Baby for the Greek Billionaire

She turned away as her crying took her. There was a place she went, a soft, comfortable place, where emotion took control of her body. Problems weren’t solved. Trouble didn’t disappear, but tension eased. Tears and sobs provided a welcome release not just for the pain, but also for her tight muscles and limbs. And she wanted to go there now. She wanted to go to her own room, sink onto the bed and let the crying soothe her.

“You weren’t at fault, you know.”

She spun to face him as sadness morphed into anger. “Really? I couldn’t have noticed my slightly depressed husband tumbling into full-fledged mental illness? There were no signs? You’re sure?”

“No, but—”

“You wouldn’t accept my diagnosis of Gino. You insisted on waiting for the pediatrician. So now I’m telling you to stop diagnosing me. Back off.”

The door opened and Mrs. Tucker entered with a short, gray-haired man behind her. “Dr. Sullivan,” she announced as she stepped aside and let the man shuffle over to Gino.

“Hey, Gino,” he crooned, taking the baby from Darius’s arms. Obviously familiar with the little boy, he hugged him before he said, “I hear somebody might be getting a tooth.”

He laid the little boy on the changing table and began to examine him.

Silently, Whitney slipped behind the group huddled around the baby and out the door.

Darius watched her go, cursing himself for pushing her and cursing her husband.

She’d had a daughter. A little girl. A baby who was probably the light of her life. He squeezed his eyes shut in misery. He’d brought all that back for her, made her relive the worst days of her life.

The doctor examined Gino and told Darius and Mrs. Tucker there was very little that could be done for a baby getting a tooth. He gave them some gel to numb his gums and advised them to get a teething ring.

Luckily, Gino fell asleep almost immediately after the doctor left, but Darius stayed by his crib, angry with himself for forcing Whitney to talk, but more concerned about the baby.

Finally, around midnight, he went to bed. But what seemed like only two minutes later, Darius heard the sounds of the baby waking and he popped up in bed. Glancing at his clock, he saw it was only just after two and groaned.

Still, not wanting Mrs. Tucker to have to deal with a cranky baby alone, he jumped into jeans and a sweatshirt and raced into the nursery. As he entered through the side door, Whitney bolted into the room from the main door, wearing a fluffy pink robe over white pajamas.

Their eyes met across the nursery and everything inside him stilled. He’d forced her to relive the worst days of her life the night before, but at least with that out in the open she had to know he didn’t doubt her anymore. He wouldn’t be making good on his threat to contest guardianship.

Gino screamed again, reminding him that if he didn’t pick him up and tend to him, he’d wake Mrs. Tucker. Beating Whitney to the crib, he lifted the little boy out and hugged him, patting his back to soothe him.

Whitney stood a few steps back. Concern brought her close enough to see what was going on, but not so close that she was actually part of it.

Things would have probably been a bit stilted and awkward between them as they worked through the aftermath of that conversation and her memories, but ultimately they would have been okay—if he hadn’t also kissed her.

He couldn’t believe he’d done that, but the temptation had been so strong he couldn’t resist. He’d thought that one kiss might take the edge off. Instead, the taste of her stayed on his lips all night.

Turning away, she said, “I’ll warm a bottle.”

She took a bottle from the small refrigerator, set it in the warmer and waited, all with her back to him.

Guilt suffused him. He should have been kinder with her, gentler.

Whitney walked over with the warm bottle, motioning for Darius to sit in the rocker. “Once he drinks this, we’ll put the gel on his gums again so he can fall back to sleep.”

Panic rose in him. He might have fed Gino before, but he really didn’t trust himself to feed the baby when his mouth was sore.

Obviously seeing his hesitancy, Whitney said, “Arrange Gino across your lap, but lift his head a little higher than you normally do.”

In three or four movements, Darius had the little boy across his lap and halfway between sitting and lying on his arm.

“Now, put the nipple to his lips and he’ll do the rest. His hunger will supersede the pain in his mouth.”

Darius did as instructed and Gino latched onto the nipple as if he was starving.

Whitney stepped away. “I understand how his being sick would make you nervous.”

Of course she did. She’d had a daughter. He’d brought up those memories for her. In the silence of the nursery where he’d confronted her, the most natural thing to do right now would be to apologize for pushing her to tell him about her daughter.

So he did. “I’m sorry.”

She ambled to the side window. Though it was the middle of the night and she probably couldn’t see anything, she stared out into the darkness. “For not knowing how to care for Gino?”

“For pushing you into talking before the pediatrician got here.”

Her eyes never left the window. “You had no idea. You were worried about Gino. I accept that.”

Just as he’d suspected, his mistake was something she’d probably faced before. She wouldn’t hold a grudge or make something out of it he hadn’t intended. Things might still be awkward for awhile, but ultimately they’d be okay.

The baby nudged the nipple out of his mouth and Darius pulled the bottle away. He sat him up a bit then waited a few seconds before he offered it again. Gino latched onto the nipple, and the room became eerily silent. This time he couldn’t blame it on the repercussions of his pushing her into talking about her baby. There was a second elephant in the room and he had to get rid of it, too.

With a glance at Gino to make sure he was still suckling, he said, “I’m also sorry I kissed you. It won’t happen again.”

She stared out the window, saying nothing, and he wanted to groan at his stupidity. Kissing her had been a ridiculous, in-the-moment impulse that he should have thought through. Instead, he’d let his hormones rule him.

But rather than tell him to go to hell, or that he was an immature ass, she quietly said, “How do you know it won’t happen again?”

He had no option but the truth. “Because it’s not a good idea for either of us. We have to spend the next eighteen years dealing with each other as we raise this baby. If we started a relationship that fizzled, one of us would end up angry or hurt and that’s not good for Gino.”

Whitney stared outside though she didn’t actually see anything. It was the second or third time he’d given Gino preference in a conversation. It had surprised her the morning before when he’d said he wanted to be a great dad. But after the way he’d behaved while waiting for the pediatrician—protective, strong—she knew he wasn’t faking it, wasn’t saying these things to make himself look good or get her into his corner. He intended to be a good father to his half-brother.

She peeked over at him. He wore jeans and a baggy gray sweatshirt and looked absolutely gorgeous in a casual, athletic way. His short hair wasn’t exactly mussed; it simply wasn’t combed as it usually was for a day of work, and wisps fell to his forehead boyishly. His typically stern face was relaxed. Neither a frown nor a smile graced his mouth.

She’d kissed that mouth.

He’d held her against him.

She’d faintly felt his heart beating beneath the fisherman’s sweater.

She could have tumbled over the edge the night before, could have done something really out of character, really wrong. But fate had stopped them. He’d said he didn’t want it to happen again, and she believed him. Not just because his first priority was Gino, but because of the conversation afterward. He now knew she came with baggage. She might as well have dressed in dynamite. There’d be no way a man who could have any woman he wanted would go near a woman with her kind of past.

Which was good.

Sad, because she’d finally begun to relax around someone; but good because she’d panicked the night before. She hadn’t known how to stop. She’d gotten in over her head. If Joni hadn’t come in, she could have messed up royally.

Her priority was to uphold Missy’s wishes and to do that she had to be objective. Not get involved with her co-guardian. She also wasn’t ready for a relationship. Burn had hurt her. No, Burn had cost her her ability to trust. As nice as Darius Andreas seemed to be, as good as he clearly wanted to be with Gino, an intimate relationship was a totally different thing. God only knew if he had the ability to have one. And God only knew when she’d be ready to have one.

Glancing at Gino’s bottle, she saw it was empty, and walked over to the rocker. “Here,” she said, easing the bottle out of Gino’s mouth and Darius’s hold. “You have to burp him now.”

Darius sat perfectly still. Didn’t let her perfume affect him. Wouldn’t let himself wonder if her skin was as soft as it looked. Wouldn’t let his mind wander back to the kiss the night before. He’d made a promise of sorts to her that she would be safe in his company, and he intended to keep it.

“Lift him to your shoulder the way I showed you yesterday morning.”

He did as she instructed, but kept his gaze averted. They really were like gasoline and a match when they got too close, and the best way to handle it would be to keep their distance. But if he wanted her to teach him about the baby, that wasn’t possible. His only alternative was simply to control himself.

“Now, pat his back.”

He brought his hand to the baby’s small back and lightly patted twice. Gino burped.

Whitney stepped away. “He’s a good eater and a good burper. That’s usually a sign of a very healthy child. He’ll probably have this tooth in before we know it.”

Relief washed through him and he rose. But once he was standing, he realized had no idea what he was supposed to do.

“Does he go back to bed now?”

Whitney laughed softly. “Let’s hope. Otherwise, it’s going to be a long night. First let’s put some of the gel on his gums.”

Darius winced. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“You’re new and there’s a lot to remember.” She found the gel and gently applied some to the baby’s gums. He spat and fussed, but she persevered.

As she stepped away, Darius asked, “Should I lay him in the crib?”

“Actually, the best thing to do would be for you to stay on the rocker. Position him the same way you had him while you fed him, so that he’s not lying flat but is upright enough that he can breathe more easily, and just rock him until he falls asleep.”

Darius sat and positioned Gino on his lap. “Hey, little guy.”

As he set the rocker in motion, Whitney leaned against the crib. “Don’t talk too much or he’ll never go back to sleep.”

“What should I do?”

“Just keep rocking him.” She smiled. “You could also sing him a lullaby.”

Darius winced. “Yeah. Not in this lifetime.”

She laughed. “Eventually, you’ll sing. Everybody does.”

“Not me.”

“Just wait. The day will come when you’re desperate and you’ll sing.”

Chuckling softly, Darius shook his head.

In a surprising move, Whitney pushed off the crib and stooped down in front of him. He noticed that she didn’t touch either him or Gino, but she started to sing.

“Hush little baby, don’t say a word, Papa’s going to buy you a mocking bird …”

Her voice was soft, lyrical. Gino blinked his heavy eyelids and rolled his head to the side so he could look at her.

“And if that mocking bird don’t sing, Papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring. And if that diamond ring turns brass, Papa’s going to buy you a looking glass. If that looking glass gets broke, Papa’s going to buy you a billy goat.”

As if by magic, Gino’s eyelids drooped. Whitney’s voice softened even more, and she slowed the song, as if lulling him to sleep.

“If that billy goat won’t pull, Papa’s going to buy you a cart and bull. If that cart and bull turn over, Papa’s going to buy you a dog named Rover.” Her voice softened again, the words she sang slowed to a hypnotic pace. Gino’s eyelids drooped until eventually they stayed shut.

Her song finished, Whitney rose. She nodded at Gino. “He’s asleep.”

Mesmerized by the sweet expression on her face and the casual way she’d lowered her voice and softened the song to lull Gino to sleep, Darius only stared at her. “He is?”

“He is.” She headed for the door. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

Darius rose and put Gino in the crib. Sadness seeped into his soul. He’d bet she’d been the perfect mother.

Sunday morning, when Darius heard Gino cry, he popped up in bed again. He jumped into the same jeans and sweatshirt he’d worn the night before and raced into the nursery just as Mrs. Tucker finished changing the baby.

“He’s feeling a lot better this morning.” She caught

Darius’s gaze. “I’m sorry I didn’t hear him wake up last night.”

“That’s okay. Whitney and I took care of him.”

Before Mrs. Tucker could answer, Whitney entered the room. Their eyes met across the nursery and all he could think of was her singing to Gino the night before. The sweet motherly affection he’d heard in her voice. The easy way she’d used the song to lull Gino to sleep. And he suddenly understood why Missy had chosen her for her baby’s guardian. Whitney was born to be a mom. She really would be Gino’s mom. Not a substitute, not a guardian, but a real mom.

Just as he intended to be a real dad.

He could picture them two or three or even six years from now, as the perfect parents. He could see them standing with their arms around each other’s waists, waving to Gino who rode his bike along the big circular driveway in front of the house.

He shook his head to dislodge that image. It was one thing to parent a child together. But they didn’t need to have their arms around each other’s waists. They had to be objective. They couldn’t have a relationship. He had a conglomerate to run. A life that kept him so busy he’d barely have time to squeeze this baby in. But he would. Gino would become his family. And after that there would be no time left for anyone else. Which made him the absolute worst choice of men for Whitney to get involved with. Now that he knew her past, he also knew she needed someone to love her, to understand her, and he simply had too much on his plate already. He would ignore signs that she needed to talk, or signs that she was feeling sad, or signs that she simply needed to be held. And he would hurt her.

She broke eye contact and strolled a little closer to the baby. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Mrs. Tucker chirped. “Here’s the bottle,” she said, offering both the baby and the bottle to Whitney.

Darius raced over, understanding now why she hesitated. Being Gino’s guardian was probably a living hell for her, yet she’d accepted the job and planned to do it. “I’ll take him.”

Mrs. Tucker put Gino in his arms and glanced at her watch. “If you don’t mind, I need to go now. Two of the maids are new and we don’t really have a schedule yet.” She smiled like the happy employee that she was, causing Darius to notice just how weary, how sad Whitney was in contrast. “If you need me, I can be free again after breakfast.”

With the baby and the bottle in Darius’s hands, Mrs. Tucker turned away and walked out of the nursery.

He sat on the rocker and gave Gino the nipple as he had the other times he had fed him. Gino latched on greedily and sucked down the milk. Whitney walked around the nursery, glancing at toys and knickknacks scattered on the shelves. She didn’t say anything and, try as he might, Darius couldn’t think of anything to say either.

When Gino was finished with his breakfast, Darius burped him like a pro then rose from the rocker. “So what do we do now? Put him back to bed? ”

Whitney smiled slightly. “I’m guessing he just woke up before we walked in. So he should spend some time downstairs.”

Panic fluttered through him. “Downstairs? With his gums just waiting to put him in severe pain again?”

“Of course. He still needs his cereal and I’m guessing he’ll want to play a bit. In fact it’s good to entertain him and make him happy for as long as we can.”

Panic was replaced by fear. Yes, he’d rocked this kid, fed this kid, even changed a diaper—much to his horror—but he wasn’t capable enough to be alone with a potentially sick baby all morning.

“Ready?”

He peeked over at Whitney. “You’re coming with us?”

“Sure.”

That’s when he saw it. The sadness that hummed through everything she did was sometimes eclipsed by very normal behavior, but it was still there.

And everything she did for Gino undoubtedly reminded her of the baby she’d lost.

CHAPTER SIX

DARIUS WAITED UNTIL they were seated at the table in the sunroom for lunch, while Gino was napping, before he broached the subject they’d come to Montauk to discuss—how they’d share custody of Gino. The wall of windows brought in the broad expanse of the ocean, sloshing sloppily, with no rhyme or reason or organization, against the shore. The scent of warm clam chowder wafted around them comfortingly, but Darius felt more like the ocean. Disjointed. Uneven. Unable to get his bearings.

Not only did he feel uncomfortable about pushing her to tell him about her family, but he also felt awful for her loss. Technically, he and Whitney would be connected for the next eighteen or so years of their lives, maybe longer. Gino would love her as a mother, and, he hoped, love him as a father. But their lives were so different he wasn’t really sure it was possible for them to find common ground.

She’d been married, been a mom and now lived in a loft in Soho and worked at a law firm. He’d spent his entire adult life running from marriage and being groomed to manage a huge conglomerate. He also had an apartment in the city, but Gino had a nursery at this estate, so Darius genuinely believed it was better for him to get rid of his apartment and live here. If Whitney really wanted to make the commitment to Gino that Darius believed she should make, then she should want to give up her loft and live here too.

The three of them living together was the only way to ensure that Gino saw both of his guardians and also lived something of a normal life. Still, he couldn’t hit her with that yet—especially not after the way he’d pushed her the night before. The way he had this figured, the best thing to do would be try to get her to agree to stay another week, or maybe two weeks, and then continue to tack on a week or two at a time until she realized, as he had, that Montauk was Gino’s home.

Because the following day was Monday, the end of the weekend, there was no time left for delay. He had to persuade her to stay an entire week or maybe two and he had to do it now.

He casually picked up his napkin. “I’m glad we decided to spend the weekend here, getting to know the baby.”

She met his gaze, her pretty blue eyes cautious.

“It was good for him to be in a settled environment—especially since this is his home, or had been when his parents came to New York.”

She didn’t even hesitate. “Absolutely.”

“So you wouldn’t mind saying a little longer?”

“How much longer?”

With her being so agreeable, it seemed a shame to ask for a week or two, when a month would be better for Gino. “How about a month?”

“A month!”

“Or six weeks.” Going with his usual tactic of surprising his opponent by asking for more rather than backpedaling, he forged on. “This is Gino’s home. He needs to be somewhere he feels safe. Since he spends half his day sleeping, I also think it’s important he be in his own crib. We’re adults. I think we can make an adjustment or two for him.”

“Okay.”

She surprised him so much he forgot they were negotiating. “Okay? ”

“Yes. We have to hire a nanny, and I need time to turn my spare bedroom into a nursery. So, yes. It makes sense to keep Gino here where he’s happy until I can get some of that done.”

Dumbstruck, he said nothing.

She ate a spoonful of soup. “Layla liked being in her own crib. Especially when she was sick.”

Layla. Her casual use of the name shook him. But the very fact that she’d said it so nonchalantly told him he had to be every bit as casual. Not make a big deal out of it. Not ask questions that didn’t fit into their conversation about Gino. Even though he was burning up with them.

How could a man not remember he had his child with him?

How did a woman deal with the grief, the guilt, of not noticing her husband was slipping over the edge?

Though he tried to hold them back, they tore at him until he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “How did you deal with it?”

“What?”

Recrimination roared through him, telling him he shouldn’t push her again, but he was unable to stop himself. “Your loss. How did you deal with such a monumental loss?”

She glanced up at him. “Therapy.”

He shook his head. “Dear God. It must have been awful. I am so sorry.”

She set down her spoon. “Actually, that’s one of the reasons I held back from telling you. I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I want you to know. You have to know. You have to understand. But if I really want to get on with the rest of my life, you can’t feel sorry for me. You can’t treat me differently than you would have when you thought I was just a thorn-in-your-side lawyer.”

He laughed. “I never thought you were a thorn in my side.”

She smiled at him. “Of course you did. You probably always will. We’re not going to agree on how to raise Gino. We might as well admit up front that there will be disagreements and maybe set some ground rules for how to handle them.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Well, for instance, there could be some deal breaker things. Like I don’t think he should get a new car at sixteen.”

He laughed, not just at the absurdity of talking about something that wouldn’t happen for fifteen-and-a-half years, but also at the absurdity of depriving Gino of something he’d need.

“Really? No car at sixteen? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m rich. I can afford to get him any kind of car he wants. And he’ll want one. It’s the only thing he’ll talk about the entire time he’s fifteen.”

“Doesn’t matter. Kids that age aren’t good drivers. We should have as much control as possible about when and where he drives. The best way to do that is for him to have to ask permission to take a car.”

He gaped at her. “I have ten cars. He could easily take one without my permission.”

“Then you’re going to be busy keeping track of them. Because, to me, the car is a safety issue. And a deal breaker.”

He scowled, remembering his own driving at sixteen, and realized she was right. “Okay, but then one of my deal breakers is pink.”

“Pink?”

“No matter that you call it rose or mauve or some other flaky name, I don’t ever want him dressed in pink.”

She blinked, then frowned, then burst out laughing. “That’s your idea of a deal breaker?”

He turned his attention to his soup. “Give me time. I’m sure I’ll think of more.”

“So will I. But that’s kind of the point. We should balance. You know I’m right about the car, so you didn’t argue once you understood. I get it about pink.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s a pet peeve and I respect that. But most things won’t be so black and white. We’re going to have to learn to discuss issues as they come up and respect each other’s viewpoints.”

He put down his spoon and motioned with his hand between them. “So this kind of works?”

“The fact that we’re both objective parties?”

He nodded.

She smiled. “Give us a few years. We won’t be quite so objective. The first time he looks at us with real love, we’ll both melt.” She caught his gaze. “That’ll probably happen within the next day or so, so get ready. You and I are about to become mom and dad to that little boy.”