The atmosphere in the Markonos summer villa could not grow any cooler if an ice storm had swept down from the Arctic and in through the open terrace doors.
Eyeing his father across the width of the dinner table, Andreas Markonos delivered a cold, clipped, 'No,' with an economy that brought the shutters slamming down on his hard, handsome face.
His father ripped out a sigh of frustration. 'I do not understand you!' he muttered. 'You tell me you are ready to take full control from me and here I sit ready to hand that control over to you! So what is your problem—?'
The problem was simple in Andreas's estimation. 'I will not respond to blackmail.'
'It is not blackmail but good business sense!' the older man rapped out. 'If a man wishes to succeed in our world he must have stability in his personal life! Think about it,' he insisted. 'We make snap decisions by mobile telephone, we throw our weight around by electronic mail—we can even look our victims directly in ...
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