An Heir for Alexandros: The Greek Billionaire's Baby (4 page)

SIX

Back inside the elevator car, Kally allowed herself to consider for the first time, how little she had known about Stratos. The
Republic
’s demise had been like a slow motion crash, but that hadn’t lessened the shock of what happened. Kally had latched onto Alexandros at once, because it felt good to have a clear enemy to blame. She had condemned him for so long as a heartless monster, but only now did she realize that the
Republic
’s demise was all she knew about him. Now that she had heard his story, she didn’t know how to feel.

Stratos had suffered through a childhood she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy, and she couldn’t ignore the sadness that welled up in her whenever she thought of it. He had saved a man's life, created opportunities for his countrymen, created thousands of jobs, and built a legacy. But he was also the man who swindled and extorted his own family, and profited from death and human misery. Her feelings were all over the place, reeling between anger, sadness, sympathy, and rage.

And attraction. She kept suppressing this last, and cursing whatever hormones kept bringing it to the surface. At the end of the day, this was still the man who dealt a deathblow to life as she had known it. She still personally knew people that were only separated from homelessness by a few hundred dollars and the grace of God. She could not,
would not,
allow herself to consider becoming entangled with the person responsible for their misery.

“You have a nice day, miss,” one of the guards called out as she exited the elevator and headed outside.

Kally was too preoccupied with her thoughts to reply, and the other security guard shook his head. “One of these days, you’re gonna get us both fired,” he told his partner.

Kally was approaching a food truck with a vague idea of getting something to eat, when her phone rang, shattering her reverie.

A bolt of something like fear shot up her spine. That would be Don, and she had yet to work out what she wanted to do. Last night she had been so sure that Alexandros was the devil, and that it was her duty to bring him to justice. Now she wasn’t certain. If she told Don what she had heard, would she be destroying the little boy who was anguished by a brutal upbringing? Would she be ridding the world of the charismatic man who was now struggling to right the wrongs he had caused? Or would she be helping to punish the man who grew rich off the dead, and suffered no consequences for it?

The phone rang insistently, and knowing that she needed more time, Kally decided that the best thing she could do would be to stall. She fished her phone out of her purse and looked at the screen. Sure enough, it was Don calling.

“Hello?” she answered, hoping to God her voice was steady. “Kally Jones speaking. How can I help you?”

“Afternoon, ma’am,” came Don’s confident reply. “What’ve ya got for me? Anything good yet?”

“It’s a bit too early to say,” Kally lied with surprising ease. “We only discussed preliminaries today. We’ve formulated an outline for the remaining interviews, and we’re delving into his early business career the meeting after next. I expect that’s when I’ll have what you’re looking for, but if I find anything earlier, I’ll let you know.”

Don seemed satisfied with that answer, and hung up seconds after, leaving Kally to her own devices.

She ordered a half smoke, and started for the subway when she noticed someone watching her from a few feet away. He was young, wearing black jeans and an oversized graphic tee shirt. Whoever he was, he was clearly trying to blend in. When he noticed her watching, he turned away, and when Kally looked again, he was gone. She was almost completely certain he’d been watching
her.
Someone, she was sure, was having her followed.

But why
? she thought, dashing for the subway and looking over her shoulder every other second. Was Alexandros on to her? Was he trying to make sure she didn’t start divulging secrets to the highest bidder the second he started talking? Or was it Don, eager to make sure she kept to the agreement, and didn’t go offering to sell her information to any of Stratos’ other business rivals, for a higher price? Whoever was doing it, it made her uncomfortable, and even though it wasn’t even three o’clock, she was eager to get back to the confines of her apartment.

“I’m Kally Jones, not Mata Hari,” she breathed, spotting the subway.

Just as she reached the stairwell, Kally's phone rang. “What is it now?” she groaned, expecting another long talk with Layla. When she answered it, however, she was surprised to discover it was Beth Matthews on the line.

“Beth! How have you been?” Kally asked brightly. There was genuine joy and affection in her voice; she hadn’t heard from her friend in nearly three weeks. With her little boy to look after, Beth hadn't been able to afford to stubbornly stick to searching for journalism jobs as Kally had when things went south at the
Republic
. Within a few weeks, she had found a job working part-time at a fast fashion outlet for next to no money. She’d still been working there when Kally had left for New York.

“To be honest, Kal, I’ve been better, but things are slowly starting to look up around here,” Beth answered, making an obvious effort to sound optimistic. “I just saw your new book is out. Congratulations, girl. Whenever you get back here, I want you to sign my copy.”

“That’s a promise,” Kally replied, trying to match her tone. “I take it you got the temp job, then? How are Walt and the kid doing?”

“Both fine. They’re at home looking after each other right now,” she laughed. “In the meantime, I’m playing the role of 'office assistant with severely reduced pay.' That’s where I’m calling you from.”

“Well, I’m glad you’ve got something, and you’re going to bounce back, Beth, I'm sure of it. No one got though a news day without coffee like you. I’m working on something here, and it looks like it’s gonna be big. Big enough to help out the entire old guard.”

“That’d be nice. Oh yeah, speaking of which, that asshole, Alexandros Stratos, was on TV the other day. Some bull about a charity he’s setting up. I think he’s calling it the “Give Stratos a Big-Ass Tax Break Foundation”, or something like that. I guess someone has to look after all those poor, needy, lobbyists.”

Kally gave her friend the laugh she was expecting, but she didn’t feel the least bit mirthful anymore. She could hear the bitterness in her friend’s voice mixing with the sounds of the office she was working in. What would Beth say if she knew her best friend had just let the man she hated off the hook for a few more days? And in the end, when it came down to it, would she even be able to betray Alexandros’ trust, or was she going to turn her back on her best friend in the world?

“He’ll get what’s coming to him eventually,” Kally said hollowly. “He keeps pushing people, and someone’s gonna push back soon. People are already starting to take a closer look at him, and not even he can bribe everyone.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right, Kal. Anyways, It was nice talking to you, but the boss is doing that thing where she circles around like a vulture. I wanna keep working here, so I better talk to you later. Peace!” And then the line went silent.

If there was anything Kally needed other than money, it was peace, but she was certain she wouldn’t be getting any for a very long time. What she was getting was tangled up in the most bizarre situation she could possibly imagine. If someone had told her, way back in June, that she’d be struggling to decide which incredibly wealthy personality she wanted to work for, she’d have accused that person of being unreasonably optimistic, using too many drugs, or both. But that was, in fact, what she was doing at that very moment. That and looking over her shoulders. The feeling that she was being watched became so strong that Kally had a crick in her neck from checking by the time she got home.

The rest of the afternoon was given over to distractions from anything at all to do with memoirs and secrets. Kally tried to finish her book, do a little cooking, and power stream her favorite sitcoms. She went digging through her old files, made some popcorn for a TV movie, finished two Sudoku puzzles, and even attempted to clean the house. By the time she went to bed, however, her mind was still consumed with a horrible image: three children clawing at each other to survive.

She slept horribly that night, constantly woken by one of her conflicting emotions. She had muddled dreams: sometimes she was back at the
Republic
. Other times she was working in an office for minimum wage. Once or twice she had been drowning in the dark waters of the Aegean Sea.

Finally, at three in the morning, Kally had to admit defeat. She marched straight to her medicine cabinet and swallowed a sleep aid. In a few moments, she finally felt true drowsiness descending upon her.

SEVEN

Kally woke in a stupor the next morning, a headache throbbing through her head like a marching band. The whole world seemed to be wrapped in a thick fog that did not want to be cleared away. She pushed herself up, but fell right down onto the pillow again. It was cradling her, calling her back to sleep. A jet of cold air shot across her feet, which were poking out of the blankets, and she instinctively tried to pull them back into the warmth. A voice in her head admonished her sharply, ordering her to get up, and very reluctantly, Kally complied.

“Son of a bitch,” she grunted when she rolled herself out of bed, and nearly fell straight to the floor. “Bodes well for the rest of the morning,” she grumbled, forcing her aching frame into the bathroom where her shower awaited. An hour or so later, Kally was dressed, fed, and once again making her way towards the subway.

As she headed down to the platform, she passed a wizened old man with salt-and-pepper hair and eyes that radiated a quiet dignity. His suit was ancient, but well kept. An open trumpet case sat in front of him, spangled with ones. He held the trumpet to his lips and began to play a popular movie score. Absentmindedly, Kally turned back, and tossed a dollar into the case. As she did so, she caught sight of someone disappearing among the waiting patrons. Anxiety spread through her. She was sure it was the man she had seen yesterday. She struggled with indecision for a moment or two before charging into the crowd after her stalker.

“I’m going to put an end to this right now!” Kally breathed harshly.

She had just spotted him again, wearing a plain black suit this time, when she was startled by the ringing of her phone. She wanted to collar him and solve the riddle of which of her employers was violating her privacy, but she was arrested by the idea that answering her phone might prove a faster, safer solution.

“Good morning, Ms. Jones, this is Alexandros Stratos. My apologies for the inconvenience, but there's been a slight change of plan; I think it might be more prudent to have the meeting at my house today. I’ll text you the address, but I doubt the trains will get you near it, so I suggest you take a cab. I’ll cover the fare when you arrive.”

Why is he moving the meeting?
Kally didn't like the first idea that occurred to her. She thought back to The Three Rivers, and how Alexandros had subtly attempted to turn that meeting into a dinner date. She had not come to New York, she told herself, to start a mini flirtation with one of her clients, least of all with Alexandros Stratos.

“Well, it’s short notice, Mr. Stratos,” she replied, keeping her voice even, “but if you think it will help the project, I’ll be right over.” Kally stressed the phrase “help the project”; she wanted Alexandros under no illusions about why she was coming.

“Yes, I must apologize for changing the venue without warning,” he answered, sounding preoccupied, “but I can assure that it’s in everyone’s best interests.”

Something about the way he said that made Kally think of the sinister apparition that had been following her. She hung up with Alexandros, dashed back out of the subway station, and hailed a cab, wondering vaguely about when her life was going to start making sense again.

The ride gave Kally twenty minutes to think about Alexandros' motivation for moving the meeting, and whether she could just come out and ask him if he’d ordered someone to follow her. She was so deep in thought that when they arrived, the driver had to yell to get her attention.

“Hey, lady! We’re here,” he stated roughly. “Last thing I need is people falling asleep back there.”

I hope he doesn’t expect a tip,
Kally thought bitterly, looking out of the window to see where she was.

They were in an enclave of Queens that was usually locked behind a fortress of concrete and steel, and a gentleman clad in a black uniform had just opened a set of iron gates to admit the cab. Inside, Kally saw a vivid island of verdant grass, spangled with an impressive assortment of flowers. This was hugged by a very wide, sloping highway that led to a sprawling mansion complex. As the cab pulled up in front of the massive front door, with its elegantly-bordered, diamond-shaped window, Kally was vaguely aware she was experiencing something few people ever would.

Both Kally and the cabby, who was trying to act cool, as if he often brought passengers to mansions, were expecting another uniformed servant to appear and escort her inside. Instead, it was Alexandros himself who emerged smiling from the door, and came down the grand, white steps to greet them. He was dressed in a smoky gray suit that, Kally was sure, cost more money than she was going to make all month.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again,” he intoned warmly, as he paid the fare.

He led her to the door with professional courtesy, ushering her into a vast front hall, and Kally was relieved to see that his behavior seemed unchanged from their last meeting.

“My office is on the third floor, Ms. Jones. I’ll show you up.”

They passed through a front hall that was bisected by two handsome wooden staircases. Through a door to the right of these, Kally spied a dining room that she guessed was nearly large enough to hold a UN conference. A crystal chandelier hung above the long dining table, shining like a prism. To their left was a sunken living room, filled with stunning pieces of furniture, and a grand, intricately-decorated fireplace.

Alexandros led Kally up the staircase that was on the left-hand side. On the second floor landing, he pointed out doors that led to a gymnasium and his personal library, casually mentioning that there were also five guest bedrooms and a sauna to be found there.

From the way he spoke, Kally could tell Alexandros knew that nothing he had was going to impress her; it seemed that being impressive was very far from his mind, and the anguish of the previous day's confession was still written on his face. As they arrived at the mansion's third floor, Kally hoped to God that her emotions were better hidden.

The third floor was decorated with quiet elegance. Standing in the middle of the hall, Kally found herself opposite a heavy door, made of intricately-carved oak. To her left, a small black table bore a vase of foxgloves, and a rich jade carpet, bordered in gold, ran the length of the hallway. Embossed wallpaper covered the walls, and several oil paintings completed the scene.

One of them arrested Kally’s attention at once. It displayed a beautifully stoic young woman with innocent but morose features. Something about her deep, sad eyes made it difficult for Kally to look away. All at once, she remembered seeing a picture of the woman before; it had been the only one on Alexandros’ desk in his office.

Is that his sister, Briza?,
she thought, wondering why he would commission an oil painting of one of his siblings when, as far as she knew, Alexandros had nothing but traumatic memories of his family.

Seeing her staring at the painting, Alexandros gazed at it for a long moment, but supplied no insight on the subject. He simply opened his office door and gestured for Kally to go ahead of him.

This office was almost an exact replica of the one at Alexandros’ headquarters; the same oak paneling and crimson wallpaper covered the walls, the same mysterious photograph decorated the desk. Kally took her seat and fished her tablet from her purse, preparing to continue her notes, but the Greek did not immediately move to his seat behind the desk. For a few long moments, he considered the picture on his desk, an unreadable expression on his face, and when he was finally seated, he forced a smile to his lips, addressing Kally with what was clearly forced good humor.

“I must apologize again for changing our plans at such short notice. Let’s pick up where we left off yesterday. I believe we said we were going to discuss my plans for the future.”

“Yes,” replied Kally, refocusing her mind on her task. “You hinted at an ambitious plan to make restitution for your involvement with the diamond mines.”

“Among other things, Ms. Jones, yes. My plan has many facets. It occurred to me that one solution would hardly be enough, so I set to gathering ideas from around the world. The first came to me when I visited India last year. I visited a community where local women had been able to get their families out of poverty by establishing their own businesses. The startup capital came from microloans provided by outside organizations, and the women formed a strong, supportive community. Because of this, the women can usually pay back the loan. I learned that this system has gone a long way towards sustainably combating poverty in the developing world. With this in mind, Stratos Holdings will imminently be announcing a ten billion dollar investment in microloans over the next five years. The very first funds will go to establish a series of similar programs in West Africa.”

“That sounds like a well-thought-out response to the problem,” said Kally. She was used hearing billionaires brag about making what were really token donations to charity, and she was pleasantly surprised to learn that Alexandros had a better plan in mind than simply throwing money at the problem.

“I am pairing that with the launch of an awareness campaign, aimed at reforming the diamond industry. For every dollar I made from the mines, I am going to spend ten more to try and bring the suffering to an end. I do have a bit of a revolt on my hands, though; the shareholders aren't happy.” He continued for a few minutes about the fight to shake loose the funds for his vision until suddenly, unable to get the photograph of the woman out of her mind, Kally ventured to question him about it.

“May I ask you about the young lady in this photograph? I've seen her face several time now; she seems to be important to you.”

As soon as she saw Alexandros’ face, Kally was certain she had made a mistake in mentioning it. His eyes grew darker, and he seemed to draw away from her, while something deeper than sadness clouded his features. He bowed his head and shook it slowly, as if he were waking from a particularly bad dream.

“She is my daughter, Ms. Jones, and she is a subject I would very much like to stay away from for now.”

His daughter
? Kally thought to herself, horrified at what she’d brought up. At once, the news reports from came flooding back into her mind. The accident happened just over a year ago. Alexandros had been traveling to the opening ceremonies for a new processing plant, when their driver had lost control of the car. It had slammed into a truck, killing the driver and Stratos' six-year-old daughter, who was also in the car. Alexandros had survived, but spent weeks in hospital. Kally recalled seeing reports about the billionaire being involved in an accident, but with all the furor going on at the
Republic,
it had slipped her mind.

Kally wasn’t sure how to recover the interview, and for a few moments, they sat in silence. Kally wracked her brain desperately for a new topic, but try as she might, nothing would come. She was considering pretending she needed to use the restroom, and excusing herself, but at last, Alexandros spoke up.

“Tell me about yourself, Ms. Jones,” he asked quietly. “What made you want to become a writer?”

“Harriet the Spy,” Kally heard herself saying, glad to be able to pivot away from the awkward moment she’d inadvertently caused. “I read it when I was eight, and by the time I finished, I’d started writing all the things I saw in my own notebook. Eventually, I had a huge stack of them, and even though they said “private” on the front, my mother read one. She told me she didn’t like my “spying”, but she was impressed with my writing ability. Then she encouraged me to do what Harriet does at the end of the book: join my school’s newspaper.

“From the very first word, I knew I was in love. Everything about writing a new article excited me: chasing down the facts, weaving everything into a story, and finally, seeing my name in thick, bold print. I felt like a movie star the first time everyone read something I wrote, and I knew then that I didn’t want to do anything else.

“When I went to high school, and found out they didn’t have a newspaper, I got a bunch of the teachers together and got one started. That worked so well, it helped me get a scholarship to Howard University, and that’s how I ended up working at the
Republic
.”

Kally's mood began to lighten as she remembered those early days. Her high school newspaper would forever have a byline that told future generations it had been founded by her when she had been their age.

She went on to explain how she’d been editing the university’s newspaper, when one of her lecturers encouraged her to apply for an internship at the
Republic
. Dr. Grace Hale was on the board, and she’d been impressed with Kally’s coverage of the free trade agreement with Columbia. A light came into Kally's eyes as she discussed her early days at the paper, struggling to learn the ropes and fit in with the organization's culture.