She Can't Say No to the Greek Tycoon

The former, he devoutly hoped. Until she’d left him for no good reason that he’d been able to come up with apart from a fat divorce settlement, he would have said she didn’t possess an avaricious bone in her body. And yet how could he know what went on inside that lovely head of hers?

The time was past when he could have done what he’d brought her here to do—insist that she reveal her true motivations behind her desire for a divorce. Such an insistence would be counter-productive in the new regime he’d set up. No arguments about that!

No looking back.

Slate wiped clean.

Fresh start.

Seeing her seated, he helped her to a little of everything on the table, slid the plate in front of her and sat opposite, his own appetite—roused and ravaging after the news that he was to be a father—completely gone. Was it pride that kept him from acknowledging that he wanted her to stay with him, make their marriage work, because he was important to her?

He refused to dwell on that possibility. She had wronged him, shamed him, but he was now prepared to overlook that. And whatever her reasons for her seeming compliance to his wishes it was a step in the right direction—a step towards what he must have: a stable relationship for the sake of their unborn child.

He had endured a cold and loveless childhood following the deaths of his parents when he’d been too young to properly remember them, so he was determined that his child would be surrounded by the permanence of parental love.

And no way would a child of his suffer the trauma of a broken home, a marriage gone wrong, with all the attendant recriminations and back-biting, the divided loyalties that would torment any child shunted between two bitter parents.

Watching her eat a little of the food and push the remainder around her plate, he wondered how far her compliance with his wishes would take her.

As far as the marriage bed?

And did he really want that?

The answer, he knew, to his annoyance, was yes. Despite her past behaviour, the shaming of his honour, he wanted her. Even more than when he’d first encountered her in Cristos’s courtyard.

And that was saying something!

CHAPTER EIGHT

DIMITRI rose from the table as if propelled by a rocket, pushed back his chair and, sounding almost painfully polite, said, ‘You must rest this afternoon, Maddie. I insist. It has been a traumatic morning.’ One dark brow elevated as she stubbornly remained seated. His mouth flattened. ‘Come, I will see you to your room.’

Leaving her barely touched meal, Maddie got to her feet with extreme reluc

tance. An hour or two of solitude, the opportunity to at least try to relax and consider her situation calmly, had its glaringly obvious advantages. But, perversely, she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her meekly fall in with all his orders. He had managed to demean her until she felt lower than the ground she walked on. Was she to have no pride left whatsoever?

Suddenly her legs felt horribly unsteady. He was spot-on about this morning’s trauma. And every bit of it was his fault!

It had started with his humiliation of her and come to a dramatic crescendo with the news of her pregnancy. So a short rest, the brief and blessed oblivion of sleep, seemed like the best idea she’d heard in a long while.

And if he smugly assumed she was falling in with his wishes it couldn’t be helped.

‘I’m sure I will be all right on my own,’ she was forced to point out, not wanting him anywhere near her, because he was no longer her dearest love, he was her enemy. Her pregnancy had rammed that reality home as nothing else could have done. Muttering vociferously, he ignored her statement of independence, swept her up into his arms and headed for the staircase.

‘Put me down! I’m not an invalid! I can manage!’

‘I’m sure you can. But while I am with you, you don’t have to.’

He knew he sounded cold. Could do nothing about it. He could barely trust himself to speak. Watching her across that table, he’d been hit by the usual upsurge of savage hunger that always afflicted him in her presence—had done ever since he’d first set eyes on her for the first time. The wanting was strong enough to cause actual physical hurt, leading inevitably to the thought of the marriage bed.

But he knew that resuming those mind-shattering pleasures was out of the question until things were calmer between them and he could begin to forgive himself for the earlier humiliation he’d dealt her, which now severely appalled him.

Whatever her reasons for wanting out of their marriage—and he no longer wished to know them because the future was all that mattered—she didn’t deserve that type of treatment.

He hoisted her body closer to the hard strength of his and effortlessly mounted the stairs, while Maddie desperately tried to stop the tears that stung the back of her eyes from falling. Held this close to him, to the man she had adored with everything in her, was torture. Worse than torture. Because her body was letting her down again, responding wholeheartedly to him even as what little was left of her brain told her all she wanted to do was punch him!

Wicked, treacherous heat flared deep inside her as he shouldered through the door to the master bedroom and slid her to her feet at the side of the massive bed. He was still so close, too close. He was so magnificent, so unfairly sexy, full of careless masculinity. It was as if his body was a silent call to her—a call which drew an immediate response from her soul, from a loving heart her logical mind was unable to control.

Maddie turned swiftly, caught between the edge of the bed and his superbly powerful frame. A smothered sob snagged her throat as blistering heat gathered deep inside her and made her heart flip over.