Bound By My Scandalous Pregnancy / Redemption Of The Untamed Italian

The determination stamped across her face almost made me believe her. Almost. For all I knew she was just spinning tales. Just as Anneka had spun lies around our relationship until an unguarded phone conversation had revealed the depths of her deplorable nature and the lengths she’d been prepared to go to ensure she received an unrivalled payday.

‘How old are you?’

The mutinous look that crossed her face said she was debating not answering. Perhaps suggesting I mind my own business. But she realised very quickly that the question pertained to the proposal she was making.

‘I’m twenty-five,’ she offered, with clear reluctance.

‘Most twenty-five-year-olds are done with their education.’

‘My circumstances are different. I had to interrupt my education for personal reasons.’

Reasons she clearly wasn’t about to disclose. I hid my disgruntlement. For now. ‘Why a receptionist? Why not a paid internship in your chosen field?’

Impatience crossed her face. ‘With respect, my reasons are private. But what I’ve said can easily be verified with my university professors.’

Enough. This had gone on long enough. ‘You walked in off the street to confess a crime. As admirable as you seem to think admitting your culpability should be, I have zero reason to trust you. Not with my personal property and certainly not with my business. Your offer is declined.’

She inhaled sharply, the action drawing my attention to her chest. To her parted lips. Christos.

‘So that’s it? You’re going to throw me to the wolves?’

‘For what you’ve done? Yes, Sadie Preston. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.’

Despite his doom-filled decree, he didn’t move.

In the hours I’d been stuck in his opulent penthouse, one question had persistently swarmed my mind—why did a man whose every breath and expression spelled out his masculine potency and unapologetic virility need to store a sperm sample?

Eventually, curiosity had got the better of me. And the internet had been breathlessly efficient in providing high-resolution digital answers.

‘Is this to be a staring contest?’ he mused now, in a bone-dry tone tinged with that note I’d mistaken for bleakness earlier when I delivered my news. ‘You’re attempting to hypnotise me into reversing my verdict, perhaps?’

‘What if I am?’ I parried. If he was about to throw me to the wolves, what did I have to lose?

One corner of his mouth twitched with stark amusement. But then his face settled into a hard mask. My heart lurched. With every breath I wished I could go back, take my time, pay better attention—even with Mr Donnelly’s unpleasant presence hovering over me.

But it was too late.

The damage had been done.

Neo Xenakis took another step closer, bringing that hard-packed body brimming with tensile, barely leashed power into my space. I wanted to step back, flatten myself against the glass wall, but that would exhibit a weakness I couldn’t afford to show.

The internet had supplied ample examples of his shark-like business savvy too. This was a man who relished challenge. He’d never step into the arena with a weaker opponent, and the inevitable victory of his trouncing bigger targets was all the sweeter for it.

Was that why I didn’t look away?

Was that why I even dared to clench my jaw and all but urge him to do his worst?

Because I wanted him to conquer me?

White-hot sensation flashed through me, made my nape tingle and my body blaze with the same anticipation I’d felt earlier, even before I knew that he’d entered the room. That misplaced illicit thrill that had ratcheted higher when I turned around to find him watching me with those hooded eyes containing an indecipherable gleam.

Here it was again, eating me alive when all I needed to do was hold my tongue and continue to demonstrate appropriate contrition.

For how long, though? And then what?

He’d given his verdict. Clemency was off the table. And yet, despite what he’d said about throwing me to the wolves, he seemed in the mood to play with me. Seemed perfectly content to indulge in the staring contest he’d ridiculed moments ago.

‘Would it work?’ I asked.

Dear God. Be quiet, Sadie. Just shut—

To my eternal shame, my stomach chose that pithy moment to announce its intense hunger.

Neo Xenakis’s gaze dropped to my belly at the unladylike growl, then returned to mine with a dark frown. ‘When was the last time you ate?’

I shrugged. ‘I don’t remember. It doesn’t matter.’

‘It matters if I wish to enjoy my evening drink without your digestive system providing accompanying acoustics.’

Heat burned my face. ‘I…I had a coffee this morning.’

His frown deepened. ‘That’s all you’ve had all day? It’s six in the evening.’

‘I know what time it is, Mr Xenakis.’

He raised a brow at my crisp tone. I wasn’t about to admit I’d gone into the office with hopes of snagging a stray Danish left over from the early-morning client meeting, only to be confronted by an incandescent Mr Donnelly before I could satisfy my raging hunger. After that, fear and panic had eroded my appetite. Until now, evidently.

Neo Xenakis regarded me with quiet intensity, weighing his decision for a terse moment. Then his lips flattened. ‘Far be it from me to send a criminal to the gallows on an empty stomach. Shall I instruct my chef to set another place for dinner, or are you in a hurry to face your crimes?’ he drawled.

Bite your tongue, Sadie!

‘That depends. Do you intend to torture me for the rest of the evening by recounting just how your wolves are going to tear me apart?’

‘You think you know what torture is?’ he asked, with a veil of deadly calm that didn’t fool me for a second.

I’d inconvenienced him, angered him by necessitating a return trip to the clinic to make a second deposit, when he’d much rather be occupied with other things. Like dating another supermodel.

And he wasn’t in a mood to let it go.

‘There are only so many times I can say I’m sorry. It’s clear you’re not going to forgive me or tell me what I can do to make this right. Right now I’m failing to see how joining you for dinner improves my circumstances.’

‘It could simply be an act of further character exploration on my part. To tell me which way I should lean in the punishment scales. Unlike you, I don’t wish to undertake that task on an empty stomach. But, of course, your options are very much yours to take.’

Oh, how cunning of him. That insidious need to surrender to his will swept over me. I resisted by squaring my shoulders. ‘Then I guess that’s fine. If that’s the only way to progress this…discussion.’

The merest hint of a smile twitched his lips. Then, seeming almost stunned by the action, he scowled.

Not the most enthusiastic response I’d ever had to meal-sharing, but I imagined under the circumstances a beggar couldn’t be a chooser.

For another short second he stared at me, as if debating the wisdom of his offer. Then abruptly he crossed the vast, magnificently decorated living room to a dainty-legged console table, picked up a phone and relayed a message in rapid-fire Greek.

Finished, he set his glass down. ‘Come.’

The command was quiet, but powerful enough to propel me forward. I told myself I couldn’t object because I’d agreed to dine with him. And because I owed Neo Xenakis a few non-confrontational gestures.

Thinking he was leading me to the large, antique-filled dining room I’d spotted earlier during my brief and tentative search for the bathroom, I followed him in surprise into a kitchen fit for the world’s most exacting chef.

Every imaginable gadget gleamed in polished splendour atop marble surfaces. On a large centre island, silverware gleamed under strategically suspended ceiling lights. Even the elevated stools looked too expensive for such a mundane activity as sitting.

But when he pulled one back and waited with tight expectancy, I swallowed the unnerving sensation that I was tangling with a supremely affluent and powerful man.

To the stout, rouge-faced chef who entered, I gave a quick smile. With a deferential nod, he started to uncover silver dishes.

Glorious smells hit my nostrils, and I stared at the mouth-watering array.

Exquisitely prepared Greek meze dishes were laid out next to an old-fashioned English shepherd’s pie. I didn’t fool myself into thinking this consideration had been made because I was joining him on such short notice. If the internet was right, Neo Xenakis was a man of extensive tastes and larger-than-life appetites.

Why that reminder triggered another wave of heat through my system I refused to consider as, with a few words, Neo Xenakis dismissed the chef and reached for the bottle of red wine that stood an arm’s length away.

Seeing the label, I felt my eyes widen. Once upon a time, before he’d pulled the rug from beneath our feet with his stark betrayal, my father had been as much of a wine enthusiast as my mother was a magazine fanatic. When I was old enough to take an interest, he had often recited his dream vintage collection. The five-figure-price-tagged Château Cheval Neo cavalierly reached for now had ranked among the top three on my father’s wish list.

I watched, slack jawed, as he deftly uncorked the bottle and set it aside to breathe.

Catching my expression, he narrowed his eyes. ‘Something wrong?’

I swallowed. ‘Nothing that doesn’t involve my wondering if you normally share expensive bottles of wine with criminals before sending them to their doom.’

His gaze hooded, he shrugged. ‘Satisfying your curiosity isn’t on my agenda, so you’ll just have to keep wondering. Eat.’

I toyed with refusing the order. But I was starving. And, really, he didn’t have to feed me. With one quick call he could have Wendell tossing me out. Staying might grant me the opportunity to make another plea for mercy.

I placed two beautifully wrapped vine leaves onto my plate, then added a couple of spoonfuls of Greek salad. About to lift my fork, I paused when his eyes narrowed again, this time on my plate.

‘You haven’t eaten all day and that’s all you’re having?’

‘Yes.’

He nodded at one of the many platters. ‘The kopanisti won’t keep. Don’t let it go to waste.’ He picked up serving tongs and caught up a dish of salad, roast peppers and an orange paste laid in between two crisp flatbreads. ‘Try it,’ he said.

Tentatively, I picked up the large morsel and bit into it. Sensations exploded in my mouth as the orange paste, which turned out to be the most incredible aged feta, combined with everything else immediately became the best thing I’d ever tasted—which in turn triggered a groan of appreciation before I could stop myself.

Perhaps my vivid imagination was playing tricks on me, but I could have sworn Neo swallowed hard at that moment, and I felt his tension ramping up.

Abruptly, he spooned several more items onto my plate, then reached for the wine bottle. ‘Would you like some wine?’

The chance to try the jaw-droppingly expensive vintage, especially considering that my fate hung in the balance, was too much to resist. ‘Just a little, please.’

After pouring two glasses, he chose steamed white cod and a spoonful of salad himself, which he polished off with a military efficiency that spoke of fuel intake rather than enjoyment. Then he simply sat, slowly twirling the stem of his wine glass, lifting it occasionally to his lips as he watched me eat.

Self-conscious, and reluctant to broach the ultrasensitive subject of my crime, I stilled my tongue in favour of enjoying the most exquisite meal I’d had in a long time, all the while painfully aware that his gaze hadn’t shifted from me.

‘Which university?’

I started. ‘What?’

‘Your marketing degree,’ he expounded.

I named it, and again caught the faintest hint of surprise in his eyes as he slotted the information away, his long fingers still twirling his glass.

‘Do you like aeroplanes?’ he asked abruptly, after another stretch of silence.

‘Who doesn’t?’

His lips tightened and his gaze dropped to my empty plate, then shifted to the platters of lamb cutlets, grilled meatballs, roasted vegetables and bread.

Sensing he was about to push more food on me, I sat back. ‘That was delicious. Thank you.’

He frowned, then lifted the lid off a dish set apart from the main courses. The scent of spun sugar and warm pastry washed over me, almost eliciting another groan. I’d been cursed with a sweet tooth—one that needed constant attention.

‘Dessert?’ he offered gruffly, pushing the baklava directly in front of me.

The sight of the perfect little squares of delight was too much to resist. At my helpless nod, he placed four pieces on a fresh plate and slid it in front of me, again seemingly content to simply sit back and watch me eat.

Perhaps this was Neo Xenakis’s method of torture. To feed me until I burst.

At that mildly hysterical thought, I let my gaze flick up to meet his. Again that spark flared in his eyes, and the charge seized me, causing tingles from my palms to my toes.

‘If it wasn’t for this wholly unfortunate situation, I’d think you didn’t want me to leave,’ I mused. Then immediately cursed my runaway tongue.

He froze, his grey eyes turning as turbulent as a lightning storm. His hand tightened around his glass, his fingers turning white.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—’

‘Perhaps you’re right,’ he interrupted, his voice low, rough and raw, as if scrabbled from a pit of utter despair. ‘Maybe I don’t want you to leave. Maybe I need you sitting there in front of me as a reminder of what has happened. Of the fact that the nightmare you brought to my doorstep isn’t one I can wake up from.’

The utter bleakness in his tone launched a lump into my throat. My fingers tightened in my lap as the need to reach out, to lay my hand on his or cup that rigid jaw, powered through me. I did neither, sensing it wouldn’t be welcome.

‘Is it really that hopeless? Is there no chance that things can be salvaged?’ My question was a desperate one. But the thought that things could really be so dire for a man so incredibly masculine and virile looking seemed unthinkable to me.

‘Excuse me?’ he rasped icily, his eyes turning almost black with the strength of his emotions.

I pushed my plate away and forced myself to answer before I lost my nerve. ‘I… Surely it doesn’t surprise you that I’d wonder why a man who looks like you—’

‘Looks like me?’ he grated.

I wetted suddenly dry lips, suspecting I’d strayed into dangerous territory but unable to locate the road map to take me out of peril.

‘You’re not blind. You look like the poster-perfect image of virility. Is it beyond the realms of probability that I’d wonder why you’d need to use a facility like the Phoenix Clinic?’

His eyes slowly rose. ‘Did you not admonish me for judging you based on your outward appearance?’

Even as my face heated, something inside me reacted sharply to the notion that I might have ended this man’s line with my mistake. Something that utterly rejected that thought.

‘Please answer the question, Mr Xenakis,’ I urged, aware of my escalating desperation.

‘Why? Are you distressed by the thought that a man who “looks like me” might be impotent or infertile?’ he drawled.

He was goading me, pure and simple. I should’ve looked away. Backed down.

‘Are you?’

He rose and stepped away from the island. ‘Come with me,’ he grated.

Something raw and intense pulsed in his tone, warning me that whatever he had in mind would decimate me emotionally.

‘And if I refuse? Is this where you threaten—’

He slashed one powerful hand across my argument, his lips flattening into a displeased line. ‘A word to the wise, Sadie. If you have any desire for self-preservation left in that body, be wise and stop defying me at every turn. I’m a man who faces adversity head-on. Right now, I’m this close to tossing you out the door and letting the authorities deal with your crimes. But, again, the choice is yours. Leave and face the consequences or indulge the man you’ve so gravely wronged. Which is it to be?’ he asked, his eyes pinning me in place.

‘I… Fine. I’ll do what you want. For now,’ I tagged on, simply because that self-preservation he’d mentioned was kicking in wildly, doubling my thundering heartbeat. ‘I reserve the right to leave any time I want.’

He left the kitchen without responding.

I followed, striving not to breathe in his intoxicating scent and failing miserably.

Senses jumping, I watched him stroll over to the plush sectional sofa, sit down on it in a deceptively relaxed pose, one long arm lazily stretched out on the top of it. He rested one ankle on his knee, and lifted his wine glass to take a liberal sip.

‘If you wish. But why postpone the inevitable? And why annoy me further by forcing me to carve another appointment into my schedule when we can settle this one way or the other tonight?’

Because I needed the headspace to think straight!

But Neo Xenakis would be equally imposing and breathtaking tomorrow—and most likely every day from now until eternity.

So why delay the inevitable indeed?

With legs turned rubbery, and nigh on useless, I approached him.

‘Let me give you the broad strokes of the consequences of your actions. I come from a large family. Perhaps not your conventional Greek family, but we adore babies without reservation, regardless of how they were conceived,’ he said, his hooded gaze on the contents of his glass. ‘Which means that from a relatively young age, certain obligations have been required of me. Obligations I had every intention of fulfilling at some point in the future. Do you understand what that means?’

My nod was jerky at best. ‘Something along the lines of keeping the family name going?’

‘Exactly so. And I take my duty seriously. So what do you think you owe me for effectively ending my chances of fulfilling my obligations?’

‘But…have I really?’ I asked, unabashed curiosity getting the better of my tongue.

The turbulent emotion in his eyes receded for a moment, replaced by an equally arresting gleam as his gaze raked my face before resting with quiet ferocity on my mouth.

‘I see we’re back to that little nugget you can’t let go of. Are you asking me if my equipment works, Sadie?’ he drawled.

There was a layer of danger to his tone that should have frightened me but instead caused the blood to rush faster through my veins, pushing a flood of colour into my cheeks.

‘I can’t help thinking…it would help to know if the situation is as dire as all that…’

God. Stop talking.

‘And if it isn’t?’ he rasped. ‘Are you hoping that with one simple answer you’ll be absolved of what you’ve done?’

God, we were really discussing his…his…

‘No. Maybe. Yes…’ I whispered.

‘My ability or inability to engage in intercourse is not the issue here,’ he said.

‘Answer the question anyway,’ I blurted, attempting to keep my mind on the important subject at hand and losing the battle in favour of racy thoughts of the exploration of his mouth-watering body first-hand.

Growing stupidly breathless, I scoured his face, his sculpted cheekbones, the hard angles of his jaw, the shadowed enticement of his strong throat and…dear God…the sensual curl of his lower lip, currently curved against his glass as he took another lazy sip.

The way he simply…lounged in his seat, was deceptively calm in a still-waters-run-deep manner. I wanted to dive into those waters, lose myself in them until I was completely sodden.

A different sort of heat pummelled me, low and insistent, charting a path of ravenous need directly between my thighs. Against the lace cups of my bra my nipples tightened, and each breath drew urgent attention to the decadent craving coursing through my body.

‘I could tell you—but should I? I owe you nothing. You have no right to answers. But if you truly want to know if I can get it up, I invite you to find out for yourself,’ he rasped thickly, his hooded gaze announcing that he knew every single yearning crashing through me.

My tongue thickened in my mouth, and that same acute urge to test where this alternative route would take me rammed unadulterated temptation through my bloodstream.

Sweet heaven. Surely he wasn’t really suggesting what I thought he was…? And surely I wasn’t truly considering it.

Was I?

CHAPTER THREE

MY BREATH BURST from between my lips, the wild, dizzying leap of my pulse a damning testament to the fact that his words had exhilarated me for one blind nanosecond before reason reasserted itself.

He can’t truly mean that. He’s just toying with you.

Even if he wasn’t, the proposal was absurd.

‘Is this a joke?’

‘Do I look amused, Sadie?’ he returned.

No, he didn’t. That raw confession in the kitchen returned, and the looming possible result of my actions—that I’d deprived not just him and his immediate family but the larger Xenakis clan of his future descendants—hit me with powerful force.

Helpless despair wove through me, and my chest tightened as I watched him, attempted to see beneath the taut mask of his face. Was this all because he truly didn’t want to be alone to confront the dire position I’d put him in?

If so, was this his answer?

I shook my head. ‘I…I’m not sure what this is all about.’

He shrugged. ‘You want me to provide spoilers for a story you seem very interested in. I invite you to peek beneath the cover. Or are you all bluster?’

‘Just so we’re clear, I’m not making any so-called reparation in the form of sex,’ I blurted. Simply because my imagination was threatening to take flight again, and the look in his eyes was sending my senses into free fall once more.

I grappled them down—hard.

One mocking eyebrow elevated. ‘You jump to conclusions with the same careless abandon that I suspect landed you in this predicament in the first place. Perhaps you should wait until you’re invited to my bed before you respond in one way or another.’

His censure smarted, regardless of the fact that I’d agreed to give him a little leeway in the perpetrator-versus-victim scenario.

‘I’m not stupid, Mr Xenakis. I can read between the lines. And whatever you think is going to happen here, it isn’t,’ I stressed, although the caution was equally for me as it was for him.

‘Has no one told you to quit while you’re ahead?’

Many times. But I never went against my instinct.

‘I believe in laying my cards on the table.’

Slowly, his relaxed stance altered. His arm dropped from the sofa, his body leaning closer as he pinned me with his gaze. With the width of the sofa between us, he wasn’t crowding me. But he didn’t need to. His presence filled every square inch of space, proclaiming his power and glory in ways that were hard to define and impossible to dismiss.

‘Do you? Well, hear this. If I wanted you in my bed you would come—and willingly. Not because of the unfortunate circumstances you find yourself in.’

‘If that’s some sort of dare, I promise I won’t be taking it,’ I stated firmly, despite that insidious temptation striking deep. Deeper. Making my every breath strain, making my nipples tingle and peak and yearn.

God, what was wrong with me?

He shrugged again. Drawing my eager attention to the firm, bronzed expanse of his throat. Striking me with a fervent need to place my hand right there…where his pulse throbbed powerfully beneath his skin.