In fairness, most of the time Galen had no idea where Kristina was in the building, and texting her was an efficient method of communication.
The trouble today was that he knew exactly where Kristina was—or rather Roula.
‘Galen?’ Kristian checked.
‘Perhaps take Roula over to the apartment now?’
‘I’m just showing her around while I wait for HR to send over her contract.’
‘Maybe take her now.’
‘Sure.’ Kristina turned to go, but then turned back. ‘Galen, I just want to say... Well, both Ruben and I want to...’
‘Can we please drop it?’ Galen said, for he had made it clear more than a year ago, when he’d paid for his loyal PA and her husband to be treated by Athens’s top IVF specialist, that he would prefer the fact not to be raised. ‘I’m thrilled you finally got there. Well, aside from the fact that I am now destined to six weeks of zig-zags.’
Kristina laughed. ‘Do you want me to tell Roula about your issue with patterns?’
‘Are we even allowed to do that now?’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Or will we offend the pattern police?’
‘We need you to be working, Galen. I’ll have a word.’
‘Good. Now get the hell out of here and go and have your baby.’
Roula watched as Kristina gave Galen a half-wave and then marched her efficient way over.
‘We should get over to the apartment.’
‘Kristina...’ Roula was starting to have serious doubts, both about her suitability and her qualifications, and decided it might be better to just state it now. ‘I don’t think I’m cut out—’
‘Let’s discuss this at the apartment.’
The apartment was in a very narrow lane, so the driver dropped them a short walk away and they made their way down.
‘It’s a nice location,’ Kristina said as she clipped along.
Nice?
It was on the edge of everything.
The beautiful church of Aghios Dionysios was close. There were cafés, restaurants, boutiques...a whole new world at her door...
‘This is yours.’
They climbed a steep staircase with detailed iron rails—a gorgeous slice of old Athens.
‘Ground floor,’ Kristina said as she let them in and they walked down a long, high-ceilinged corridor. ‘This one’s yours. Just the one bedroom...’ Kristina snapped on the lights and opened all the doors, speaking like a realtor. ‘It’s serviced weekly...’
It was beautiful. The apartment alone almost tempted her to stay and fake it until she made it—or whatever the saying was.
Roula looked out of the bedroom window.
‘No views,’ Kristina said.
Oh, but there were. There were people and cafés and life pulsing outside. Except...
‘I’m really not sure I’m qualified.’
‘You’re overwhelmed?’