Baby for the Greek Billionaire

The truth of that swooped down on him, reminding him of the things he’d thought the day before. He sniffed a laugh. “I already figured that out.”

“Well, good. That makes you ahead of the game.”

“What about you?”

“I’ve been through this before. I know exactly what I’m in for in the next year and a half. I’ve even thought ahead to the next twenty-five years. Kindergarten, elementary school, middle school, high school…, university … marriage.”

Of course she’d thought ahead to the next twenty-some years. She was a planner. She’d probably thought of every special event in her daughter’s life, previewed it, then suffered through the memories of her plans when her daughter was gone. He’d love to ask, not because he wanted to know her dreams for her daughter, but just because he suspected she needed to talk about some of this. But they weren’t really friends. They were two people bound by someone else’s wishes. He didn’t feel he had the right to be so personal. Yet he also couldn’t think of a way to change the subject or even what to change it to. Nearly everything to do with Gino would remind her of her baby. After that there wasn’t much for them to discuss.

They were quiet for a few seconds then Whitney said, “This soup is wonderful.”

Ah, food. She’d said she loved food. That was as good a topic as any. “Cook worked for my dad for the past few decades. Every time she tried to quit he doubled her salary.”

She laughed. “I can understand why.”

Her laughter pleased him and reminded him of how relaxed she’d been the night before at dinner and while playing pool. She actually seemed happy now. Relaxed.

So once again, he talked about food. “You should see what he paid the pastry chef.”

Her eyes widened. “You have a pastry chef?”

He laughed. “My dad had a pastry chef.”

His laughter scared her. She knew he was being kind, but the sound of his laugh filled her chest with syrupy warmth. It wasn’t love. But closeness. Companionship. Ease. They’d known each other a few days. Yet they were not only comfortable enough to discuss Gino and his future rationally, but she’d also told him about Burn. About Layla. Now he was laughing with her and making her laugh.

And he’d kissed her.

She shoved that to the farthest corner of her brain. He’d promised he wouldn’t kiss her again, so that couldn’t come into play. She had to forget all about that, the way he’d promised he would.

“If we stay here a whole month, I’ll weigh two hundred pounds before I go home.”

“You could stand to gain a pound or two.”

His comment reminded her of the way he’d looked at her the night before when she had been practicing flirting. Yearning seized her, but so did the memory of how much trouble that longing had gotten her into.

“No woman believes she can stand to gain a pound or two.” She set her napkin on the table and rose. “I need to work this afternoon.”

He smiled slightly and rose politely. “Okay.”

Walking back to the office, she congratulated herself. She hadn’t exactly run away, but there was no point in hanging around when they had no future. She’d sealed her fate with him by explaining her past. He’d even told her he wouldn’t kiss her again. Yet she still had crazy feelings around him. Which, now that she thought about it, was preposterous. They didn’t even really know each other. So, whatever she felt, it was based purely on animal attraction.

On the up side, the fact that her feelings were wrong gave her a reason or a way to control them. From here on out, every time the attraction rose up in her, she’d simply remind herself she didn’t know him. So anything she felt was purely physical. Something to be ignored, not pursued.

On Monday morning, they drove into the city together, leaving Gino with Mrs. Tucker. Reviewing files from his briefcase, he didn’t talk. Not even to discuss the job she’d be doing for Andreas Holdings in Gino’s stead. She’d been quiet at breakfast, stilted, and he’d gotten the message. She might have agreed to live in the same house, but she wanted her space. Which was fine. Probably smart. He wanted her to be happy. If being left alone made her happy, then he’d leave her alone.

Eventually, she’d come around on her own terms, soften to the baby and to him. When she did, he’d see it. And he wouldn’t exactly pounce, but he would capitalize on the moment and suggest that they make their living arrangements with Gino, at his house in Montauk, permanent.

When they arrived at Andreas Holdings, he directed her to follow him to his office—formerly his dad’s office. Cherrywood paneling and a wall of bookcases gave the room an old-fashioned, stuffy feel, but there was nothing he could do about that. He hadn’t yet had a chance to redecorate.

He walked past the brown leather sofa and chair, directing her to follow him to his desk. Keeping with the all-business tone they’d established that morning, he handed her a stack of files. “These are contracts I’d like you to review and summarize for me.”

“Okay.”

He pressed the button on his phone and paged his assistant, who was at the door in seconds. “Minnie will show you to your office.”

She left the room on the heels of his assistant, and Darius stared at the door that closed behind them, hoping he was doing the right thing.

He met her at the limo for the ride home and immediately retrieved files to review, so they didn’t have to talk just because they were commuting together. He even let her go up to her apartment on her own to pack the things she would need for the upcoming weeks.

They talked about nannies at dinner. That morning, she had called the service she’d used when she’d hired a nanny for Layla and they had emailed résumés of potential candidates. She’d narrowed them down and had scheduled interviews with all four the next day. Because Whitney would conduct the initial interviews at the headquarters for Andreas Holdings, Darius had consented to sit in on at least five minutes of each interview and, acknowledging how busy he was, she’d accepted that. Before dessert she excused herself, saying she needed to go back to the depositions from the case she was working on with her father.

At nine when he went into the nursery to say goodnight to Gino, Whitney was already there. He was neither surprised nor concerned when she kept the slightest bit of distance between herself and the baby. He knew why she hesitated.

Still, he and Whitney were the baby’s guardians and because of work that day they hadn’t spent as much time as either of them wanted to spend with the baby, so he excused Mrs. Tucker.

“We’re okay here. So if you want to go to your room, that’s fine.”

When she was gone, Darius sat on the rocker, bottle in hand. “Hey, little guy.”

From her spot beside the crib, Whitney said, “He’s really getting to know who you are.”

Darius couldn’t help it. He smiled. “I know.”

“And you’re really beginning to like him.”

Darius looked up at her. “You were right. It hits you like a ton of bricks.”

Her blue eyes softened and became distant. “Yeah.”

He hadn’t meant to bring her child to her mind, but with the two of them caring for a baby, it was very hard not to. Of course, if he kept the conversation specific to Gino, maybe he could avoid that.

“Remember how we were talking about him not getting a car on his sixteenth birthday?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, that started me thinking about some weird things.”

“Like what?”

“Like how am I going to tell him about our dad. Or whether or not I should even tell him about our dad.”

Whitney bristled. “You can’t not tell him about his own father.”

“No, but I could be judicious. You know … tell him the good stuff and temper the bad.”

She took another step closer. “That won’t work if your brothers decide to tell him the truth.”

“I’ve been thinking about that too. My dad wanted us to behave like brothers. And, as you can see, Cade and Nick more or less deserted me.”

“So you’re going to keep Gino away from them so they don’t tell him about your dad?”

He shook his head. “No. I’ve actually been thinking of inviting them up to the house. Maybe once or twice a year, so they’ll have a chance to get to know him. There are four of us who are brothers, not just me and Gino. They might not want any part of me. But they’re Gino’s big brothers. I think they should be in his life.”

She nodded. In front of the rocker now, she stooped down. “In some ways, that’s going to make his life tough.”

Darius frowned. “Seeing his other brothers only a few times a year?”

She caught his gaze. “No. Having three adult brothers. I know you might not get this yet, but this kid is almost forty years younger than you are. And the distance between his age and that of his other two brothers is almost as great. There are three of you who will expect him to meet your standards.” She passed her hand lovingly over Gino’s soft black hair. “Three of you who will criticize his dates, expect a say in where he goes to university.” She shook her head then ran her index finger down Gino’s cheek. “I’m guessing he’s going to rebel.”

Cautious, hardly breathing, Darius watched her. She didn’t seem to realize how lovingly she was caressing the little boy. She appeared mesmerized, as if she’d waited all her life for a child and now that she was with one, she couldn’t stop herself.

“In one way or another all three of us rebelled.”

She looked up at him with a soft smile. “Really?”

“I attended Wharton instead of Harvard.”

She gasped as if mocking him. “Wow. I’m surprised your dad survived the blow.”

“Hey, to him it was a big deal. Harvard was his alma mater.”

“What about the other two?”

“Nick got married at seventeen.”

Her eyes widened. “Now, that’s more like it!”

“And Cade refused to go to school at all. He bought a ranch with his trust fund and worked it.”

“Okay. Cade wins. That’s rebellion.”

“Yeah, but when his oil interests got into trouble, he needed our dad. That still sticks in his craw.”

She laughed and rose from in front of the rocker. “‘Sticks in his craw?’”

“He’s a Texan. It’s like they have their own language down there.”

With the baby asleep, Darius rose from the rocker and laid the little boy in his crib. After covering him with a green blanket, he leaned down and kissed his cheek.

From the corner of his eye, he watched Whitney lick her lips. He pulled away from the crib. “Want to kiss him goodnight?”

She pressed her lips together and shook her head slightly. “I need to get ready for bed.”

He let her walk out of the nursery, but he had seen the longing in her eyes.

Could it be that he’d made a mistake in running interference for her? Could she actually need to be around Gino, not away from him? Would that help her take the next steps in her recovery?

Tuesday morning, he got to the nursery before Whitney, and when she arrived he dismissed Mrs. Tucker again.

As he fed the baby his bottle, Whitney started off standing by the crib, but ultimately gravitated to the rocker. Again, she stooped in front of it, watching Gino as he ate.

He thought about that all morning at work. He didn’t know if the change was because she’d told him about her family, or if she was simply growing more accustomed to Gino, but that child drew her. And for every bit she was drawn to the baby, he felt drawn to help her adjust.

If nothing else, they shared custody of Gino. She was his partner. And he needed to help her.

When they stepped into the house that evening, Mrs. Tucker met them to take their coats. “Chinese for supper tonight,” she said then walked away with their garments.

“I see your love of food precedes you. I’ve never had a housekeeper announce the menu at the door, unless she knew somebody was truly interested.”

She laughed. “I am!”

Darius pointed up the stairs. “Baby first. Food second.”

She didn’t hesitate. Not only did they always put Gino first, but she was actually eager to see the little guy. She wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, but with Darius in the room, it was no longer excruciating to be with the baby. There were painful minutes. She still made comparisons in her head. But Darius was like a layer of protection.

They walked upstairs together and the second they stepped into the room, Gino bounced up in the crib and held his hands out to Darius.

“Look how cute!” Darius said, laughter bubbling through his voice. “He wants me.” He strode over and Gino all but leapt into his arms. The baby squealed, a sound that was half-joy and half-annoyance as if he couldn’t wait the two seconds it took for Darius to snag him out of the crib.

Whitney’s chest squeezed. Not with pain or fear or even a remembrance of her own child, but with happiness. Staying at this house hadn’t been her first choice for how they’d share custody, but it was now clear that being here had been the right thing for Gino.

She grabbed a tissue and gently ran it beneath Gino’s runny nose. He squawked and reached for her.

Darius laughed. “Take him.”

She shied away. She might have been able to touch him, to experience some of the joy a baby brings into any world it enters, but she wouldn’t go overboard. She liked being able to be in the same room without being overwhelmed with memories. She had weeks here at Darius’s house to get accustomed to Gino. She didn’t have to push. She could take this slowly.

“That’s okay. You keep him.”

Gino squealed and stretched out of Darius’s arms toward her.

Darius chuckled. “I’m sorry, but he wants you. He likes you.”

“I know. But he likes you, too.” She took a few steps back.

Gino screeched again.

“Right at this minute, I think he likes you more.”

Motherly longing laced its way through her. The pure feminine desire to lave love on a needy baby rose up in her. Especially a baby who so obviously wanted her. Her heart swelled with affection so strong it tightened her chest. She wanted to love Gino. She might even need to love him. There was a hole in her heart so big that some days she wondered how it managed to pump enough blood to keep her alive.

And standing in the nursery where this little boy belonged, beside the man who shared custody with her, suddenly it all seemed okay. She took Gino from Darius’s arms.

Darius smiled. “Look how much he likes you.”

She took a soft breath, preparing for panic, as sweet baby scents and the feeling of him snuggling into her assailed her. “I’m glad we came here, glad we decided to share these few weeks so we could all get adjusted.”

He shrugged. “It works.”

She nodded and turned away to rock Gino a bit as he nuzzled against her neck. The panic she expected didn’t come and she realized the memories of Layla floating out of her subconscious were wispy, insubstantial. Not bold and blaring, but still there, soft and sweet. She wouldn’t forget her baby as she got on with the rest of her life.

“Yes. Being together does seem to be working.”

“What do you say we take the baby down to supper with us?”

She nodded.

He smiled. “Do you want to change first?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. You hold him while I change and then I’ll come back and take him while you change.”

Whitney nodded, feeling herself able to take another careful step. Holding Gino, alone.

Darius left the room and she smiled down at the little boy. “So how was your day?”

He tilted his head as if questioning her.

She laughed. “I get it. Not much happens in the life of a six-month-old.”

He screeched as if protesting that fact.

“Then again, Gino, everything that happens is sort of new to you. I mean, you can’t even talk yet. Just wait till that happens.” She waltzed him around the room, making him giggle. “Then there’s walking. You’re gonna love that.”

She spun around the room again, but stopped when she saw Darius standing in the open doorway between his room and the nursery.

“That was fast.”

He ambled into the room. “I’m hungry.”

“Me, too.”

She handed the baby to him, but couldn’t help noticing his still expression. “What?”

“I think we should live together.”

“We are living together.”

“I mean permanently.” He ran his hand along the top of Gino’s head, across the shiny black hair so much like his own. “The house is huge. We both love the baby. He loves both of us. Wouldn’t it be a shame to divide up our time when we could both see him every day?”

She gaped at him. “You’re serious.”

He smiled charmingly. “It’s the right thing to do for Gino.”

All the little warning bells she’d heard the Friday before when they’d arrived at the house, all the little suspicions that had nudged at her, suddenly found their meaning. He’d been leading her toward this from the beginning. Being nice, getting her to agree to one simple thing after another until they were at the point where his real goal became clear. He wanted them to live together.

Well, he could ask, but that didn’t mean she had to agree.

“It doesn’t work for me.”

“Why not? There’s plenty of space. We have a cook. We’re hiring a nanny.” He pointed out the window at the serene ocean below. “You’re by the sea. On a beautiful, peaceful estate. You can keep your condo if you want. Spend time in the city anytime you want. And Gino can be here, comfortable and happy with his nanny.”

“You mean with you.”

“I can’t always be here either, remember? I have a job that forces me to travel. All the more reason for Gino to have a home base.”

“You mean all the more reason for you to keep control. You’re afraid that with your schedule, I’ll have him more than you’ll have him.”

He shook his head and laughed lightly, as if they were having a casual conversation, not a monumental one. “That’s absurd.”

“Then why do you want to live here?”

“Because it makes sense.”

“Not to me.”

“I can’t see why not. Whitney, I don’t want this to come out wrong, but you need this as much as Gino does. You’re still shaky around him.”

Fury rose up in her. She couldn’t believe he’d use her fears around Gino against her. Telling him about her baby had been the hardest thing she’d ever done, but she’d trusted him! And he was using it against her.

Mrs. Tucker stepped into the nursery. “The cook wants to know when it will be convenient to serve dinner.”

Whitney headed for the door. “I’m not hungry. I’m going to work. Have Geoffrey bring Gino’s swing to my office and I’ll watch him while Mr. Andreas dines.”

Alone.

Alone from here on out because she wasn’t trusting him again!

CHAPTER SEVEN

AT EIGHT O’CLOCK THAT NIGHT, after two hours of reading depositions, with Gino splitting his time between the swing and the playpen across from her desk, Whitney asked Mrs. Tucker to bring a bottle to the nursery.

She didn’t look for Darius or even let him know she was putting Gino to bed. The mood in the nursery was subdued, as if Mrs. Tucker knew Darius should have been called in at least to say goodnight. Still, good employee that she was, she didn’t say anything as she fed Gino his bottle.

But Gino fussed as if he, too, knew something was off balance, and Whitney began to feel a tad guilty for being so angry. Then as she tucked the covers around Gino’s neck and his soft baby blankets brought Layla to mind, she remembered that she’d trusted Darius. She’d told him the truth about the reason for her troubles with Gino and he’d used it to further his plan to keep the baby with him. Permanently.

Needing a break from thinking about all this, instead of returning to her office, she headed for the kitchen to make herself a cup of cocoa and maybe an omelet, since she hadn’t eaten dinner.

It took her a minute to find the kitchen. Coming from the other side of the huge house, she got slightly disoriented. When she finally found it and pushed open the door, she stopped dead in her tracks.

The space wasn’t appointed to be a regular household kitchen, but looked like the kind of kitchen found in a restaurant. Stainless-steel appliances and hanging racks of pots and pans surrounded a long stainless-steel prep table that sat across from a sixteen-burner stove. Only a few cupboards lined the back wall.

Still, big or not, the kitchen had to have cocoa and milk. She headed for the refrigerator and easily found milk. When she spotted the eggs and cheese, she smiled. An omelet was a definite possibility.

She pulled supplies out of the refrigerator and went on a quest for mugs, plates and utensils. Unfortunately, the cupboards didn’t hold so much as one mug, one plate or one fork. As quickly as her mood had lifted at the sight of eggs, it plummeted. What good would it do to find the eggs and cheese, if she didn’t have anything to eat them with?

Hearing the door open, she spun to face it and saw Darius enter the room. He looked cute and cuddly in a big sweatshirt and sweatpants. Then she remembered he wanted her to live here permanently and her fury returned full force.

She sucked in a breath, told herself not to let her anger rule her. It was better to find out now that he was the kind of guy who would use her confidences against her, rather than later. At least now she knew not to get too friendly with him.

But just as she was about to freeze him out of the kitchen with a cold shoulder and a frigid stare, she realized he might know where the utensils were, and if she wanted food—and she did—she needed him.

Though it galled her, she very quietly said, “Are there any mugs or plates or forks in this house?”

He took a step into the room. “Probably.”

“But you don’t know where they are?”

He shook his head. “Sorry.”

She stifled a curse. “I just want a simple cup of cocoa.” She opened and closed two more doors, working to control her temper and not start another fight. “And maybe an omelet.”

“If you’re hungry, we can call Cook.”

“Or I could just make myself something.” His spoiled, pampered, rich-guy attitude fed her bad mood. He didn’t live a real life. Probably never had. He wouldn’t know a genuine emotion, especially not trust, if it came up and bit his butt.

“You rich people.” She shook her head. “You’re so helpless.”

He sauntered the rest of the way into the kitchen. “Hey, I am not helpless. My dad might have been rich, but my mother wasn’t. She not only cooked, but she had a job. And she taught me to cook.” He pulled a skillet from the arrangement hanging over the prep table. “What kind of omelet would you like?”

Though all that surprised her, the last thing she wanted was for him to wait on her. She wanted to maintain her independence. She didn’t want to trust him. She certainly didn’t want to depend on him. Hell, from here on out she wasn’t even sure she wanted to be friendly with him.

“I’ll make my own omelet.”

“No. You smeared the good name of Andreas with your snotty comment that I was helpless. I have honor to defend.”

Right. Honor. A guy who used her trauma to try to get her to live with him was not a man of honor.

“Okay, how about this? I’ll hunt for everything you need and you make your own omelet?”

Unfortunately, she was so hungry that she couldn’t turn him down. “All right. Fine.”

He rubbed his hands together, as if he were enjoying this. “What should I look for first?”

His enthusiasm only grated on her nerves. “I found the refrigerator so I know where to get just about everything for the omelet. But I have no clue where to find the cocoa.”

“I’m on it.” Turning to the right, he headed off and disappeared down a short hallway. After a few seconds, he emerged with cocoa but not the mug.

She frowned at it.

He laughed. “Don’t get huffy. We eat off plates every day. Drink out of cups. They have to be around here somewhere.”