Maggie shrugged minutely. ‘It’s okay. You know now...or you will know soon.’
Nikos looked at his watch, suddenly businesslike. ‘I have to go to London for some meetings. I’ll come back when I have confirmation that he’s mine.’
The abruptness with which he was going to leave again made Maggie feel a little winded. She had no doubt that if Daniel should prove not to be his baby she wouldn’t see him again. Whatever passion had blazed between them was well and truly snuffed out. But Daniel was his, and she would have to see him again and accept the consequences of her actions.
Nikos followed her out to the car and Maggie noticed him looking at Daniel again for a long moment through the window. She couldn’t help asking, ‘Did you really never want to have children?’
He stood back and looked away from Daniel to her. ‘The short, brutal answer? No. But if he is mine I will accept him fully and things will be very different.’
He turned to walk back inside and Maggie said, ‘Wait just a second. What does that mean?’
He came and stood close. Hands on his hips. She sensed volatile emotions under the surface and to her mortification shivers of awareness ran through her blood, recalling his volatility a year ago.
He said, ‘It means exactly what I said: if he’s mine, rest assured that I will not shirk my responsibility.’
Three days later
Maggie walked into the plush Dublin city centre hotel. One of the city’s oldest, and situated on St Stephen’s Green, it oozed timeless elegance and sophistication. She’d been delivered here in a chauffeur-driven SUV—summoned by Nikos Marchetti.
The spurt of rebellion she’d felt earlier, when preparing to come and meet Nikos, had galvanised her to dress down for the occasion. But now that felt like teenage theatrics. She’d be surprised if she wasn’t thrown out on her ear before she even reached the reception desk.
But no one stopped her. In fact a suited manager approached her and said, ‘Miss Taggart?’
How did they know?
Maggie nodded. He smiled. ‘Please...let me show you to Mr Marchetti’s suite.’
Maggie dutifully followed him into a rococo decorated lift and her stomach dropped as they ascended. She really wasn’t prepared for whatever was going to come next. But she couldn’t go back now.
The manager led her out of the lift, down a luxuriously carpeted corridor to a room at the end. A light rap on the door and it opened almost immediately.
Nikos looked serious. Shirtsleeves rolled up, hair mussed. Dark trousers. His dark gaze swept her up and down.
‘Maggie.’
‘Nikos.’
The air was charged. Thick with sudden tension and filled with an awareness that she did not welcome because it was one-sided.
The manager cleared his throat. ‘Can I send some refreshments up?’
Nikos didn’t take his eyes off Maggie. ‘Just some tea and coffee.’
Maggie looked at the manager. ‘Thank you.’
He left and Nikos stood back, holding the door open. Maggie tried not to breathe in his scent as she passed him, but it filtered through anyway, precipitating dangerous memories.
She went straight over to one of the windows overlooking the green park. The suite was vast. She caught a glimpse of a bedroom...rumpled sheets. She felt hot.
‘Where’s Daniel?’
Maggie’s heart hitched. Daniel. He knew he was his son now.
She turned around. ‘The Barbiers’ nanny, Sara, is minding him. I expressed some milk.’
She didn’t know why she felt defensive. But it was as if now that he had confirmation of Daniel’s parentage Nikos thought he had a right to ask her questions about him. About her. About her mothering. Would Nikos even know what expressing milk was?
He gestured to a couch. ‘Please, sit down.’