The Greek Tycoon's Defiant Bride

‘Of course I wouldn’t. I can’t believe that you would want that either. In fact I’m sure you’ve thought seriously about things since yesterday.’

‘Obviously.’ Leonidas leant back against the edge of her desk and stretched out his long powerful legs, a manoeuvre that had the effect of virtually trapping her by the corner next to the window. The office was no bigger than a large broom cupboard and it contained a second desk because it was a shared facility. He surveyed her with assessing cool. Even tiredness could not dim the crystal clarity of those violet eyes. As for the outfit, it looked drab at first glance, but the snug fit of the shirt and the trousers at breast and hip enhanced the proud curves and intriguing valleys of her fabulously abundant figure. She was woman enough to make many of her sex seem as flat and one-dimensional as cardboard, he conceded, assailed by a highly erotic recollection of Maribel all rosy, warm and luscious at dawn. The instant tightening at his groin almost made him smile, for it was some time since he had reacted to a woman with that much enthusiasm.

Subjected to one sensual flash of his bold, dark golden gaze, Maribel went rigid. She was aghast at the languorous warmth spreading through her and at the swollen feel of her breasts within the confinement of her bra. As her tender nipples tightened she folded her arms in a jerky movement. ‘So, if you’ve thought seriously…’

‘I still want answers. At least, be realistic.’ His brilliant eyes now screened to a discreet glimmer below lush black lashes, his drawl was as smooth as silk. ‘What man would not, in this situation?’

Maribel didn’t want to be realistic. She just wanted him to go away again and stop threatening the peace of mind that she had worked so hard to achieve. ‘What do I have to do to make you understand?’

‘See both sides of the equation. Be the logical woman I know you to be. To ask me to walk away without even knowing whether or not the child is mine is absurd.’ The complete calm and quiet of his voice had an almost hypnotic effect on her.

‘Yes, but…’ Maribel pinned her lips closed on the temptation to speak hasty words ‘…it’s not that simple.’

‘Isn’t it?’ Leonidas countered. ‘Clearly you believe that Elias is my son. If you didn’t believe that, you would have swiftly disabused me of the idea.’

Maribel stiffened, her eyes reflecting her indecision. ‘Leonidas…’

‘Every child has the right to know who his father is. Until I was seven years old, I believed my father was my mother’s first husband. But, after the divorce, it emerged that someone else was the culprit. I know what I’m talking about. Are you planning to lie to Elias?’

‘Yes…no! Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ Maribel gasped, raking her chestnut hair off her troubled brow with an anxious hand, as his candour had disarmed her. ‘I will do whatever is best for Elias.’

‘One day Elias will be an adult, and you will lose him if you lie to him about his parentage.’ Leonidas dealt her a cool dark appraisal. ‘You hadn’t thought of that aspect, had you? Or about the fact that Elias has rights, too.’

Maribel blenched at that unwelcome reminder.

‘And what if something happens to you while he is still a child? Who will take care of him then?’

‘That’s dealt with in my will.’

Any pretence of relaxation abandoned at that admission, Leonidas was as still as a panther about to spring. ‘Do I figure in it?’

Tense as a bow string, Maribel slowly shook her head.

The silence folded in as thick and heavy as a fog.

With reluctance, Maribel looked back at him. Leonidas was studying her with a chilling condemnation that cut her to the bone. It was obvious that he had already reached his own conclusions as to her son’s parentage. Her heart sank, since she had no way of convincing him otherwise, no magical method of turning back time and ensuring that he did not find out what she had believed he would have been perfectly happy not to know. ‘All right,’ she said gruffly, her slim shoulders slumping, for she felt as battered as if she had gone ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer. ‘You got me pregnant.’

Leonidas was startled by the strong sense of satisfaction that gripped him and relieved that he had not had to exert pressure. As he had anticipated, Maribel had listened to her conscience. So, the boy was his. The boy was a Pallis: the next generation of the family. His ancient trio of great-aunts would be overjoyed at the continuation of the Pallis bloodline, while his more avaricious relatives would be heartbroken at being cut out in the inheritance stakes. Although Leonidas had long since decided that he would neither marry nor reproduce, it had not until that moment occurred to him that he might father a son and heir with so little personal inconvenience.