‘So you keep saying, but to think of it that way is distasteful. We are talking marriage, remember. Not being a mistress.’
‘Yet it’s true nevertheless.’
‘Not necessarily. It’s a deal, Miss James. We both get something out of it.’
She shook her head slowly, her eyes still wide. ‘Considering the nature of our conversation, perhaps you should call me Milly.’
Victory loomed closer, elusive but possible. Probable, even. She hadn’t stormed out of the room. She hadn’t slapped his face. She hadn’t seen it, either. They would get to that all in good time. ‘Very well, Milly. Why don’t you take a seat?’
‘All right.’ Milly walked with careful, deliberate steps to one of the leather club chairs in front of his desk and sank into it, ankles n
eatly crossed, hands linked at her waist like a respectable matron. ‘Can we turn the light on?’ she asked. ‘I can barely make you out, and I’ve never actually seen you in person, which seems ridiculous considering the nature of our discussion.’
He tensed, and then made himself relax. ‘I’m averse to light.’
‘You’re not a vampire, are you?’ It was obviously a joke, but she still sounded uncertain.
‘No, most certainly not.’ He turned to face her, angling his head in a way he knew would hide the worst. ‘I’ll turn it on in a moment, perhaps, after we’ve discussed some of the details.’
‘Why me?’ Milly asked bluntly. ‘Why not someone far more suitable?’
‘Because you’re here,’ Alex answered just as bluntly. ‘And you’re happy to remain on this island. And in the six months you’ve been in my employ, you’ve seemed trustworthy and hardworking, or so my man here, Yiannis, tells me.’
‘Yiannis has been reporting on me?’
‘Merely relaying his approval of you.’
‘Oh.’ She sounded surprised. ‘He and his wife are very kind. They’ve been welcoming to me.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ he returned smoothly. It was all seeming very promising. She clearly liked living here, and she wanted the money. All that remained was whether she could stomach looking at him—and sharing his bed.
‘And those are your only qualifications for a wife?’ Milly asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Really?’ She sounded cynical again. ‘You don’t care about your wife’s likes or dislikes? Her sense of humour, or her sense of honour? What about what kind of mother she’ll be?’
Alex’s mouth compressed. ‘I don’t have the luxury to care about those things.’ Ezio’s latest escapade had provoked a knee-jerk reaction in him to sort this, and quickly.
Milly was silent, and Alex watched her, noticing the emotions that crossed her face like ripples in water. Indecision, fear, but something else, as well. Something darker...guilt, perhaps, or grief. His proposition had struck a painful chord inside her. He was almost certain of it. ‘And why an heir?’ she asked at last. ‘Isn’t that rather an outdated concept?’
‘It’s a biological one.’
‘Still.’
‘I want to pass my business on to my child.’
‘A son?’
‘Or a daughter. It doesn’t matter.’
She cocked her head, her eyes narrowing as she tried to make him out. ‘Why?’
‘Because if I don’t,’ Alex answered tersely, ‘it passes to my stepbrother, who is likely to run it into the ground in a matter of months.’
‘It’s not like an aristocratic title, is it? Why should it pass to him?’
He drew a quick breath, forcing himself to relax as the memories bombarded him. Christos, looking so pale and weak, one claw-like hand extended towards him. Begging him. And Ezio, drunk in some nightclub, not even bothering to show up, to say goodbye to his flesh-and-blood father. ‘Because my stepfather stipulated it in his will. The business was originally his, and he bequeathed it to me when he died. But he made a provision that if I should die without issue, it passes to my stepbrother.’