Claimed For The Greek's Child

‘How do you—?’

‘And between Amalia and your mother, dealing with all that alone—’

‘I haven’t been alone—’

‘—must have been incredibly trying. All the work that you have to do here... You must be exhausted. It certainly can’t allow you the time you’d like to dedicate to our daughter.’ That there was no interruption this time told him all he needed to know. ‘I want to pay off the mortgage—in your name. I will also pay for your mother to go to a rehab clinic. Anna, your mother needs help. Proper help. And I can provide that.

‘A lovely couple is ready and willing to run the bed and breakfast in your absence, just for a short time, whilst you come to Greece. There, Amalia can get to know me, get to know her Greek heritage, her family.’ Forestalling her objections, he pressed on. ‘Anna, it’s something that you deserve—time away from this place, to relax and to spend time with your daughter without having to worry about keeping the roof together over your heads.’

Anna’s head spun. In her wildest dreams she had wanted this. She had wanted someone to sweep in, take care of everything, to resolve all her financial worries, to help with her mother, to allow her to focus solely on her daughter. In her deepest heart, she’d even wanted that person to be Dimitri. Like the fairy-tale prince and the happy-ever-after that she had never thought was possible. But, just like in all good fairy tales, Dimitri’s offer was surely too good to be true. Like the poisoned apple, or the spindle needle’s prick, there was always a price to pay. And, just like the miller’s daughter, there was no way she would hand over her child.

But for a moment Dimitri’s eyes had softened, and she’d seen glimpses of the man she’d met that night three years before. The man she’d written secret letters to in the dead of night. The man who three years ago had looked at her as if she was the one thing that could save him. And that night, she’d felt the same of him. That night, she’d needed him. Was it possible that she needed him now too?

‘I also want to apologise,’ he pressed on. ‘Last night, I thought the worst. It was a combination of shock to discover that I was a father, and fear of just how much I had missed. Anna,’ he said, reaching out to take her hand in his, the rough, tanned skin caressing hers with surprising softness, ‘please, give me the chance to make up for my actions. I want the chance to make things right, to get to know my daughter—to get to know Amalia.’

Of all the things he’d said, it was this that truly undid Anna. The small crack in her heart that had appeared the day she’d held her daughter in her arms, alone in the hospital room without anyone to share that moment with, opened just a little wider. Because it was the one thing that her father had never wanted of her.

Could she do it? Could she hand over everything to Dimitri and just walk away? Years of having to be the responsible one, having to make the decisions and do what needed to be done, cried, begged and pleaded for her to say yes. But the sensible part of her, the cautionary part of her, feared that it would come at too high a price.

Anna thought of her mother. Of how she had been the night before. Of how many times Mary had promised, sobbed and agonised over her own demons. Anna could never afford to send her mother to a rehab clinic—certainly not the k

ind that Dimitri’s money could afford. If it had just been about her and Amalia, perhaps she might have found the strength to say no. But she knew that she’d never forgive herself for not allowing her mother one more chance.

‘How long would it be for?’ Anna asked, hating the sound of hope in her own voice.

‘Not long. A week; two if needed.’ If she thought it odd that he hadn’t met her eyes as he spoke, it was buried beneath a layer of hope, and a feeling of exhaustion so deep that she clung to his offer like a drowning man clung to the shore.

And when she said yes she ignored the little voice in her head that told her that she’d just signed her life away.

* * *

The next few days passed in a blur. Anna had met with the couple that David—Dimitri’s lawyer—had found. They seemed kind and were understanding of the situation. They’d had a small hotel themselves but had passed it on to the next generation in their family and were now travelling around Ireland. Anna, to her surprise, liked them. She’d imagined she would feel resentful, but their care and passion for her own business eased the way considerably.

Dimitri had arranged for a car to take Anna and Mary to the rehabilitation clinic. And, once again, Anna had felt that odd sense of surprise. Through the four-hour journey her mind had built up images of a cold, locked-down concrete facility, but instead she discovered a place that rivalled some of the most expensive hotels in Dublin. Being reunited with her mother after that fateful night had seen her mother spiral into the guilty cycle that Anna was familiar with. But there was something else in her mother’s eyes now—hope. A hope that Anna tried so hard not to nourish in her breast, but the air of change was upon them and it was contagious.

The clinician they met at the entrance explained that she and Mary were not to have contact for at least a month. Explained why and how this helped with Mary’s recovery process and that it was vital for Mary to have the time to focus on herself. Anna would be allowed to call the centre to find out how her mother was doing and was assured that Mary would be in very good hands. Her mother hadn’t even looked back as she passed through the glorious white doors to the centre.

And, now that David had appeared with Amalia’s and her passports—hers had expired since she’d last used it—Dimitri had gone out. It was strange, because Anna had almost become used to his presence, even if he felt like a jailer. The weight of his constant gaze, as if he couldn’t allow her out of his sight for more than five minutes, had been a pressure she hadn’t realised was there. So instead of Dimitri, David sat with her in the small staff area, talking through the process and getting her to sign financial documents to do with the bed and breakfast. And once again she pushed down the inner voice that warned her she was handing over complete control of her life to Dimitri Kyriakou.

* * *

Dimitri hadn’t even made it two miles from the B & B before he’d pulled over on a quiet country road. He was supposed to be in Dublin at the race series for the second leg of the Hanley Cup; he was supposed to be with the two other members of the Winners’ Circle, Antonio and Danyl—men who were more family to him than any blood relation could ever be. But the invisible thread tying him to his child, to Anna...it didn’t stretch that far yet. If Anna knew, or even suspected, what was about to happen, she’d run and take his daughter with her. He just couldn’t take the risk.

Tomorrow they would be on his private jet and once they were in Greece, once they landed on his soil, the power would be all his. But tonight? Tonight, though he couldn’t be there in body, there was no way in hell that he would miss the second race in the Hanley Cup.

He stared at the screen of his tablet, blocking out the sounds of the driving rain, casting the outside world in a blur.

He watched the build-up to the race live, glad that the storm hadn’t yet reached Dublin. Nineteen months ago, just after his release, the Australian female jockey Mason McAulty had approached them in a London hotel with such an outrageous proposal it had momentarily silenced all three members of the Winners’ Circle. She’d promised to win each of the three legs of the Hanley Cup riding one of their syndicate’s horses; a feat which hadn’t been achieved in twenty years.

As the camera panned up to the viewing box reserved for the Winners’ Circle, Dimitri caught sight of Antonio’s brooding Italian face, the grim set to his lips only softening when Emma Guilham—his PA turned fake fiancée, turned very much real fiancée—stepped up beside him. Dimitri had often wondered what might have happened had he not been able to convince Antonio to step back from his path to revenge and embrace the one that led him to Emma. Dimitri realised with a start that counselling his friend had been oddly prophetic. He’d certainly not imagined himself to ever consider matrimony. He’d never thought he’d need to.

The high-pitched siren sound of the race starting called his attention back to the horses on the screen. McAulty was riding a new horse from their syndicate, Devil’s Advocate, a gorgeous dark brown thoroughbred. Horse and rider seemed as one as they fluidly spun round the sweeps and curves of the course.

The familiar taste of adrenaline hit the back of his throat, his heart racing as if it were he on the horse and not Mason. After a strong start she’d been pushed back into third place, but she was passing her competitor, quickly checking behind her, urging Devil’s Advocate on and gaining on the second.

Dimitri, his heart in his mouth, watched from nearly seventy miles away as they rounded the last bend and looked towards the stretch of flat before the finish line. Mason was still in second place... And then, incredibly, he saw her flash the briefest of smiles and a burst of speed exploded from Devil’s Advocate, at first inching his way to pass the lead horse then leaping ahead to a thundering victory.

The noise from the tablet was deafening. His phone started ringing in his pocket and as the camera panned to Antonio and Danyl in the box he saw Danyl turning away with a phone pressed against his ear.