Greek Passions

By: Holly Rayner

A Greek Billionaire Box Set



Table of Contents:



An Heir For Alexandros: The Greek Billionaire’s Baby

A Baby For Kristos: The Greek Billionaire’s Surprise

The Greek Billionaire’s Marriage Matchmaker





AN HEIR FOR ALEXANDROS





The Greek Billionaire’s Baby





By Holly Rayner





ONE





The offices of Standard, Ayers, and Associates were housed in a tall building of beige concrete. Kally Jones hadn’t been expecting the Taj Mahal when she’d started working with these literary agents, but each time she came in for a meeting, she found it just a little more depressing. The building seemed to lack all charm. That, and windows. It had shockingly few of those for its size. Kally made a note of it, but she was determined to stay positive. She had come all the way out here to start a new life, after all.



The New York sun was uncommonly strong for January, and Kally felt like an ant under some sadistic kid’s magnifying glass. She dashed for the building’s unimpressive, glass doors, smoothing the jet-black skirt of her suit as she went. She smiled ruefully to herself as she reflected that the crazy weather summed up her life completely: it too was unbelievably out of order.



Inside, everything was cool and shaded, and Kally’s heels sent echoes throughout the room as she walked over the black marbled floors. Thank God for air conditioning, she thought to herself as she moved away from the doors. There was a desk on her left, just beyond the door, and she was before it in two quick strides.



“Good morning, Ms. Jones,” came a genial voice from behind the desk. It belonged to a pale young man with a fresh face and keen eyes.



“Huh? Oh, good morning,” she replied distantly, etching “10:45” in the log under “Time In”. Without another word, she turned purposefully toward the elevator banks.



As she waited for a car to arrive, Kally turned over the phone call she had gotten an hour ago. They wanted her to interview someone, that much was clear, but she couldn’t figure what all the secrecy had been about. As a rule, Kally was not overly fond of secrets, and puzzling through this one was not helping her mood.



A very important person, she thought. That’s all they’ll tell me. I don’t like flying blind, but right now, I haven’t really got a lot of choice. She tried to tamp down the wave of bitterness that suddenly rushed over her, stepping into the car that had finally arrived, but it was too late. She could feel it writhing inside her, clawing like an enraged house cat.



She jabbed the sixth floor button a little harder than she meant to, and winced as her finger spiked with pain. Instinctively, she squeezed it in her other hand, hoping the pressure would provide a bit of relief. She swore in a low voice, and tapped her foot impatiently, until the doors opened onto the gray-carpeted hall that led to her literary agent’s office.



“Let’s get this over with,” she mumbled to herself, forcing her expression into the plastic smile she reserved for occasions like these. She walked up to a heavy wooden door that bore the agency’s nameplate, and stepped inside.



The offices were small, but decorated pleasantly enough, with plants, end tables, and ferns.



“Ms. Faris is waiting in the rear office,” a gravelly voice called out. Kally gave the short, gray-haired old woman a polite nod. Good old Ruth she thought to herself, feeling just a little bit better as she reached the door of the rear office. Ruth had been the first person to greet her when she’d arrived, and since then, the older woman had taken on the role of grandmother to her. She gave excellent advice, and every now and then, she could be counted on to show up with a batch of homemade cookies.



I ought to do something nice for her, Kally thought, before delivering three sharp knocks to the door in front of her. There was a brief rustling inside the office, as if someone were hurriedly gathering a stack of papers together.



“Come right in, Kally,” a woman’s voice answered. It was businesslike, yet inviting, and bore a slight Middle Eastern accent.



Kally let herself in, and beheld an office she always swore to herself had been designed by a Hollywood studio. The desk was black Lucite, the lights were recessed, and the chairs were cushioned with a red fabric that looked and felt like velvet. Behind the desk, the windows ran from the ceiling to the floor. Kally could almost see two or three cameras trying to put the scene in focus.



All this place needs is a bar, Kally thought, taking a seat, and trying not to think about how good a drink would be right now.



Layla Faris was a slightly chubby, olive-skinned woman, with strong black eyes and hair to match. Her face was round, and while it wasn’t pretty, strictly speaking, it was full of character, and impossible to ignore.

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