Princess's Pregnancy Secret

She stilled. ‘Your island?’

She really hadn’t done any research on him, had she? That both tickled him, and put him out.

‘You have your island, I have mine.’ He sent her a sideways grin. ‘I’ll admit mine isn’t as big, but good things come in small packages.’

The look in her eyes was decidedly not limpid now. ‘Are you trying to convince me that size doesn’t matter?’ she teased in that gorgeously raspy voice. ‘Of course, I have no basis for comparison, for all I know I might be missing out—’

‘You’re concerned you’re missing out?’ He rose to her bait, happy to slip back into this tease and turn away from the too serious.

‘You tell me.’ She batted her eyelashes at him.

This was the woman from that night at the ball—that playful, slightly shy, deliciously fun woman.

‘Hell, yeah, you’re missing out.’

Her mouth fell open.

‘Come with me and I’ll show you.’

Her lips twisted as colour flowed into her cheeks.

‘It’s in the Caribbean,’ he purred.

She closed her mouth. ‘That is also very tech billionaire of you.’

‘Yeah. It is. So let’s go there. Today.’ He stood, energy firing. For the first time since seeing that damn screen this morning he felt good.

‘But Giorgos—’

‘But Giorgos what? We can let him know where we’ve gone.’ He paused, waiting to see if she’d defy her brother’s orders.

A gleam lit in her eye. Damon suppressed his smug smirk—seemed his Princess had unleashed her latent rebellious streak. He liked it.

‘How long does it take to get there?’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ELENI SAT ACROSS from Damon in one of the large leather recliners in his private jet and tried not to stare at him. Her face heated as she recalled what he’d done to her, what he’d encouraged her to do to him. Last night had been the first time she’d ever shared a bed. The first time she’d slept in a man’s arms. She couldn’t even remember falling asleep, only a feeling of supreme relaxation as she’d lain entwined with him.

‘It’s a long flight. You should rest while you can.’ That wicked glint ignited his smile as if he knew exactly what she was thinking about.

‘I need rest?’

‘For the days ahead, yes.’

‘Empty promises...threats...’ she muttered softly.

He leaned forward and placed his finger over her lips. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll make good on every one. When we’re alone.’

‘I see no cabin crew.’ She blinked at him.

‘You want them to hear you?’ His eyebrows arched. ‘Because you’re not going to be quiet.’

‘I can be quiet.’

‘Can you?’ He studied her intently, not bothering to add anything more.

Heat deepened and spread, heating her from the inside out. Every, single cell. Realisation burned. She was never going to be quiet with him.

‘You’re...’ She couldn’t think of her own name, let alone a suitable adjective this second.

‘Good.’ Looking smug, he leaned back in his seat and pulled his tablet out. ‘I’m very good.’

‘Full of yourself,’ she corrected.

She couldn’t sit for hours with nothing to occupy her except sinful thoughts. She burrowed in her bag and fetched out the paper and small pencil tin that she always had stashed. Sketching soothed, like meditation. And she’d spent so many hours with a pencil in hand, it was calming.

He didn’t seem to notice her occupation. She became so engrossed in her work she lost track of time. When she glanced up she discovered he’d closed his eyes. She wasn’t surprised; he’d had as little sleep as she. And he’d been worryingly pale when he’d returned to her apartment this morning after that meeting with his father.

With that downwards tilt to his sensual lips now, she understood that he was vulnerable too and much more complex than she’d realised. He’d been hurt. His parents’ infidelities, their lack of support and interest. Their falseness.

Yet he’d grown strong. Now she understood his fierce independence and the fury he’d felt when he’d thought she’d somehow betrayed him. He didn’t trust and she didn’t blame him. He only wanted his child to avoid the hurt he’d experienced.

She looked down at the sketch she’d done of him and cringed. She’d never want him to see this—too amateur. Too embarrassing. She folded the paper over and put it in the small bin just as the pilot announced they weren’t far from landing. Damon opened his eyes and flashed her a smile.

‘It’s just a short hop by helicopter from here,’ he said as the plane landed.

‘That’s what you say to everyone you bring here?’

He met her gaze. ‘You already know I never brought any of my women here. This is my home.’

‘Heaven forbid you’d let any of them get that close.’

‘Wouldn’t want them getting the wrong idea.’

‘I’m glad I “trapped” you into marriage, then, now I get to kick about on your little island.’

Damon grinned at her. Yeah, he couldn’t wait for her to kick about. But he held back as Eleni gathered her small bag and stepped ahead of him to exit the plane. He’d seen her discard the drawing she’d been working on and he was too curious to let it go. On his way out he swiftly scooped up the paper and pocketed it. Given she’d been secretive and clearly hadn’t wanted him to see it, he was going to have to pick the moment to ask her about it.

The helicopter ride was smooth but wasn’t quick enough. He ached to get there—to his home. His own private palace. His peace.

He breathed out as they finally landed and he strode to the open-topped Jeep that he’d ordered to be left waiting for their arrival.

‘Let me take you on a tour.’ He winked at her. ‘You can see exactly what kind of prize husband you’ve claimed for yourself.’

‘You’re not the prize. I am,’ Eleni answered sassily as she shook her hair loose in the warm sunshine. ‘It really is your island?’

‘It’s the company compound,’ he drawled. ‘We futuristic tech companies must have amazing work places for our staff. It’s part of the image.’

‘I didn’t think you were a slave to any society’s required “image”. You’re the man who doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him, right?’

Right. Almost.

Reluctant amusement rippled through him. He liked it when she sparked up.

She stared as the pristine coastline came into clear view. He heard her sharp intake of breath. Now as he drove they could see a few roofs of other dwellings amongst the verdant foliage. He knew it was beautiful, but he was glad she could see it too.

‘They live here all year round?’

‘No.’ He laughed that she’d taken him so seriously. ‘It really is just my island. It was a resort, now it’s not. My people stay for stints if they need to complete a big project, or to recharge their batteries. Every employee has at least six weeks a year here. Families can come too, of course.’ He parked up by the main beach. ‘Energy-wise it’s self-sufficient, thanks to all the solar-power generation, and we grow as many supplies as we can.’

‘So it’s paradise.’

‘Yeah.’ Pure, simple luxury. ‘There’s no paparazzi. No media. No nosey parkers watching your every move. It is completely private.’

She glanced up into the blindingly blue—clear—sky. ‘No drones? No spy cams everywhere?’

‘No helicopters. No long-range lenses. No nothing. Just peace and security,’ he confirmed, but grimaced wryly. ‘And half my staff...but they’ll be busy and you can do whatever you want, whenever you want.’

‘With whomever I want?’ she asked. There was an extra huskiness to her tone that made him so hard.

‘No.’ He reached across and turned her chin so she faced him. ‘Only with me.’

She mock-pouted, teasing in that playful way he adored—demanding retribution of the most erotic kind. But af

ter only a kiss he reluctantly pulled away. He couldn’t bring her here and hurry her into bed. He could be more civilised than that.

‘Come on,’ he said briskly, getting out of the Jeep and pointing to the meandering path through the lush trees. ‘I’ll show you around the complex.’

Then he’d take her to his house and have her all to himself at last.

* * *

Eleni didn’t want to blink and miss a moment. His island was like a warm jewel, gleaming with the promise of heat and holiday and indefinable riches. And with that total privacy, it was the ultimate treasure. A feeling of relaxation slowly unfurled through her body, spreading warmth and joy and such anticipation she could hardly contain it.

‘This is the “den”—our main office here.’

She followed him into the large building. It was a large open space filled with desks, computers and space for tinkering and was currently occupied by five guys all standing round a giant screen.

‘Going from left to right, we have Olly, Harry, Blair, Jerome and Faisal,’ Damon said to her in a low voice. ‘You have that memorised already, right?’

She smiled because, yes, she had.