The Tycoon's Rebel Bride (The Anetakis Tycoons #2)

The Tycoon's Rebel Bride (The Anetakis Tycoons #2)
Maya Banks



One

Theron Anetakis sifted through the mountain of paperwork his secretary had left on his desk for him to read, muttering expletives as he tossed letters left and right. Occasionally one would garner more than a brief glance and then he’d shove it to a separate pile of things requiring his attention. Others, he consigned to the trash can by his feet.

His takeover of the New York offices of Anetakis International hadn’t been without its pitfalls. After the discovery that one of the staff members had been selling Anetakis hotel plans to a competitor, Theron and his brothers had cleaned house, hiring new staff. The culprit, Chrysander’s former personal assistant, was behind bars after a plea bargain. They had been leery of replacing her and allowing another employee unfettered access to sensitive company information, but in the end, Theron had opted to bring in his secretary from the London office. She was older, stable and most importantly, loyal. Though after the debacle with Roslyn, none of the Anetakis brothers were keen to trust another employee implicitly.

Theron’s arrival from London had been met by a pile of documents, contracts, messages and e-mails. Two days later, he was still trying to make sense of the mess. And to think his secretary had already weeded out the majority of the clutter.

He paused over one letter addressed to Chrysander and almost tossed it as junk mail, but yanked it back into his line of vision when he saw what it said. His brow furrowed deeper as he scanned the page, and stretched out his other hand for the phone.

Uncaring of the time difference, or that he would probably wake Chrysander, he punched in the number and waited impatiently for the call to go through. He spared a brief moment of guilt that he would also be disturbing Marley, Chrysander’s wife, but hopefully he would pick up the phone before it wakened her.

“This better be damn good,” Chrysander growled in a sleepy voice.

Theron didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Who the hell is Isabella?” he demanded.

“Isabella?” There was no doubt as to the confusion in Chrysander’s voice. “You’re calling me at this hour to ask me about a woman?”

“Tell me…” Theron shook his head. No, Chrysander wouldn’t be unfaithful to Marley. Whatever this woman was to Chrysander, it must have been before he met Marley. “Just tell me what I need to know in order to get rid of her,” Theron said impatiently. “I’ve a letter here informing you of her progress, whatever the hell that means, and that she’s graduated successfully.” Theron’s lips thinned in disgust. “Theos, Chrysander. Isn’t she a bit young for you to have been involved with?”

Chrysander exploded in a torrent of Greek, and Theron held the phone from his ear until the storm calmed.

“I do not like your implication, little brother,” Chrysander said in an icy voice. “I am married. Of course I am not involved with this Isabella.” And then Theron heard Chrysander’s sharp intake of breath. “Bella. Of course,” he murmured. “I’m not thinking clearly at this hour of the night.”

“And I repeat, who is this Bella?” Theron asked, his patience running out.

“Caplan. Isabella Caplan. Surely you remember, Theron.”

“Little Isabella?” Theron asked in surprise. He hadn’t remembered her at all until Chrysander mentioned her last name. An image of a gangly, preteen girl with ponytails and braces shot to mind. He’d seen her a few times since, but he honestly couldn’t conjure an image. He remembered her being shy and unassuming, always trying to fade into the background. She’d been at his parents’ funeral, but he’d been too consumed with grief to pay attention to the young woman. How old would she have been then?

Chrysander chuckled. “She’s not so little anymore. She will have just graduated. Was doing quite well. Intelligent girl.”

“But why are you getting a report on her?” Theron asked. “For God’s sake, I thought she might be a former mistress, and the last thing I wanted was her causing trouble for Marley.”

“While your devotion to my wife is commendable, it’s hardly necessary,” Chrysander said dryly. Then he sighed. “Our obligation to Bella had temporarily slipped my mind. My focus of late has been on Marley and our child.”

“What obligation?” Theron asked sharply. “And why haven’t I heard of this before?”

“Our fathers were longtime friends and business partners. Her father extracted a promise from our father that if anything should ever happen to him that Isabella would be looked after. Our father preceded her father in death, so I assumed responsibility for her welfare when her father also passed away.”

“Then you should know that, according to this letter, she’s arriving in New York two days from now,” Theron said.

Chrysander cursed. “I can’t leave Marley right now.”

“Of course you can’t,” Theron said impatiently. “I’ll take care of it. But I need details. The last thing you need right now is to be saddled with another concern. New York is my responsibility. I’ll count this as yet another problem I’ve inherited when we traded offices.”

“Bella won’t be any problem. She’s a sweet girl. All you need to do is help her settle her affairs and make sure her needs are provided for. She doesn’t gain full control of her inheritance until she’s twenty-five or she marries, whichever happens first, so in the meantime Anetakis International acts as the trustee. As you are now the New York representative of Anetakis, that makes you her guardian of sorts.”