Pregnant By The Commanding Greek

‘It’s quieter than Cavendish, but I don’t build the same relationship with my customers as I do there. I only work the late nights here.’ She glanced at the counter display. ‘It’s beautiful stationery.’

‘That’s why you work here—because you like the product?’

A bubble of laughter burst from her shimmering lips. ‘No, if I just liked the product, I’d buy it.’

‘So it’s money.’ He frowned, unhappy at the thought that she was forced to work two jobs. ‘We don’t pay you enough.’

A wary expression crossed her face. ‘It’s fine. I have commitments. Most of us do, right?’

He shouldn’t pry further but he couldn’t help watching intently, waiting to see if she’d say more. Her clear eyes dimmed with faint shadows.

‘Saving,’ she muttered, unable to help herself.

Unusually for him, his curiosity deepened. But it wasn’t his business. He had no right to press further. ‘Good for you.’

She nodded awkwardly. ‘So did you want anything in particular?’

He bit back the blunt answer of what he particularly wanted and made himself breathe first. ‘I wanted to see if it was really you.’

‘Well.’ That impish smile flashed on her lips, flicking away the shadows in her eyes. ‘It is.’

‘In another uniform.’ He couldn’t help noticing that damned demure neckline again.

‘Black again.’ She bit her lip as she quickly glanced down as if afraid she’d spilled something. ‘Always ready for a funeral, that’s me,’ she quipped. ‘But it’s discreet. Unobtrusive.’

‘I would never describe you as unobtrusive,’ he muttered quietly.

She’d burst into his life in a blaze of passion and fury.

She met his gaze, silently questioning just how he’d describe her. Unspoken awareness flickered between them, like a gravitational pull.

Her blush returned full force, a ruby tide over her creamy complexion. ‘I should get back to work. It’s almost time to close.’

She was flustered again. He was fascinated by her unconscious dance—she advanced closer with those challenges, then retreated in shyness. He glanced around the shop, pleased to discover it had emptied completely of other customers. ‘Show me the biggest seller.’

‘Seriously?’ The droll scepticism on her face was a picture.

Entertained by her expressiveness, he leaned closer. ‘Why not? You don’t think I can afford it?’

She sent him another look. ‘Well, I know you don’t need a new pen.’ She lifted an item from the counter and met his gaze with a prim, shop-girl pose. ‘But we have an exquisite range of journals.’

‘Exquisite,’ he echoed dryly.

‘Incredibly so,’ she emphasised, refusing to acknowledge his soft sarcasm.

‘What is it about girls and diaries?’ He reached out and traced the smooth leather cover with his finger. ‘Do you pour out your soul into one of these every night?’

‘What if I do?’ She lifted her chin in that irresistibly defiant gesture.

‘Would it make for fascinating reading?’ He was appallingly curious now. For the first time intrigued enough to want to know all a woman’s thoughts, all her wishes, every last secret and deepest desire.

‘Sadly, no. I only keep lists in mine.’ She reached across the counter and flipped an open book around to show him. ‘See?’

‘This is yours?’ His pulse rate lifted.

‘I work on it in quiet moments,’ she said. ‘I have permission from my boss—it’s good to see our products in use.’

Her defensiveness amused him. Was she as discomforted by him as much as he was by her? He leaned closer to read the scrawled list.

‘I forget things,’ she added nervously. ‘I’m naturally disorganised, so I work hard to get it together and nail my job. Lists are the only thing that work for me.’ She tried to pull the journal back but he planted his hand down to keep it there. His fingers brushed against her for the second time that day. Skin touched skin. She stilled, as did he.

A millisecond later she snatched her hand back. But he knew she’d felt that current of electricity flow between them.

He turned the pages of her journal, refusing to feel any remorse—she was the one who’d offered it for his viewing. But to his disappointment there were no deepest desires on show inside. Only ruthless organisation, as she’d said.

‘Everything in your life is dictated by a list?’ There were reminders, shopping lists, ticked-off tasks, pros and cons for other things… ‘It’s a lot of lists.’ He flicked through more pages, wishing there were something far more personal in it. ‘And in a rainbow of colours.’

‘It doesn’t need to be boring. Right? But I’m no artist, so I just choose a different colour for each…’

‘I have a planner,’ he offered idly. ‘But it’s online.’

‘Online?’ She shuddered theatrically. ‘I couldn’t get all these lists on the one screen. And what if it got deleted?’

‘What if you lost your journal?’ he countered with the obvious. ‘What if someone you don’t want to read it gets hold of it?’

Her impish grin darted back. ‘That’s why there are only lists and reminders.’

‘So, nothing too personal or incriminating?’ He sighed with genuine disappointment. ‘You’re not a risk-taker, then.’

Her eyes widened.

‘You won’t run the risk of someone discovering your secrets,’ he explained.

‘Perhaps I don’t have any,’ she muttered.

‘Everyone has secrets.’ And desires.

Silent, she just gazed back at him.

‘And I’ll bet you’re not really going clubbing,’ he added quietly.

This time her smile was more sheepish than impish, and she shook her head.

‘Have you had dinner?’ He didn’t give her time to answer. ‘I don’t think you’ve had time if you came straight from your shift at Cavendish. You must be hungry.’

He saw her hesitate and spoke again before she could deny it. ‘Have dinner with me.’

‘No thanks,’ she instantly answered.

‘Am I that awful?’ he shot back, unafraid to challenge her directly. He knew what he wanted. He knew what she wanted too. He was just more honest about it.

She stared at him for a moment, shocked. ‘No, I—’

‘Well, don’t let me down so roughly. It’s only dinner.’

Roughly? Ettie narrowed her eyes on him. He was pulling her leg, right? Behind that serious facade there was some humour. ‘It’s not a wise idea. You’re my boss.’

‘It’s not a date, just dinner. If it makes you feel better, you can tell me about life on the concierge desk. I need to know how the whole operation works. There’ll be no repercussions for complete honesty.’ He paused. ‘Anyway, I’m not really your boss.’

Yeah, right. ‘You own the building I work in.’

‘But a management company employs the staff.’

‘Do you own the management company?’ She wouldn’t have been surprised if he did.

‘They’re contracted… I don’t own them.’

‘So that makes it okay?’ Her heart was pounding unnaturally fast.

‘I think it creates a technicality we can take advantage of.’ He looked right at her. Those amber flecks in his eyes lit up with every word. ‘And you like breaking the stupid rules, right? This is a stupid one. Besides, I’m only living in the penthouse while I get my head around the building. Then I’ll lease it to a client and move to my next investment, so you won’t see me much.’

His message couldn’t be clearer. He was saying he’d stay out of her way. That his presence was temporary. That this was just dinner. Just one night.

But Ettie needed a moment.

‘You don’t ever want to stay in one of your buildings?’ She was intrigued by his transitory lifestyle.

‘I like projects. I like the excitement and unique challenge of each one, and once I’ve overcome that challenge it’s time to move on to another.’

She suspected he wasn’t just talking building acquisition. It was lovers as well. ‘You get bored easily?’

A speculative gleam heated his eyes even more. Yeah, he was talking on more than one level. But he answered with that customary seriousness. ‘I like to keep busy. I like having problems to grapple with.’

‘You don’t ever want to just blob out on the beach?’

He cocked his head and considered it briefly. ‘It’s not something I’ve ever done.’

‘Seriously?’ She frowned. ‘Not ever?’ Didn’t his parents own all those hotels in Greece? Wasn’t that the ultimate holiday destination? ‘You never have holidays?’

‘Do you?’ he countered.

‘I don’t have much choice.’ She grimaced. ‘I work hard but I don’t have the same financial rewards, and I have obligations…’ Which she didn’t want to go into with him right now. ‘What’s the point in all your success if you don’t stop and celebrate it every so often?’

‘The point is the success itself,’ he answered.

‘You don’t get tired?’ She was flummoxed. If she could take a break somewhere warm and beautiful, she’d be there in a heartbeat.

‘Don’t worry,’ he murmured. ‘I know how to relax.’

Yeah, she bet he did. She sent him a reproachful glare and he suddenly laughed. Ettie gaped, stunned at his instant transformation from unsmiling autocrat to hot, buttered hunk. She dragged oxygen into her tight lungs. It wasn’t right that a man should be so gorgeous.

‘It’s not what you’re thinking,’ he said. ‘Well, not entirely.’

‘How do you know what I’m thinking?’

‘It’s written all over your face.’

Hopefully not everything she was thinking. And hopefully it wasn’t obvious how her innards were positively melting. ‘So you don’t do this often? Pick up women and take them to dinner?’

‘No, not often, actually. Does that surprise you?’ His expression returned to serious as he studied her. ‘You don’t believe me?’

‘You’ve been seen with other women,’ she said.

His eyebrows shot up. ‘When?’

‘Last night, apparently.’ She tried to play it cool but she was already regretting bringing it up. ‘A woman leaving your apartment.’

He’d probably been celebrating his first night in Cavendish House.

Now Leon studied her for another long moment. She knew he was thinking. She just wished she knew what.

‘You were talking about me.’ His lips curved ever so slightly. ‘You were curious.’

Before she had the chance to deny it, or to apologise, or to melt in a swelter of embarrassment, he continued softly.

‘Was she seen in my company?’ he asked. ‘I don’t think so. The woman who left my apartment late last night had arrived only minutes earlier. She’s an acquaintance who’d heard I’d moved in. She came to see me as a surprise but it wasn’t something I wished to pursue.’

‘You don’t like surprises like that?’

What red-blooded man wouldn’t want to be surprised by some model-type turning up at midnight with a booty call on her mind?

‘I already told you,’ he replied. ‘I like challenges.’

Surely he didn’t see her as a challenge?

But she was pleased somehow, that he didn’t dally with anyone and everyone who offered.

Leon picked up her journal from the counter and opened it again to look at the long columns of her lists. ‘You could write a list about whether or not to have dinner with me.’ He shook his head and snapped her book shut. ‘Or you could just trust your instincts.’

Ettie regarded him warily. Her very basic instincts were hell-bent on leading her into trouble and her instincts had let her down before. Leon Kariakis was pure temptation and he knew it. Unfortunately for him, she was determined to remain in control of herself.

But this was a dare and he didn’t scare her.

‘All right, then,’ she decided with spirit. ‘Only to tell you all about the Cavendish.’

‘Wonderful.’

He waited while she closed up the shop and set the security alarm. She grabbed her coat, but despite the chill in the air she didn’t put it on. The thing was ancient and the zip was broken and she didn’t want him seeing how worn it was.

‘What do you usually have for dinner?’ he asked as they walked along the crowded footpath.

Usually on the nights she’d worked late she grabbed a chocolate bar from the tube station on the way home or didn’t bother. Tonight had been going to be a not-bother night. But she wasn’t about to admit that. ‘I might cook a quick stir-fry.’

‘But if you were to dine out?’

She shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. Truth? She never dined out.

He sent her a sideways look. ‘I know a good place.’

‘I thought you were new to the area and didn’t know any of the cool places.’ She couldn’t help smiling.

‘I asked one of the concierges at my apartment building,’ he replied smoothly. ‘They offer a superb service.’

She rolled her eyes and kept pace with him along the busy footpath. A couple of corners later he paused outside a beautiful brick mansion.

She shook her head at him. ‘No chance. You have to have a booking.’

He shrugged as if he wasn’t fazed. ‘We won’t take up much space.’

It was a celebrity chef’s place—the kind you had to make a reservation for six months in advance, which was actually a good thing, as it then gave you the time to save the small fortune you needed just to enjoy an appetiser, let alone sample the full menu. Ettie made bookings all the time on behalf of her Cavendish residents.

But Leon simply walked up to the door, which the discreet security guard immediately opened. The maître d’ swept towards them, his wide gaze fixed firmly on Leon and his smile welcoming and wide. Leon didn’t even need to utter a word.

‘May I have five minutes, sir, if you’d like a drink first?’

‘Thank you,’ Leon answered with the ease of one born to privilege. ‘Champagne?’ He turned to Ettie.

‘Lemonade,’ she replied firmly and caught a gleam of pure amusement in his eyes.

‘Definitely not a risk-taker,’ he murmured.

‘Fine, then,’ she breathed. ‘Champagne.’

One glass wouldn’t do any harm.

They’d barely been given their drinks when the maître d’ reappeared to lead them through the busy dining room. Ettie tried not to stare. Several faces were familiar to her but not through personal acquaintance. These were publicly led lives—an actress, a politician. Possibly a minor royal? They stopped at a secluded table in an alcove near the rear of the restaurant. It was quieter than the main dining room, more intimate and far more private.

‘You like it?’ Leon asked as she took her seat.

‘You know the owner?’ She hazarded a guess as she tried not to stare at the gleaming lighting and sumptuous décor, but she couldn’t hold back her smile. The place was amazing. ‘This is really kind of you.’

‘No, I’m not really kind,’ he corrected bluntly. ‘This is pure self-interest. I get a pretty companion for dinner to take my mind off my misery.’

‘Misery?’ She quirked an eyebrow while battling the warmth she felt at his compliment. He didn’t really mean it. He was just adding ‘charming’ to his repertoire, which was very unfair of him. ‘Because your life’s so terrible?’ Curious, she watched him keenly for his answer.

But he turned the conversation back on her. ‘Was it really going to be a stir-fry?’

‘No,’ she admitted with a chuckle. ‘I hate cooking. Generally I exist on grilled cheese sandwiches.’

‘There’s a place in the world for a good grilled cheese sandwich.’ He nodded. ‘But not here.’

‘Then what do you suggest?’

‘I suggest we leave it to the experts.’ He nodded at the maître d’, who, with a slight bow, left for the kitchen. ‘So, why are you working such intense hours?’ Leon sipped his champagne. ‘Do we not pay you enough to live on?’

She too took a sip and savoured the fizz of bubbles before replying. ‘I’m saving.’

‘For travel? A house?’

She laughed and shook her head. Was she really here to entertain him and take his mind off whatever torments he thought he had? ‘I’ve a younger sister who aspires to go to university.’

‘It’s just the two of you?’

She nodded and took another sip.

‘How old is she?’ His gaze narrowed.

‘Seventeen. She’s away at boarding school up north.’

‘You support her financially?’

‘She’s on a partial scholarship.’

‘And you pay the rest?’ His mouth tightened. ‘But you’re not that far out of school yourself.’

‘I’m twenty-three, so a few years out. It’s her last year, so it really counts.’

‘And she’s obviously talented.’

‘Top of her school.’ Ettie beamed with unashamed pride. ‘She’s amazing. She wants to study medicine. So.’ She inhaled deeply. ‘A lot of study.’ And a lot of tuition and living fees. But Ophelia was worth it and she’d do anything to see her achieve her dreams.

‘What happened to your parents?’

‘Twenty questions, huh?’ She sent him a look but answered anyway. ‘My father was never around. My mother passed away a couple of years ago.’

‘That must have been hard.’

It had been but she didn’t want to dwell on her mother’s slow decline with cancer. Not tonight. Not here. She smiled softly. ‘We’ve survived.’

She didn’t tell him about the huge mistake that she’d made not long after her mother’s death either. The total car crash that had been her love life.

‘What’s your sister’s name?’

‘Ophelia.’

‘Antoinette and Ophelia,’ he said quietly. ‘But you’re “Ettie”?’

‘Yes, fingers crossed neither of us suffers the delusions or disappointment of our namesakes.’ She sat back as the waiter appeared and placed dishes on the table. ‘My mother was a romantic.’ Not that she’d had any kind of romantic luck. Like mother, like daughter. ‘This looks amazing.’

She was pleased to have the interruption to the topic. And she realised she was absolutely starving.

He waited for her to take a bite, amusement softening his innate seriousness. ‘What do you think? Better than a grilled cheese sandwich?’

Ettie couldn’t answer, she was too busy salivating. But she finally swallowed her mouthful. ‘I’ve never eaten anything like it. It’s to die for.’

And that was all she could say, because she needed more this instant. He probably thought she was an idiot, but right this second she didn’t care. This was one of those rare experiences in life that had to be luxuriated in.

‘Here, try this.’ He pushed another plate towards her.

Ettie tasted what was, frankly, the food of the gods. Conversation turned to flavours and textures. Leon was animated, knowledgeable and entertaining as they debated which dish was the most delicious.

‘Do you have room for dessert?’ he teased her almost an hour later as she sat back with a satisfied sigh.

‘I should say no, because I’m not remotely hungry now…’ She trailed off.

When was she ever going to be in a restaurant like this again? With a man like this? It was a once-in-a-lifetime fantasy night and she didn’t want it to end.

‘What if we share?’ He offered her pure temptation.

She flashed a huge grin at him. ‘I get to pick, right?’ she said impulsively. ‘Because you can come here any time.’

He laughed a little beneath his breath. ‘Sure.’

‘Or maybe you should pick.’ She suddenly backpedalled, remembering the guy was all but her boss. ‘You probably know what’s good…’

There was a quizzical light in his eye and his eyebrows twitched. ‘I’m sure they’re all good.’ He turned and said something softly to the waiter who’d magically appeared with his impeccable service-required senses on full alert.

Ettie narrowed her gaze on Leon. ‘You did not just order every dessert on the menu.’

‘You don’t have to eat them all, just taste.’

Her jaw dropped at the decadence of the suggestion and she shook her head. ‘That’s wasteful.’

‘Then we can take the rest home for later,’ he said softly.

Ettie stilled, swamped with heat at the suggestion of intimacy that throwaway comment inferred. Was he assuming she’d go home with him tonight?

Images burned in her brain—of her licking a decadent chocolate dessert while in bed with him. Even better, licking said chocolate dessert off him.

‘Ettie?’ He was watching her closely as if he could read her mind. ‘You can take them home and have them for breakfast,’ he clarified in a slightly husky voice.

The less than subtle undercurrents between them were unbearably strong and gaining power with every passing second. She licked her suddenly dry lips and decided it was his turn to answer twenty questions. ‘Do you have any brothers or sisters?’

He hesitated and for a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer.

But his mouth twisted. ‘I’m an only child. Spoilt little rich boy.’ His tone was mocking, but the edge of bitterness ran deeper than a mere joke.

‘But you built your own business, right?’ She knew his parents had that Greek hotel empire, but he’d gone into finance on his own. That was according to the official bio in his ‘most eligible bachelor’ blurb in the magazine Jess the housemaid had been flashing around this afternoon at work.

He shook his head. ‘I had every advantage—education, health, wealthy parents. While my business success is my own, I can’t rightly claim to have done it all by myself when I came from that starting point. Most people don’t get that privilege to begin with.’

‘But you made the most of your opportunities.’

Of course those schools, those contacts—sure they helped. But in the end, he had to do the work himself. And there were plenty of heirs to vast fortunes who’d frittered their lives away.

A lick of something indefinable flickered in his eyes. ‘I like to extract every possible success from every possible scenario. Yes.’

Again that undercurrent swept over her like a blanket of wild dizziness—sensuality of a kind she’d never encountered or imagined. Sexual tension so intense…but it was also teasing, almost fun. Which was surprising, given he was so very serious…and she so very inept at banter.

Two waiters appeared and set six dishes on the table. Six decadent desserts that were miniature works of culinary art.

‘They’re only small portions,’ she said softly, as if that made it better. ‘I imagine they’re rich.’

‘Why don’t you take a bite and find out?’ That tone was back—dry on the surface, but wicked beneath—daring her to take the risk, to take a bite of something so far out of her league. To taste something miles away from her realm of experience.

She picked up the silver fork and forced herself to focus on the glorious-looking food, rather than the man across the table mesmerising her. She took a moment to mentally debate which she should taste first—it was a three-way contest between the chocolate nirvana, the caramel or the raspberry heaven. In the end the chocolate won.

Ettie closed her eyes as she sucked the rich mousse from the spoon.

‘Good?’

It was impossible to answer him—the deliciousness too much to express. It was like all the good things in the world had been put together in the one flavour bomb and it had just burst on her tongue.

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