Page 1 of Modern Romance December 2025 1-4

Greek Boss To Hate

Michelle Smart

CHAPTER ONE

DRACOMANOLIS STRODEthrough the main entrance of Tsaliki Shipping with his entourage following in his wake. Nodding greetings at the reception staff, he ignored the elevators and took the stairs to his office on the top floor. Having come straight from the airport after a fourteen-hour flight from California, climbing the stairs was an excellent way of getting his leg muscles working and his blood flowing. That Grace, Theodore and Stav huffed and puffed their way behind him was not his problem; they were perfectly at liberty to take the elevator. It didn’t occur to him that his closest staff were all so used to following his instructions to the letter that independent thought had been lost, much like when humans lost the need for their appendixes.

After a week away from his newest and most important acquisition, one headache Draco didn’t need was to reach the eleventh floor and be ambushed by what felt like every member of the finance team. He could tell by their expressions what they were going to complain about: Athena Tsaliki. In the month since his buyout of Tsaliki Shipping and the attendant deal that he employ all of Alexis Tsaliki’s siblings for a minimum of three months, Athena’s name had come up on a daily—often hourly—basis, and never for complimentary reasons. There had been no respite from the complaints during his week in Silicon Valley.

‘She strolled in an hour late again.’

‘She refused to photocopy the Druman report.’

‘She told Christos to make his own coffee.’

‘She asked Evangeline if she’d dressed in the dark.’

At the last one, Draco had to bite his lips to control an unexpected swell of amusement. His inherited finance director had what could only be described as a unique sense of style.

Holding his hands up for silence, he caught the eye of every complainant before saying, ‘Leave it with me. I’ll deal with her.’

Except how to deal with her, that was the question. He was fast running out of options.

Buying out a multi-billion shipping company was never going to be plain sailing, but he’d never imagined the biggest headache would come in the form of a five-foot-seven blonde. In just one month, Athena had worked—and he used the term in its loosest sense—in six different Tsaliki Shipping departments. Staff mutinies had forced him to move her on each time. Four days ago, at the end of his tether, Draco gambled and ordered that she be placed in finance in the hope the staid, calm atmosphere would rub off on her. Judging by the racket blaring out at the far end of the floor, this was a gamble he’d lost.

With a deep sigh, he headed to the open-plan section where the finance department’s administrative team worked.

Three of the administrators were diligently working on their computers. One was photocopying documents. One was peering through a ledger and cross-referencing figures. One was playing on a hot-pink phone that perfectly colour-matched her hot-pink spaghetti-strapped Lycra top, her slender shoulders, face and the tight bun she’d tied her streaky-blonde hair into jiggling to the dreadful excuse for music blaring from the large speakers on her desk.

Without a greeting or any fanfare, Draco plucked the phone from her hand and looked at the screen. Instead of doing whatever job she’d been tasked with, the bane of his life had been reading an online fashion magazine. He looked at her and raised an unimpressed eyebrow. Luckily, he didn’t expect contrition because none was forthcoming. No, the bane of his life flashed her perfect teeth and cheerfully said, ‘Morning, boss. What do you think of the dress in the feature article I’ve been reading? Do you think it matches my skin tone or would I need a deeper spray tan to pull it off?’

Long past asking God to give him strength where Athena Tsaliki was concerned, he merely pursed his lips and gave a jerk of his head. It was a gesture he’d given so many times she didn’t need it translating, and with the docile obedience she’d proved herself an expert at faking, got to her feet.

Ignoring—for now—that she was wearing a hot-pink tutu in lieu of a skirt, he handed the phone back to her with a pointed, ‘Music off.’

She gave a little pout. ‘You don’t like grime?’

‘No one with any taste likes grime.’

Her pretty straight nose wrinkled, and in a theatrical aside she said, ‘Seeing as I’m the only person in this whole company with an ounce of taste, I think I’m the best qualified to be the judge of that.’

If she was bothered by the heads of her colleagues all turning sharply to her and the daggers they all aimed at her, she didn’t show it. In fact, Draco would be willing to bet she didn’t even notice, never mind care. She pressed her pretty fingers with the hot-pink, diamond-studded nails to the screen of her phone and a beat later merciful silence reigned.

‘There,’ she said with another of her wide beams. ‘All done. Anything else you want me to do before we go to your office and you give me what I assume is going to be another bollocking?’

‘You could try turning your computer on.’

She wiggled her finger at him, then wiggled it at the computer before finally pressing the button. ‘Ta-da!’

Only when she skipped out from behind her desk did he notice that she was wearing hot-pink tights and hot-pink ballerina shoes. Genuine ballerina shoes with pointe toes and pink ribbons tied around her calves. He could only be grateful that she didn’t pirouette up the last flight of stairs to his office.

The top floor of Tsaliki Shipping’s headquarters consisted of a large reception area filled with comfortable seating and coffee-making facilities, a sprawling boardroom and various private offices, the largest of which was occupied by Draco. His entourage dispersing to their work spaces, Grace, his PA, took her seat at the horseshoe desk that guarded Draco’s door, flashing disappointment when Draco closed it, thus excluding her from the forthcoming fireworks.

While he sat at his newly installed cocobolo desk, Athena threw herself onto one of the leather sofas. ‘I see you finally changed the décor and furniture,’ she said, wriggling and stretching herself out. ‘It’s nice to be able to lie down and not have to think of my father having sex with one of his secretaries in here.’

Used to Athena’s outrageous comments, he gave no reaction other than to say, ‘This isn’t a therapy session. Sit up.’

‘It would be much more fun if it was a therapy session as we’d be discussing my favourite topic—myself!’