Greek Bachelors: Bound By His Heir: Carrying the Greek's Heir / An Heir to Bind Them / The Greek's Tiny Miracle

With a wince he didn’t even bother disguising, he carefully eased himself away from her, making sure the condom was still intact as he withdrew. She remembered the burning of her cheeks and feeling completely out of her depth. Her mind was racing as she thought how best to handle the situation, but her experience of men was scant and of Greek billionaires, even scanter. She decided that coolness would be the way to go. She needed to reassure him that she wasn’t fantasising about walking up the aisle wearing a big white dress, just because they’d had sex. To act as if making love to a man who was little more than a stranger was no big deal.

She reminded herself that what they’d done had been driven by anger and perhaps it might have been better if it had stayed that way. Because if it hadn’t suddenly morphed into a disconcerting whoosh of passion, then she might not be lying there wishing he would stay and never leave. She might not be starting to understand her own mother a bit more and to wonder if this was what she had felt. Had she lain beside her married lover like this, and lost a little bit of her heart to him, even though she must have known that he was the wrong man?

She remembered feigning sleepiness. Letting her lashes flutter down over her eyes as if the lids were too heavy to stay open. She could hear him moving around as he picked up his clothes from the floor and began pulling them on and she risked a little peep from between her lashes, to find him looking anywhere except at her. As if he couldn’t bear to look at her. But she guessed it was a measure of how skewed her thinking was that she was still prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt.

‘Alek?’ she said—casual enough to let him know she wouldn’t mind seeing him again, but not so friendly that it could be interpreted as pushy.

He was fully dressed by now—although he looked dishevelled. It was strange to see the powerful billionaire in her room, his shirt all creased from where it had been lying on the floor. He was running his fingers through his ruffled hair and his skin gleamed with the exertion of sex, but it was his eyes which got to her. His eyes were cold. Cold as ice. She saw him checking in his pocket for his car keys. Or maybe he was just checking that his wallet was safe.

‘That was amazing,’ he said, and her suddenly happy heart wanted to burst out of her chest, until his next words killed the dream for ever.

‘But a mistake,’ he finished with a quick, careful smile. ‘I think we both realise that. Goodbye, Ellie.’

And then he was gone and Ellie was left feeling like a fool. He didn’t even slam the door and for some reason that only added to her humiliation. As if the quiet click as he shut it behind him was all he could be bothered with.

She didn’t move for ages. She lay in that rumpled bed watching the rain running in rivulets over the window, like giant tears. Why had she cried afterwards? Because it had been so perfect? And that was the most stupid thing of all. It had. It had felt like everything her faintly cynical self had never believed in. He’d made her feel stuff she’d never felt before. As if she was gorgeous. Precious. Beautiful. Did he do that with everyone woman he had sex with? Of course he did. It was like tennis, or playing poker. If you practised something often enough, you got very accomplished at doing it.

She went straight to shower in the shared bathroom along the corridor in an attempt to wash away her memories, but it wasn’t that easy. Vivid images of Alek seemed to have stamped themselves indelibly on her mind. She found herself thinking about him at inconvenient times of the day and night and remembering the way he had touched her. And although time would probably have faded those memories away she’d never had a chance to find out because her period had been late.

What was she talking about? Her period hadn’t been late. It just hadn’t arrived and she was normally as regular as clockwork. Waves of nausea had begun striking her at the most inopportune times and she knew she couldn’t keep putting it off.

She was going to have to tell him. Not next week, nor next month—but now.

Firing her ancient computer into life, she tapped in the name of the Sarantos organisation, which seemed to have offices all over the world. She prayed he was still in London and as the distinctive blue logo flashed up on the screen, it seemed he was. According to the company website, he’d given a speech about ‘Acquisitions & Mergers’ at some high-profile City conference, just the evening before.

Even if she’d known his home address—which of course she didn’t—it made much more sense to go to his office. She remembered him telling her that he always stayed late. She would go there and explain that she had something of vital importance to tell him and—even if it was only curiosity—she was certain he would listen.

And if he didn’t?

Then her conscience would be clear, because at least she would have tried.

Wednesday was her day off and she travelled by train to London, on another of the sticky and humid days which had been dominating the English summer. Her best cotton dress felt like a rag by the time she left the train at Waterloo and she had a nightmare journey on the Underground before emerging close to St Paul’s cathedral.

She found the Sarantos building without too much difficulty—a giant steel and glass monolith soaring up into the cloudless blue sky. Lots of people were emerging from the revolving doors and Ellie shrank into the shadows as she watched them heading for the local bars and Tube. How did the women manage to look so cool in this sweltering heat, she wondered—and how could they walk so quickly on those skyscraper heels they all seemed to wear?

She walked into the reception area, where the blessed cool of the air conditioning hit her like a welcome fan. She could see a sleek woman behind the desk staring at her, but she brazened it out and walked over to one of the squidgy leather sofas which were grouped in the far corner of the lobby, sinking down onto it with a feeling of relief.

A security guard she hadn’t seen until that moment walked over to her.

‘Can I help you, miss?’

Ellie pushed her fringe out of her eyes and forced a smile. ‘I’m just waiting for my...friend.’

‘And your friend’s name is?’

Did she dare? And yet, wasn’t the reality that in her belly was growing a son or daughter who might one day be the boss of this mighty corporation? She sucked in a deep breath, telling herself that she had every right to be here.

‘His name is Alek Sarantos,’ she blurted out, but not before she had seen a wary look entering the guard’s eyes.

To his credit—and Ellie’s surprise—he didn’t offer any judgement or try to move her on, he simply nodded.

‘I’ll let his office know you’re here,’ he said, and started to walk towards the reception desk.

He’s going to tell him, thought Ellie as the reality of her situation hit her. He’s going to ring up to Alek’s office and say that some mad, overheated woman is waiting downstairs for him in Reception. It wasn’t too late to make a run for it. She could be gone by the time Alek got down here. She could go back to the New Forest and carry on working for the owner of Candy’s Cupcakes—who wasn’t called Candy at all—and somehow scrape by, doing the best she could for her baby.

But that wasn’t good enough, was it? She didn’t want to bring up a child who had to make do. She didn’t want to have to shop at thrift stores or learn a hundred ways to be inventive with a packet of lentils. She wanted her child to thrive. To have new shoes whenever he or she needed them and not have to worry about whether there was enough money to pay the rent. Because she knew how miserable that could be.

‘Ellie?’

A deep Greek accent broke into her thoughts and Ellie looked up to see Alek Sarantos directly in front of her with the guard a few protective steps away. There was a note of surprise in the way he said her name, and a distinct note of unfriendliness, too.

She supposed she ought to get to her feet. To do something rather than just sit there, like a sack of potatoes which had been dumped. She licked her lips and tried to smile, but a smile was stubbornly refusing to come. And wasn’t it crazy that she could look at someone who was glaring at her and still want him? Hadn’t her body already betrayed her once, without now shamefully prickling with excited recognition—even though she’d never seen him looking quite so intimidating in an immaculately cut business suit?

Keep calm, she told herself. Act like a grown-up.

‘Hello, Alek,’ she said, even managing what she hoped was a friendly smile.

He didn’t react. His blue eyes were cool. No. Cool was the wrong temperature. Icy would be more accurate.

‘What are you doing here?’ he questioned, almost pleasantly—but it didn’t quite conceal the undertone of steel in his voice and she could see the guard stiffen, as if anticipating that some unpleasantness was about to reveal itself.

She wondered what would happen if she just came out and said it. I’m having your baby. You’re going to be a daddy, Alek! That would certainly wipe that cold look from his face! But something stopped her. Something which felt like self-preservation. And pride. She couldn’t afford to just react—she had to think. Not just for herself, but for her baby. In his eyes she’d already betrayed him to the journalist and that had made him go ballistic. She couldn’t tell him about impending fatherhood when there was a brick-house of a guard standing there, flexing his muscles. She ought to give him the opportunity to hear the news in private. She owed him that much.

She kept her gaze and her voice steady—though that wasn’t particularly easy in the light of that forbidding blue stare. ‘I’d prefer to talk to you in private, if you don’t mind.’

Alek felt a sudden darkness envelop his heart as the expression on her face told him everything. He tried to tell himself that it was the shock of finding her here which had sent his thoughts haywire, but he knew that wasn’t true. Because he’d thought about her. Of course he had. He’d even wondered idly about seeing her again—and why wouldn’t he? Why wouldn’t he want a repeat of what had been the best sex he could remember? If only it had been that straightforward, but life rarely was.

He remembered the way he’d lain there afterwards, with his head cradled on her shoulder as he drifted in and out of a dreamy sleep. And her fingers—her soft fingers—had been stroking his hair. It had felt soothing and strangely intimate. It had kick-started something unknown inside him—something threatening enough to freak him out. He had felt the walls closing in on him—just as they were closing in on him right now.

He tried to tell himself that maybe he was mistaken—that it couldn’t possibly be what he most feared. But what else could it be? No woman in her situation would turn up like this and be so unflappable when challenged—not unless she had a trump card to play. Not when he’d left her without so much as a kiss or a promise to call her again. Somehow he sensed that Ellie had more pride than to come here begging him to see her again. She’d been strong, hadn’t she? An equal in his arms and out of them, despite the disparity of their individual circumstances.

He noted the shadows on her face, which suddenly seemed as grey as her eyes, and thought how drained she looked. His mouth tightened and a flare of anger and self-recrimination flooded through him. He was going to have to listen to her. He needed to hear what she had to say. To find out whether what he dreaded was true.

His mind raced. He thought about taking her to a nearby coffee shop. No. Much too public. Should he take her upstairs to his office? That might be easier. Easier to get rid of her afterwards than if he took her home. And he had no desire to take her home. He just wanted her out of his life. To forget that he’d ever met her. ‘You’d better come up to my office.’

‘Okay,’ she said, her voice sounding brittle.

It felt bizarre to ride up in the elevator in silence but he didn’t want to open any kind of discussion in such a confined space, and she seemed to feel the same. When the doors opened she followed him through the outer office and he looked across at Vasos.

‘Hold all my calls,’ he said—catching the flicker of surprise in his assistant’s eyes.

‘Yes, boss.’

Soon they were in his cool suite of offices, which overlooked the city skyline, and he thought how out of place she looked, with her flower-sprigged cotton dress and pale legs. And yet despite a face which was almost bare of make-up and the fact that her hair was hanging down her back in that thick ponytail—there was still something about her which made his body tense with a primitive recognition he didn’t understand. Even though she looked pasty and had obviously lost weight, part of him still wanted to pin her down against that leather couch, which stood in the corner, and to lose himself deep inside her honeyed softness. His mouth flattened.

‘Sit down,’ he said.

‘There’s no need.’ She hesitated, like a guest who had turned up at the wrong party and wasn’t quite sure how to explain herself to the host. ‘You probably want to know why I’ve turned up like this—’

‘I know exactly why.’ Never had it been more of an ordeal to keep his voice steady, but he knew that psychologically it was better to tell than to be told. To remain in control. His words came out calmly, belying the sudden flare of fear deep in his gut. ‘You’re pregnant, aren’t you?’

She swayed. She actually swayed—reaching out to grab the edge of his desk. And despite his anger, Alek strode across the office and took hold of her shoulders and he could feel his fingers sinking into her soft flesh as he levered her down onto a chair.

‘Sit down,’ he repeated.

Her voice was wobbly. ‘I don’t want to sit down.’

‘And I don’t want the responsibility of you passing out on the floor of my office,’ he snapped. But he pulled his hands away from her—as if continuing to touch her might risk him behaving like the biggest of all fools for a second time. He didn’t want the responsibility of her, full stop. He wanted her to be nothing but a fast-fading memory of an interlude he’d rather forget—but that wasn’t going to happen. Not now. Raising his voice, he called for his assistant. ‘Vasos!’

Vasos appeared at the door immediately—unable to hide his look of surprise as he saw his boss leaning over the woman who was sitting slumped on a chair.

‘Get me some water.’ Alek spoke in Greek. ‘Quickly.’

The assistant returned seconds later with a glass, his eyes still curious. ‘Will there be anything else, boss?’

‘Nothing else.’ Alek took the water from him. ‘Just leave us. And hold all my calls.’

As Vasos closed the door behind him Alek held the glass to her lips. Her eyes were suspicious and her body tense. She reminded him of a stray kitten he’d once brought into the house as a child. The animal had been a flea-ridden bag of bones and Alek had painstakingly brought it back to full and gleaming health. It had been something he’d felt proud of. Something in that cold mausoleum of a house for him to care about. And then his father had discovered it, and...and...

His throat suddenly felt as if it had nails in it. Why remember something like that now? ‘Drink it,’ he said harshly. ‘It isn’t poison.’

She raised her eyes to his and the suspicion in them had been replaced by a flicker of defiance.

‘But you’d probably like it to be,’ she answered quietly.

He didn’t answer—he didn’t trust himself to. He blocked out the maelstrom of emotions which seemed to be hovering like dark spectres and waited until a little colour had returned to her cheeks. Then he walked over to his desk and put the glass down, before positioning himself in front of the vast expanse of window, his arms crossed.

‘You’d better start explaining,’ he said.

Ellie stared up at him. The water had restored some of her strength, but one glance at the angry sizzle from his blue eyes was enough to remind her that she was here on a mission. She wasn’t trying to win friends or influence people, or because she hoped for a repeat of the passion which had got her into this situation in the first place. So keep emotion out of it, she told herself fiercely. Keep to the plain and brutal facts and then you can deal with them.

‘There isn’t really a lot to explain. I’m having a baby.’

‘We used a condom,’ he iced back. ‘You know we did.’

Stupidly, that made her blush. As if discussing contraception in his place of work was hopelessly inappropriate. But while it might be inappropriate, it was also necessary, she reminded herself grimly. And she was not going to let him intimidate her. It had taken two of them to get into this situation—therefore they both needed to accept responsibility.

‘I also know that condoms aren’t one hundred per cent reliable,’ she said.

‘So. You’re an expert, are you?’ He looked at her with distaste. ‘Perhaps there are other men to whom you’ve taken this tale of woe. How many more in the running, I wonder—could you tell me my position on the list, just so I know?’

Ellie clenched her fists as a wave of fury washed over her. She didn’t need this—not in any circumstances but especially not now. She made to rise to her feet, but her legs were stubbornly refusing to obey her brain. And even though at that moment she wanted to run out of there and never return, she knew that flight was an indulgence she simply couldn’t afford.

‘There’s nobody else in the running,’ she spat out. ‘Maybe you’re different, but I don’t have sex with more than one person at the same time. So why don’t you keep your unfounded accusations to yourself? I didn’t come here to be your punchbag!’

‘No? Then what did you come for?’ The brief savagery of his dark features realigned themselves into a quizzical expression. ‘Is it money you want?’

‘Money?’

‘That’s what I said.’

Ellie’s anger intensified but somehow that seemed to help, because it was giving her focus. It was making her want to fight. Not for herself, but for the tiny life growing inside her. Because that was what was important. That was the reason she had come here today, even though she’d known it was going to be an ordeal. So think before you answer. Don’t make cheap retorts just for the sake of trying to score points. Show him you mean business. Because you do.

‘I’m here to give you the facts,’ she said. ‘Because I thought it was your right to have them. That you needed to be aware that there were consequences to what happened that afternoon.’

‘A little dramatic, isn’t it? Just turning up here like this. Couldn’t you have called first to warn me?’

‘You think I should have done that? Really?’ She tipped her head to one side and looked at him. ‘I didn’t have your number because you deliberately didn’t give it to me, but even if I’d managed to get hold of it—would you have spoken to me? I don’t think so.’

Alek considered her words. No, he probably wouldn’t, despite his faintly irrational desire to see her again. Through Vasos, he would have demanded she put everything down in an email. He would have kept her at an emotional distance, as he did with all women. But he was beginning to realise that the whys and wherefores of what had happened between them were irrelevant. Didn’t matter that she’d broken a cardinal rule and invaded his workspace. There was only one thing which mattered and that was what she had just told him.

And this was one reality he couldn’t just walk away from. He asked the question as if he were following some ancient male-female rule book, but if his question sounded lifeless it was because deep down he knew the answer. ‘How do I know it’s mine?’

‘You think I’d be here if it wasn’t? That I’d be putting myself through this kind of aggravation if it was someone else’s baby?’

He tried telling himself that she might be calling his bluff and that he could demand a DNA test, which would have to wait until the child was born. And yet, once again something told him that no such test would be needed, and he wasn’t sure why. Was it the certainty on her pale face which told him that he was the father of her child, or something more subtly complex, which defied all logic? He could hear the door of the prison swinging shut and the sound of the key being turned. He was trapped. Again. And it was the worst feeling in the world. He remembered that distant fortress and his voice sounded gritty. Like it was coming from a long way away. ‘What do you want from me?’

There was a pause as those shadowed grey eyes met his.

‘I want you to marry me,’ she said.

CHAPTER FIVE

WITH NARROWED EYES, Alek looked at her. ‘Or what?’ he questioned with soft venom. ‘Marry you or you’ll run blabbing to your journalist friend again? This would be a real scoop, wouldn’t it? Pregnant With the Greek’s Child.’

Meeting the accusation on his face, Ellie tried to stay calm. She hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that—in fact, she hadn’t really been planning to say that at all. She had meant to tell him that she was planning to have the baby and would respect whatever decision he made about his own involvement. She had intended to imply that she wasn’t bothered one way or another—and she certainly wasn’t intending to control or manipulate what was happening.

But something had happened to her during the awkward conversation which had just taken place in the alien surroundings of his penthouse office. With the air-conditioning freezing tiny beads of sweat to her forehead and her cotton dress clinging to her like a dishcloth she had felt worse than ugly. Surrounded by the unbelievable wealth of Alek’s penthouse office suite, she had felt invisible.

She thought about all the women she’d seen leaving the building—clipping along in their high-heeled shoes with not a hair out of place. Those were the kind of women he dealt with on a daily basis, with their air of purpose and their slim, toned figures. Where did she fit into that world, with her cheap dress and a growing belly and a feeling that she had no real place of her own?

Because she didn’t have any real place of her own. This was his world and neither she nor her baby belonged in it. How long before he conveniently forgot he had sired a child in a moment of ill-thought-out passion? How long before he married someone classy and had legitimate children who would inherit everything he owned, while her own child shrank into the shadows, forgotten and overlooked? Didn’t she know better than anyone that unwanted children usually stayed that way? She knew what it was like to be rejected by her own father.

And that was her light-bulb moment. The moment when she knew exactly what she was going to ask for. Her ego didn’t matter and neither did her pride, because this was more important than both those things. This was for her baby.

‘I’m not threatening to blackmail you,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ve told you until I was blue in the face that the whole journalist thing was a stupid mistake, which I don’t intend on repeating. I just want you to marry me, that’s all.’

‘That’s all?’ he echoed with a cruel replica of a smile. ‘Why?’

‘Because you’re so charming, of course,’ she snapped. ‘And so thoughtful and—’

‘Why?’ he repeated, a note of steel entering his voice—as if he suspected that behind her flippancy she was teetering perilously on the brink of hysteria.

‘Isn’t it obvious?’ With an effort she kept her gaze steady, but inside her heart was pounding so loudly she was certain he must be able to hear it. ‘Because I want my baby to have some kind of security.’

‘Which doesn’t need to involve marriage,’ he said coldly. ‘If the baby really is mine, then I will accept responsibility. I can give you money. A house.’ He shrugged. ‘Some baubles for yourself, if that’s what you’re angling for.’