Pregnant by the Commanding Greek

Smart Alec. ‘I thought this was business.’

‘It’s personal business.’ But there was a glint flicking in his eyes again. ‘And it is straightforward.’

How could it be? He didn’t think this was complicated?

Was this really just another acquisition for him—a fiancée and a baby? He was so in control and unconcerned and capable. Didn’t he feel fear? Didn’t he feel anything? Was he really as emotionless as he appeared?

‘Stop overthinking. It’ll work out.’ He walked around the counter, took the ring out of the box and reached out to hold her cold hand. ‘For the baby, okay? You want your child to have two actively involved parents. Here you go. A united front. A team, Ettie.’

She sent him a baleful look. She did want that, very much. Because it was what she hadn’t had and he knew it. He was counting on that as he slid the ring down.

But people co-parented the world over with perfectly amicable arrangements and weren’t married or even engaged. They made it work. There was no reason why she and Leon couldn’t work out something just as successful.

Except his argument for marriage was compelling. She too wanted her child to have the security Leon was offering. And she’d nailed being practical at work, so why couldn’t she apply the same to her personal life?

Intuition sent a tinge of unease down her spine. The problem was his magnetism. He only needed to stand this close, to hold her hand like this, and her heart was racing, sending excitement through every vein, to every cell. Ettie could fall far and fast—make the mistake of believing that, rather than being his “for the practicalities” fiancée, she was his match for real. And that wasn’t fair on him. Or on her. Because the same was so not happening for him. He was only about the practicalities.

So she had to focus on the same. Keep her guard up, warn off her weak, blind heart.

She hauled together all her emotional strength and pulled her hand from his, tore her gaze from his. She’d accept this for what it was.

She smiled down at the ring. ‘It’s beautiful, thank you.’ Then she turned, desperately commenting on the first thing she saw. ‘I didn’t know you already had a dog.’ She was determined to make things easy and casual between them.

Blinking, he sent her a mystified look.

‘The dog bowl on the bench behind you?’

‘Oh?’ His eyebrows snapped down, forming a frown. ‘I ordered those when I thought that Toby might stay.’

Really?

‘I’m sorry I said yes to that resident taking him without talking to you first,’ she muttered thoughtfully. The sense she’d wronged him somehow in making that choice had been nagging her for these last couple of days.

‘Don’t apologise; it was best for the dog,’ he said crisply.

So he hadn’t really wanted him? But she’d sent Toby to that other resident the very next day, so Leon had been super-quick off the mark getting in bowls for him. But that was just his hyper-efficiency, wasn’t it? Just as he’d convinced her to agree to marrying him and ensconced her in his home within two hours of learning she was pregnant. It was how he was a billionaire before thirty. Leon Kariakis got stuff done with single-minded, ruthless efficiency and there was nothing emotional about it.

Yet she couldn’t look away from him—aware once more of that simmering intensity that his stillness masked. He’d loosened his tie and his shirtsleeves were rolled back and a tuft of hair was still ruffled. She suspected it was from when she’d run her fingers through his hair in the lift earlier. Did he know how tormenting he was?

‘You’re feeling better.’ He changed the subject.

Yes. With every step closer she was to him unfortunately. And she was incredibly curious. He wasn’t just a closed book. He was padlocked-and-sealed-in-an-underground-vault private. But they were having a baby together. Getting married. Even in business arrangements, people did due diligence, didn’t they? Maybe if she offered information first—broke the ice—he might feel a gentle obligation to reciprocate?

‘My father wasn’t there for me. Ever,’ she said quietly.

He paused and glanced at her.

‘So thank you for wanting to stick around.’

He tensed. ‘I’m not like him.’

‘I know.’ The guy was already a better father than what her own had been and what Ophelia’s had been by the simple fact he was actually interested. ‘My mother got her heart broken a couple of times. It hurt her badly.’ She was quiet a moment before summoning courage. ‘What about your parents?’

‘Absent, mostly.’

Really? She was surprised. ‘Didn’t they turn up to sports day?’

‘No. Are you ready to eat? You must be hungry.’

She frowned, irritated that he’d shut that conversation down so quickly. ‘We can’t just...start living together and being engaged. We need to get to know each other, Leon.’

He blinked at her again. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘I don’t know. Anything.’ Everything. She glanced at those empty bowls on the far bench. ‘Did you have a dog when you were a kid?’

‘No.’ To her amazement his expression became like blank granite. ‘Come on, dinner is on the table.’

‘Which one?’ she asked tartly.

Leon knew he’d been abrupt, but some things she didn’t need to know. Life was for living in now, not remembering the miseries of the past. He tried to ignore the prickling at the base of his spine. He was satisfied she was in his house finally, yet he was unbearably aware of her in his space. The mansion was large but her presence seemed to permeate every inch...the scent of her, the soft sounds as she moved about.

He’d had to get out just to clear his head. Sort out the ring as consideration for the contract. Decide on dinner. Check in with his assistant and ensure everything at the office was under control...but he’d listened with only half-concentration and in the end he’d not been able to get back fast enough to check on her.

Stupid to be so concerned. He knew emotions weakened a man—muddying the mind and making decision-making difficult. Isolation and independence brought clarity. There were mergers and acquisitions, splits and divisions, and this was just another. It should be simple.

‘Oh.’

He suppressed a chuckle as Ettie came to a halt at the entrance to the formal dining room.

‘When did you do this?’ She gaped at the table laden with dishes.

‘It was delivered while you were in the bath.’

She gazed from the table to the discreet trolley in the corner. ‘It’s from a restaurant.’

&

nbsp; Yeah, as concierge to an exclusive apartment building, she knew how it worked. He paid, the staff delivered. And it was worth it for the privacy.

She lifted the silver cover of the nearest dish and her eyebrows lifted. ‘Do you only dine from award-winning restaurants?’

He took a seat and stared at her with all the lazy arrogance he could muster. ‘I like savouring perfection,’ he drawled.

She rolled her eyes and he laughed in delight.

‘You asked for it,’ he ribbed her. ‘You think I’m pompous? I can eat a wrap on the street from a food van like anyone else, but tonight I want to sit in comfort and privacy and let all my senses feast.’ He sent her a meaningful look. ‘I have a pretty companion to ogle. Besides which, you’re tired and you need a decent meal.’

And frankly, her enjoyment of decent food increased his own pleasure in it.

She sighed and sank into the chair opposite his. ‘You’re so used to doing everything your own way, aren’t you?’

‘Isn’t everyone?’

She laughed aloud, a bubble of genuine amusement. ‘The fate of the only child,’ she teased. ‘You’ve never had to learn to compromise.’

He tried to smile but his mouth had swiftly dried. It wasn’t her fault. She simply didn’t know.

‘You’re very serious,’ she continued her judgement. ‘Hard-working.’

‘It’s how I became successful.’ He tried not to sound like a stiff-necked ass, but it was true.

‘So,’ she angled her head to study him, that teasing light brightening her eyes even more, ‘not a wild playboy...at least not publicly. You were never the spoilt heir to a fortune who fritters it all away on women and wine and destructive vices...’

‘No, that’s not me.’

‘But why not?’ She seemed quite fascinated. ‘It’s the trap lots of people in your position fall into, isn’t it? Stories like that fill the news... Playboy heirs. Dissolute, depraved, who end up broke—’

‘Or dying of an overdose; I get the picture,’ he finished coldly. ‘I guess that’s not the way I was raised.’