Christmas Baby For The Greek

Stavros’s face turned briefly pale. As if by instinct, he turned his body in the chair, as if protecting the sleeping baby. Then, as if a wall came clanging down, his expression became totally flat.

“Hello, Father.” His bored gaze glanced dismissively at the two young women, both of whom looked younger than Holly, perhaps even younger than her little sister. “Friends of yours?”

“From the club.” He waved toward them airily. “We stopped to change clothes. Or at least—” he gave a sly grin “—take them off.”

Holly looked with dismay at the girls, who both looked, if possible, even more bored than Stavros. They had to be a third of Aristides’s age. One of them was already giving Stavros a frankly flirtatious smile that made Holly, who’d never considered herself prone to violence, want to give her a hard smack across the jaw.

The older man stepped forward, then looked down at the sleeping baby with a sniff. “Is that the baby Eleni was going on about?”

“This is my son, yes,” Stavros said stiffly.

“Looks tiny. Runt of the litter.”

“He’s two months old.”

Aristides winked back at the young women. “I’m sure you girls can hardly believe I’m old enough to be a grandfather.”

“Uh, yeah,” the blonde replied with an American accent, turning so that her friend could see her roll her eyes. “Look, Aristi, if we’re not going out shopping like you promised then we’ve got to go.”

“Things to see, people to do,” her brunette friend agreed, giving Stavros another flirtatious smile.

“No, wait—I have gifts for you girls upstairs. Go up and wait.”

“Where?”

“Up the top of the stairs. The big purple bedroom all the way at the back,” he called jovially, then ran his hands slickly through his hair. After they were gone, he turned on Stavros with a scowl. “So why did you come here?”

“No reason.”

“You want money, right?”

Stavros stiffened. “No.”

Aristides stared at him, then shrugged. “All right, fine, I saw the kid. Now get the hell out of here. You’re nothing to me. I have no desire to be a grandfather.”

Holly could hardly believe it. She tried to imagine a world in which she’d ever ignore family, or tell a son or grandson that he wasn’t wanted. The thought was like an ice pick in her heart.

“Are you serious?” she blurted out. “After we came all this way?”

Aristides’s rheumy, drunken eyes focused on her. “Who are you? The wife?”

“She’s my son’s mother.” Stavros’s voice was low. Holly felt, in her bones, how much he would have liked to claim her as his wife.

“Ha! So not your wife. She had your kid, but you still didn’t marry her?” The man snorted a laugh. “Maybe you learned from my mistakes after all. You’re more like me than I thought, boy.”

“I’m nothing like you,” Stavros growled, his hands tightening around his sleeping baby son.

“No?” His father stroked his chin. “You were so high and mighty when you called me after your mother’s funeral. I was a monster, you said. You’d never whore around like me, you said. Now look at you.”

Stavros looked speechless with rage.

Turning to Holly with a crafty expression, Aristides purred, “You’re smart not to marry him. What did you say your name was?” Without waiting for her to answer, he continued flirtatiously, “A beauty like you can do far better.”

With a sly glance toward his son, Aristides Minos lifted a calculating eyebrow, as if plotting what to say next; for an appalling instant Holly wondered if he was considering inviting her to join the other girls in his bedroom. Suddenly, she couldn’t stand it.

“I didn’t want to have a wedding while I was pregnant. But Stavros and I are getting married soon,” Holly said, meeting the older man’s gaze steadily. “In a few days.”

She felt, rather than heard, Stavros’s intake of breath.