The Sarantos Secret Baby

And the worst part? She’d been outraged, disappointed, insulted. But she’d also been tempted.

She could no longer even attempt to deny it.

She still wanted him. Still craved him.

Well, so what if she did. She was only a woman. And there was no way any female with a pulse wouldn’t want that hunk of premium virility.

Her predictability made no difference. Just as she didn’t devour every piece of chocolate fudge cake that cast its spell on her, she wouldn’t have him. She wouldn’t come near him, or let him come near her. Or Alex.

Not that he’d want to do either now.

He’d probably grope for his walking papers, her absolution, and disappear into the sunset, this time never to return.

Selene had a newly minted conviction.

Whoever had dreamed up Greek gods had evidently had no idea someone like Aristedes Sarantos would one day exist and far surpass their imaginings.

And contrary to her expectations, he hadn’t disappeared.

Worse. He’d returned.

She watched Dina flutter as she led him in, almost flooding Selene’s spacious office in drool.

Selene barely held back from rolling her eyes when she had to gesture for her smart, savvy and searingly sarcastic PA to stop panting over Aristedes and leave them alone.

Not that she was in any better condition herself. She’d just had much more practice in hiding the chaos this man caused inside her. Though chaos was too harmless and peaceful a word to describe what his presence here was kicking up.

The one thing that helped keep it unmanifested was rationalizing said presence. He had business details to negotiate.

She didn’t rise from her desk. She doubted her legs would support her. And before he came closer, drew her deeper into his field of influence, she had to abort his mission.

“You should have called before coming,” she said. “I’ll text you when I draft the new terms. It’ll be at least a week.”

That failed to stop him. He didn’t even stop when he reached her desk. He came around it. Then he was towering over her, the raw power and masculinity barely harnessed within the deceptively civilized trapping of immaculate darkest gray silk pants searing her flesh through her own flimsy protective layer.

She couldn’t even swing away, trapped as she was in that heavy-lidded and -lashed gaze capable of slicing through steel.

Heat surged from that place inside her that she kept under tight containment, a furious fountain of excitement, of life, which she’d been keeping on an even trickle of steadiness and coping.

He made it worse, drawled, “I’m not here to talk business.”

That something in the center of her being crackled, snapped.

She didn’t resist this time. She should just give in. Just one more time. Capitulate, negate her challenge, break his thrall.

She’d let them have this release, this closure, here, now.

The words of her one-shot surrender trembled on her lips.

He quelled them. With his next words.

“I’m here to offer a new proposition. Marry me.”

Four

M arry me.

Aris had believed he’d live and die without ever uttering those two words.

But even if his wildest fantasies could have painted this impossible scenario, they wouldn’t have expanded to imagining the reaction the offer would elicit.

After gaping at him for minutes on end, stupefaction a frozen mask on her face, Selene now seemed to be choking.

But she wasn’t choking.

Selene was laughing. So hard she could barely breathe.

Every crystalline peal fell on him like a resounding slap.

Not that he could even blame her.

If anyone had asked him yesterday what would be the most ridiculous thing he could think of, considering marriage as even a theoretical option for him, let alone proposing in practice, would have been at the top of his list.

It evidently ranked way up there on the echelons of the absurd to her, too.

He exhaled in resignation, braced his legs apart, shoved his hands deep in his pants’ pockets and brooded down on a sight he’d never thought to see. Selene Louvardis, helpless in the grip of a fit of laughter.

He wondered how he would have felt if this was fueled by delighted mirth, not stunned ridicule.

He found his teeth gritting tighter as he watched her every nuance and waited for her amusement to die down. At last, she reached across her desk for a tissue to wipe away tears, shaking her head as if she still couldn’t credit that she’d heard him say what he’d said.

Then she finally looked up at him, disbelieving mockery staining her gaze and twisting one corner of that edible mouth.

He sighed. “I bet you wouldn’t have laughed that hard if I’d proposed that you adopt me.”

Another chuckle burst out of her. “I would have actually found that a more feasible proposition.” She shook her head again. “That’s the one thing I have to give you, Sarantos. You’re so totally, predictably unpredictable, you thwart all those who analyze you to chart what you’ll do next. Conglomerates have bet their futures on you jumping one way then you always go and do something this…ridiculously outrageous, and leave everyone staring in your wake in incomprehension. Marry you, huh? Phew. Wow. I didn’t see that one coming.” Suddenly the shrewdness in her eyes rose to overshadow everything else. “I bet even you are wondering what the hell you think you’re doing.”

He gazed down into those mocking eyes. They reminded him of the pristine moonlit skies of his childhood where the stars had twinkled secret communications of consolation and wisdom to him. He felt their gaze penetrate down to his bones, seeing right through his apparent certainty to his turmoil.

He might act as if he’d worked out all the ramifications of this proposal, knew what he was asking. But he hadn’t. He didn’t.

Did anyone, who ever proposed something so irreversibly life-changing? He had been dreading her reaction. And he didn’t know which of the possibilities he’d dreaded more. Shock, suspicion, anger, hesitation, elation, coyness, rejection, acceptance, a combination of some or a sequence of all. Each one opened a gateway to a hellish realm he would have done anything to step clear of.

But he shouldn’t have worried. She’d defied them all.

He shook his head, too, holding that gaze that asked for no quarter and gave none. “You should talk about unpredictability.”

“You mean you didn’t see this…fit coming in answer to your imperative demand? If you didn’t, I’ve either gravely underestimated your arrogance, or you’re losing your infallible insight and preternatural powers of prediction.”