A Di Sione For The Greek's Pleasure

‘This is Sofia.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Talia stepped towards the slight girl who blinked owlishly from behind her glasses. Her dark, curly hair framed a lovely, heart-shaped face; most of her right cheek was covered in the puckered red flesh of a scar. While waiting outside Talia had noticed how the girl would let her hair fall in front of her face to hide it, and her heart had twisted with sympathy. She knew what it was like to have scars. It just happened that hers were invisible.

‘Hello, Sofia,’ she said now, smiling, and just as before the girl bent her head forward so her hair slid in front of her face. Angelos frowned.

No, actually, he glowered. Talia quelled at the scowl on his face, and she could only wonder what his daughter felt. She’d watched Sofia covertly as she’d waited to see Angelos; she’d seen how the girl’s gaze followed each woman into the office, and then how her shoulders had slumped when each woman had come out again, usually looking annoyed or embarrassed or both. A couple of times Sofia had been ushered in, and Talia had watched how her slight body had trembled and she’d gripped her hands together, her knuckles showing bony and white, as she’d stepped into that inner sanctum.

After about an hour of waiting, Talia had tried to befriend her. She’d shown her the pad of paper and pack of coloured pencils she always kept in her bag, and for fun she’d done a quick sketch of one of the women who had been waiting, exaggerating her face so she was a caricature, but still recognisable. When Sofia had recognised the woman with her beaky nose and protuberant eyes, hands like claws planted on bony hips, she’d let out a little giggle, and then clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and panicked.

Talia had grinned at her, reassuring and conspiratorial, and slowly Sofia had relaxed, dropping her hand and then pushing the pad of paper towards Talia, silently inviting her to draw another sketch. And so she had.

They’d whiled away a pleasant hour with Talia doing sketches of as many of the women as she could remember before she’d handed the pencils to Sofia and encouraged her to draw something.

Sofia had sketched a sunset, a stretch of golden sand and a wash of blue water.

‘Lovely,’ Talia had murmured.

‘Spiti,’ she’d said, and when Talia had looked blank, she’d translated hesitantly, ‘Home.’

‘Sofia?’ Angelos said now, his tone sharpening. He rested a hand on his daughter’s shoulder, gentle yet heavy, and spoke in Greek to her.

Sofia looked up, smiling shyly. ‘Yassou.’

Angelos spoke again in Greek and then glanced pointedly at Talia. ‘I am telling my daughter that you do not know Greek.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Talia replied lightly. ‘She already knows. We’ve been miming for most of the afternoon, but we’ve managed to get along. And Sofia knows more English than you think, Mr Mena.’

‘Kyrie Mena,’ he corrected, and she nodded, only just keeping from rolling her eyes.

‘Kyrie,’ she agreed, and she didn’t need Angelos Mena’s wince to know she’d butchered the pronunciation.

Angelos spoke again in Greek to Sofia, and his daughter said something back in reply. Although Talia didn’t know what either of them was saying, she could feel both Angelos’s disapproval and Sofia’s anxiety. She stood there, trying to smile even as exhaustion crashed over her again.

What was she doing here, really? She’d come all this way to find her grandfather’s precious book, not interview for a nanny position. If she had any sense she’d stop this farce before it went any further, and explain to Angelos Mena the real reason why she’d come.

And then, no doubt, have him boot her out the door, and any chance to recover Giovanni’s book would be gone for ever.

Angelos was talking to Sofia again in Greek and Talia could feel her vision blur as the headache that had been skirting the fringes of her mind threatened to take over. The room felt hot, the air stale, and her legs were starting to tremble again.

‘Do you mind...’ she murmured, and sank into the chair, dropping her head into her hands as she took several deep breaths.

Angelos broke off his conversation with his daughter to enquire sharply, ‘Miss Di Sione? Are you all right?’

Talia took another deep breath as her vision started to swim.

‘Miss Di Sione?’

‘Talia,’ she corrected him. ‘And no, actually, I think I’m going to faint.’

CHAPTER TWO (#u672c490c-99f8-5410-897b-0ac9286011a3)

ANGELOS SWORE UNDER his breath as the woman in front of him went limp, her head drooping down between her knees.

He shouted for Eleni and then went over to Talia, crouching down by her chair as he put an arm around her shoulders and attempted to prop her up.

‘Sorry,’ she managed as her head lolled against his arm. She felt like a rag doll in his arms, boneless and light. Her hair brushed his cheek.

‘Papa, is she going to be all right?’ Sofia asked anxiously, and Angelos nearly swore again. The last thing his daughter needed was to worry about some stranger.

‘Yes, of course,’ he said, more tersely than he intended. ‘She’s just come over faint for a moment.’

His assistant came hurrying into the room, and Angelos barked out an order for a glass of water. ‘Make it juice,’ he snapped as Eleni headed out to the reception area. ‘Her blood sugar might be low.’

He glanced back at Talia, whose eyes were closed, her once rosy face now pale and bloodless. Her golden lashes fanned her cheeks and her lips parted slightly on a shaky breath. Then her eyes fluttered open and her gaze clashed with Angelos’s. For a second he felt jarred, as if he’d missed the last step on a staircase. He was suddenly conscious of his arm around her shoulders, her breasts pressed against his chest. Then she struggled to sit upright and he let his arm fall away.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t normally do that.’

‘Don’t you?’ he bit out, and she glanced at him uncertainly.

‘No...’

‘The thing is,’ Angelos said, his voice still hard, ‘I don’t know the first thing about you, Miss Di Sione. And yet you want me to entrust my daughter into your care.’

She gazed at him for a moment, the hazel of her eyes so clear he felt a sudden flicker of shame at his curt tone and implied accusation. Then she looked away from him, to Sofia.

‘I’m all right, Sofia,’ she said softly, and Angelos saw his daughter’s expression brighten as she gave Talia a trembling smile.

She was the first woman today, Angelos acknowledged, who had actually cared what his daughter was feeling. Had concerned herself with Sofia at all. And he realised that from the moment Sofia had entered his office, Talia had not made anything of his daughter’s scarred face. She hadn’t overcompensated either way; she’d simply acted as if it hadn’t mattered at all. The realisation made him feel both glad and completely wrong-footed, because it was still obvious to him that Talia Di Sione was utterly unsuitable to be a nanny. No qualifications, no references...he didn’t even know how she’d heard of the job or why she’d shown up for it.

And yet he felt on a gut level that she was the right choice, the only choice. Because she cared about his daughter.

Eleni came in with a crystal glass of apple juice on a tray and Talia took it with a murmured thanks. ‘I’m sorry to be a bother,’ she said, glancing at Angelos from under her lashes as she took a sip of juice. ‘I’m fine now, really.’

‘It’s no bother.’ Angelos paused. Talia was clearly the best choice for the position, and yet still he resisted. He liked things to be clear-cut, to make sense. He appreciated quantitative qualifications, experience over instinct. God knows his instincts had been wrong in the past. He trusted facts now, hard and solid and certain. Emotion, instinctual or otherwise, had no place in his life.

And yet... He watched as Talia smiled at Sofia and said something that made his daughter smile shyly back. Sofia caught his frowning gaze and gave him a hesitant smile and a discreet thumbs-up. This was the first woman she’d approved of. Should he trust his daughter’s instinct as well as his own?

His resolve hardened along with the set of his jaw. He had no choice. He needed to hire a nanny today, so he could return to work and Sofia could be cared for. He turned to Talia. ‘Can you be ready to leave in an hour?’

* * *

Talia blinked, her vision starting to swim again as she took in Angelos’s request. ‘Leave...?’ she repeated, and he gave an impatient nod.

‘I’d like to return to Kallos within the hour.’

Knowing she was sounding stupid, Talia couldn’t keep herself from repeating him yet again. ‘Kallos...?’

‘My home,’ Angelos clarified. ‘Did you not read the advertisement I placed, Miss Di Sione?’