The Greek's Billion-Dollar Baby / The Innocent's Emergency Wedding

‘Birth date?’

She responded, thinking back to her last birthday, right before Christmas. Angus had thrown her a surprise dinner party and she’d pretended to be thrilled, but Hannah hated surprises, and she’d wondered how he couldn’t know that about her. She’d wondered how he could think she’d like being the centre of attention like that, with everyone in the restaurant staring at her, waiting for her to smile and make a little speech thanking them for coming.

Hannah didn’t like surprises but she’d chalked the party up to something they’d laugh about in ten years’ time. Besides, he’d gone to a huge amount of effort, she wasn’t about to be ungrateful in the face of that.

She’d had no idea, though, that a way bigger surprise had been in store for her, nor that his ‘effort’ in arranging such an elaborate party was undoubtedly his way of compensating for the fact he was sleeping with Hannah’s cousin behind her back.

Her jaw tightened, and unconsciously she gripped her hands tightly in her lap, the past rushing towards her, wrapping around her, forcing her to look at it, to be in it even when it was strangling her. To remember the sight of her cousin and her fiancé, their limbs entwined, the dark black sheets of Angus’s bed in stark contrast to their flesh, Michelle’s white-blonde hair glistening in the evening light.

It was a betrayal on two fronts. That her fiancé would cheat on her was bad enough, but with someone she’d been raised to think of as a sister?

Indignation and hurt made her breath burn a little.

Capri swam beneath her, ancient and striking, and it offered a hint of perspective. How many millions of people had walked those shores, swum in these seas, each of them with their own problems and concerns, none of those concerns mattering, really, in the huge scheme of life and this earth? One day, she’d forget the sting of this betrayal, the second loss of family she’d had to endure.

‘Parents’ names?’

She swept her eyes shut, thinking of her biological parents, seeing her mother’s smile as she tucked Hannah into bed, stroking her hair, singing their goodnight song.

‘Ellie—Eleanor—and Brad.’

There were more questions and she answered them matter-of-factly—it was easier to simply provide the information than to launch into explanations with each point.

‘Why did your engagement end?’

That question had her swivelling her head to him, and she was grateful that a flight attendant chose that exact moment to enter the cabin, offering drinks.

‘Just water,’ Hannah murmured.

‘Coffee.’ He focussed on Hannah. ‘Are you hungry?’

She was. ‘A little.’

‘And some dinner.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The attendant left, and Hannah thought—for a moment—Leonidas might have forgotten the question he’d posed. But of course he hadn’t. This man probably never forgot a thing. ‘Your fiancé?’

‘Right.’ She was surprised at how well she’d kept her voice neutral.

‘He cheated on me.’ She shrugged as though it didn’t matter. ‘It kind of killed my interest in marrying him.’

‘I can imagine it would.’ He was watching her as though she were a puzzle he could put back together if only he had enough time. ‘You hadn’t slept with him. His idea, or yours?’

‘His.’

His expression showed surprise. ‘Why?’

The flight attendant reappeared with drinks, placing them down on the armrest table each had in their seat and leaving again.

‘Romance.’

Leonidas lifted a brow. ‘You think sex isn’t romantic?’

Heat exploded through her body and she clamped her knees close together to stop them from shaking. Sex with Leonidas had gone beyond romance. It had been passion and fire, everything she could imagine wanting from a lover.

‘I wouldn’t know.’ She dipped her eyes lower, studying the carpet on the floor of the aeroplane as though it were a fascinating work of art.

‘So how come you were a virgin?’ he pushed.

Hannah lifted her gaze, forcing herself to meet his curious eyes. ‘We decided we’d wait.’

‘There was no one before him?’

She bit down on her lip, shaking her head from side to side. ‘Is that so unusual?’

His expression showed cynicism and disbelief. ‘In my experience, yes.’

She laughed then, shaking her head a little. ‘Stop looking at me like that.’

‘Like what?’

‘As though I’m some kind of… I don’t know. As though I’m an alien.’

‘Your inexperience is rare, that’s all,’ he corrected. ‘Particularly given the fact you were engaged.’

‘Angus and I…’ She swallowed, the bitterness impossible to completely suppress. ‘We were friends for a long time. The dating thing came out of nowhere and I guess our relationship didn’t completely transition. Sex wasn’t a drawcard for me. I guess it wasn’t for him, either.’

‘You did not desire him?’

Ridiculously, Hannah felt a buzz of disloyalty at admitting as much. ‘Not really. We weren’t about that.’

‘What were you “about”?’

‘I loved him,’ she responded, simply, ‘and I thought he loved me. That was enough.’

Leonidas nodded thoughtfully. ‘So that was also a pragmatic marriage.’

Hannah’s eyes widened at his description. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You agreed to marry a man simply because it made sense, because you thought you loved each other, without having any idea if you were physically compatible. So this marriage—ours—already has more going for it.’

Hearing him refer to their marriage caused her heart to trip a little, banging against her sternum. ‘How do you figure? Angus was one of my closest friends…’

‘Which means very little given that he betrayed your trust and slept around behind your back.’

‘Woah. Don’t go easy on me, will you?’

‘I don’t think you want anyone to go easy on you, Hannah May.’

She startled a little at his unexpected perceptiveness. ‘It was less than six months ago. It’s still kind of raw.’

His expression barely shifted yet she had the feeling he was saving that little revelation, storing it away. ‘He cheated on you. He doesn’t deserve a second thought.’

She nodded, having said as much to herself.

‘Is he still with her?’

Hannah reached for her water, sipping it, trying to tamp down on that little bundle of pain. ‘No. Not according to my aunt.’

Leonidas nodded sharply, as if filing away that information. ‘There is no love between you and me, Hannah, but there is desire enough to burn us alive if we are not careful. And there is a baby—which we both want to protect and cherish.’

‘Yes. I do.’

‘Neither of us wanted this, but we can make our marriage a success.’ He said it with such fierce determination she almost laughed, as though she were simply a property he wanted to acquire, a piece of real estate he needed to buy.

Her own questions zipped through her. She sipped her water, balling her courage. ‘Your wife and son…when did they…?’

His eyes were coal-like in his autocratic face. ‘Almost five years ago.’

‘I’m so sorry.’ She spoke gently, softly. ‘You said they were murdered?’

His eyes narrowed and his skin paled almost imperceptibly. ‘Yes.’

‘By whom?’

He held a hand up, silencing her with the gesture. ‘I have no intention of discussing it, Hannah. My first marriage is off limits.’

The words smarted and she couldn’t resist pointing out his hypocrisy. ‘But you were just asking me about my fiancé.’

‘You were happy to talk about it.’

Hannah’s brow furrowed. ‘No, I wasn’t. I answered your questions because we’re getting married.’ How strange those words felt in her mouth. ‘And if you’re going to be my husband, it seems like the kind of thing you have a right to know about.’

He tilted his head in concession but his gaze was steady. ‘I will not discuss Amy and Brax.’

Hannah expelled an angry rush of breath. ‘Well, that seems kind of dumb.’

He clearly hadn’t been expecting that response. ‘Oh, really?’ There was danger in the silky drawl.

‘Yeah, really.’ The flight attendant returned, brandishing a platter loaded with Italian delicacies. Cheeses, ham, fruit, vegetable sticks and dips, breads, olive oil and vinegar. The aroma hit her in the gut and she realised she was actually starving.

But other feelings still took precedence. When they were alone again, she continued, ‘You were married and had a son, and you lost them. You lost your family.’

Her voice caught because she knew more than enough about how that felt—to be safe in the bosom and security of your loved ones one day, then to be adrift at sea, cast out, alone, bereft, with none of the usual place markers to help you find your bearings.

‘Thank you for the neat recitation of this fact.’

Her nostrils flared. ‘I only mean that’s a huge part of you. Don’t you think our child will want to learn about her half-brother one day? That’s a part of her life.’

Despite the fact his expression remained the same, his breath grew louder, and she would have sworn she saw panic cross his eyes.

‘No.’ He said the word like a curse, harsh and compelling.

Hannah sat perfectly still.

‘She will never know about Brax. Never.’

Hannah’s heart thumped hard in her chest.

‘I will not speak of them. Not to you, not to her, not to anyone.’

She truly didn’t think he meant it as an insult—he was caught on the back foot and the sheer strength of his emotions made him speak without thinking. But the vitriol in the statement sliced through her, filling her organs with acid.

‘You’re seeing this marriage, and our daughter, as an abstract concept,’ she said gently, even when her heart was hurting. ‘You’re thinking of her as a baby only. What about when she’s ten? Fifteen? Twenty? When you and she are friends as well as family, when she’s sitting here where I am, on a plane, opposite you, and she’s asking her father about his life. Do you really think you can keep such a huge part of yourself shielded from her? And me, for that matter?’

He drank his coffee, before piercing her with his jet-black eyes. ‘Yes.’

‘You’re being incredibly obtuse and naïve.’ But the words lacked zing. They were said with sympathy. No one knew more about the toll grief took when it was kept locked deep inside a person.

‘I am sorry you think so.’ He pushed his untouched plate aside and pulled a newspaper from the armrest. He flicked it up, pointedly blanking her.

It was galling, and only the fact that his stance was obviously driven by a deep, painful sadness kept her silent.

He didn’t want to talk about his family. Yet.

They barely knew each other, despite this bizarre agreement they’d entered into. They would marry—in a week—and the very idea stirred her pulse to life. But despite the marriage, they’d spent only a few hours in one another’s company. They were virtually strangers. Of course he didn’t want to crack his heart open and lay everything out before her.

He was guarding his privacy, as befitted the newness of all this. Over time, as they grew to know one another, he was bound to change, to open up to her more.

She lifted a strawberry, popping it in her mouth, tasting the sweetness, relishing its freshness. She wanted him to trust her, and she had to show him how. To keep opening up to him, even when it felt counterintuitive, even when the past had shown her to be more guarded with herself, to protect her feelings.

‘I felt undesirable,’ Hannah murmured, reaching for another strawberry.

Leonidas pushed the top of the paper down, so his eyes could meet hers. There was a trace of coldness there, from their earlier conversation. She pushed on regardless.

‘With Angus. I didn’t really feel anything for him, physically, and he suggested we wait until we were married, so I agreed. I heard about couples not being able to keep their hands off each other and, honestly, I thought there was something wrong with me.’

She bit down on her lower lip thoughtfully. ‘I presumed I just wasn’t really sexual. I thought he wasn’t, either. Then I saw him in bed with someone else, and I found out they’d been sleeping together for over a month, and the penny dropped. He was sexual. He liked sex. He just didn’t want me.’

Leonidas placed the paper on his knees, his steady gaze trained on her face.

‘I never felt like I wanted to rip a guy’s clothes off. It was as though hormones left me completely behind.’ She shrugged and then homed her own gaze in, focussing on his lips. Lips that were strong in his face, powerful and compelling. Lips that had kissed her and tipped her world upside down.

‘But you…’

He arched a brow, silently prompting her to continue.

‘You left me breathless,’ she admitted, even when a part of her wondered if she should say as much, if it didn’t leave her exposed and vulnerable, weakened in some way. ‘I can’t explain it. I felt desire for the first time in my life and I…’

‘Go on,’ he prompted, the words a little throaty, and she was so glad: glad that maybe he was affected by her confession in some way.

‘I felt desirable for the first time in my life, too. I liked it. I liked the way you looked at me.’ She turned away now, clearing her throat, looking towards the window.

Leonidas leaned forward, surprising her by placing his hand on hers. Sparks shot from her wrist and through her whole body. ‘Your fiancé was an idiot for giving you a moment’s doubt on this score.’

Her laugh was dismissive, but he leaned further forward, so their knees brushed. ‘You are very, very sexy,’ he said, simply, and heat began to burn in her veins.

‘I don’t mean that,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘You don’t need to… I just meant to explain…’

‘I know what you meant.’ He sat back in his seat, regarding her once more. ‘And I am telling you that you are a very sensual woman. You have no idea how I have been tormented by memories of that night, Hannah Grace May.’

CHAPTER SIX

THE MEDITERRANEAN GLISTENED just beyond the window of his study. On the second floor of his mansion, and jutting out a little from the rest of the building, this workspace boasted panoramic views of the ocean. Leonidas braced his arms on the windowsill, staring out at it, his breath burning in his lungs, his head spinning as comprehension sledged into him from both sides.

In Capri, he’d acted purely on instinct.

His wife and child had died, but here was another woman, another child, and they weren’t Amy and Brax—they’d never be to him what Amy and Brax were—but they were still his responsibility.

The fact he would never have chosen to become a father again was a moot point.

She was pregnant.

They were having a child—a daughter.

His chest clutched and he slammed his eyes closed, the taste of adrenalin filling his mouth. A thousand and one memories tormented him from the inside out, like acid rushing through his veins.

Amy, finding out she was pregnant. Amy, swelling with his child. Amy, uncomfortable. Amy, in labour. Amy, nursing their infant. Amy, watching Brax learn to walk. Amy, patiently reading to Brax, loving him, laughing at him.

Amy.

His eyes opened, bleakness in the depths of their obsidian centres.

If sleeping with another woman was a betrayal of Amy, what then was this? Creating a whole new family, and bringing them to this island?

He grunted, shaking his head, knowing that wasn’t fair. Amy would never have expected him to close himself off from life, from another relationship, another family.

But Leonidas had sworn he would do exactly that.

The idea of Hannah ever becoming anything to him besides this was anathema. Theirs was a marriage born of necessity, a marriage born of a need to protect his child, and the woman he’d made pregnant. It was a marriage of duty, that was all.

Flint formed in his eyes, his resolution hardening.

They would marry—there was no other option. Even if it weren’t for the possible threat to Hannah’s life, Leonidas acknowledged his ancient sense of honour would have forced him to propose, to insist upon marriage. Growing up in the shipwreck of his father’s marriages hadn’t undone the lessons his grandfather had taught him, nor the unity he’d seen in his grandparents’ marriage.

Their child, their daughter, deserved to grow up with that same example. Hannah deserved to have support and assistance.

And what else?

His body tightened as he flashed back to the way he’d responded to her that night, the way desire had engulfed him like a tidal wave, drowning him in his need for her. The way he’d kissed her, his mouth taking possession of hers, his whole body firing with a desperate need to possess her, even when he’d spent the past five months telling himself their night together had been a mistake.

It had been a mistake. It should never have happened, but it had, and, looking back, he didn’t think he could have stopped it. Not for all the money in all the world. There had been a force pulling him to her; the moment their bodies had collided he’d felt as though he’d been jolted back to life. He’d looked at her and felt a surge of need that had gone beyond logic and sense. It had been an ancient, incessant beating of a drum and ignoring it had not been an option.

Perhaps it still wasn’t…

Glass. Steel. Designer furniture. Servants. More glass. Famous art. Views of the ocean that just wouldn’t quit. Hannah stared around Leonidas’s mansion, the luxury of it almost impossible to grapple with, and wondered if she’d stepped into another dimension.

Did people really live like this?

He had his own airfield, for goodness’ sake! His private jet had touched down on the island, a glistening ocean surrounding them as the sun dipped towards the horizon. She’d expected a limousine but there’d been several golf carts parked near the airstrip and he’d led her to one of them, opening the door for her in a way that made her impossibly aware of his breadth, strength and that musky, hyper-masculine fragrance of his.

When he’d sat beside her, their knees had brushed and she’d remembered what he’d said to her in the plane. ‘You have no idea how I have been tormented by memories of that night.’

Her belly stirred with anticipation and heat slicked between her legs.

At first, she hadn’t seen the house. Mansion. She’d been too distracted by the beauty of this island. Rocky, primal in some way, just like Leonidas, with fruit groves to one side, grapevines running down towards the ocean and then, finally, a more formal, landscaped garden with huge olive and hibiscus trees providing large, dark patches of shade in the lead up to the house.

Leonidas had given her a brief tour, introducing Hannah to the housekeeper, Mrs Chrisohoidis, before excusing himself. ‘I want to get some things organised.’ He’d frowned, and she’d felt, for the first time, a hint of awkwardness at being here, in the house of a man she barely knew, whom she was destined to marry and raise a child with.

‘Okay.’ She’d smiled, to cover it, thinking that she had her own ‘things’ to organise. Like the room she was renting in Earl’s Court and the job she was expected back at in a few days, and an aunt and uncle who deserved to know not only that she was pregnant but also that she was getting married.

None of these were obligations Hannah relished meeting and so she decided, instead, to explore. There was plenty of house to lose herself in, and with the approach of dusk, and only the occasional staff member to interrupt, she went from room to room, trying to get her bearings.

The property itself was spectacular. The initial impression that it was a virtual palace only grew as she saw more and more of it. But what she did realise, after almost an hour of wandering, was that there was a distinct lack of anything personal. Beyond the art, which must surely reflect something of Leonidas’s taste, there was a complete lack of personal paraphernalia.

No pictures, no stuff. Nothing to show who lived here, nor the family he’d had and lost.

The sun finally kissed the sea and orange exploded across the sky, highlighted by dashes of pink. Hannah abandoned her tour, moving instead to the enormous terrace she’d seen when she’d first arrived. No sooner had she stepped onto it than the housekeeper appeared.

‘Miss May, would you like anything to eat or drink?’

Hannah thought longingly of an ice-cold glass of wine and grimaced. ‘A fruit juice?’ she suggested.

‘Very good. And a little snack?’ The housekeeper was lined, her tanned skin marked with the lines of a life well-lived and filled with laughter. Her hair, once dark, had turned almost completely silver, except at her temples, where some inky colour stubbornly clung.

‘I’m not very hungry.’ Hannah wasn’t sure why she said the words apologetically, only it felt a little as if the housekeeper was excited at the prospect of having someone else to feed.

‘Ah, but you are eating for two, no?’ And her eyes twinkled, crinkling at the corners with the force of her smile, and Hannah’s chest squeezed because, for the first time since discovering her pregnancy, someone seemed completely overjoyed with the news.

Her flatmates had been shocked, her boss had been devastated at the possibility of losing someone he’d come to rely on so completely, and Leonidas had been…what? How had he felt? Hannah couldn’t say with certainty, only it wasn’t happiness. Shock. Fear. Worry. Guilt.

‘My appetite hasn’t really been affected,’ she said.

‘Ah, that will come,’ the housekeeper murmured knowingly. ‘May I?’ She gestured to Hannah’s stomach.

Mrs Chrisohoidis lifted her aged hands, with long, slender fingers and short nails, and pressed them to Hannah’s belly and for a moment, out of nowhere, Hannah was hit with a sharp pang of regret—sadness that her own mother wouldn’t get to enjoy this pregnancy with her.

‘It’s a girl?’

Hannah’s expression showed surprise. ‘Yes. How did you know?’

At this, Mrs Chrisohoidis laughed. ‘A guess. I have a fifty per cent chance, no?’

Hannah laughed, too. ‘Yes. Well, you guessed right.’

‘A girl is good. Good for him.’ She looked as though she wanted to say something more, but then shrugged. ‘I bring you some bread.’

Hannah suppressed a smile and turned her attention back to the view, thinking once more of the beautiful coastline of Chrysá Vráchia, of how beautiful that island had been, how perfect everything about that night had seemed.

She’d longed to visit the island from the first time she’d seen footage of it in a movie and had been captivated by the cliffs that were cast of a stone that shimmered gold at sunrise and sunset. The fact she’d been able to book her flights so easily, the fact Leonidas had been there in the bar and she’d looked at him and felt an instant pull of attraction…the fact he’d reciprocated. It had all seemed preordained, right down to the conception of a child despite the fact they’d used protection.

When she heard the glass doors behind her slide open once more, she turned around with an easy smile on her face, expecting to see the housekeeper returning. Only it wasn’t Mrs Chrisohoidis who emerged, carrying a champagne flute filled with orange juice.

‘Leonidas.’ Her smile faltered. Not because she wasn’t happy to see him but because a simmering heat overtook any other thoughts and considerations.

‘I am sorry I left you so long.’

‘It’s fine.’ The last thing she wanted was for him to see her as an inconvenience—a house guest he had to care for. She knew the feeling well. Being foisted upon an unwilling aunt and uncle taught one to recognise those signs with ease. She ignored the prickle of disappointment and panic at finding herself in this situation, yet again.

This wasn’t the same. She was an adult now, making her own decisions, choosing what was best for her child. ‘You don’t need to feel like you have to babysit me,’ she said, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her statement.