The Greek Tycoon's Defiant Bride

The coldness of displeasure had hardened the Greek tycoon’s bold bronzed features. His dark, deep-set eyes were like black ice. ‘I asked you once before not to make this a battle, for whatever it takes I will win.’

As no doubt intended, the threat Maribel perceived in that assurance slid like an ice cube down her rigid spine and settled in her belly, sparking nausea. Fear of losing her son sliced through her, and with it came fierce anger that he should dare to subject her to that level of anxiety. ‘And you wonder why I wouldn’t even consider letting you take Elias to Greece? Forget the DNA-testing and any change to his birth certificate!’ she told him vehemently. ‘You have just ensured that I will obstruct any claim you try to make on Elias.’

A white-hot blaze of wrath engulfed Leonidas. He strode forward, the chill in his gaze a formidable warning. ‘I won’t let you keep me apart from my son. It is madness for you to oppose me in this way. I expected much more from you.’

Stubborn as a mule in the face of intimidation, Maribel stood her ground and surveyed him with furious blue eyes. ‘I have to admit that I’m getting more or less what I expected from you. You haven’t changed.’

‘But you still want me, glikia mou,’ Leonidas countered silkily. ‘I should have appreciated that your sexual compliance would have a major price tag attached. How ambitious are you?’

His sheer insolence made her palms tingle with incipient violence. ‘Meaning?’

‘Why not put your cards on the table? Were you hoping that I might eventually ask you to marry me?’

A brittle laugh of disagreement was wrenched from Maribel’s tight throat. ‘No! I don’t live in fantasy land. But I must confess that only a wedding ring would now persuade me that I can trust you with my son.’

Leonidas dealt her a sizzling look of derision.

‘That was a fact, not a suggestion,’ Maribel told him tautly. ‘Right now I’m very conscious that you could use your influence and financial power to put pressure on me, but I won’t be intimidated. I’ll still let you see Elias, but that’s all. I don’t trust you. I won’t give you the chance to take him away from me. I will not let my child out of my sight for five minutes around you, or your employees!’

Leonidas was inflamed by those pledges. He was a responsible adult and Elias was his son. Her attitude incensed him.

A knock on the door interrupted the dialogue. It was Diane, the nanny, with Elias. Sleepy and fretful after waking up in a different room, the little boy held out his arms to his mother. ‘Mouse…Mouse,’ he muttered tearfully, seeking the security of the familiar pet.

‘You’ll see Mouse later,’ Maribel soothed, folding him close.

‘Is Mouse a toy?’ Leonidas demanded.

‘The dog. ‘

‘You should have brought him.’

Maribel said nothing but almost heaved a sigh. Leonidas was a Pallis and from birth he had been accustomed to instant wish-fulfilment. People went to great lengths to please him and satisfy his every desire. That was not the way she wanted Elias to grow up.

‘I’ll show him the stables,’ Leonidas drawled icily. ‘He’ll enjoy seeing the horses.’

Maribel nodded without looking near him. ‘I’d like to go home at six. It’s a long drive back.’

Elias wriggled and squirmed until she lowered him to the rug. He pelted across it to Leonidas and stretched up his arms to be lifted. Hoisted high, he chuckled with pleasure. Even though Maribel knew it was nonsensical, she felt rejected and hurt.

CHAPTER FIVE

LEONIDAS looked down at the old farmhouse as his helicopter flew over the roof to land in the paddock at its side. It was a filthy, wet, windy day and he was in an equally filthy mood. A month had passed since his war of words with Maribel at Heyward Park.

Since then, Leonidas had seen Elias on average twice a week, but it had taken a massive amount of planning to achieve that frequency and he still only managed to see his son for a couple of hours each time at most. Travelling back and forth to Maribel’s isolated country home entailed considerable inconvenience and discomfort. Leonidas had not, however, uttered a single complaint. A saint could not have faulted his unfailing courtesy and consideration.

Yet Maribel avoided him during his visits, which made it impossible for him to achieve a better understanding with her. At the same time, his legal team’s delicate efforts to negotiate more practical access arrangements had run into a wall of refusal. One month on, nothing had changed: he could see his son only at the farmhouse and could not take him out. He brooded on his conviction that Maribel was hoping he would eventually get fed up and go away.