Claiming His Hidden Heir: Claiming His Hidden Heir

And he had told her how his ascent to the top had started.

Luka wasn’t particularly close to anyone.

He kept work and family neatly separated, and certainly he had never invited an employee, albeit one who had resigned, to join him there.

The yacht was for escape, for parties and fun. It had never been used as a couples’ retreat.

She came out of the shower and dressed quickly. He was relieved that she seemed as keen to leave as he now wanted her gone, for she had messed with his head.

‘I’d better take your case in to the office,’ Cecelia said.

‘Please.’ He nodded. ‘I’ll be in later.’

No, he wasn’t a perfect gentleman, for he did not tell her to leave the case and that he would take it.

And neither would his driver magically appear.

She could take the underground.

Cecelia had said herself that she wanted to draw a neat line and get back to being his PA.

That suited him just fine.

Last night had been amazing.

So had this morning, and yet now he was left feeling deeply unsettled.

Luka chose not to get close to anyone, but this morning he had.

* * *

Xanero really was hell in paradise.

For Luka, the first week there had been a protracted nightmare—his mother seemed resigned to her fate and his father continued to lord it over the restaurant and resort.

And he had found out that his father was bullying the staff.

Bastard!

While Luka disliked how his father had rewritten history to suit the image of himself he wanted to believe, Luka could live with it if it made life easier on his mother.

But bullying would not happen in one of Luka’s establishments, and for all the lies and wealth that shaped his mother’s life, she was finding it no easier that he could see.

Luka had taken the yacht out over the weekend, but the pop of champagne corks and the sound of music skimming over the Mediterranean had soon grated and he had cleared everyone off except the crew as he mulled things over. Now, back on Xanero, and midway through the second week, on the Wednesday morning his decisions were made and he was ready to execute them.

He walked through the alfresco area of the restaurant where diners were enjoying the morning sun and through to the cool darkness of the main restaurant.

Theo Kargas was at the bar, speaking with the bar manager, and Luka could feel the young man’s tension from across the room.

‘Hey,’ he said to his father. ‘We need to talk.’

‘About?’ Theo asked, even as he crammed whitebait, crisped to perfection, into his mouth. He was utterly relaxed, for any angry words from his son always took place out of earshot of the staff.

Yes, Luka’s door was always closed.

Not so today.

‘I want to discuss your appalling treatment of my staff and your inexcusable conduct towards my mother.’

Theo almost choked, but then attempted a recovery. ‘Your staff? We are partners. I gave you—’

‘You gave me nothing,’ Luka said, and got right in his father’s face. ‘You actually believe your own lies. Now, as I said, we need to talk...’ He gestured to a table, for he too would prefer privacy for this but the fact he had first addressed the issues in front of the bar manager had been deliberate.

Theo would listen, or Luka would act.

‘I bought this restaurant,’ Luka said, ‘from the money I made picking up rich woman...’

‘Luka,’ his father warned, for a waiter was setting up the table and could hear what was being said.

‘What?’ Luka shrugged. ‘I’m not ashamed of it.’

Well, perhaps he was a bit, but having told Cecelia the real truth about his start he felt more reconciled with it.

So he told his father a truth that had consistently been ignored. ‘I gave you an opportunity to work, and you spurned it. I have put up with it for years for my mother’s sake. No more. I am hiring a new manager, who shall report directly to me. One more episode of your foul temper used on my staff and I shall take you through the courts to extricate you from our agreement and the restaurant’s name shall be changed to Luka Kargas.’

‘It would kill your mother.’

‘She’s already dying,’ Luka pointed out, and then he looked right at his father. ‘Actually, she isn’t, because I am moving her to London for her treatments and I am going to ensure that she rests and is taken care of between them.’

‘You can’t just swan in here and dictate—’

‘Oh, but I can,’ Luka said. ‘I own the complex, and I have a half-share in the restaurant, and,’ he added, ‘I can destroy you if I so choose. You should be pleading with your wife to seek treatment, because if it wasn’t for her you’d be seeing your days out in a shack on the hills and, believe me, Theo, you don’t want to test me on that.’

‘I’m your father!’ Theo reared and stood and leant across the table and grabbed Luka’s shirt.

‘More’s the pity,’ Luka said. ‘And I strongly suggest that you get your hands off me. I’m not ten years old any more, or a skinny teenager up against a brute. I could floor you and I am more than willing to do it.’

Sensibly, his father removed his hand, for it was clear Luka meant every word. But he was not finished yet. ‘You have no idea the ruthless bastard I can be. I could crush you and your so-called empire in the palm of my hand,’ Luka said. ‘And I will say it again, just so we’re clear—the only reason I’ve held back where the resort is concerned is for the sake of my mother.’

It was Luka who stood up and walked off back towards his villa.

He’d have loved to have hit his bully of a father, but what good could come from that? So instead he stripped off and dived into the pool, pounding out several lengths before hauling himself from the water a touch breathless.

And then he messaged Cecelia.

We need to talk.

His message came up on her computer and Cecelia tensed, because though they had spoken about work both online and on the phone on many occasions, this sounded rather personal.