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“Thank you,” she replied. “Good evening to you, Mr. Plutus.” She smoothed her hands over her dress slacks. Marie would’ve worn a skirt to meet Mr. Papadakis, but Rose didn’t care to travel in skirts. What if the plane went down? Pants were more practical, especially for swimming if the plane ended up in the Mediterranean.
“There’s time to take the scenic route to the hotel before dinner, if you’d like,” Plutus said. “Or I can take you straight there.”
“Scenic would be fine. Stavros said you can tell me of the history while we drive.”
“My pleasure. And it’s Plutus. No mister.”
Rose withheld her eye roll, but only just. Why were all the staff only one name, like Madonna and Beyoncé? Would she be known as Berret? Or Rose, in case the names were all first names? She didn’t know enough about Greek etymology to distinguish between first and last. She hoped part of her welcome packet included a list of staff names so she could make a good first impression, even if the meeting with Mr. Papadakis went over like a lead balloon.
As Plutus drove, Rose felt a twinge of guilt at putting off the meeting a few minutes more. What if Mr. P didn’t approve of her choice? Then that was his fault for giving her a choice when he really wanted his own way. And the rich always wanted their own way.
Plutus’s chatter washed over her as she caught glimpses of the Acropolis and the Parthenon. She tried to focus on his words, but her thoughts distracted her.
The people she wanted to impress were the children, Nefeli and Adonis, ages seven and four respectively, according to Marie’s information. They were the ones Rose would spend her time with. She cared little whether she got on with the father. He probably would be too busy running his olive oil empire to care about his half-orphaned children. Bitterness burned in the back of her throat at the thought of children being inconvenient footnotes in their parents’ lives. She’d never do that to her own children if she ever had the chance to marry again and have them.
She ran a hand over her stomach and closed her eyes to relive the feel of fluttering within her abdomen. Tears threatened, and she opened her eyes.
Plutus fell silent as he looked at her in the mirror. “Are you alright, Ms. Berret? May I be of any assistance?”
She straightened her shoulders. “I’m fine, thank you. Only a little tired from the flight. Please go on.”
For the rest of the ride, she attempted to see Athens through the darkened windows and to focus on her impromptu history lesson. Before she was ready, the car pulled to a stop.
A hotel attendant opened her door. “Ms. Berret.” He offered a hand to help her out.
She swallowed her ingratitude and accepted the proffered hand.
Stavros approached her. “Did you enjoy your little tour, Ms. Berret?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Your rooms are ready for you.” He gestured for her to accompany him.
“Rooms?” She walked the red carpet inside the front doors. A stunning antique chandelier made of thousands of crystals glittered above. Her flats sank into the plush carpet as they bypassed the reception desk.
“Don’t we need to . . . ?”
“Everything is prepared for your arrival, Ms. Berret.” Stavros led her past the bank of elevators to a private elevator around the corner.
Rose tightened her grip on her handbag.
The golden elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and they stepped in.
Stavros pushed the up button, and after the doors quietly slid shut, they were in motion, ascending to what Rose presumed was the penthouse since there were no lit numbers on the panel. One glowing button for up and one for down. No need for more when you stayed on the top floor with all of Athens spread at your feet. She shook her shoulders in an effort to shake off her growing apprehension.
“Have you worked for Mr. Papadakis long?” she asked.
“About four years.”
“And is he a fair employer?”
“Fair and just.” He lowered his shades a fraction to look at her. “What are you fishing for, Ms. Berret?”
She shrugged. “Simply trying to determine Mr. Papadakis’s character.”
The shades slid back into place. “Seems as if you’ve already sketched him. Might I suggest reserving judgment until after you’ve met him. He’s certainly extending that courtesy to you.”
Rose frowned at the gold tiled floor, her fuzzy face reflected back at her.