Baby Out of the Blue: The Greek Tycoon's Pregnant Wife / Forgotten Mistress, Secret Love-Child / The Secret Baby Bargain
‘Hardly his own use, my dear,’ Leo was saying now, reaching for his cane and getting up from his seat at the head of the table. He tilted his head and Jane realised the noise had ceased. ‘It seems he has landed. I will go and wait for him on the terrace.’
‘I can go—’ began Ariadne, but Demetri’s father merely waved her offer away.
‘You go into the salon with the others, my dear,’ he said charmingly. ‘Enjoy your coffee. If it is Demetri, I would prefer a few moments with him alone.’ He paused. ‘Company matters, katalavenis? You understand?’
Looking from Ariadne to her mother-in-law, Jane couldn’t tell which of them was the most put out by his words. ‘You’re supposed to take things easy!’ exclaimed Maria sharply, but Leo only raised a finger to his lips.
‘And I will,’ he promised, making for the door. ‘After I have spoken with my son.’
‘And why can’t Demetri speak to you in your study?’ demanded Maria, going after him. ‘Just because she is here does not mean that Demetri cannot enter his own home.’
‘Jane. Her name is Jane,’ said Leo tersely, his dark eyes, so like his eldest son’s, flashing his displeasure. ‘See to the coffee, vineka. I will not be long.’
He left the room without another word and for a moment there was silence in the room. Then, seizing her chance, Jane pushed back her chair and got to her feet. ‘If you’ll excuse me, Maria, I’d like to go to my room now. It’s been a long day and I still have unpacking to attend to.’
Yeah, right. One haversack containing a couple of dresses, some shorts and tank-tops and underwear would take all of five minutes to unpack. But Demetri’s mother wasn’t to know that, even if Ariadne knew what she’d brought with her from the ferry.
‘Kala—well, if you are sure?’
Jane was sure Maria—and Ariadne for that matter—couldn’t believe their luck. ‘I’m sure,’ she said, managing a smile for Demetri’s brothers. ‘It’s been nice to see you again, Stefan,’ Yanis.’ Nice! She cringed at the word. ‘If I don’t see you again, thank you for making me feel so welcome.’
Leo had just reached the outer door when she entered the hall. Taking off her sandals so as not to attract his attention, she hurried across to the stairs and climbed swiftly to the upper floor. She was breathing rather unevenly, as much from nerves as exertion, when she reached the landing, and she paused for a moment to look down into the hall.
But when she heard the unmistakable sound of men’s voices, she panicked. Hurrying across the landing, she hastily let herself into her room. The last thing she wanted was for Demetri to think she was eager to see him again. If she did decide to tell him about the baby, he mustn’t think she expected him to change his mind about the divorce. Nothing had changed. He was still a lying bastard. After the way he’d behaved in London, she owed him nothing.
Moving across to the windows, drawn by a faint illumination, she saw the underwater lights gleaming in the pool below. She and Demetri used to swim there after dark when the rest of the household was sleeping, she remembered unwillingly. How horrified Maria would have been if she’d seen her precious son and his wife playing there in the nude.
Making love…
The images wouldn’t go away, and leaving the window, she walked into the bedroom. She found someone had closed the window and switched on lamps at either side of the huge bed. The bed had been turned down, too, Egyptian sheets very white in the lamplight. And someone had also unpacked her haversack, hanging her other dress in the armoire and folding everything else into the drawers of the chest nearby.
Of course, Maria would have known this, Jane reflected, but her mother-in-law had made no attempt to dissuade her from leaving. And why should she? Maria hadn’t wanted her here. Ariadne was the favourite in residence. Jane was just an annoying encumbrance that her husband had insisted on bringing back into their lives.
Jane tipped the straps of her dress off her shoulders and allowed it to fall about her ankles. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her breasts seemed heavier than before. Stepping over the dress, she walked into the bathroom and stared at her reflection. Yes, there were definitely changes. She could see them. When she weighed her breasts in her hands, they felt different somehow.
Turning sideways, she laid both hands over her stomach. The lacy thong, which was all she was wearing now, exposed the slight swell she’d noticed before. Or perhaps she was only imagining it. She was barely six weeks, after all. How soon was a pregnancy visible? She should have asked her sister.
Or perhaps not. Lucy wouldn’t have been able to resist telling their mother. And Mrs Lang would have been offended, and all hell would have broken loose. She sighed. No, it was probably best if she kept the news to herself, at least for the moment. Until she’d decided definitely what she was going to do.
‘Admiring yourself, Jane?’
The voice was painfully familiar. What wasn’t so familiar was the thickening emotion in his words. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have said that Demetri had been aroused by watching her touch her body. How long had he been standing in the bathroom doorway? Had he seen her examining her breasts, perhaps? He must have done, she decided, her pulse quickening. That was why he was looking at her with such raw passion in his eyes.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SHE MADE herself turn her head and look away from him and for a long moment the silence stretched between them. She knew she ought to grab a towel to cover herself, but something—some perverse desire to taunt him, maybe—kept her from doing so. She wondered what he expected her to say to him. He must know his coming here like this, uninvited and unannounced, was breaking every rule in the book. They were getting a divorce, for heaven’s sake. His fiancée-to-be was waiting for him downstairs. There was no way he could justify his actions. And she was a fool for not ordering him out of her suite immediately.
But all she said was, ‘Déjà vu, Demetri?’ And knew he’d know exactly what she meant.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw his hard face darken with frustration. ‘Hardly,’ he retorted, after a taut moment. ‘Put some clothes on. I want to talk to you. I’ll wait in the room next door.’
‘The bedroom?’
‘No, the sitting room,’ he amended tersely. ‘Viasoo!’Hurry up!
Jane looked back at her reflection. ‘Perhaps I don’t want to put my clothes on,’ she said softly. ‘I came upstairs to go to bed. I’m tired. I think you should go now. I’ll talk to you in the morning.’
‘I won’t be here in the morning,’ replied Demetri through clenched teeth. ‘I have to attend a conference in Athens. It’s due to last two days. I hope to be back by the end of the week.’
‘And this concerns me—how?’ Jane didn’t know how she did it, but she put a note of sarcasm into her voice.
‘Just get dressed,’ he said shortly, unhooking a velvet-soft bathrobe from behind the bathroom door. He tossed it towards her. ‘This will do.’
Jane made no attempt to catch the robe and it fell, unheeded, to the floor. Demetri swore in his own language and then he came towards her, his reflection joining hers in the mirror, picking up the robe and thrusting it onto her shoulders. ‘Wear it.’ he said roughly. ‘Or I won’t be responsible for my actions.’
‘Ooh, I’m scared!’
Jane was beginning to enjoy this, although she realised she was playing with fire. Demetri was not a man to take her provocations lightly, and his expression made her breath catch in her throat.
‘Jane,’ he said, the hint of a threat in his voice, but, when he would have wrapped the folds of the robe about her, she deliberately moved away. The robe fell away once more, and Demetri’s hands brushed against her breasts.
The feeling was excruciating, a mixture of throbbing sensitivity and burning desire. She wanted him to touch them, to rub the palms of his hands over their tender flesh, to bend his head and take one aching nipple into his mouth.
His eyes met hers in the mirror and she sensed he knew exactly what she was thinking. Which was a complete turn-off. She didn’t want him to think she’d come here in the hope of rekindling their relationship, and, turning away, she bent and snatched up the robe, sliding her arms swiftly into the sleeves and drawing it tight across her trembling form.
‘OK,’ she said tersely. ‘Let’s go into the sitting room. I can’t imagine what we have to say to one another but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.’
Demetri stepped aside to allow her to precede him out of the bathroom and she was forced to brush past his still, forbidding frame. He was wearing a dark grey suit which he must have worn to whatever meeting he’d been attending that day, raw silk trousers and jacket, pearl-grey shirt, his tie pulled away from his collar. He looked disturbingly different from when he’d come to her apartment in London, but Jane knew he could look equally intimidating in turtleneck and jeans.
The living area seemed dark and Jane hastily switched on more lamps, anything to banish the sense of vulnerability she was feeling. Why had Demetri come to her rooms? Couldn’t whatever he had to say wait until tomorrow morning? And then she remembered. He’d said he was leaving for Athens in the morning, so at least she would be spared the possible humiliation of him walking into the bathroom to find her throwing up.
Nevertheless, he still disturbed her. Tall, dark and dangerous, she thought, a subtle play on the familiar words. The room was suddenly smaller, closer, more intimate. And she had to get the idea that he’d somehow found out about the baby out of her head.
She wanted to sit down, but Demetri was making no attempt to do so and she was damned if she’d give him the satisfaction of inviting him to make himself at home. So, she held up her head and regarded him as coolly as she was able, while her stomach quivered and threatened to embarrass her all over again.
Demetri paused just beyond the archway that led from the bedroom. He was tired and he knew this wasn’t the most sensible time to have a conversation with his soon-to-be-exwife. The very fact that she’d scuttled away as soon as she’d heard the helicopter proved that she’d had no wish to see him. Why hadn’t he heeded his mother’s words and waited until the following day before phoning her from Athens to assure himself that she’d received the divorce papers? Because the truth was he’d wanted to find out what Olga Ivanovitch had meant by calling him.
‘I had a phone call,’ he said now, and he could tell by the sudden tightening of her features that she was apprehensive of what was coming next.
‘A call?’ she echoed, her voice faintly squeaky. And then, gathering herself, ‘How does this concern me?’
‘The call was from Olga Ivanovitch,’ said Demetri flatly, and saw the look of consternation come into her eyes. What was she afraid of?
‘Olga?’ She spoke lightly. ‘But how—?’
‘Neh, you are wondering how she was able to reach me?’ And when she didn’t say anything, he went on, ‘I phoned her, you may remember? I was looking for you, to tell you my father had requested to see you, and evidently her phone recorded my number. Whatever, she made a point of taking note of it for possible future use.’
Jane swallowed. ‘But why would Olga want to get in touch with you?’
Demetri shrugged. ‘She did once sell my father a bronze statuette, did she not?’
The statuette that she had found, Jane remembered. Her introduction to Leonides Souvakis and ultimately his son…
Her hand moved almost protectively to the neckline of the robe. ‘And was that what she wanted? To tell your father of some new item of interest she’d found?’ It was unlikely, but the alternative was even less acceptable.
Demetri’s mouth compressed. ‘You think that is likely, bearing in mind she assumedly knows about his illness?’
Jane shivered, in spite of the heat of the room. ‘I don’t know what to think, do I?’ she exclaimed, deciding that after all she had nothing to lose by speaking out. ‘Why don’t you tell me what she said instead of playing your little games of cat-and-mouse?’
‘It is no game, glika mou.’ Demetri unfastened another button at the neck of his shirt, allowing a tantalising glimpse of brown flesh lightly covered with dark hair. His eyes narrowed, thick lashes veiling his expression. ‘Your employer is concerned about your health, Jane, not my father’s. She told me you are zerbrechlich—which I believe means fragile—at the moment, neh? She said I should not do anything to upset you. Now, what do you think she meant by that? What have you been telling her?’
‘Well, not the truth, obviously,’ retorted Jane quickly, inwardly cursing Olga for making a difficult situation worse. ‘You—you knew I wasn’t well when you phoned me. Olga worries about me, that’s all.’
‘Simfono. With that, I agree.’ He paused, and she knew he was registering the colour that had entered her pale cheeks as she spoke. ‘But you told me it was just a cold. Colds do not usually elicit such concern.’
‘No, well, Olga is a very—sympathetic person.’ Jane made a helpless gesture. ‘And—perhaps she doesn’t trust you not to—not to—’
‘Not to what, Jane?’ The steps he took forward narrowed the space between them and she had to steel herself not to move away.
‘To—to make a fool of me,’ she said hurriedly, not prepared to admit that he could still hurt her. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. And then, trying to make her tone light, ‘Won’t Ariadne be wondering where you are?’
‘Ariadne trusts me,’ he declared harshly, stung by the way she could put him on the defensive. ‘What? You think I didn’t tell her where I was going? That I had—how do you say— sneaked up here to see the woman I can’t wait to be free of without letting Ariadne know of my intentions?’
Jane pursed her lips. ‘No.’ She was defensive now.
‘Good. Because you couldn’t be more wrong.’ Demetri didn’t know where this anger had come from, but he was suddenly furious. Jane was here, in his parents’ house, looking more beautiful than he’d ever seen her, and he resented it. He didn’t want her here, he told himself. He didn’t want to be reminded of what they’d once had. ‘Ariadne and I understand one another.’
‘Well, goody for you.’ Now Jane felt a stirring of indignation, which was infinitely better than the embarrassment she’d felt before. ‘So, if that’s all you came to tell me, what are you waiting for? I’d really like to get to bed.’
Demetri’s nostrils flared. And, just when he was sure he had himself under control, he asked the unforgivable, ‘Why did you come here, Jane?’
Her eyes widened then. She was shocked. He could see it. And why not? It was a stupid question.
‘Why did I come here?’ she echoed, shaking her head. ‘You know why I came, Demetri. Your father asked me to!’
‘You could have refused.’
‘Refused a dying man!’ Jane was astounded. ‘What do you think I am?’
‘I don’t know, do I?’ Demetri’s teeth ground together. ‘What are you, Jane? Saint or sinner? I can’t quite make up my mind.’
Her lips parted, and then, a note of contempt entering her voice, ‘Well, at least I don’t have that dilemma, Demetri. You’re totally selfish through and through.’
‘And you’re not?’ Demetri’s lips curled, not sure why he felt this pressing need to pursue this, but unable to let it go. ‘I suppose this means you’ve justified your reasons for walking out on me? Or do you have to keep reminding yourself why you made such a colossal mistake?’
‘It wasn’t a mistake!’
‘Okhi? Why do I find that hard to believe? Isn’t there something hypocritical about holding the moral high ground, when a few weeks ago you were flat on your back, letting me screw your brains out?’
The words sounded so much worse, laced as they were with his accent, and Jane gasped. Before she could prevent herself, her hand connected with his cheek.
Demetri made no attempt to deflect the blow and she watched, with a feeling of disbelief, as the clear marks of her fingers appeared on the left side of his face.
She regretted it instantly. She didn’t do things like this. But it was too late to have second thoughts. Her hand had barely moved in a gesture of subjugation when Demetri’s uncertain control snapped. With a savage exclamation in his own language she didn’t understand, he locked hard fingers about her wrist and dragged her relentlessly towards him. ‘If that’s the way you want to play it, who am I to complain?’
‘Demetri,’ she cried, but it was no use.
‘Skaseh,’ he said harshly. Shut up!
‘But you can’t—’
‘Ipa skaseh,’ he repeated, grasping a handful of her hair and tipping her head backward. And then his hot mouth fastened itself to hers and she knew she was lost.
Anger, and the frustration he was feeling, made it impossible for him to be gentle with her. As he backed her up against the wall behind her, his tongue forced its way between her teeth. He pushed into her mouth, tasting her blood when his savage possession ground her lips against her teeth, but he had no mercy. He wanted to tear the bathrobe from her and bury himself inside her, and her fragile vulnerability was no deterrent, he found.
The moan she gave should have shamed him, but it didn’t. The sounds she was making only served to drive him completely over the edge. Tearing the sides of the robe apart, he feasted his eyes on dusky-tipped nipples, already swollen and painfully erect, and on the slight swell of her stomach and the tight curls that hid her sex.
‘Isteh oreos,’ he muttered thickly. ‘You are beautiful! Keh ti thelo!’ And I want you!
Jane’s hands had been trapped between them but now she dragged them free to rake frantic fingers across his cheek. Thankfully, she didn’t draw blood, but when her nails scraped across his scalp he uttered a groan of protest.
‘Do not pretend you do not want me, too,’ he said unsteadily, and, although her hands had fastened in his hair with the intention of jerking his head away from hers, the shaken timbre of his voice tore her resolution to shreds.
‘I—I don’t,’ she got out fiercely, but her lips told a different story when he kissed her again. Passion built between them with every sensual thrust of his tongue, and when he sucked her lower lip between his teeth, she could only clutch his neck and hang on.
‘This is why you really came here, isn’t it?’ he demanded, his hands sliding possessively up her arms to tip the robe off her shoulders. ‘You are determined to destroy me.’
‘No,’ she protested, as the robe fell to the floor, but Demetri wasn’t listening to her. His fingers slid over her shoulders and down her back, caressing her hipbones briefly, before moving on to her bottom. Filling his hands with the rounded globes, he brought her deliberately against him, rotating his hips so she was made unmistakably aware of the pressure of his erection.
‘Do you feel that?’ he asked, his voice thick with emotion. ‘Yes, of course you do. But do you have any idea what it’s like to be this close to you and not be a part of you?’
‘Demetri—’
‘You drive me crazy,’ he went on, as if she hadn’t spoken, thrusting his thigh between her legs. ‘Stark, staring crazy, and I still want you even closer to me, under me, spreading your legs for me, to give me some relief from this torment you’re putting me through.’
‘Demetri—’
‘Do not try to tell me I don’t know what I’m saying,’ he snarled. ‘I know. I know, Jane. Believe me.’
‘Demetri, please—’
The husky tone of her voice vibrated through him, but he was too far gone to listen to reason. Tucking a hand beneath the tumbled silk of her hair, he tipped her head up to his, his mouth silencing any further protest.
The kiss was deep and erotic, an affirmation of everything he’d been saying, seducing her to a place where nothing mattered but that he should go on kissing her and caressing her, drenching her body in the mindless heat of her own arousal.
She wondered afterwards if he would have taken her there, against the wall of her sitting room, if they hadn’t been interrupted. Demetri was already using his free hand to tear his shirt open, dragging off his tie to send it spiralling across the room. And she—God help her!—was encouraging him, cupping his warm neck between her palms, digging her nails into taut flesh that smelled hot and sweaty and deliciously male.
She was rubbing herself against him, delighting in the sensual brush of his body hair against her breasts, when there was a tentative knock on the door.
For a moment, neither of them moved. It was as if they were suddenly frozen, blood cooling to weld them to the spot. Demetri, his face buried in the scented curve of her shoulder, breathed a word that could more politely be described as ‘Damn!’ and slumped against her. And Jane tipped her head back against heavy silk damask, grateful for the wall’s support.
‘Jane!’
Her mouth went dry. The momentary fear that it was Demetri who’d spoken, alerting whoever was on the other side of the door to his presence, making her feel weak. But almost immediately she realised that Demetri was too enraged to say anything civil. It was another voice that was disconcertingly like Demetri’s who had spoken her name.
With a strength she hadn’t known she possessed, Jane managed to push Demetri’s head back so he could see her lips. ‘It’s your father,’ she mouthed, the consternation evident in her face, and with a resigned gesture he muttered, ‘I know.’
‘So what are you going to do about it?’ she continued as he dragged himself upright and raked back his hair. She bent to snatch the bathrobe from the floor and quickly put it on. ‘He can’t find you here. Not like this. You’ve got to go.’
‘Go where?’ He was sardonic. ‘Do you expect me to hide in the bathroom until he’s gone?’
‘That’s one idea, certainly.’ Jane swallowed and nodded her head, but Demetri only gave her a scornful look.
‘Apoklieteh!’ he whispered harshly. ‘No way!’
‘Jane!’ There was a pregnant pause and then Leo Souvakis spoke again. ‘Is someone with you, kiria? I can come back later, if you would rather?’
‘No, I—’
Jane struggled for an answer, gazing beseechingly at Demetri, begging him to get out of sight.
But all he did was finish fastening the buttons on his shirt and stuff it back into his trousers. Then, to her horror, he walked across to the door and swung it open.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TO HER surprise, Jane slept amazingly well.
She hadn’t expected to. After the day—and evening—she’d had, she’d anticipated lying awake for hours, mulling over everything that had happened. But instead, she’d lost consciousness the moment her head hit the pillow.
A clear conscience? She didn’t think so. What she’d done—what she’d allowed Demetri to do—had been unforgivable. She’d deserved to spend the night berating herself for her foolishness.
No doubt the fact that she was pregnant had had something to do with the ease with which she’d fallen asleep, she reflected ruefully. Now, rolling onto her back, she found the sun streaming through the crack in the curtains she’d drawn the night before. While she’d been in London, fretting over the alternatives she was faced with, such sleep as she’d had had been restless and plagued with tortuous dreams. But last night she’d been so exhausted, she hadn’t been able to keep her eyes open.
In consequence she felt rested, more rested than she’d done in a long time. Not since Demetri had come back into her life, in fact.
However, it was time to get up and face the day and it wasn’t just the familiar nausea that was causing her stomach to quiver in protest. Dear God, what had Demetri’s father really thought when his son had thrown open her door and stormed out of her apartments without a word of explanation the night before? Just a terse ‘Papa’ in passing, and then he strode away towards the stairs as if he at least had no intention of answering any questions about his reasons for being there.