Pregnant by the Commanding Greek

‘Still no Ettie?’ he asked Joel bluntly.

‘No, sir,’ the concierge answered awkwardly. ‘But she’s never had a day off before in the entire time I’ve been here.’

Leon spied the battered book open on the desk and recognised Ettie’s handwriting. He reached across and spun it round to flick through the pages.

‘They’re Ettie’s lists,’ Joel hurriedly explained. ‘She designed the systems for us. This is our bible.’

Leon knew exactly what it was. She was insanely over-competent. But basic details were all he needed. A phone number, an address. And, as he’d suspected, Ettie had the staff roster in the back of her book. And, with the roster, full contact details. Feeling like some gumshoe detective—or stalker—he employed his photographic memory and left.

The drive took longer than he’d guessed it would. She had to spend a while on the trains in the mornings and evenings, which meant that on those nights she worked her other job she got home horribly late. He climbed the stairs of the rundown housing block, trying not to judge the grime and smell. He knew he was from a privileged background. He was luckier than almost every other damn person in the world. Quelling his concerns for her personal security, he knocked on the door. A few moments later, he heard the locks being pulled back.

‘Mr Kariakis?’

Leon tensed. He hadn’t been Mr Kariakis when she’d been screaming her pleasure beneath him. But he shoved the resentment aside, because she looked horribly unwell.

‘What are you doing here?’ She peered past him as if expecting to see someone else. ‘Has something happened?’

‘What’s wrong?’ He pushed the words out.

It was a searing pleasure to see her, but he was also hit with a sharp pain at how fragile she looked... Her eyes were huge in her pale face and she was swamped in an ancient woollen jumper, black leggings beneath, warm wool socks on her feet.

‘Do you need me back at work?’ She looked so guilty and anxious, he felt bad.

‘Of course not,’ he said curtly, keen to dismiss her guilt. ‘Not when you’re clearly ill.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Did you think I wasn’t?’

He drew in a sharp breath. ‘Ettie,’ he growled. ‘Invite me in.’

She didn’t want to—that truth was written all over her beautifully expressive face. But she stepped to the side. The atmosphere intensified as she closed the door behind him. Something was bundled up inside him too tightly and he had to turn away from her.

She lived in a small, dingy apartment. There was no television, just books, and an old laptop on the dining table. He noticed an instrument case on the bookshelf together with a pile of sheet music. The sofa looked old and lumpy. But she’d tried to brighten the place up with a throw and cushions and three little pot plants on the narrow windowsill. It was immaculately clean and tidy. That made sense.

He’d seen the organisation and management systems she’d put in place for the concierge desk. Everything was written up neatly—processes and information. Perfection. No wonder every resident had been asking where she was these past few days.

‘You noticed my absence?’ she asked huskily.

He’d noticed her absence when he’d woken that morning and found her gone. He’d been noticing it ever since. ‘I was concerned you might have been embarrassed about what happened between us. I didn’t want that affecting your ability or desire to remain at Cavendish House.’

Her chin lifted. ‘I’m not ashamed. And I’m not pining after you, if that’s what you were thinking.’

‘No.’ He almost smiled because hadn’t that been one little wish? ‘So you’re not planning on leaving Cavendish?’

Her brow furrowed. ‘Did you think I was off having interviews or something?’ She shook her head. ‘Of course not. I love my residents.’

He stilled. He should have remembered that about her—loyalty, passion. That tension soared. It took everything he had not to take two steps and haul her into his arms.

‘How did you find out where I live?’ she asked, wrapping her arms around herself in a self-conscious gesture.

‘I might’ve looked at your personnel roster.’ He glanced at her.

She still looked shell-shocked and paler than he could’ve imagined. He had the urge to scoop her off her feet and abduct her. He’d take her back to his apartment, he’d...what?

Leon gritted his teeth. Not appropriate. Not allowed.

Ettie swallowed hard, still unable to believe Leon Kariakis was standing in the middle of her tiny flat. It was mortifying. Worse than that, it was...exciting in an appalling, illicit way. She’d wondered if she was hallucinating when she’d first answered the door. Now adrenaline surged and she fought not to be driven towards his innate sensuality, fought to settle the sizzle stirring in her blood. Yet her heart beat with more vigour than it had in weeks.

It’s not why he’s here.

‘It was nice of you to be concerned, but it’s just a stomach bug,’ she said unevenly. ‘I think the worst is over now, but you don’t want to catch it.’

Please leave. Please leave.

Before she did something stupid like throw herself at him.

‘You’re sure you shouldn’t see a doctor?’ He frowned at her.

‘No, truly. I just need a little more sleep.’

That customary stillness settled over him as he stared at her. ‘Ettie.’ His voice was little more than a whisper.

She froze, mentally replaying that soft call to her. Had she heard what she so desperately wanted to hear in his voice? Had there been something more than concern? Had there been longing?

Because of the size of her flat, he was delightfully—dangerously—close. She dragged in a sharp breath, straining to resist. It would be so easy to reach up and kiss him.

You can’t.

If she did, she’d be lost. She wasn’t cut out to cope with an affair with a man like him. What he’d made her feel that night? She’d be an addict in no time—desperate to have her fix even at the expense of her own well-being. She couldn’t afford to be a stupid romantic like her mother—always falling for the wrong guy. The guy who’d never love her back. Leon Kariakis didn’t do relationships, he did challenges. Regret swamped her.

If only...

She’d written down the pros and cons and lit a match to send the paper up in smoke. Even so, that lopsided list was burned on her brain. She knew the reality and her responsibility.

‘I need my job...’ She was reminding herself more than telling him. ‘I’m sorry to have troubled you. You didn’t need to come all the way out here.’ Her words were at odds with her secret want. She wanted him to have come here because he’d needed—her.

‘No trouble,’ he said stiffly, distance evident in his stance again. ‘And you don’t need to worry. I’m not about to ask for anything...inappropriate.’

He wasn’t? Great. Now she was even more mortified by her slight assumption that there’d been any personal element to this visit. He valued her more as a concierge than as a concubine. He had no ‘best lover ever’ award for her—though he’d certainly won hers.

Now he strode to the door, his long pace leashed. He almost looked angry. ‘I’ll be implementing some changes at Cavendish House. We can discuss them when you get back.’

She nodded, unable to speak because a stupidly large lump had sprung up in her throat.

‘But you’re not to return until you’re fully fit,’ he added as an afterthought. ‘Everything can wait until then.’

But it couldn’t wait.

Because she’d missed her shift at the stationery shop, her boss had released her from all duties there—dismissing her with immediate effect. As she wasn’t on contract, just a relief worker, she had little recourse but to suck it up. The tummy bug had eased—she’d stopped vomiting, though she still felt horrible and horrendously ti

red. That was too bad. She had to get back to work. Three days off had been an indulgence too far.

She needed the money. And she needed the distraction.

* * *

‘What’s been happening?’ she quickly asked Joel as she stepped behind the Cavendish House concierge desk first thing the next morning.

Joel didn’t have the chance to reply because Leon Kariakis was bearing down on them both, his expression shockingly thunderous. Oddly his jaw was shadowed, as if he’d not shaved for a day.

‘What are you doing here?’ His cold, furious gaze sliced right through her.

‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ Ettie summoned the biggest fake smile she could muster. She was keeping things professional. Maintaining distance. Doing her job.

‘You’re not working today,’ Leon snapped. ‘Turn around and go home. I’ll hail a taxi.’

Ettie gaped, then glared at him. Had he no thought for privacy? And as if she could ever afford to go all the way home in a cab!

‘Excuse me a moment, please, Joel.’ She stalked into the small office, not bothering to see if Leon followed her. Because of course he did.

‘What are you doing?’ she threw at him the second he’d closed the door.

‘Ettie.’ It was a soft growl.