Claimed for Makarov's Baby

She glared at him, wondering why he was trying to argue for something he didn’t believe in. Was it just because he always liked to win? She stared at the two glasses of champagne, which had now stopped fizzing. ‘They are the exception which proves the rule,’ she said quietly. ‘And they’re ordinary people—not oligarchs. My father doesn’t have women throwing themselves at him every minute of the day, like you do. You’re only objecting because I’m not doing what you want me to do. But the reality is that you’ll grow bored with me and start looking round for someone younger and prettier—and I couldn’t bear that. I’m just being realistic and facing facts, because falling in love doesn’t mean I’ve had part of my brain removed. I’m doing you a favour, Dimitri. I’m not going to limit your time with Leo—in fact, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you see as much of him as you want. But I’m not going to marry you. Do you understand?’

CHAPTER TWELVE

DAMN HER.

Just damn her.

Dimitri glowered. He would not... He would not be emotionally blackmailed.

He studied the antique bowl containing the grouping of bonsai trees which adorned the polished desk of his London office—an exquisite planting of seven Foemina Junipers, which had been created by a Japanese master. It had taken a lot for Dimitri to persuade the man to sell it, because he had needed convincing that the trees would be properly cared for and kept in the right conditions. It had occurred to Dimitri at the time that the plants’ welfare had been of far greater concern to the master than the astronomical price tag which accompanied it.

Usually, just staring at the priceless piece of horticulture brought him some kind of peace, but not today. He studied the bowl. The idea that something as enormous as a tree could be clipped and contained into a size small enough to keep on a man’s desk had always appealed to his dark sense of humour. But he realised that he also enjoyed the element of control essential for successful bonsai care. Conditions needed to be monitored daily, with nothing left to chance. Any sign of rampant growth needed to be ruthlessly cut away. It was man controlling nature. And it was a representation of how he liked to live his life.

Until now.

Now he was discovering that not everything could be controlled. With a heavy sigh he sat back in his chair and thought about Erin. She had meant it when she’d turned down his proposal of marriage. He couldn’t quite believe it at first, but she had. There had been no wavering or sign she might be softening—not during the flight back from Moscow or the journey at the other end, when he’d dropped her and Leo off at the café.

She had made him feel...

What?

He swallowed. She had made him feel powerless. For the first time in a long time, he had come up against someone who would not be moulded to his formidable will, no matter how many enticements he offered her.

He had tried telling himself she was right. Much better that he had as much contact with his son without risking the messy emotional fallout of sharing his life with another person. He’d returned from Russia determined to seek his pleasure elsewhere and had flicked through the stack of invitations which were waiting for him.

But all he could think about was a pair of green eyes and a woman who only smiled when she wanted to.

He thought about the things she’d said and his eyes focused on the Foemina Junipers again. Had she been trying to tell him that the conditions essential for maintaining a successful marriage needed to be right, just as with the bonsai? Just as you couldn’t grow a tiny tree in barren soil, neither could a relationship flourish properly without love and care and commitment? Was that what she had meant?

Damn her.

He waited two days for her to change her mind and come running and he waited in vain. His days seemed drawn-out and tedious and the nights were even worse. He hadn’t slept this badly since the time he’d cut out vodka. Saturday morning dawned and, after a largely sleepless night, he drove himself round to the café, where he sat outside the citrus-decked exterior in his big car—half expecting Erin to come storming out and demand to know what he was doing there. Or perhaps send Leo out to talk to him, because wouldn’t that have been an easy way to break the stand-off which had sprung up between them?

But nobody came. He could see her sister behind the counter—her eyes big behind her owl-like spectacles—but she didn’t wave at him to come in.

He got out of the car and locked it, his heart pounding as he pushed open the café door. It was warm and crowded with customers, with mothers and fathers and little children as well as a couple wearing party clothes who didn’t appear to have been to bed. Several people looked up as the jangling bell announced his arrival, and stayed looking.