The Marakaios Baby (The Marakaios Brides 2)

‘People change.’

‘And yet I wonder if you really have?’

She shook her head, her anger subsiding, replaced only by weariness. She sank onto one of the chairs in front of his desk. ‘Are there any other conditions?’

‘None we need to discuss at present.’

She looked up. ‘Good. Then I have a few of my own.’

She almost laughed at the look of shock that blazed across his features. Did he think her so weak and spineless that she would accept all his conditions without naming her own? Or perhaps he was simply that confident of his own strong position.

She thought of his threat—no, his promise to claim full custody if she was unfaithful, or even if he just thought she was unfaithful. His position was strong and hers was weak, because she knew her threat to leave him and go where he could never find her was just that: a threat. Empty. Meaningless.

Leo would always find her.

‘So what are your conditions?’ he asked, folding his arms.

‘First, that you never threaten me again.’ She glared at him and he gazed back, unsmiling.

‘What you call “threat” I call statement of fact.’

‘Nevertheless.’

He shrugged. ‘What are the others?’

Margo almost dug her heels in and argued the point, but she was so very, very tired. ‘I have sole care of our child. No nannies or nurses.’

He inclined his head in acknowledgement. ‘You’ll have no argument from me. I said I wanted you to be present and available.’

‘Even though you don’t respect or trust me?’ Margo couldn’t help but jibe.

Leo pressed his lips together, and then bit out, ‘I trust you to be a good mother to our child.’

And despite all his sneers and orders it touched her that he thought that. Because the truth was she wasn’t sure she thought it herself. She wanted to be a good mother, God knew, but she certainly hadn’t had the best example. And she had too many regrets when it came to loving a child. Losing a child.

‘What else?’ Leo asked.

‘Any decisions regarding our child’s welfare are made jointly. I won’t have you laying down the law when it comes to our baby.’

His jaw set. ‘It seems reasonable to discuss things,’ he said after a pause.

Margo cast around for more conditions, but she couldn’t think of anything. This was all so unknown, so unbelievable. She had no idea what her marriage, her life would look like. But at least it would be safe. Her baby would be safe.

‘Good,’ she said finally, with a nod. ‘Then I have no more conditions...at present.’

‘I’m glad we’ve come to an agreement,’ Leo answered, inclining his head. ‘We’ll leave for Athens this afternoon.’

‘I will have to return to France at some point,’ Margo warned him. ‘I have to give notice and deal with my apartment.’

She swallowed, the realisation of all she was leaving behind hitting her with sudden force, making her breathless. The career she was so proud of. The friends she’d made. The home she’d created for herself—her sanctuary and haven, the only place she felt she could be herself. All of it gone.

But it’s worth it. It has to be worth it.

‘When you are fit to travel,’ Leo said, his tone implying that he would be the one to make the decision, ‘you may return to France and deal with your job and apartment.’

His imperious tone, as if he were giving her permission, grated on Margo’s already raw nerves. ‘Who do you think you are,’ she demanded, ‘to order me about in such a way? I chose to come here, Leo—’

‘I’ll tell you who I am,’ Leo cut across her, his voice quiet and deadly. ‘I’m your husband.’

‘Not yet,’ Margo answered, her voice just as quiet, just as deadly. ‘And at the rate you’re going maybe not ever.’

He took a step towards her, his eyes narrowing to silver slits. ‘Do you really think,’ he asked, ‘that I’d let you go now you are carrying my child? If it is my child.’

‘Oh, enough with that, Leo—’

‘We’ll know the truth by tomorrow,’ he answered. ‘And then we’ll be married.’

CHAPTER FIVE

THEY DIDN’T SPEAK during the three-hour drive to Athens. His hands clenched on the wheel, Leo slid a covert, sideways glance towards Margo. She sat very still, one hand resting on the handle of the door, her face pale and composed.

She seemed a little better than she had yesterday, but she still looked tired and washed out. She wore a sweater dress of magenta wool that clung to her shape, making him realise just how much weight she’d lost—although he could still see the gentle swell of her small baby bump. His baby.