka instead.

It had been the best orgasm of her life!

Luka was everything that her aunt had warned her about.

Despite somehow knowing it could only end badly, and that she should leave now, instead she had taken the job.

And now she was here.

About to resign.

‘There is something you wish to discuss?’ Luka said, and she nodded.

It was all very formal and deliberately so, for Luka was not about to make this easy on her.

Quite simply he had never known a better PA and he did not want that to change.

He wanted Cecelia to stay and Luka always got what he wanted.

‘So?’ he invited. ‘What is it that you have to say?’

It wasn’t the first time she had handed in her notice and Cecelia was about to deliver her well-rehearsed lines yet she just sat there in strained silence. For when he held her gaze, as he did now, there felt like a limit on the oxygen in the vast room and superfluous words were rather hard to find.

‘I’m leaving.’

‘Pardon?’ Luka checked, and cocked his head a little, as if he hadn’t heard. He would make her say it again, and more explicitly this time.

‘I shan’t be renewing my contract.’ After such an appalling start the words now came tumbling out. ‘I’ve given it considerable thought and though it’s been an amazing year I’ve decided that it’s time to move on.’

‘But for all your considerable thought, you haven’t discussed it with me.’

‘I don’t need your permission to resign, Luka.’

Oh, this wasn’t going well, Cecelia thought as she heard the snap in her voice.

Yet she was almost at breaking point and that was verified when Bridgette buzzed.

‘There’s a woman called Katiya down in Reception, asking to see you, Luka...’

He rolled his eyes. ‘I’m busy.’

‘She’s very insistent. Apparently you’ll know why.’

‘Tell Security that whoever lets her up will be fired.’

He looked over at Cecelia. ‘Why can’t women take no for an answer?’

‘Why can’t my boss?’

‘Touché,’ he conceded and then decided to play the sympathy card, ‘Cecelia, one of the reasons I changed my mind about taking the day off was that I have just found out my mother is very unwell.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Cecelia said. ‘If there’s any...’ She stopped and then she closed her mouth rather than continue.

‘You were saying?’ Luka checked, and when she didn’t respond he spoke for her. ‘Because actually there is something you can do for me. Cece, I am going to be away a lot in the coming months. My mother has cancer and will be undergoing extensive treatments...’

She felt her own rapid blink.

Luka never spoke of his family.

Ever!

‘I am going to have to spend a lot of time in Xanero. You’re an amazing PA and I hope you know how much I appreciate you.’ He saw the swallow in her throat and went in for the kill. ‘At this difficult time, I don’t want to deal with someone new.’

‘Luka, I am sorry to hear that your mother is unwell but it doesn’t sway my decision.’

She really was as cold as ice, and yet, and yet...as he looked across the desk he could see tension in her features and that those gorgeous green eyes could not meet his.

‘Can I ask you to stay on for another six months? Naturally you’ll be reimbursed...’

‘Not everything is about money, Luka.’

He saw her green eyes flash and knew full well she thought him nothing more than a rich playboy.

She knew nothing about his start in life and Luka certainly wasn’t about to enlighten her.

No one knew the truth.

Even his own parents seemed to believe the lie that had long been perpetuated—that the resort on Xanero Island and the original famous Kargas restaurant housed within it had given Luka his start in life.

Well, it hadn’t.

Sex had.

Affluent holidaymakers looking for a thrill had first helped Luka to pave his way from near poverty to the golden lifestyle he had now.

The more sanitised PR version was that the first Kargas restaurant had given Luka his start.

Lies, all lies.

Not that he had any reason to tell Cecelia that.

Luka did not have to explain himself to his PA.

‘What if I offered more annual leave?’

‘I’ve already accepted another role.’

And so, when being nice and accommodating didn’t work, Luka grew surly. ‘With whom?’

‘I don’t need to answer that.’

‘Actually, Cece—’

‘Don’t call me that!’ she reared. ‘Luka, on the one hand you tell me how much you appreciate the work I do and yet you can’t even be bothered to get my name right.’

Finally he had his reaction.

‘So you’re leaving because I don’t call you by your correct name?’

‘No.’

‘Then why?’

‘I don’t have to answer that.’

‘Actually Ce-cel-i-a—’ he drawled every syllable of her name ‘—if you look at your contract you cannot work for any of my rivals for a period of a year and you cannot—’

‘Don’t.’ She halted him. ‘Luka, I am allowed to leave.’

She was.

‘Of course you are.’ He just didn’t like that fact.

‘I’ve got four weeks left on my contract and naturally I’ll start looking for my replacement straight away. Unless you have anyone particular in mind?’

‘I’ll leave all of that to you.’

‘Sure.’

He flicked his hand in dismissal and Cecelia read the cue and headed out, though she did not return to her desk.

Once alone in the quiet of the bathrooms she leant against one of the cool marble walls.

She’d done it.

Possibly it was the worst career move she would ever make, but soon sanity would be restored to her mind.

No longer would she stand on a busy Tube in rush hour, wishing that somehow she was the woman lying beneath that depraved, beautiful face as he leaned in for a kiss...

No more would she have to breathe through her mouth when he was close just to avoid a hit of the heady scent of him.

Finally, the clenching low in her stomach at his lazy smile would dissipate.

Order would be restored to the chaos he had made of her heart.

Not yet, though.

It really was an awful day.

Flowers were delivered for Luka that Cecelia signed for, and then stupidly she read the card.

Oh, the offer from Katiya was very explicit.

And if he would just give her the elevator code then Katiya could come right up now, it would seem, and get straight on her knees.

Cecelia returned the card to the envelope and took them in to him.

‘A delivery for you.’

‘From?’

‘I have no idea.’

He opened the card and then tossed it.

‘Have them if you want,’ he said, gesturing to the flowers.

‘No, thank you.’

‘Then put them somewhere that I can’t see them.’

In case you get tempted? Cecelia wanted to ask.

But of course she didn’t.

And then the downstairs receptionists messed up and a call was put through to Luka, but thankfully she was in his office at the time and it was Cecelia who answered it.

‘I just need to speak to him...’ a woman, presumably Katiya, sobbed.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Kargas isn’t taking any unscheduled calls,’ Cecelia duly said.

Luka didn’t even look up from his computer.

‘What time do you have to finish today?’ he asked when she ended the call.

‘Any time,’ Cecelia said, surprised by the unusual question, because Luka never usually bothered to ask. ‘Why?’

‘I want you to move the meeting with Garcia to the close of business there.’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

‘And I need you to sort out my flight tomorrow to Xanero. I’ll be away for a couple of weeks.’

‘A couple of weeks?’ Cecelia checked, because for him to be away for that length of time was unheard of. Luka used his jet the way most people used public transport.

‘I already told you,’ Luka said and his voice was curt. ‘My mother is ill.’

With his flight arranged, Luka rang Sophie Kargas and told her that her only child would be back tomorrow.

‘One thing,’ Luka said. ‘I shan’t be there to hold your hand and watch you give in. You’re going to fight this.’

‘Luka, I’m tired, I don’t want any fuss. I just want you to come home.’

He could hear the defeat in her voice and he knew only too well the reason. The treatment would mean regular trips to Athens and Theo Kargas liked his wife to be at home.